Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

The city's citizens have been brought under control. Under the pressure of the army outside the city, no one dares to voice any objections. The slave owners, who may have had other intentions, know they have no other choice when they see the army approaching, and they all become obedient.

All we have to do now is wait, wait for the Empire's reinforcements to arrive, and everything will fall into place...

………………

The warhorse, drenched in sweat, slowly came to a stop under the rider's control. The powerful creature was panting heavily, clearly having expended a great deal of energy.

The cavalrymen, their bodies covered in bright armor plates, gathered together with a terrifying aura, their feet treading on the brand-new bluestone floor, and charged into a building.

Residents on the surrounding streets quickly gave way. Seeing the menacing appearance of the cavalry, everyone had a bad feeling, and such a feeling often comes true.

Before long, a large number of messengers dispersed from the city. They were dressed in red clothes and black turbans. Every caravan that saw them would immediately pull their carriages to the side of the road and make way for them.

After a frantic afternoon of running, the messengers arrived at their destinations one after another. Troops throughout the southern province were mobilized, and the soldiers packed their belongings, planned their marching routes, and brought several days' worth of rations.

Granaries everywhere were opened, and large sacks of grain were loaded onto horse-drawn carts and transported away urgently. Orders to repair and maintain roads reached every town and village, and local officials immediately began to fulfill their duties.

By the next morning, troops in red uniforms could be seen advancing along the main roads of the entire province... and they would eventually meet up in Dalifia.

The most elite force among them set out from the most important city in the southern province, consisting of a large number of elite soldiers fully armored, wearing bright helmets adorned with red plumes, and each carrying a heavy shield, a sharp sword, and a sturdy short hammer.

Almost everyone carried a long spear and wore heavy lamellar armor that covered their thighs, firmly encased in thick steel.

Such an army is like a river of steel, flowing slowly and irresistibly along its course; it's hard to imagine anything that could destroy them...

This was the empire's renowned elite heavy infantry, an insurmountable wall of steel on the battlefield, and the absolute main force on the central plains before the heavy cavalry became famous.

There were 3000 such elite heavy infantrymen here, and the bright glint of their armor as they marched was as dense as the shimmering water in a river.

The general leading them was now riding his yellow warhorse, gazing at the white city to the south. Several hundred elite heavy cavalrymen surrounded him, watching the slow-moving torrent of iron cavalry pass by...

Chapter 66 Changes (2 words)

The reason why city walls, such special structures, exist is to fulfill their unique function: a high wall built of mud or rock that can stop anyone from advancing.

The defenders, however, could stand atop the high walls and easily use ranged weapons such as catapults, javelins, or crossbows to kill those climbing the walls.

This is a one-sided disadvantage with absolutely no fairness. Before even reaching the top of the city wall, the attackers can only endure one-sided firepower, and counterattacks from above are often ineffective.

Defenders can usually hold a city securely with far fewer troops than attackers, and breaking this stalemate requires powerful siege weapons.

Such a powerful war machine must be prepared in advance; even if it is temporarily built by cutting down existing trees, it will still take at least one or two months.

Therefore, every siege requires the consumption of countless resources and wealth, posing a severe test to the organization and national strength of the entire country.

Most of the time, a siege is likely to be more trouble than it's worth, but sometimes the attackers have no other choice...

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As the bugle sounded, the cheers of thousands of soldiers resounded through the heavens and earth. Their swords slammed against their shields, making a unified sound. After three consecutive bugle calls, as the flag pointed forward, everyone surged forward like a tide.

All these soldiers had were the wooden ladders they carried, hastily made from several ladders tied together—a simple tool that a strong man could easily chop up with an axe—yet they were trying to use to climb the tall, sturdy city walls…

The reason these soldiers were able to recover their morale so quickly was not only because of the small bag full of gold coins they received last night, but also because of the bright red flags in the camp...

Embroidered on the red lacquered silk is a winged winged horse trampling the sun. This is a symbol that only the king of the Hols can use, and any lord who dares to overstep his bounds will become an enemy of the entire nation.

A group of cavalrymen, dressed in exquisite armor and riding magnificent Hols horses, followed behind the soldiers. Their cloaks were embroidered with the same pattern. Just seeing them boosted the morale of all the Hols people, sweeping away their previous timidity.

Some were even a little confused when, in just one day, they discovered that the king's banner had suddenly appeared in their camp.

Then, the best food and a large reward suddenly fell into their hands... Coupled with the officers' intimidation and threats, and various forms of coercion and enticement, everyone barely managed to raise their morale.

The city wall in front of him was still tall, but looking at the endless sea of ​​people around him, he had a feeling that was not exactly a delusion—that even if they were piled up with corpses, they could still climb the city wall.

The plains, trampled by tens of thousands of people, have become hardened and unsuitable for growing any food or crops, but they are perfect for a battlefield.

The soldiers' shoes stepped on it without leaving any extra dents or causing anyone to slip and fall, allowing them to pass through the area without hindrance.

Soldiers surged into the city like a tidal wave, each shouting their own slogans—for money, for the king, for the lord, for their wives, even for women…

Once they were within range, a hail of crossbow bolts rained down relentlessly from the city walls. They shielded themselves with their shields and struggled to approach the city.

Like peeling an onion, the attacking soldiers fell one after another under the crossbow bolts, but their bodies were quickly trampled over by their own men, and their positions were replaced by new soldiers, almost endlessly.

The catapults, hurling oil canisters, caused immense chaos within the formation with each strike, but those unfortunate souls who were set ablaze were quickly hacked to death by their own men, lying on the ground and burning silently.

Despite treading on corpses and blood, and enduring a death rain of crossbow bolts and catapults, this massive army still made an unstoppable approach to the city walls.

The giant crossbows fired a barrage of spear-like bolts, which the soldiers' armor and shields could not withstand; they would be skewered and pinned to the ground like roasted meat.

And it couldn't die anytime soon, desperately stretching its limbs and letting out a shrill scream.

If they were lucky enough, Camus, who was overseeing the battle from behind, would cut off their heads with a single blow, sparing them from the agonizing torment. If they were unlucky, they would have to endure this terrible pain for quite some time before they could stop moving.

Life here is so cheap, being squandered recklessly, while the Holstein soldiers, their courage spurred on, simply press forward, trying to conquer the city directly with their own bravery.

The city walls, still stained with yesterday's blood, had turned a dark red. One makeshift ladder after another tried to be placed on them, and the slaves, holding pitchforks, would extend their pitchforks to block a ladder that was about to approach.

Meanwhile, the archers mixed among the infantry would take this opportunity to hurl crossbow bolts at the city walls, killing any slaves who dared to obstruct them. In an instant, arrows rained down from both the city walls and the screams of those struck by arrows were deafening, even more intense than the raindrops themselves.

The mountain archers immediately emerged, using their superb archery skills to pick off the commanders and crossbowmen among the soldiers, and their armor-piercing heavy arrows, specially selected from the city's armory, were repeatedly successful.

But the enemy was simply too numerous. It was like throwing arrows into a black lake, with no effect whatsoever. Ladder after ladder was still erected on top of them. The soldiers, their adrenaline about to explode, climbed rapidly and then engaged in an even more brutal battle with the defenders.

The slaves stretched out their spears and stabbed the soldiers in the face and chest. Every now and then, Holsmen would be hit and fall off the ladder with screams.

Every now and then, slaves would be caught off guard and have their throats slit open or their chests pierced by spears thrusting from below, falling screaming as they collapsed onto the city wall.

The wounded would be immediately dragged behind the city wall by others. Some strong slaves had already prepared stretchers and would quickly transport them away. They had even learned simple treatment methods so that the wounded would not bleed to death in the short 200-meter distance.

From a distance, the entire city wall was covered in colorful cloaks and chainmail. Soldiers tried to scale the wall at all costs, only to be killed one after another by the well-prepared defenders.

But as time went on, the scales of victory seemed to be tipping in their favor... More and more soldiers climbed the city walls, most of them turning into corpses on the ground in the blink of an eye, but some were able to take advantage of the opportunity to find a foothold, barely managing to hold on, and find a place for their comrades who would climb the walls later.

A brutal meat grinder immediately broke out on the city walls, and the slaves were almost completely routed. After all, they had not been trained for long and were no match for these professional soldiers.

But before these Holsian soldiers could seize the opportunity to expand their gains, the heavy, orderly footsteps made them freeze and stop in their tracks.

Armored cavalrymen, their bodies completely encased in steel except for their eye sockets, swarmed forward, carrying shields, swords, and chain maces. These elite soldiers, trained for years, knew exactly how to kill their enemies; whether on horseback or on foot, they were terrifying killing machines.

Those lucky Holstein soldiers who managed to scale the walls were quickly and swiftly reduced to corpses. This small torrent of steel swept across the entire wall, wiping out every Holstein they encountered.

Slaughter! Ruthless and relentless slaughter; these terrifying cavalrymen were so chilling, it seemed they were born to kill.

Even the soldiers who considered themselves brave had lost their will to attack. They were forced to retreat in front of them, and were frequently struck in vital areas by deadly weapons, turning into bloodied corpses on the ground.

Once they reached the top of the city wall, there was no way for them to retreat... The only options were surrender or victory. So, before long, all the lucky ones who made it to the top of the city wall were wiped out, and the armored cavalrymen's weapons and shields were covered with a layer of foul-smelling blood.

The limbs beneath the city wall had piled up in a layer. The soldiers who came later were not stepping on the hard ground, but on soft bodies. Some of them were still breathing and groaning in pain, but they soon fell silent under the trampling of thousands of feet.

The sound of the crossbow strings and longbows vibrating was like the flapping of a swarm of bees, firing a dense barrage of deadly stings. Even though the Holsteiners were wearing thick chainmail, they could not withstand the volley of so many powerful crossbow bolts.

The casualties were mounting, blood was spreading layer upon layer on the city walls, and the corpses were piling up thicker and thicker.

As the fatigue of the long battle overwhelmed them, in a moment, it was as if they had suddenly broken through the thin ice beneath their feet and plunged their feet into icy water... All the Hols suddenly hesitated, realizing just how dire their situation was.

The offensive slowed down in the blink of an eye, fear began to rise in their hearts, making their movements hesitant and their swords weak.

But the defenders on the city wall showed no mercy. Every slave was desperately shooting crossbow bolts, constantly bending over to draw the crossbow, causing their backs to ache and weaken.

Even with protective gear on their fingers, the mountain archers' fingers were already bleeding profusely, worn raw by the bowstring.

But not one of them flinched. Seeing the enemy grow fearful, their morale soared. Ignoring their physical pain and exhaustion, they rained down arrows and crossbow bolts.

The Hols' wavering became increasingly apparent. Just as they were about to collapse, horns sounded from the rear camp, and all the soldiers, as if granted a pardon, cautiously raised their shields and retreated, allowing the defenders' arrows to strike their shields.

Occasionally, some unlucky souls would be killed by crossbow bolts shot from tricky angles, but most people retreated safely out of the range of the bolts. The tide soon left the city, leaving a portion of it to seep into the land.

The city walls were filled with all sorts of stench and disgust. Every veteran knew that the dead would soon lose control of their bladders... The stench of the entrails, combined with the stench of feces and the strong stench of blood, turned the entire battlefield into a terrifying place.

The Holstein corpses on the city wall were quickly looted, and any usable armor and helmets were removed, including the inner garments. A dozen slaves were tied around the waist with thick ropes and lowered down the city wall to retrieve the arrows.

Meanwhile, the mountain archers stood ready on the city walls, preventing the elite cavalry from taking advantage of the situation to rush over and kill the slaves in revenge.

The bodies lying on the city wall would be carefully identified. If they were still breathing, they would be sent to be treated as soon as possible if they were one of their own. If they were Hols, their necks would be cut open cleanly.

The open space beneath the city wall was already filled with corpses. There wasn't enough cloth to cover them, so they were left exposed like this.

The makeshift hospital was already operating beyond its capacity. Everyone, even the women boiling water, was busy and overwhelmed. Rolls of cloth used to wipe away blood and bandage wounds were put into large pots to be sterilized with hot water. The bloodstains that could not be washed off quickly turned the clear water dark.

The thread used for suturing the wound has been used up, and now only clean and sterilized cotton thread can be used as a substitute.

Tarina's throat had become hoarse, and she could no longer make a loud sound. Fortunately, the women here had learned many ways to deal with the situation in the past few days, so she no longer needed to take care of every aspect.

…………

The man before her had his collarbone and half his chest shattered by a sharp blade, half of his body a bloody mess, his tattered lungs exposed, covered in blood, struggling to expand and contract.

His consciousness was no longer clear, and even his pupils were slightly dilated. Talina could tell at a glance that this person was beyond saving... He was almost bleeding to death.

There was no time to waste on him any longer... With a resolute wave of her hand, she ordered two strong slaves to carry the wounded man away on the stretcher.

A trickle of blood flowed down the stretcher and onto the ground, leaving a long trail... Tarina looked at the trail and clenched her hands... Her hands were also covered in slippery blood, which even had a strange stickiness that made her instinctively want to get rid of it.

But there's no time, no matter what we do, there's no time. There are just too many injured people today... and there will definitely be even more who die on the spot.

A mountain man with a short sword stuck in his chest and abdomen was brought forward. His condition was not optimistic. Only wounded people like him who were on the verge of death were sent to her. Everyone else would be treated by assistants.

Taking a deep breath, the doctor regained his composure and lowered his head to begin treatment.

………………

This is the eighth day of the siege.

Chapter 67 Changes (3 words)

A group of ragged men and women were driven into the cave. The cavalrymen escorting them wore smooth and exquisite armor, with cloaks embroidered with a pegasus trampling the sun on their backs, and their helmets adorned with delicate red feathers, making them look majestic and luxurious.

The slaves, who had initially been compliant, began to scream in terror after entering the cave some distance away, and turned to run away.

But with heavy shackles on their feet, they were no match for these fully armed soldiers and were subdued in the blink of an eye.

Even the cavalrymen had strange expressions, some of them showing disgust. In front of them was a small pool... excavated from hard rock, with many rough edges still remaining, clearly freshly carved.

What was truly repulsive was the half-filled liquid in the pool, a bright red liquid emitting a strong, fishy stench that attracted snakes, insects, and rodents...

That's right, the entire half-pool was filled with blood, and it was all fresh blood that had just flowed from the corpses!

What's even more terrifying are the things floating in the blood, these round, hairy things that keep drifting around... When one of them suddenly spins around, it reveals a pale face.

Dense swarms of flies hovered around, drawn here by the smell of fresh blood, only to find that they could not fall into the blood no matter what they did. They could only flap their wings in vain until they were exhausted and reluctantly left this place.

Dozens of corpses were piled up in the corner, each one drained of blood, its head neatly severed and falling into the pool.