Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

In the blink of an eye, the sound of hooves came from the woods. Tersolius, holding the reins in his left hand and carrying a large, black sack-like object in his right, leaped out of the woods. Before reaching the cave, he threw the object on the ground, and everyone could see that he was a tall, thin man whose legs had been broken and bent back, which was why he was carrying the object like a sack.

Having suffered such severe injuries, a normal person would have been half-dead long ago, but this man remained conscious, still looking around with his eyes. When he saw the burning cave, his expression changed instantly.

Before he could utter a word, two cavalrymen swiftly bound his hands and feet with thick ropes and threw him onto their horses. Just in case, they also stuffed a rag from a dead man's body into his mouth and blindfolded him.

Tersolius glanced at the burning cave again and sighed silently. He had followed this guy all the way to the huge burial pit. The last batch of slaves to be executed had not yet been covered with soil, and their headless corpses were exposed in the bright light, attracting countless green-headed flies.

The flies were exceptionally large, almost as big as a nest of bees. Startled by his horse, they swarmed up and blocked out the moonlight.

This strange fellow, taking advantage of the stench of the rotting corpse, plunged headfirst into the pit of corpses. Teresolus, worried that he might have other tricks up his sleeve, jumped in without hesitation, stepped on the soft corpse, and pulled him out. Without bothering to argue with him, he broke both of his legs on the spot.

The number of wronged souls who died unjustly here is unknown, but the corpses are arranged neatly like radishes in a field, layer upon layer, with no end in sight... Although he was used to seeing corpses on the battlefield, he still sighed at the sight he saw.

Here lay only the corpses of those who had suffered unimaginable torment yet still met their tragic end. Each body was covered in bruises and their hands were worn raw and bloody. This enormous pit was painstakingly dug out by them, one stroke at a time, using the most rudimentary tools. They even had to break up huge rocks before they could carry them out.

Even the strongest young man would have to exert a great deal of physical strength to do such a thing; it is one of the most strenuous tasks. If he doesn't get enough to eat, he might even work himself to death.

But these slaves painstakingly carved out such a huge pit. Countless people died in the process, and those who remained received no mercy. Even if they wanted to continue being slaves, they were not allowed to. They were all beheaded, leaving only their mutilated bodies buried here.

It's unimaginable the despair they must have felt before their deaths, yet such things are all too common in this world. Slaves were not seen as people with dignity and will, but as property, as consumables, as things that could be disposed of at will.

Others might just be surprised, but these things were particularly jarring to him...

With a somber expression, Tersolius spurred his horse and rode away. The silent and solemn cavalrymen followed behind him, urging their horses to retreat swiftly along a forest path that had been scouted and planned beforehand. All that remained was the empty camp still illuminated by the firelight and the cave that continued to spew flames.

Before long, the sound of heavy armor scraping came from all around. The Hols army quickly surrounded the place, but they were destined to come up empty-handed—the ground was littered with dead bodies, and the cave had now become a crater, with no one knowing what was burning inside.

The gushing orange flames licked the surrounding mountain walls, bringing astonishing heat. His Majesty the King, who had just lain down in his camp, appeared here, surrounded by a large number of Camus's men, wary of any sudden enemy attack.

Julius stared blankly at the cave before him. This once chilling cave had now become a scorching hell, with flames constantly leaping out and flashing white light that almost blinded anyone.

It was impossible to get close here. Even at a distance of several dozen feet, they were still sweating profusely. However, no one dared to take off their helmets. The corpses with their heads pierced all over the ground were enough to make them extremely vigilant. Even the king put on his helmet, which was also decorated with an angular crown carved from expensive metal and exquisite gemstones.

Julius didn't know what expression to wear... In the blink of an eye, everything here was burned to the ground, and they hadn't even caught a glimpse of the enemy. A huge commotion was already erupting from the camp below; he knew the crazed soldiers had regained their senses and were immediately wreaking havoc throughout the camp.

His reason told him that he had failed, but he was also seized by a crazy impulse. This thought was like a wasp swarming around his head. He wanted to give the order immediately to have everyone block the roads around the city and set fire to all the surrounding forests. He wanted to keep the raiding cavalry here, regardless of casualties or costs!

Heavy breathing erupted from his chest. The king lowered his head, his face contorted with rage. Everyone around him became more cautious. It was clear to anyone that an unspeakable rage was building up within him.

The crackling and roaring of the flames continued unabated, the rocks were cracked from the heat, and the bright flames wandered around, trying to spread out of the cave. But the surrounding walls were bare, and the flames, finding no flammable material, stretched themselves longer and longer, as if they were about to burn down the entire barren mountain.

But after a while, when Julius raised his head, he had regained his composure:

“Go and relay the orders to our lord and general. I have given them permission to retreat... They can only retreat to Dorisca. We must rebuild our defenses.”

The attendant beside him was even stunned for a moment, hardly believing his ears. His Majesty the King, who had previously vehemently opposed the retreat, had actually agreed to allow the nobles to lead their troops in a retreat... He knew that such a retreat would inevitably lead to a major rout and cause countless troubles.

Julius, however, showed no inclination to explain, nor did he seem interested in doing so.

Now, mobilizing all the troops to block the surrounding roads and mountains might indeed make it possible to capture those despicable cavalrymen, but he can no longer do that... He was momentarily overwhelmed by anger and didn't react in time, but after calming down a bit, he realized that he could no longer command the large army in the camp.

His army had already suffered heavy losses, and they were only kept here by a ritual paid for with the blood and souls of slaves. Once they regained consciousness, their first thought was to break free from their control. If nothing unexpected happened, a riot had already broken out in the camp.

Ultimately, he had already lost long ago. Long before he arrived in the city, long before those three heavy catapults were burned... these troops had already lost their courage to attack, their morale had plummeted to its lowest point, and no one could get them to leave their camp and continue risking their lives to fill the city walls.

It was only through his underhanded methods that the situation was kept afloat and prevented from collapsing on the spot.

But now that false morale has finally crumbled, and the false situation can no longer be maintained. Even if he doesn't give the order, there will only be an empty camp by tomorrow. It would be better to preserve some of his royal dignity and take the initiative to make them retreat, taking advantage of the dark night to minimize the losses.

Indeed, he had already anticipated that the troops in the city were prepared and might take advantage of the chaos in his camp to launch a fierce attack on him.

The task at hand is no longer to conquer the city; that's now a pipe dream. We need to find a way to minimize losses and at least bring back the vast majority of our troops. As long as these troops remain, there is still hope.

A bitter, fishy-sweet taste spread through his mouth; it was the blood flowing from his bitten tongue. He looked at the distant city with a bitter expression, realizing that he had paid too high a price and still gained nothing.

Will Alpert, this city of white stone, ever return to the Hols after it was lost from his hands? He didn't know, but he always felt that something called hope was slowly slipping away from him.

………………

"The Hols retreated, but they retreated too soon..."

Natamus narrowed his eyes slightly, watching the distant flames transform into a long dragon, slowly flowing backward.

This is a good thing, but it seems to have some shortcomings.

They had originally planned to launch a full-scale attack while the enemy was in disarray, catching them off guard. However, they hadn't expected the Hols to retreat so resolutely and decisively. They withdrew almost immediately at the onset of the chaos, without the slightest hesitation.

In this situation, it would be difficult to find a real opportunity, but he was unwilling to give up. If he could succeed when the enemy was in defeat, he would turn the retreat into an unstoppable rout, and the losses would be incalculable.

He hesitated for a moment, then immediately made a decision.

…………

A few minutes later, the city's iron gates were finally opened once more, and hundreds of fully armed cavalrymen roared out. Their armor gleamed in the moonlight, and they held spears and shields in their hands, ready to fight at any moment.

The distant firelight was clearly in disarray, and Natamus laughed heartily, feeling a bit more confident.

Suddenly, the sound of horses' hooves came from the hillside to the side. The cavalrymen were about to react when they saw a familiar figure in the bright moonlight...

Tersolius led his cavalry into the steel torrent, and the others made way for him, allowing him to charge to the very front of the column.

Natamus wore a chainmail mask, but his eyes revealed a smile. The two men exchanged a glance, and he suddenly punched his brother on the shoulder. Their loud laughter echoed through the night, drowning out even the neighing of warhorses.

Chapter 77 Victory

The thunderous sound of hooves swept in like a torrential downpour, and the spearheads gleaming with cold light were the raindrops at the forefront of this storm. However, these raindrops would not penetrate the earth; they would only pierce through flesh and tear through armor, turning people into corpses and remains scattered all over the ground.

The dense collisions blended together, sounding like a deafening thunderclap. Countless bodies were thrown into the air, and dozens of spears snapped in two inside the bodies. The dense formation was brutally torn apart, leaving only the agonizing cries of the wounded, the spilled entrails, and the still twitching limbs.

After wreaking havoc through the gap, the cavalry immediately withdrew, preventing the heavy infantry closing in from seizing an opportunity. As they left, they began to reorganize their formation and roared back in the blink of an eye.

At this moment, the panicked Holstein heavy infantry hadn't even managed to maintain their formation—

Another thunderous roar followed, and the Hols' formation was torn apart once more. Countless soldiers were trampled under the hooves of horses before they could escape. As the iron hooves rolled, only mangled sacks of flesh remained. Large swathes of blood seeped from the gaps in their armor and clothing, soaking the dust and weeds on the ground.

And so it went, blow after blow, again and again, tearing the Hols' lines apart, their courage, their lives, their blood... everything that kept them standing was rapidly slipping away, as if their throats had been slashed open by a sharp blade, their morale fleeing at breakneck speed.

Their formation was constantly shrinking, like a beaten person curling up their limbs. Any commander with a little experience would know that they were only one step away from collapse.

Finally! With a thunderous shout, the cavalrymen once again crashed into a corner of the formation. The soldiers there could no longer endure it and scattered and fled like a hornet's nest that had been blown open.

The cavalry immediately seized the opportunity to pursue and chase, allowing these collapsing deserters to disrupt the remaining formation, causing the entire formation to fluctuate and make a final, desperate struggle.

But it was too late. Once the chain reaction started, it was hard to stop. More and more people threw away their heavy main weapons, and some even abandoned their armor and helmets in order to run faster than others. With one chaotic shout after another, the formation collapsed and scattered.

Panic-stricken shouts rose and fell as fleeing soldiers fled in different directions. Some disappeared into dense forests, some into difficult paths, and some, in a daze, rushed toward the plains ahead.

Once the infantry scattered, they posed no threat to the cavalry. Thousands of armored cavalrymen immediately dispersed and began to hunt down the fleeing soldiers. In an instant, the fallen corpses spread out to form black paths. No one thought of stopping the resistance; they only hoped that others could become their scapegoats.

………………

Thesolius removed his helmet, its plume now stained with blood, flattened against the steel's curves. The gilded wings, speckled with blood, added to his menacing and imposing aura.

Natamus, carrying his thick spear, spurred his horse forward. The two of them slowly rode up a high slope, gazing into the distance together.

"In the end, we still got a good taste of it. I bet those long-eared bastards are so angry their eyes will pop out, hahaha! I've wanted to teach them a lesson for a long time! If that old bastard Nulicles hadn't stirred up trouble again, I might have been the one here."

"But we still haven't gotten much of a bite... They've reorganized their defenses, and we can't gain any advantage."

Tersolius looked at the distant city with some regret. Although everything was calm, most of the army had withdrawn and successfully organized defensive lines in the surrounding villages and towns. They could no longer achieve greater results by advancing alone.

The cavalry pursued and killed in all directions. The Holus troops they captured were destined to suffer heavy losses. The dead bodies almost covered the entire mountain pass. However, they did buy time. Meanwhile, the other Holus troops they were chasing were even faster and had already rebuilt their defenses in just one morning.

"That's about it. We almost missed this chance. The Hols king is really capable. The Hols had already retreated when the fire started on the mountain, and he had even arranged the retreat formation... He managed to get his soldiers here in just one night and one morning, and he rebuilt the defenses. It's clear he's not an incompetent fool."

“If he’s a good-for-nothing, I can sleep in the city until you arrive, and not a single Holstein will be able to climb the walls.”

Tersolius smiled. Thick blood seeped through his nails, staining his clothes a dirty red. This blood was difficult to wash off; even if the clothes were torn, stains would likely remain. However, he was wealthy and could easily change his clothes at any time.

"Regardless, this was a well-deserved victory for us. It's time to go back..."

"Go back where?"

"Of course we're going home, but we need to tidy up this place before we go back. We shouldn't lose the melon just to eat an apple... At least for the next 10 years, the Hols won't make any big moves. If their king is determined enough, they might cause us some trouble, but at least we don't have to worry about that now."

"Now the only trouble we need to worry about is those guys... At least we can deal with Gaelius this time... You probably don't know how much pressure His Majesty has been under these days. If it weren't for the fact that we still have the northern and southern provinces under our control, I estimate that the empire would have immediately broken out in rebellion."

Has it really come to this?

Natamus shook his head, a hint of worry appearing on the face of this fearless general:

“Where in the entire empire are their people not? Their roots have long since enveloped the entire country... It's too difficult for just the two of us; we can only barely maintain the status quo. Otherwise, you wouldn't have suffered such a treacherous attack.”

"Putting aside other things, they control most of the legions... Although they can't be mobilized at will without the emperor's orders, who would know if they really wanted to mobilize them? There are plenty of people to cover for them."

Thesolius, with a smile on his face, hung his helmet on the saddle:

"So this time we can't just go back easily, we have to go back in a big way... I want every commoner and every slave in the empire to know what I've done, to completely cut off Arius's tail, so he can never escape again."

“That’s right! Maybe I can do it myself then… but that seems unlikely… If I were the executioner in Chegevne prison, I could treat him properly with those things, scrape off all that oil from his belly, and maybe keep that lamp burning for a few more decades.”

Natamus's expression was filled with intense malice. Chegevne Prison was the largest prison in the entire empire, located in the capital. It was dug out from the stone wall halfway up the mountain, creating a huge space. Once a prisoner was locked up, this was the only way out.

For 100 years since the prison was built, no prisoner has ever been able to escape. The lamp is located at the very back of the cave. It is said to be a lamp, but it is actually far more than one. There are 72 branches carved from stone, and each branch has this lamp. Once lit, it can illuminate an area of ​​hundreds of meters in radius.

Prisoners who died violently in prison were thrown directly into the furnace to be burned. At the busiest times, the furnace ran almost day and night. After the bodies were burned, grease would flow out and accumulate in the grooves on the outside. This black, dusty grease would be used to light lamp wicks.

No one knows why the prison has maintained such a terrible custom, but this custom has continued to this day. Once a prisoner enters the prison, he has almost no chance of getting out unless he is lucky enough to be pardoned by the emperor and can come out through a small door less than half a meter high in the lower right corner of the huge iron gate.

Some prisoners would rather commit suicide than be sent here, which has contributed to the prison's notorious reputation.

The most vicious curse people in the capital city can use during an argument is to wish that the other person's oil could be used to light a lamp...

A large herd of goats was suddenly driven over. Upon asking, it was learned that these were military supplies carried by the Hols. They had plundered these livestock from the surrounding villages. As long as they were given a handful of grass each day, they could eat fresh meat anytime, anywhere. They hadn't even abandoned the herd of goats when they ran away, and now they were getting a good deal.

"Alright, don't worry, let's go back and eat mutton! After a victory, without fine wine and delicious food, half the joy of victory will be lost."

Natamus shook his head and said nothing more. He waved slightly, and his adjutant sounded the horn.

The cavalrymen who had been relentlessly pursuing them in the distance had almost completed their mission. They turned their horses around and converged on them. From the sky, one could see these elite cavalrymen, like an iron torrent, escorting a large herd of gray-black and white-spotted goats, slowly leaving the blood-soaked battlefield.

Looks like we're going back to eat mutton...

———————————————————————————————————

The goats from northern Hols are very oily throughout the southern region. Their meat is tender and has a gamey flavor, but this flavor is so appealing that it makes them even more popular.

The mountains here are rich in wild onions and ginger. When you cut open the belly of the sheep raised here, you can see tender red and white meat. When you fry it in a pan, it sizzles and releases a burst of aroma. Even just a sprinkle of salt makes it delicious.

Moreover, although the mutton is tender, it is not overly tender. You can feel just the right amount of chewiness. After eating it, it will go straight into your stomach without leaving a trace in your teeth. Only the aroma of meat and oil will continue to linger in your nose and mouth.

These sheep were raised in a village near the northern mountain pass. Caravans would transport these tender sheep across the pass to the empire in exchange for a fortune.

But now that town is a ruin, with only bones gnawed by wild dogs and charred remains. These sheep, however, outlived their owners and made their way here.

Of course, their good days are over.