Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

Although she knew her identity was different from before, the girl was still somewhat timid and hesitant when she saw the unfamiliar army, a habit she had developed in the past.

Especially since Tersolius had left the camp in the afternoon, Tarina suddenly lost her composure and became somewhat flustered.

There was a simple bed on the ground of the tent, lined with moisture-proof straw and covered with bedding. She tidied her hair and sat on the bed, ready to get some rest.

Just as she took off one of her shoes, the tent flap was suddenly flung open, and a dark figure rushed in, lunging at her in a few steps.

The sudden fright almost made Tarina scream, and she instinctively backed away, her fingers gripping the hilt of the knife at her waist. When she saw the mountain girl's wicked smile, she became furious.

Colin, carrying a bowl, barged in without a word, ready to mock the doctor for being startled by him. But then, two slender hands suddenly grabbed her face and pulled it apart forcefully—proving that no matter how much a person exercises, the flesh on their face is still soft.

"Ouch! Ouch! Stop it! I'm still holding the bowl! The soup is going to spill! The soup is going to spill!... You took advantage of me... No, I was wrong, I was wrong!"

…………

Colin rubbed his red cheeks, rolling his eyes as he complained, "I kindly brought you meat, and you repay kindness with enmity! You have to apologize to me, doctor; my reputation has suffered a huge loss!"

Talina completely ignored the mountain girl's nonsense. In the wooden bowl in front of her, hot soup was steaming, with finely chopped vegetables floating on the surface. Two large pieces of slightly blackened smoked meat had been cooked until they were loose and gave off the rich aroma of cured meat.

"Hmph! Hmph... How about it? There was no meat for dinner tonight, but I managed to get you a bowl. You should thank me properly."

Colin leaned over again, also holding a bowl of stew in her hands. Because she was chewing, her speech was a little slurred.

"Where did you find it? I remember we ran out of meat in our supplies."

"Of course I asked those kind guys next to me for it! They were so generous, they even told me to eat more so I could grow taller... Wait! Do they mean I'm too short right now?!"

Tarina glanced helplessly at the oblivious Colin, then reached out and picked up the bowl from the floor.

"You're only realizing it now...?"

"Then give me this bowl too, maybe I can grow taller!"

"Never."

Volume Two

Chapter 103 Arrival (4)

Chainmail, or chainmail, is a type of flexible armor. These armors, made up of small, interlocking steel rings, can easily deform to adapt to the bending of the limbs. As long as the size difference is not too great, this armor can fit most body types.

This type of armor offers excellent protection against slashing attacks, while also being more flexible, easy to wear, and suitable as inner armor for other heavy armors.

It sounds like there are many advantages, but Teresolus knew that there was one disadvantage that was never mentioned, but it was widespread—the devastating damage that fine nail rings caused to beards and hair.

He never grew a beard, but his hair had grown quite long, and every time he took off his helmet, a few strands would get stuck in the gaps of the clasp.

If hair reaches the shoulders, this problem is hard to avoid. Unfortunately, there were no skilled hairdressers in his army, and even if he were to use a dagger to deal with it himself, he wasn't confident he could tidy it up to look presentable.

There were such servants in Pontra's bathhouse, but he was completely unaware of it at the time...

The cavalrymen, of course, had no idea that their general was troubled; they were now filled with excitement, and even the reins of their horses were trembling slightly.

Only they knew the price they had paid to get here... Just as Thesolius had promised them, they had finally returned.

A total of 452 cavalrymen rode their warhorses behind the general. Their armor was covered with marks from swords and axes, the plates were bent and the rings were broken. In many places, the bloodstains were difficult to clean. Some of it was from wounds that seeped into the lining, but more of it was the blood of the enemy that had splattered on their bodies and seeped through their armor.

Swords and blades chipped against the hard armor rings, spears broke in two from heavy use, and the gaps between the iron staff and chain mace were filled with dark red blood and covered with scratches of all sizes.

The warhorses' once glossy coats were now covered with long, bald patches—marks left from healed wounds. These strong creatures recovered much faster than their masters.

The sun was shining brightly today, and the stone slabs on the wide road were scorching hot. Their armor reflected the dazzling light, and the sun's heat penetrated their skin, like a river flowing under the sun, shimmering and moving steadfastly in one direction.

The crowds on the road were so dense, but everyone made way for them. After this period of time, they are now known to everyone.

The sound of iron hooves pounding on the stone slabs was crisp and loud; the sound of more than 1000 hooves pounding simultaneously was more intense and awe-inspiring than a storm.

Each squad has its own flag, and all the flags fly proudly overhead, making a series of sounds as the squad slowly tears through the air.

The gleam of steel shone in the distance as the capital's garrison awaited them on both sides of the road. The tips of their spears were denser than ears of wheat in a field, and the soldiers lined up resembled fields of wheat, eagerly anticipating the end of the road.

The cavalry showed no intention of slowing down, and the garrison soldiers made no attempt to stop them; they cleared a wide road and allowed the cavalry to pass through.

Amidst the dust kicked up by the warhorses, a man clad in armor rode towards Thesolius, then turned his horse around without any hesitation and rode alongside him.

When the cavalrymen in the play passed through the road between them, as the horns sounded, the soldiers picked up their spears and shields and followed behind the cavalrymen.

At the officer's shouts, they formed a neat column and followed like a long snake amidst the rustling of their armor. Caravans and pedestrians passed through the open spaces on both sides, making way for the army on the wide road.

In the morning sunlight, this peculiar legion began its march towards the imperial capital, as if two forces had joined together and were about to launch an attack...

....................................

"How is the situation, Turials?"

Thesolius did not turn his head, just as he knew the man next to him did not either.

"Everything is arranged, Lord Tersolius... The gates of the Senate are open, and His Majesty will arrive soon. Those to be questioned have already been confined to the central speaking platform. Everyone is waiting for your arrival."

Tersolius suddenly chuckled softly, a hint of wistfulness on his face:

“I bet there’s a great theatrical performance waiting for me…maybe I’ll be one of the actors. What about you, Turials? What kind of role are you playing?”

“I am His Majesty’s merchant, nothing more, my lord.”

The slightly chubby man turned his head. His short hair was clearly the result of a recent haircut, and Tersolius could clearly see the stubble on his forehead, indicating that he hadn't washed it properly.

The man looked pampered; not only was his skin fair, but even the skin on his fingers was thick, smooth, and without scars.

The armor he wore fit him well, and his bones and muscles were strong. Although he was not tall, he still had a very imposing presence.

Thesolius burst into laughter, and Moss, swaying his long neck, quickened his pace and overtook the docile castrated horse beside him in an instant.

"Then follow us, businessman. We might have a chance to make a fortune today..."

........................

The maids were busy at work. Although they were servants in name, each of them was of noble status. When they walked out of the golden palace, they were enough to make ordinary minor nobles bow to them.

But now, they are all just servants...

A close-fitting silk inner robe was draped over her smooth, fair skin and fastened with buttons made of jewels and gold.

Then came the heavy, magnificent purple robe, gold-threaded boots made of the finest Salmir leather, a gorgeous cloak embroidered with thousands of patterns, a belt inlaid with gold plates and rubies and sapphires, and all sorts of exquisite ornaments...

A dozen servants bustled around the tall figure, but under the female official's command, there was no panic or delay. Everyone accurately completed their duties, preparing the most solemn and majestic robes for the emperor amidst the incense.

Finally, the most respected lady-in-waiting held up the magnificent imperial crown, made of gold and gleaming silver, inlaid with dozens of the most precious gemstones and hundreds of slightly lesser glittering stones and clear jade, and slowly placed it on her smooth, neat silver hair.

Finally, there was a heavy and majestic scepter, with an intricate pattern of gold and gemstones inlaid on the steel hammerhead at the top, and a copper awl at the bottom gently resting against a fine Asshal carpet, with fine gold threads intertwined and covering the entire scepter.

It is both a symbol of authority and a ferocious weapon—no less capable than any other weapon of its kind in crushing bones and smashing heads. Its excellent center of gravity, resulting from proper weight distribution, gives it speed and handling far superior to its counterparts.

This is also a reminder that the emperor of an empire can never be a weak man, otherwise he is not qualified to hold the scepter.

........................

Clautina looked at her reflection in the mirror, which was as tall as herself—the emperor in the mirror was incredibly majestic, representing the supreme power of the entire empire, making people dare not look directly at him.

This suit of clothing probably isn't much lighter than a regular suit of armor—that's what Tersolius would say if he saw it... The guy who wanted his own armor since he was a child is always very easy to guess.

A slight smile appeared on the emperor's lips, but everyone around him lowered their heads, so no one saw it—or rather, no one could see it.

"Your Majesty, everything is ready."

The female official, whose eyes and forehead were lined with wrinkles, was not young, but she was clearly quite trustworthy.

The emperor turned and moved away. Equally ornately dressed servants lifted his large cloak from the ground and escorted him away, allowing him to board a massive carriage, leaving only the servants who were cleaning the place behind.

————————————————————————————

The magnificence of this city is beyond words; it makes one wonder if mortals could build such a spectacle—the sheer cliffs made of black rock almost reach the clouds, and the heavy gates are half a meter thick, requiring ten strong oxen to turn the mechanism each time they open or close.

Eagles and falcons circle and soar atop the highest tower, where their nests are located, which is the origin of the city's name—there are always an unusually large number of birds of prey here, and no one knows why.

Moss's horse stopped before the city. The vast and magnificent city before him made even the brave steed halt, snorting uneasily.

The cavalrymen waited silently behind him, their banners fluttering in the wind, their backs straight, proudly facing the city.

Tersolius looked up for a moment, raised his eyebrows slightly, and his warhorse began to stride powerfully toward the already opened city gate.

With a soft shout of men and neighing of horses, a torrent of steel followed behind him, surging towards the city where eagles gathered…

Chapter 104 Arrival (5)

As he rode through the towering bronze gate, Tersolius was greeted by an endless sea of ​​people.

He was almost certain that everyone in the city had gathered here. The streets were so crowded that everyone was pressed against each other's shoulders and chests, and their breath could push the hair on the back of the head of the person in front of them.

All kinds of clothes, all kinds of colors, all kinds of materials, were soaked with sweat seeping from the skin, and the hot air currents gathered together, causing the air to ripple.

The crowd was whispering, like the murmur of a swarm of bees in a fit of rage. No one could make out what they were saying, but the sound was everywhere and pervasive.

They maintained a certain degree of order, not encroaching on the wide street in front of them, but it was constantly fluctuating and changing. Every now and then, someone would suddenly raise their voice and shout, which would then attract others to argue with them.

Everyone's facial expressions are different: anticipation, joy, anger, mockery... If every expression were drawn, it would be enough to make up a thick picture book.

Their limbs swayed constantly, a small release to alleviate their excitement. Everyone stared longingly at the city gate, hoping to see a true hero.

This vast sea of ​​people looks like some kind of unified creature, full of complex emotions and pent-up violence, unpredictable and ready to unleash its power at any moment.

As soon as the black flag came into view, the sea of ​​human figures immediately surged into a raging storm. Waves of shouts roared like thunderstorms, and the raised arms were as dense as weeds in a field.

A name, a name that had been circulating here for months, surged forth like a tidal wave; everyone was chanting it, as if it were some kind of mysterious incantation.

Tersolys!

Tersolius!!

No one organized it, no one pushed it; everyone shouted the name at the same time. They pushed and shoved forward, only to be blocked by the garrison troops on both sides of the road. They stretched out their hands as if trying to grab something, shouting the name.

Leading the procession, the heavily armored knight in a magnificent eagle helmet reached out and untied the bridle of his helmet, removing it as he picked up a spear from beside his saddle.

A handsome young man with slightly long hair and sharp features appeared before the people of the capital. His eyes were as bright and piercing as the finest obsidian. He possessed the most standard imperial appearance.

Cheers erupted like muffled thunder, at least half of them from women. Purple thistles and roses rained down on the road, dotting the hooves of the cavalrymen.

The crowd surged once more like a tide, and the garrison soldiers blocking their way stood shoulder to shoulder, using their spears as railings to form a sturdy barrier, allowing the cavalry to pass through unimpeded.

The smooth bluestone slabs had long been swept clean, and the clear water drawn from the canal had washed away all the dust and garbage. The buildings on both sides had white stone bricks forming the base walls, and the smooth walls were coated with white lime to prevent moisture and insects. They gleamed white under the sunlight.

Just as the garrison soldiers relaxed slightly, an unprecedented cheer suddenly erupted like thunder in the middle. The crowd began to push desperately towards the center, causing many soldiers to collapse to the ground.

When their commander turned around in alarm, he saw a magnificent, dark green banner, stained with blood and dust, being carried on a long, black spear.