Cataphracts, surviving in a world full of mods

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The stew in the earthenware pot was emitting a hot, fragrant aroma; the mutton and chicken stewing inside smelled mouthwatering.

A slender, fair hand picked up a purple onion—the yellow outer skin of the onion had long been peeled off, revealing the tender purple skin, which also sealed the pungent smell inside.

With her other hand, she picked up a slender knife from the side. Talina's expression had a sense of righteous indignation, like a soldier bidding farewell to his family before a great battle—carrying the bag prepared by his wife, which was filled with warm clothes and dry food for the journey, he had no choice but to pick up his sword and join the ranks that were stepping into the battlefield, despite his reluctance.

While onions have a strong pungent flavor, they also have a pleasant texture and a sweet taste. Chopping them and adding them to meat can eliminate any gamey smell and enhance the aroma. This classic home-style stew is all about adding chopped onions.

Cutting onions directly will make your eyes water from the spiciness, so Tarina had a brilliant idea – if she cut them directly on the pot and then dropped them into the soup, wouldn't her eyes be free from the spiciness?

Now, she's determined to give it a try.

The doctor was very confident in his hands; these skillful and strong hands could easily chop onions without cutting his fingers.

When the blade sliced ​​through the first piece, Tarina knew her calculations were wrong... well, not entirely wrong, since at least while trying to keep her head away from the pot, her tears didn't flow as violently.

A sour, unpleasant sensation, like worms crawling out of her eyes, made the girl squint. Crystal-clear tears streamed down her face, but her hands showed no sign of stopping, moving the knife with a reckless determination. Slice after slice of onion, as thick as silver coins, fell into the soup pot.

After chopping an onion, Tarina took a deep sniff and carefully rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. Through her teary eyes, she tried to observe the flames. The aroma that filled her nostrils was satisfying; it seemed that the pot of soup would soon be at its best.

As her vision gradually cleared, she suddenly let out a small scream—several conspicuous oil stains appeared on her white dress, large and small, scattered like stars, spreading from her chest to her abdomen, like clusters of small yellow flowers.

The lamb and beef were cooked together, which made a lot of oil and flavor, and the thin slices of onion fell into the pot so quietly that they were almost inaudible. But she turned her head away to avoid the pungent smell, which led to the current situation... She should change her clothes.

Suddenly, a sniffling sound came from the doorway, followed by a man's complaining voice:

"What kind of onion is this? It smells so pungent... I can smell it from outside the door. Maybe she's doing some kind of experiment and forgot to turn off the stove."

This was undoubtedly Tersolius's voice, strong yet with a hint of deepness, highly recognizable, and then immediately followed by a knock on the door:

"Doctor, are you inside?"

Tarina suddenly panicked, unsure of what to do... she should change her clothes, but it also seemed she shouldn't.

Thesolius could clearly hear the familiar breathing from inside the door, and the person seemed somewhat worried...

"I understand. Come see me after you're done packing. I have something important to discuss with you. Don't forget."

As soon as he finished speaking, he turned and left without pausing, walking out of the deliberately designated camp and heading towards his central command tent.

…………

Tarina, having changed her clothes, arrived shortly afterward, carrying a package that was still emitting heat. Due to the change in her status and position, the guards in front of the tent did not stop her from entering. After all, she was often summoned over, and many people were already used to it.

"Maybe you should get yourself a new outfit. I thought you'd change a bit."

As soon as she stepped inside, Tersolius looked up and said those words, clearly aware of what had just happened, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

Tarina stopped in surprise and subconsciously glanced down at her clothes—a clean and tidy white dress, just below her knees, which didn't hinder her movements while being neat and elegant... There was absolutely nothing wrong with it; it was the most appropriate attire.

"What I mean is that the color is a bit monotonous. Don't you want to change to something nicer?"

“There’s no need for that, my lady.” Tarina shook her head. Though her tone was gentle, there was a firm resolve in it. “I really like this color of clothing. It makes one look confident and energetic. There’s no need to spend more energy on decorations. There are more important things to do.”

"Hmm... I was going to suggest you and a few other colleagues learn from this, but then I realized those guys don't seem to be of any reference value at all... Never mind, did you bring the materials?"

"I brought it." The white package was placed on the table, and the knot on it was untied, revealing a small earthenware pot inside.

"This is the Frisas sauce stew that my teacher taught me. My teacher always loved to eat this."

The pot lid was lifted, and Tersolius immediately leaned forward, smelling the rich aroma, but then shook his head with some regret:

"It's not quite what I expected. Never mind, I have something else to talk to you about."

Chapter 161 Bait

"The Holy Religion of Supreme Knowledge?"

"That's right, doctor, have you heard of this name before?"

Tarina frowned, pondered carefully, and after a while shook her head, giving a definite answer:

“Absolutely not, sir. I have never heard of this name before, or even anything similar... Is there anything special about this name?”

"It is indeed very special... The guy who had his first brain surgery has finally opened his mouth, and that's what he told me. If nothing unexpected happens, this will be the name of that secret organization."

"We've been taken advantage of by them several times, but it's only now that we've figured out their names. They really kept it well hidden."

Tarina walked thoughtfully to the chair opposite him, reached out and gathered the hem of her skirt along her waist until it reached her knees, then sat down.

"He probably said more, after all, once you start talking, it doesn't matter how much more... Such a secretive organization would definitely silence him for this."

"That's true, but according to his confession, he was only a mid-level member of the organization, and only in the Eastern Province. The real big shots were still hiding behind the scenes, and even he didn't know their identities."

"There's a possibility that they're just making excuses or shirking responsibility."

“That is indeed possible, so I used a little method to make sure he was telling the truth. If he had carefully considered the consequences of angering me, he should be able to make a rational choice.”

"So at least this information can be trusted. After all, this organization can no longer let him go, and he has no choice but to join us now."

Tersolius pulled a piece of parchment from under the table. The parchment did not look like it was newly made; it was quite old, with slightly yellowed edges and traces of insect bites.

Parchment, as its name suggests, is made from thin sheepskin through a series of processes. The most expensive parchment is crafted from the finest lambskin, resulting in a durable and smooth texture. It is even soaked in special chemicals during the production process to prevent insect infestation. The edges are inlaid with fine gold thread and sprinkled with gold powder; a single sheet can be worth a significant portion of an average citizen's monthly salary.

Paper was so expensive that it was difficult to popularize. Apart from the imperial government, which used it extensively, only wealthy merchants and scholars funded by the state used it frequently. Moreover, it required constant maintenance to prevent it from getting damp and insects. Ordinary people had neither the financial resources nor the time to take care of such a precious thing.

This piece of paper had clearly been stored for a long time; the edges were curled and yellowed, and there were small tears. The handwriting on it was also very messy and uneven, appearing crooked and distorted, giving the impression that the person who wrote it had done it in a secret and hurried manner.

"It seems he was prepared in advance, and even dared to leave such a thing behind."

With a smile on his lips, Tersolius slowly spread the paper out on the table, revealing the irregular handwriting to the two of them.

It was obvious that this was a list, with names written down one after another, and next to each name was a parenthesis containing the person's disguised profession and current location.

The paper was stored on top of a pillar in the house they demolished. The man carefully dug a hole in it, sealed the paper inside, filled it with a piece of wood of the same size, and painted it back with the original paint. If he hadn't known beforehand, probably only the devil could have found this place.

Tarina's fingers traced over the names one by one. Most of them were unfamiliar to her, but there were still several that she could call familiar, and that she even saw often...

"The owner of this farm is also one of their people... Our troops have only been here for a month, and they have already managed to infiltrate to this extent."

“That’s not surprising, Talina.”

Tersolius also scrutinized the list on the paper. According to him, these were the valuable informants hidden throughout the province, all of whom had undergone some degree of training and were not the kind of amateurs temporarily bought off for a few dozen coins. It would be difficult for an ordinary person to detect their flaws.

"This organization has been operating in the shadows for who knows how many years, and we still have no idea how much power they have... I now suspect that there are likely people from their side in the Senate of the Empire, not to mention that it would be easy for them to disguise themselves as a merchant and infiltrate the military camp."

"Have you ever heard of thorny plants, doctor?"

"I've read about it in a book, sir. I've heard it's a plant native to the southern region of Assele. It's very resilient and grows very widely. The cattle, sheep, and camels of the Assele people often graze on the branches and leaves of this plant."

"That's right. This plant looks unremarkable. It's only about the size of an adult man's hand. Its leaves are small and lack sap. It's also covered in thorns. Only camels with thick skin would eat this. So it's called camel thorn by the locals... But the reason this inconspicuous little thing can grow all over the Astra Desert is because of its abundant roots."

"This plant is a short, small thing, but its roots can penetrate seven or eight meters deep into the ground and spread outwards. No one can pull this plant out without damaging its roots. What we see now are just some grass leaves. The real roots are buried deep underground, and it will be extremely difficult to find them."

"Well, at least we have some clues now, so we can try to follow them to find more information and not be completely at a loss."

"Should we arrest all these people on the list immediately? But they might not know as much as the current person, and it would be easier to alert them." Tarina looked at the names on the list again. There were no important positions; most of them were just low- to mid-level officials or merchants doing business with the military.

"We need to crack down on them, but we can't crack down too hard."

Tersolius waved to the outside, and a guard immediately entered the tent and saluted him.

"Go and fetch Fitzgerald for me. He's been given so much time; he should be able to do something now."

The guard immediately turned and left, conveying the legion commander's will, while Thesolius reached out and picked up the parchment on the table:

"This guy may not know much on his own, but he can be a great bait to lure in more big fish."

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

A medium-sized carriage was swaying along the road. The carriage was worn in many places, and the paint was mottled, indicating that it had been used for a long time.

Although the old horse pulling the cart had graying fur, it was still strong and muscular. It pulled a cart full of charcoal with unwavering stability, though its pace was slightly slower. This, however, brought a rare level of smoothness to the cart, almost comparable to that of an oxcart.

This carriage, which has been used for many years, should have reached the point where it needs repair and replacement, but the parts are still in their original condition. If it weren't for the two sturdy wooden wheels covered with iron, it would probably be unusable long ago.

The reason the owner of the carriage still uses such an old means of transportation is not because of a lack of money or time constraints, but because of his own stinginess...

Little Catoruis was a notorious miser in his village. Although he was young, he had become just like his father, a penny-pincher. It was as painful for anyone to eat an extra bowl of rice from his family. He only wanted to see money come in, and it was extremely difficult to take it out.

For this lean and wiry young man, saving even two copper coins was a valuable endeavor, worth his effort and time. Anyone who tried to take advantage of him, even a friend, would be met with his immediate wrath; he would stop them without hesitation, even at the cost of a complete falling out.

But when it comes to taking advantage of others, he's incredibly enthusiastic and never gives up—every evening when it's time to cook, he'll make a point of wandering around the village, sniffing the aromas emanating from each household. If he can detect even a hint of cooking oil, he'll unhesitatingly push open the door and go in for a visit while the other person is busy preparing their meal. He'll bring nothing but his face.

While he was eating, a group of villagers came to visit. It would be unreasonable not to share his food, which gave him a rare opportunity to have a hot meal without even lighting a fire at home.

But after doing this for a long time, he became a disliked figure in the village, constantly receiving disdainful looks. When he tried to freeload, people would ignore him, eating and drinking as usual, so he had to regretfully give up this promising business.

After his father died, he took over the family's charcoal business. The earthen kiln used for burning charcoal wasn't large, and even after a long time of work, he could only produce enough charcoal for one cartload. However, as long as he could deliver it to the city, he could still earn a considerable amount. Especially after recently establishing a relationship with the large army stationed in the city, he could deliver his charcoal directly to the military camp every day, no longer needing to peddle it around, which made things much easier. Moreover, the army was wealthy and generous, paying him more than usual.

Although a cartload of charcoal only cost him three extra silver coins, it was worth the extra distance for him. He also became increasingly arrogant in the village, telling everyone that he was now in charge of delivering charcoal to the army... But in reality, to stockpile fuel for the winter, the carts delivering charcoal to the military camp blocked the narrow road every day, and he was just one of them.

The entire province had been ravaged by those barbarians some time ago, but their village was fortunately located behind the governor's city and was completely unaffected. As a result, even his charcoal business was not disturbed and continued to operate.

Because of the large army stationed nearby, no fool would dare to rob or block the road. So he closed his eyes and fell asleep in the carriage, reassured. His old horse knew the way, so a short nap wouldn't hurt.

Of course, the charcoal on the carriage could not be stolen, so he slept directly on the charcoal. To prevent the charcoal from being damaged, he even covered it with a thin wooden board, making it impossible for ordinary thieves to steal from him.

In this dazed state, his old horse led him to the military camp along its usual route, and snorted twice as it approached, waking him from his sleep.

He rubbed his sore eyes and forced himself to stay awake. He drove the carriage to a series of rooms next to the military camp—where people, whether selling vegetables, charcoal, or anything else, would exchange goods, pay on the spot, and unload their cargo.

Just as he stopped the carriage and was about to put on a fawning smile and try to befriend the quartermaster next to him, a rapid, thunderous sound of hooves suddenly came from behind him, startling him so much that he fell off the carriage, his face ashen, his hands buried in the fallen horse manure.

Completely ignoring the warm, damp touch on his fingers, the terrifying aura of the armored cavalrymen rushing past him nearly made him faint on the spot. The gleaming armor shone brightly in the sunlight, and the tall figures on horseback looked like a group of giants.

What was even more striking was one of their carriages. This carriage was heavily guarded by cavalry, but inside was not anyone important, but a prisoner locked in a wooden cage, dressed in intricately embroidered silk clothing. He had seemingly been wealthy and noble not long ago, but in the blink of an eye, he was a pitiful prisoner.

The streets had already been cleared, and his carriage, which had been parked by the roadside earlier, hadn't been reprimanded. After the swift cavalry had left, the young merchant, who had gotten up from the ground, couldn't help but ask the quartermaster beside him for news:

"Lord Pudolis, you are well-informed and knowledgeable, do you know what happened? You almost scared me to death just now!"

The quartermaster, wearing a green robe, glared at him.

"Don't ask questions you shouldn't! You're not qualified to give advice on this kind of thing! Be careful you don't get mistaken for a spy and dragged out to have your head chopped off."

“You’re right! You’re right! I was just being nosy… But that man looked like Mr. Adez, the biggest grain merchant in the city. How did he end up in such a state?”

"If he's not a spy, he must have committed some heinous crime. Is there any need to guess? Otherwise, why would it be the lord's elite cavalry personally escorting him... Are you still selling your charcoal? Wash your hands and come get your money."

The young businessman nodded vigorously, but in the instant he turned his head, a cold, shrewd glint flashed in his eyes…

Chapter 162 Sprouting (1)