Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

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 mercilessly 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.

67. Changes (3)

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.

What a bloody and evil scene this was! Anyone with a normal understanding would feel fear and indescribable disgust. A faint layer of blood mist lingered throughout the cave, making the air here extremely cold.

The screaming and weeping slaves were pushed to the edge of the pool, desperately begging for forgiveness, not knowing what they had done wrong to deserve such a miserable end.

The desperate cries and wails grew louder and louder, but the heartless and bloodthirsty soldiers still pinned them to the ground one by one, and then swiftly and decisively chopped off their heads with their sharp, curved swords...

The severed head fell perfectly into the pool, and the blood gushing from the neck cavity flowed into the pool like a clear spring. The headless corpse was still twitching involuntarily, but as the blood rapidly drained away, it finally quieted down.

Just like slaughtering chickens and ducks, the soldiers swiftly and decisively killed all twenty-five slaves. After all the blood was poured into the pool, they moved the corpses to a nearby corner and piled them up.

The chill in the cave seemed to intensify, causing the soldiers to shiver involuntarily. Just as they were about to leave, a series of rapid footsteps came from outside the cave. Soon, the fully armed Camus and his men formed two lines and made way for each other.

Seeing the red triangular flags on their spears, everyone knew who was coming in... The soldiers immediately bowed and waited for His Majesty the King to pass by.

The first thing that catches the eye is a pair of exquisite iron boots. They are made of delicate iron plates connected by brass rivets. When the foot bends, these slender iron plates are stacked and stretched out, just like soft leather.

When the boots reached the end, another series of soft footsteps came. The long, dark purple robe reached all the way down to the instep, revealing only the exquisite velvet boots underneath.

Only when both pairs of boots were standing before the pool of blood did they have the right to raise their heads...

The king of the Hols looked young. He had long, black hair that reached his shoulders and curled at the ends. He wore a sharp-edged golden crown and a set of exquisite heavy armor.

A heavy cloak was draped over his shoulders, its white and gold fur apparently plucked from some animal.

Various patterns are embroidered on it with delicate silk threads of different colors. They are so intricate and elaborate that they are not even noticeable from a distance.

His armor was also covered with the same tiny patterns, his beard was neatly trimmed, and beneath his thick eyebrows were sharp eyes. A long scar cut open the corner of his mouth, all the way to near his neck, splitting his entire cheek in two.

Although the wound has healed, one can still imagine how devastating that attack must have been.

The man beside him, dressed in a long black robe, concealed his entire body beneath it, revealing only a long, pointed nose protruding from the hood. His body was as tall and thin as a withered piece of firewood.

The Hols king, Julius Wid Bernard, was not in his camp, but appeared in this hideous and gruesome cave.

"How long can it last?"

The king spoke in a dry, cold voice, like the rubbing of tree bark, which instilled fear in those who heard it.

"Hehehe! This is just the beginning, my Your Majesty. As long as there are enough offerings, this ritual can be maintained until next month...hehehe!...And it hasn't even reached its best effect yet; it's still building up, hehehe!"

The man in black robes kept emitting unpleasant, low laughter. His voice was as cloying and sweet as oil with too much sugar, making people feel uncomfortable from the bottom of their hearts.

Julius remained expressionless, his fingers lightly tapping on the ornate curved sword at his waist.

"How much 'raw material' was added today?..."

The cavalry captain beside him immediately realized that the question was directed at him, so he quickly replied:

"Your Majesty, a total of 104 ingredients have been added today, and another 56 are about to be added."

Julius nodded slightly, then turned his gaze to the man in black:

"I hope you won't let me down. Remember, all the sacrifices I make need to yield the right results, otherwise you won't want to face my wrath."

"Of course! Hehehe! My Majesty... Of course! I will absolutely not let you down..."

The strange voice of the man in black robes came from under his hood, sending chills down everyone's spine. The king, however, ignored it and turned away, mounting his horse outside and quickly departing under the protection of Camus and his men...

Another group of over 50 slaves was driven over, their eyes filled with confusion, not knowing what kind of work they were to be brought here for.

But no matter what, as long as you behave well, you'll definitely survive... after all, that's how it's always been before.

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"I'll say it again, continue the offensive."

The king's eyes were icy cold, but the nobles defiantly voiced their opposition.

A tall, burly Holstein man with extremely short hair was among their main force, loudly and bluntly refuting the king's orders:

"You must be out of your mind, Your Majesty! The soldiers have suffered heavy losses, and no one is willing to attack the wall anymore. Even if Aefus descended upon them, it would be impossible to get them within a single step of the wall in any short time!"

"We have nothing but those broken ladders to attack the city walls. This is using our soldiers and our wealth to fill a bottomless pit! Even if you are the king, you cannot issue such an absurd order!"

"An absurd order!?"

Julius suddenly sprang into action, grabbing the man's head and slamming him hard onto the table. The surrounding nobles cried out in panic, never expecting that a king would disregard his dignity and take matters into his own hands.

The king's face was twitching slightly, and the scar at the corner of his mouth looked as if it might be torn open at any moment, revealing a gaping, bloody maw on his face.

"You call this an absurd order?! You bunch of stupid and short-sighted idiots, only thinking about your own little things!"

The man, who looked stronger than the king, struggled desperately, but he could not shake off the hand pressing down on his head. As the hand tightened its grip, the intense pain made him groan involuntarily.

"Alperth is lost! Alperth is lost, do you understand? With the loss of this city, our entire northern defense line will be rendered useless, and those imperialists can invade our land at any time! Not just your territory, but our entire kingdom is under great threat!"

"You may be reluctant to accept these casualties now, but when we are truly unable to retake the city, the price we will have to pay will be far heavier than this, and none of you will ever have peace again!"

The king forcefully flung the man out of his arms, sending him rolling from the bottom of the tent onto the muddy ground outside.

Seeing that the lords had fallen silent, but their expressions still clearly showed resistance and anger, the king sighed inwardly and waved to the side.

A guard approached respectfully carrying a wooden box adorned with gold patterns, and presented it with both hands.

The king reached into the box, opened it, and took out a stone slab, placing it on the table to everyone's astonishment...