Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

The city lord, dressed in a magnificent robe, paced anxiously. This middle-aged man had fair fingers and a bloated figure, showing no signs of having ever handled a knife or sword. Only someone who had been pampered since childhood could possess such a physique.

"General Tesolis's request is beyond reproach, and it is our duty in the first place, so what is there to hesitate about? We should prepare as soon as possible."

The one who spoke was a noblewoman. Her glossy black hair, with slightly curled ends, was tied up on her head. Her full face was fair and smooth, and her eyes were bright and spirited. She was also dressed in a gorgeous silk robe, with a large silk scarf draped over her shoulders and a jewel-encrusted belt around her waist.

Upon hearing the woman speak, the city lord, with his neatly trimmed beard, seemed to see a savior. He rushed to her and grasped her fair hand.

"My Minerva, my dear wife, you've finally arrived! Please help me think of a solution... I'm going crazy!"

The noblewoman sighed helplessly and reached out to wipe the sweat from the man's forehead:

"Didn't I just tell you? This is our duty as city administrators. Just gather the city officials and get them ready as soon as possible."

“Things aren’t that simple…” The city lord shook his head. “Elder Thassilos’s attendant came here yesterday. It’s clear that General Tersolius is going against the elders. How dare I get involved? No matter what I do, I’ll definitely offend one side, which is why I’m in such a dilemma.”

Upon hearing this, the noblewoman's face showed a thoughtful expression. The city lord, amidst his anxiety, paused suddenly, then offered a suggestion:

"How about we secretly send the supplies over and pretend we didn't provide them? That way we won't offend anyone."

"Absolutely not!"

The man, who thought he had found a good solution, was immediately met with a cold shower.

"This will bring us great disaster. Both the Emperor and the Senate will have a bad impression of us, and we will only offend everyone."

“Then let’s find an excuse not to supply General Tersolius with supplies? Let’s say that our city has just run out of supplies, and I’ll have them cover it up later.”

The lady's expression could almost be described as helpless:

“My husband, you seem to have forgotten to consider one thing: he has a large army, an elite force. If things go wrong, he can arrest you for dereliction of duty. As the emperor’s legion commander, he has every right to do so.”

The man's face turned pale instantly, and he gripped the woman's hand tightly, as if grasping at a straw, refusing to let go.

"So what should we do? Is there really no other way?!"

"We have to make a choice."

The woman's face showed a resolute expression:

"Or rather, we had no choice from the beginning. When General Tersolius arrived near our city with his army, we only had one path to take."

"Madam, what do you mean...?"

“We not only need to provide General Tersolius with supplies, but also fully support him. We can no longer hesitate and must act immediately. Even if the nursing home wants to punish us, it won't be done in a short time. Moreover... I guess the reason why General Tersolius suddenly issued such an order is probably to force us to make a choice.”

The city lord shuddered violently, as if a sharp sword had just been removed from his back; a bone-chilling cold had just seeped into his spine, raising goosebumps all over his body.

"Madam, do you mean if I disobey his orders..."

"That's right... I'm afraid neither of us will have a good ending."

The panic on the city lord's face slowly faded. He gritted his teeth, then turned and left.

"I'll make the arrangements right away. Madam, you should hurry up and prepare the banquet. We can't afford any mistakes this time."

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

Tersolius sat on a tree stump, left behind by a large tree felled by nearby lumberjacks. It had become very dry from the wind and sun, but the bark at the base was rotten and damp, and even a few small mushrooms had sprouted from it.

A map was laid out on the large wooden board in front of them. This kind of wooden tabletop was made up of several narrow wooden boards pieced together, which could be easily disassembled and taken away when breaking camp.

On the map are several exquisite chess pieces: some are cavalrymen on horseback with spears, some are infantrymen holding shields and short weapons, and others are lightly armored archers and mounted archers riding at full speed with bows drawn.

These chess pieces are all made of fine porcelain, with a smooth and delicate surface, and even come in a variety of different colors, making them look lifelike. The ceramic firing process here surprised him a little.

The map in front of me was not a normal military map. It depicted various terrains such as hills, forests, and plains in a simplified manner, but it was limited to a small area and could not serve the function of a normal military map.

Now, his elder brother Nathamus was nervously shaking a small box in his hand. The box was placed face down on the table, and when it was removed, a twelve-sided die inside showed its value: 3.

Thessalius immediately laughed:

"It seems the forced march failed. Your infantry has exhausted all their strength and will have to rest in place for the next three rounds. My cavalry has cut off your retreat and your supply lines have been completely destroyed... This victory is mine."

Natamus slammed his fist on the table in frustration, causing the chess pieces to jump up, and suddenly reached for the dice:

"That doesn't count, I'll throw it again! How could my legion's well-trained heavy infantry possibly exhaust themselves by not even making it through a forest like this?"

"No cheating allowed. A loss is a loss."

Tersolius laughed heartily and snatched the dice away, while Nathamus dejectedly dropped the chess piece in his hand.

Twirling the dice in his hand, Tersolius had to admit he was quite surprised... He truly hadn't expected that such a game existed in the world. Although the rules were relatively simple, it was definitely a board game...

Such complex and expensive games have always had a high barrier to entry, and it takes a long time for them to develop and change before they can have a mature system.

This complex game, which originated in the empire, has been around for 24 years. Due to its excellent entertainment value, it has become very popular in neighboring countries and the empire. In the country of the Hols, it is called Imperial Chess, while in the empire it is called Military Chess, and in the southern kingdom of Asel, it is called the Game of War...

The sudden appearance of such a game in this world is clearly abrupt and abnormal... This made him think about several possibilities.

“I’ve never beaten you since I was a kid. You’re not only smart, but you’re also lucky… I thought I had a chance this time, but I didn’t expect you to come up with this kind of crazy idea.”

Nathamus stood up and stretched his shoulders. After dinner, they played several rounds here. Tersolius almost lost only once, but he eventually managed to organize an offensive and win back the victory.

That's why Nathamus was so frustrated. It's like a fisherman who has been fishing for 10 years finally encountering a fish big enough to break his fishing rod, but just as he luckily pulls the fish to the shore, the fishing line is suddenly cut on a rock...

Thesoris, meanwhile, reveled in his victory without any restraint, and the two brothers laughed heartily.

A drop of rain fell on the top of the tent, followed by a continuous stream of raindrops that made the tent fabric patter loudly.

"Is it raining now? I need to go check if those lazybones have packed their things yet, lest they get soaked..."

Natamus finally bid farewell to his brother, and after a surprise punch to his shoulder, he rushed out of the tent with a triumphant laugh.

Tersolius smiled and shook his head, then quickly put away the chessboard in front of him before going to the door and looking at the distant sky.

In the pitch-black night, only the torches in the camp illuminated the area. The sudden rain kept everyone busy, with slave soldiers and mountain people shouting and yelling as they spread out tarpaulins to cover the wagons.

The cavalrymen standing outside the tent remained motionless, letting the cold rain lash against their armor. They were as silent as statues, with only the slight rise and fall of their chest armor testifying to their discipline.

"You can leave now. You don't need to be on duty today. Go home and rest early."

The two cavalrymen immediately bowed and saluted, then picked up their spears and shields and left the tent, leaving Tersolius to stretch out his hand and watch the raindrops patter on his palm.

The temperature began to drop rapidly, and the chilly raindrops made people feel completely refreshed. The tent, which had been maintained with oil, was able to keep out the rain well. All that could be heard inside was a continuous, increasingly dense sound of raindrops falling, until it eventually became a continuous drizzle.

Rainwater dripped down the sloping top of the tent, forming a thin curtain in front of him. A few drops splashed onto his face, bringing a clear, moist mist.

This reminded him of the heavy rain that day... Amidst the blood and mud, they suffered a shameful betrayal. He could still vividly recall the feeling of the cold rain seeping through his nails and flowing onto his body, as if the rain had just fallen yesterday.

A commotion suddenly erupted from the camp gate. The neighing of warhorses and panicked explanations pierced through the rain. Soon after, the cavalrymen brought over a young man, soaked to the bone and shivering from the cold.

"A messenger from Lord Trolop Eis, right?"

The young man raised his head blankly, then quickly lowered it again, shrinking into a ball.

"Your wisdom is beyond imagination, my lord."

"Your master is a bit indecisive. I've been waiting for news from him since this afternoon."

Tersolius wiped a few drops of rain from his cheek and slightly curled the corners of his mouth.

85 Imperials (3)

A poor ram was dragged out of the pen by the slaves. The strong ram struggled desperately, as if it already knew what awaited it.

The slaves grabbed the goat by the head and limbs and placed it on its back on the ground. One slave picked up a clamp made of two thick branches from the side, then reached between the ram's legs, grabbed a clump of something, and clamped it in the clamp.

The sac-like organ was deformed by the pressure of the hard wood, while the slave deftly picked up a hammer from the side, then propped the clamp and the thing clamped on a towering rock, and swung the hammer down heavily on it.

Meow!!!

The ram stretched out its head and let out a pitiful cry, while its limbs began to struggle violently again, but the slaves did not let it move an inch, and slammed the hammer heavily onto the trap again. The sudden squeeze brought intense pain, causing it to convulse all over.

With each hammer blow, one after another, as if to smash the organ into a pulp, the slaves showed no mercy. The ram, meanwhile, continued to squeal loudly and energetically, its cries, accompanied by the hammering, sounding like a strange melody, as if it were trying to protest something.

The slaves became increasingly adept at smashing the goat, their hammers swung with tremendous force. Screams of agony followed one after another, and they finally stopped after dozens of blows. They released the goat, watching it limp and try to escape.

But of course, that was impossible. A strong slave grabbed its horns and forcibly dragged the fat ram into the sheepfold... or perhaps it should be called a castrated ram.

The slaves, drenched in sweat, had no time to rest. The sonic boom from the whips cutting through the air jolted them into action as if doused with cold water, and soon another striking, strong ram was dragged out.

The ram, bewildered and offering only slight resistance, was dragged to this place. Even though the cries of its kind had been echoing in the air, it still couldn't understand its current situation until the intense pain struck, at which point it instinctively began to struggle.

Although there is no bloodshed, this scene always sends chills down one's spine...

A loud horn suddenly sounded, followed by the thunderous sound of horses' hooves. A cry of alarm, like a thunderclap, suddenly rang out from among all the working slaves, growing louder and louder.

Although they still held tightly to the ram, the slaves couldn't help but glance curiously at the end of the road... Just one glance, and their hands involuntarily loosened, and their legs began to tremble.

The ram that they had captured seized the opportunity to get up quickly, trembling as it tried to escape, but was still grabbed by both horns by a slave who had regained his senses, and could not break free at all.

A vast array of flags appeared at the end of the road, various flags of hundred-person teams and squads fluttering in the wind. Among them, the most eye-catching was a majestic black banner with a golden double-headed eagle surveying the surroundings, its sharp talons gripping the banner's crossbar tightly. Golden and blood-red tassels and ribbons danced in the wind.

Beneath the flagpole, countless sharp spears stretched out, their gleaming tips like an endless expanse of shimmering river water. The knights' scarlet helmet plumes danced with the gallop of their warhorses, and the bright helmets and brass components, along with their gleaming, sturdy armor, exuded a chilling aura in the sunlight.

The shoulders of their magnificent warhorses were as tall as a man, and their hooves were as big as bowls. Their powerful muscles twitched beneath their smooth, silky coats, and their long, thick necks would occasionally lift slightly, causing their trimmed manes to ripple like water.

A steel torrent of elite heavy cavalry poured down from the end of the road, carrying an aura that seemed intent on tearing everything apart and crushing everything in its path. Just hearing the thunderous sound of hooves pounding the ground and the creaking of armor was enough to send shivers down one's spine and prevent any thought of resistance.

The cavalrymen passed by them with cold pride, not even glancing at the slaves with their helmets, while the slaves immediately bowed respectfully, almost touching their knees, waiting for these esteemed masters to leave.

As the sound of hooves faded into the distance, before they could even catch their breath, they heard the supervising official reprimand them:

"You lowly bastards, bow now!"

Before the slaves could react, the master they were talking about had already put away his whip and bowed respectfully, even lower than usual...

A series of footsteps, though not exactly orderly, were quite rhythmic. The gleam of armor at the end of the road caught their eyes. The infantrymen wore fine chainmail, helmets with nose guards, shields on their backs, and various main weapons such as spears and axes on their shoulders, with short hammers and swords hanging at their waists.

The crossbowmen carrying heavy crossbows on their shoulders were dressed similarly, also carrying shields and short weapons at their waists, except they had two bags of short, thick crossbow bolts.

Each of them was incredibly agile, with a healthy rosy complexion and thick, glossy hair. In addition to their weapons, they carried food bags, water bottles, short pickaxes, axes, daggers, and other essential items for marching and setting up camp, yet none of this made them seem sluggish.

What puzzled the slaves was that as these elite legionary soldiers passed by, many of them would look at them with a strange gaze... as if they were reminiscing about something, but they did not stop and firmly followed the pace of the column.

Their centurions and captains led their soldiers in orderly columns, clearing a path through which wagons carrying various supplies passed, slowly advancing under the soldiers' protection.

Finally, a group of somewhat strange legionary archers arrived. Many of them had their own mounts, but few actually rode them. Most of them would put all sorts of odds and ends on the backs of mules and tugs of the horse, then pull them along by the reins.

They carried longbows made of yew wood on their backs, two large bags of arrows at their waists and backs, and wore chainmail and helmets, with leggings on their feet. Their red jackets, headscarves, and inner linings were all in the style of legionary soldiers, but there was always something incongruous about it...

When everyone saw the furs being transported on the backs of their mules, they understood where the incongruity came from... Their attire was exactly the same as that of the hunters living in the mountains, all leading a mule to transport their produce to the city to exchange for what they needed.

But these archers were noticeably different; their marching pace and speed were surprisingly orderly. Although they looked around curiously, no one dared to speak loudly, maintaining a proper level of order throughout.

A magnificent black warhorse appeared on the road, drawing gasps of amazement from everyone—no one had ever seen such a fine horse. Compared to it, even the steeds ridden by wealthy merchants could only be seen as skinny donkeys.

The general on horseback wore a distinctive eagle-feathered helmet with a long red plume that reached all the way to the middle of the helmet. The gilded steel visor exuded a cold and imposing aura.

Everyone realized that this was the general leading the legion, an extremely noble person... Some slaves had already prostrated themselves on the ground, not daring to look up, and even the fierce-looking overseers lowered their heads deeply with fawning smiles.

………………

Thesolius tapped his fingers lightly on the leather of the saddle, then suddenly turned to look behind him. A drowsy Tarina rode behind him on a gentle ponies.

"Doctor, are they castrating a ram?"

Tarina glanced to the side with a puzzled look, her expression immediately changing. She hesitated for a moment before saying something:

"Sir...they are castrating those rams."

"This is the first time I've seen this method. I originally thought castration involved surgery."

The slaves were driven to work again, and as they swung their hammers, the bleating of rams could be heard. It was a huge pasture with thousands of goats and sheep of all colors and sizes roaming around.

The slaves would then seize the strongest rams among them, drag them outside, and begin to smash them with hammers, clamping them in wooden clips.

"There are indeed such castration methods..."

Tarina tapped her chin with her slender fingers:

“But castration with a knife is not something an ordinary person can do. You can’t sever important blood vessels, and you have to be quick. Otherwise, if the wound is exposed for too long, the animal will die.”

As she spoke, the girl glanced again at the slaves swinging their hammers, and a slight smile appeared on her lips:

"But this method won't break the skin or cause bleeding, and it's very easy to do. All you need to do is know how to swing a hammer. Even a slave who knows nothing can do it. It just causes the livestock a lot of pain, and it takes several people to hold them down."

Tesorius nodded in agreement:

"I think it will not only cause pain to the livestock, but also make the viewers uncomfortable..."

Soldiers passing by would show discomfort on their faces when they saw this scene, especially since the goat's monotonous and loud screams, after a while, had a strange rhythm, like a worm crawling into one's chest, making one feel uncomfortable all over.

Tersolius dispelled the chill in his heart, put the goat's bleating to the back of his mind, and continued along the smooth, wide road of the empire. They could already see the city in the distance.

“We will stay in this city for one night. If nothing unexpected happens, the city lord should have already marked out an area for us to set up camp outside the city, and had the advance troops erect walls and dig trenches there... Remember, everything is done according to the marching regulations. I don’t want anyone to let their guard down.”