Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

Thesolius silently tapped his forehead, lost in thought.

The attack we encountered today was rather clumsy... While a large herd of maddened bulls could indeed pose some threat to his army, and even he himself would have a hard time dealing with them... but that would only be possible if they were caught completely off guard.

Under normal circumstances, such a herd of cattle would not be able to get close to their formation at all. Even if they managed to get close, they would be blocked by spears and then slaughtered cleanly.

After all, the sound of a herd of strong bulls running is enough to make the earth tremble; unless they were all deaf, they couldn't possibly not notice. And once they did, bullhide wouldn't be harder to penetrate than metal armor, and these animals wouldn't be harder to kill than an armored enemy.

But the other party still did it, and not very cleverly, leaving a significant flaw...

He kept thinking about various possibilities, guessing who might do this, and considering their true intentions if so.

His fingers tapped incessantly on the table, his thoughts racing, but he soon gave up on the practice.

Such aimless speculation is unlikely to yield results. It's better to preserve this valuable asset and wait for them to arrive; the person will naturally come to light then.

But just in case...:

"Let the doctor and a master examine him. It would be best if we could get him to talk, then we can save ourselves a lot of trouble later."

………………

As usual, the army set off early the next morning. The temperature was coolest when the roads were just beginning to lighten and the sun had not yet risen, making everyone feel refreshed and energetic while walking on the road.

“You surprise me. You are a wealthy person. Why don’t you continue to pursue wealth? Even if you have lost a lot now, there is still a chance to make a comeback.”

Tersolius looked at the man in front of him with great interest. This cattle rancher, who was originally considered wealthy, had actually come to him this morning to ask to join his army.

The Imperials were eager to acquire wealth on the battlefield, but the enemy already possessed a large fortune. With a little effort, they could become even richer, and joining the army would not bring them any additional benefits.

"My business is failing, sir..." A dry smile appeared on the man's face.

“I’ve been working on the cattle farm with my father since I was 12 years old. I don’t know how to do anything else. Now my reputation is completely ruined, and I can’t do this kind of business anymore…”

"Right now, all I know is how to use weapons and ride warhorses. If I want to continue to gain honor and wealth, joining the army is the best choice... If I can join your army, sir, that would be my good fortune."

Thesolius nodded slightly; he indeed had no reason to refuse.

"Then, take your things and follow me. You will advance with the Third Battalion. I will give you specific instructions later."

98 Assassins (1)

A deafening roar of cheers erupted in the circular arena, with people filling every corner and step. The people of the empire raised their right hands, cheering and shouting at the top of their lungs.

They were so crowded, so densely packed, each person's body pressed tightly against the skin of the person next to them, hot sweat streaming down their hair, and sweltering air blowing past their cheeks. Even the air itself felt heavy and thick, making it almost impossible to breathe.

Even so, it couldn't dampen people's enthusiasm. They pushed and shoved each other wildly, shouting loudly at the field. Even with the bright sun shining overhead, making their clothes stick to their skin, no one was willing to take their eyes off the field below.

The wide expanse of yellow earth was littered with the groans of strong men, their bodies stained with blood but not clearly visible. The arena soldiers dragged them out, leaving behind only scattered weapons.

Now, only two people remain here.

Claudia supported her slightly tilted head with her right hand. Her silver hair was neatly and elegantly styled, and her magnificent gold leaf crown was inlaid with gems of various sizes, which shone even under the shady canopy.

The throne, carved from rock, is covered with soft animal hides. Dozens of smaller stone seats are arranged on both sides, each covered with soft cushions and backrests. The protruding stands are surrounded by intricately carved hardwood railings. Naturally growing grapevines form a beautiful framework overhead, their vibrant green leaves blocking most of the sunlight, leaving only dappled rays that do not cause any annoyance but instead add a unique charm.

Highly malleable precious metals such as gold and silver are rolled into thin sheets and then inlaid into the smooth surface of the table to form beautiful patterns. The ceramic plates with gold edges are flawless and contain fruit with dew and chilled wine.

No matter how grand the competition, no one else can sit here except the emperor and the most distinguished elders. If they cannot attend, the place will remain empty, and no one is allowed to offend them.

"Scripps, what do you think? Who will ultimately win?"

The emperor suddenly turned her head to look at her right side, where an old man with thick, white hair sat on a soft lion skin, holding a gold-inlaid silver cup filled with blood-red wine. A few drops of wine stained his beard and swayed as they fell.

“Your Majesty, I favor the taller one. He is the most valiant centurion in the Friga Legion, and his opponent is already on the verge of collapse.”

"I think there might still be a chance."

A slight smile appeared on the emperor's lips as she picked up an exquisite wine cup inlaid with jewels from the side. A tall, armored attendant immediately retrieved a bottle from a nearby bucket and filled it for her. The chill of the wine traveled through the metal to her hand, causing water droplets to seep from the smooth surface.

Iced wine is easy to drink, and even first-timers can get drunk without realizing it.

"How about we make a bet?... I don't think his opponent has given up yet, maybe he can turn the tide."

“I would be more than willing, but what shall we wager, Your Majesty?”

"Of course there are no stakes."

"No?..."

"It's just a small matter. It would be better to make a bet. Wait a little while, and they'll be able to decide the winner. We'll just be responsible for rewarding and cheering the warriors."

The old man smiled and nodded, then held out his cup to the side, and a waiter immediately came to refill it.

Or a strong man wields a long axe with great force, the blade tearing through the air with sharp whistles, while his opponent nimbly adjusts his footing, protecting himself with a shield covered in hard leather, his other hand holding a short sword ready to strike.

Even the thickest shield could hardly withstand the attack of the broad-bladed axe. The heavy axe blade tried to cut off his arm and shield with each blow. The hard leather covering it had become tattered and torn. A few more blows and the shield would be completely ruined.

Although the young man was physically strong, he was far shorter than his opponent and was almost constantly on the defensive, but he never lost and maintained a difficult balance.

Even though he had to take heavy blows head-on several times, his arms going numb from the impact, his agile footwork always allowed him to evade the opponent's follow-up attacks, and his eyes always maintained a calm expression. He knew where his opponent's weakness lay...

As a glorious centurion of the Legion, he is skilled, experienced in battle, and always proud to defeat his opponents, but this pride also poses a great threat to him.

Especially when his opponent seemed on the verge of defeat but managed to hold on each time, his anxiety began to creep in uncontrollably, causing him to make increasingly large and sweeping movements, wanting to end this drawn-out battle in the shortest possible time.

With another fierce charge and a heavy slash, the tattered shield shattered into several pieces and scattered. The young man holding the shield staggered backward, losing his balance.

A sinister smile spread across the centurion's cheeks. He gripped the axe handle with both hands and swung it fiercely at his opponent's shoulder. He didn't want to kill his opponent; even if he won, he wouldn't gain glory that way. Although the axe blade was dull, its weight was enough to easily kill the young man before him.

Just breaking his shoulder would be enough to make this troublesome kid scream and pass out!

The boy, who should have been panicked, suddenly revealed a triumphant smile in his eyes, which startled him... but it was too late. The axe he swung out didn't hit his bone, and the boy was right in front of him in the blink of an eye, as if he wanted to give him a big hug.

In the blink of an eye, with a heavy thud as the wooden handle struck bone, the long handle of his axe slammed into the young man's neck, knocking him unconscious instantly.

But there was no joy of victory on his face. Instead, he blankly touched his neck. There was a red mark below his throat; the blunt end of a short sword had just pierced there, almost suffocating him…

The cheers instantly engulfed the entire arena. The defeated centurion stood there stunned for a long time before finally dropping his axe with a look of regret... Before the axe handle could strike his opponent's neck, the short sword had already touched his own throat. He was undoubtedly the loser.

This result surprised many people. The chief elder gently put down his wine glass, a gentle smile appearing on his lips:

"It seems I have lost, Your Majesty. Your wisdom is truly admirable."

The emperor drank the last drop of wine in his cup, then gently licked his lips, as if licking away blood.

“Your wisdom is more praiseworthy, Lord Scripps… I never expected that this centurion could still fight back under such circumstances. If he hadn’t become impatient at the end, this warrior of the legion would have been the one to win.”

“Their courage and skill are both astounding. This young man deserves a bonus and prize, and this brave centurion also deserves some reward… Smentrian, go and make the best of it.”

The official in the long robe immediately bowed and left, while the chief elder seized the opportunity to speak again:

"This rare grand event reminds me of the champion from two years ago... General Tersolius won the championship for two consecutive years, and all the warriors of the empire were defeated by him. I still remember the grand occasion vividly."

"I think everyone in the arena at that time will never forget that moment when General Tersolius defeated 47 opponents in a row and undoubtedly won the honor of the championship. His best performance lasted 32 rounds against one of them."

A smile appeared on the emperor's face, and a gentle emotion rose within him:

"His glory is undeniable, and there is no doubt that he is the Empire's first warrior... Therefore, we must treat matters concerning him with utmost care."

The old man raised an eyebrow slightly; he knew what the emperor meant.

"Of course, I can assure Your Majesty that there will be a satisfactory solution to everything."

“That would be good. Imperial law is sacred and inviolable, so I hope everything can be resolved in accordance with imperial public law…”

"Of course, this is our most important responsibility."

The two raised their glasses to each other, and amidst cheers that thrilled the entire audience, they announced the winner.

——————————————————————————————————

The closer you get to the capital of the empire, the smoother and more well-maintained the roads become. Every village and town is responsible for its own section of the road, and if there are any problems, they will be punished, so few people dare to be negligent.

Once the order for war is given, the army can assemble quickly. If, at this time, the march is delayed due to road conditions, many will be imprisoned. However, if mismanagement occurs during peacetime, the only punishment will be a whipping and a fine.

Even along the roadside, there were camps for the army to rest and recuperate at regular intervals. The land here was flat and easy to dig, and when no army was stationed there, it would be used to raise livestock. Once the army arrived, overnight camps could be easily built, greatly saving time and energy.

The army of Tersolius maintained a suitable pace, neither too fast nor too slow.

This long journey would be a test for any strong person, but the mountain people and slaves had obviously experienced much harder lives, so it was nothing to them.

In the dead of night, when the army is stationed, soldiers are not allowed to move around freely during their sleeping hours unless ordered to move. Only the moon in the sky quietly shines on the earth, and the patrol teams in the camp are fully armed and on high alert.

Under these circumstances, a dark figure took the initiative to approach the central command tent. He was stopped by the cavalry, and only then did he reveal his purpose amidst shouts of reprimand... He was soon granted permission to enter.

Fitzgerald immediately bowed upon entering. The former cattle rancher had changed his attire, now wearing a red jacket in the Imperial Legion's standard uniform, covered by a layer of gleaming silver chainmail. He wore a pointed helmet with a nose guard, and the chainmail neck guard extended down to the middle of his shoulders, revealing only his face.

He arrived empty-handed, wearing lamellar armor made of hard leather over his chainmail, leggings on his feet, and a leather belt around his waist without any swords or knives hanging from it.

Like all the infantry in this army, he was given a full set of equipment to make himself look like a soldier.

Tersolius sat in the center of the tent, with three cavalrymen standing behind him. A white fur patch, part of the lion, was placed on his chair.

Thesolius looked him up and down with a smile:

“You seem to be settling in well. Your captain told me that you’ve become familiar with all the military regulations… This is better than I expected. It would take an average soldier at least two months to do this.”

"You flatter me, sir... I have come here because there is something I must confess to you..."

Thesolius's handcuffs rested lightly against his chin:

"So you're finally going to admit you're an assassin?..."

"!!..."

The man looked up in surprise, and the cavalryman, whose entire body was covered in steel armor, stood behind him, his chain hammer, still stained with blood, slowly lowering, ready to smash another head.

"Don't be so surprised, or you might have been putting on an act... Even though you killed one of your accomplices and made another mute, you still left a flaw."

"If I'm not mistaken, the cattle riot and those two escaped guys were just a smokescreen. The real purpose was simply to bring you to me in a logical way... After all, someone who clashed with my army and caused casualties has a very high probability of meeting me."

"What surprises me most is that as the owner of a cattle ranch, you actually possess such excellent horsemanship and martial prowess... and you were able to accurately locate two riders who had already escaped for quite some time. Rather than believing that your tracking ability is excellent, it is more believable that you know their hiding place."

"So, do you have anything else to say now?"

Fitzgerald took a deep breath, and his expression immediately relaxed:

"You truly live up to your reputation... I've come to ask for your protection."

He reached into his robes, the sound of the cavalrymen behind him gripping their hammers with their gauntlets was particularly loud, but he only pulled out a wad of cloth and respectfully placed it on the open ground between them.

After receiving permission, another cavalryman stepped forward and retrieved the bundle of cloth. Unfolding the layers of soft fabric, they discovered a short dagger gleaming with a bluish-green light, its tip as thin and sharp as a needle, radiating a dangerous, cold glint.

"Even if this dagger only grazes the skin, it will cause a person to die of poisoning within a few breaths, turning their entire body black... and this is what your enemy prepared for you."

99 Assassins (2)

The short, blue-green weapon before my eyes exuded an eerie and ferocious aura, like the fangs of a venomous snake, making one want to keep their distance.

The slender, wavy blade resembled the forked tongue of a venomous snake, and the cold glint of its tip seemed to sting the eyes. It was hard to imagine what the consequences would be if such a thing were to pierce the human body.

Tresolius examined the exquisite murder weapon with great interest, holding it in his soft cloth. In some people's original plan, this thing would cut his skin and take his life.

This is not impossible. No matter how brave he is, he cannot fight against deadly poison. Countless wise kings and powerful generals have died from poison mixed in their wine cups... This is especially true in countries that are good at using intrigue to achieve their goals.

With just a servant who has access to food and drink, an opponent who was originally too powerful to defeat will clutch his neck and struggle to his death with a livid face... This method is so extreme that it will inevitably leave many hidden dangers, but it is also so effective that it can be described as having an immediate effect.

He wore his armor most of the time, after all, war had never left him in the past.

But once he returns to his home in this world, he can't stay in this state forever. At that point, he'll have to take the poison plot and the dagger stabbing him in the back seriously and be on guard against.

The delicate yet dangerous little object was tossed onto the nearby table, and someone immediately and carefully wrapped it up and put it into a sturdy iron box.

"Go on, you probably still have something to say."

The man kneeling on one knee pursed his lips. His throat was incredibly dry, not from lack of water, but from intense fear and panic.

Only when he actually faced the general did he realize just how terrible the things he was ordered to do really were... He now suspected that even if he obeyed the order to carry out the assassination, the dagger would not have a chance to succeed.

Before that, they would be completely crushed, with no chance of resistance whatsoever.

A light rain was falling outside, making the temperature inside the tent drop slightly. A magnificent white lion skin cloak was draped over his shoulders. The once ferocious beast now looked pitiful and wretched; the monster that had caused the deaths of dozens of families was now reduced to mere clothing and decoration.

Not to mention the terrifying majesty that almost tore his heart apart, he realized that he was at a critical moment of life and death. Whether he could get protection and survive... or be regarded as a treacherous viper and have his head chopped off, depended on what he said next.

He swallowed hard, trying to clear his dry throat. Extreme tension caused cold sweat to soak through his headscarf.

"Of course, sir, I know this is not enough to gain your trust, but I have reasons for doing so..."

Tell me.

The man suddenly raised his hand, unfastened the leather buckles covering his chainmail, and removed the sturdy helmet from his head.

He then removed his exquisite chainmail, followed by his red jacket and linen shirt, until his muscular chest and scarred back were revealed, at which point he stopped.