Armored Cavalry, survive in a world full of mods

Colin nodded, his heart pounding, and turned to look at the group of bruised and battered men.

The bandits who dared to operate here were certainly not weaklings, so even when faced with a desperate situation, none of them were willing to give up and wait to die. When they were captured, they all struggled like madmen. They had to be beaten up first to make them behave.

Even though they were tightly bound by long, sturdy leather ropes, their eyes still showed no despair. They were still surveying their surroundings with fierceness and alertness, like a pack of bound, hungry wolves.

They thought they could secretly make their plans, but they found that everyone's eyes had turned to them, and those eyes were filled with surprise and greed. Their expressions immediately froze...

“There’s nothing to hesitate about, boss. These guys’ crimes are so serious that even if you cut off their heads ten times and skin them five times, it wouldn’t be enough to atone for them. Let them make the most of their remaining value.”

"But they should know they can't be forgiven, so why would they cooperate with us?"

"Isn't that simple? Just lie to them. You hand it over to my boss. If that doesn't work, we'll go back to what we were doing... If all else fails, we'll use some other methods to get them to talk."

Colin hesitated for a moment, then finally nodded, having made up his mind:

"Since you're the most eloquent, you might as well give it a try."

"Alright, leave it to me!"

Kochkin chuckled, waved his hand, and summoned a squad of his men. They dragged the wary men out and, amidst their panicked shouts, disappeared into the dense thicket.

………………

"I've got news, boss! I've found out... What are you doing?"

Kochkin, full of excitement but somewhat bewildered, looked at his leader and found that this leader, who was quite authoritative among them, was actually squatting next to a box, sketching on a piece of parchment with charcoal from the nearby campfire...

This seemed completely unlike something she would do, leaving the group of people who had just returned bewildered—they were all from the same village, so they all knew each other well… Their leader couldn’t write or draw, and had no interest in these things; her education level was the same as theirs, practically prenatal education.

Tearing a piece of fur from his shoulder and wiping the blood from his hands, Kochkin tentatively asked the question, with a sense of trepidation, as if walking on a thin layer of ice, afraid of slipping and falling.

"Write a report about what we're going to do, otherwise we'll be punished for acting on our own. We can't be as unruly as we used to be... Speaking of which, it reminds me of what you guys did last time..."

Kochkin's face immediately fell; he knew he was in for trouble again.

Sure enough, Colin, whose temper had been ignited by that remark, raised his eyebrows and berated him, getting angrier and angrier as he spoke, inexplicably hurling insults at him.

...Perhaps it wasn't entirely inexplicable, after all, they had indeed lost face quite a bit that time. The news was circulating throughout the entire legion and even the entire city. Everyone knew that a group of them had broken the curfew in the middle of the night and gotten together to do something big, making all the mountain people in the legion lose face in front of others, and they were all dejected.

His suggestion was partly motivated by a desire to regain some face—after all, the military values ​​merit and courage above all else, and they had to earn back the lost face themselves.

And Warif got incredibly lucky; he's currently scouting on a distant hilltop... He's the only culprit left here, so if he doesn't get blamed, who will?

Just as the other person finished hurling insults and was about to catch their breath, he immediately seized the opportunity:

"I got the information, boss. Those guys were really stubborn, but luckily I learned a couple of tricks from those kind guys in black, and they still managed to talk... Don't worry, they're alive and well. I just used a knife to pick off their fingernails."

"Kind brother? You're not talking about those prison guards, are you?..."

Colin frowned, even looking somewhat incredulous:

"How did you get in touch with them? We've only met a few times... And those guys just talked after picking at a fingernail? They're even more spineless than I imagined."

"Of course I went to them on my own initiative! You have to be thick-skinned to learn something real. I didn't just pick their fingernails, I also rubbed them with folic acid. Two of them fainted from the pain."

"What's more, I pretended that I wanted to keep all that wealth for myself and told him that I would let him go as long as he gave us a share of the money... Anyway, I used a few more methods and finally got the money out of him."

"All we have to do now is go there and get the money, then everyone will definitely look at us with more respect! ...Pfft!"

As he spoke, his gaze couldn't help but drift toward the parchment... and there he saw a bunch of crooked symbols, each one a different size and length, with at least seven or eight coal lumps in each sentence, like a group of woodlice crawling onto the paper from under the rocks, which made him burst out laughing.

After laughing, he immediately felt a great disaster was about to befall him. He slowly raised his head and saw the other person's flushed face and clenched fists.

…………

The camp had been packed up, and the soldiers were chatting idly, complaining about the long-legged mosquitoes in the mountains, when suddenly they heard a sharp scream.

They all looked up and saw Kochkin being thrown out of the tent, rolling several times until his face was buried in the dirt, motionless as if dead…

176 Fallen (4)

The deep, resonant sound of bugles echoed through the camp. The soldiers blowing the bugles were all strong and robust, with long, drawn-out breaths, able to sustain the loud blasts for an extremely long time without interruption, enough to wake any sleeping soldier from their bed... Of course, if they couldn't do this, they would naturally receive help from officers, who would use whips or cold water, among other methods, to rouse them.

After the soldiers had dressed and hastily splashed some cold water from the buckets on their faces, before they even had a chance to pick up their bowls and head to the mess hall for their meal, they heard a series of sharp, metallic clanging sounds that continued uninterrupted for dozens of breaths, making their ears ring and startling many so much that they dropped their bowls on the ground.

The surprise didn't last long. The legionary soldiers quickly realized what they had to do. When the "Pariste" sign hanging in each camp was rung, it meant that everyone had to return to their respective units and prepare to depart.

The entire camp was bustling with activity. Thanks to the relatively established procedures, the soldiers began packing up their tents and packing their belongings, while also checking the wear and tear on their weapons and equipment. The cooks did not delay their work either, and plumes of white smoke rose from the vast camp.

The soldiers orderly cleared their camp, stuffing all the necessities into their packs. The prepared rations and other supplies were also distributed to each soldier.

The entire city was alarmed. The citizens, still asleep, were awakened by the commotion outside. Then they saw flags waving and bugles sounding in the military camp. The army seemed ready to leave. A roaring sound, like the rushing water of a great river, came from the other side. This was the effect of too many people talking at the same time.

In an ordinary inn, most of the young people who came from the village had already returned home; they had all been eliminated during the process. Staying here was pointless except for spending money, so they set off for home early.

Only eight young people who had passed all the tests and were waiting for the results remained. They were just as anxious. The city was not like their home. Here, food, clothing, shelter, and transportation all required real money. They were not from wealthy families, and in just a few days, they had already spent almost half of the money they brought. They were all heartbroken.

It wouldn't be worthwhile to eat meat every day after the selection process, so these past few days they've been relying on cheap vegetables from the market after noon and the food they brought with them to fill their stomachs.

Several people were clearly in poor spirits, not because of illness, but because they hadn't slept at all last night—today was the day the results would be announced, and whether they would succeed or not, they would know today.

Almost everyone had dark circles under their eyes and looked listless. After barely managing to eat, they were drawn to the noise outside and were then horrified to discover that the legion seemed to be leaving!

If the legion leaves, what do they mean?! Are they being abandoned, or have they all been weeded out?!

They didn't even bother to tidy themselves up; with messy hair and wrinkled clothes, they barely managed to slip on their shoes before rushing out of the inn and heading straight for the distant military camp.

Extreme fear and panic made their hands and feet tremble and cold sweat pour down their faces. Even if they ran until their lungs felt like they were going to explode, they dared not stop for a moment, for fear that this opportunity that they had worked so hard to obtain would be thrown into the cesspool by someone else... What could people of such low status possibly hope for?

Someone lost their shoes but didn't turn back to pick them up, leaving the new shoes lying in the middle of the road. Then a passing beggar took them, and the beggar's feet were rubbed raw and bleeding on the stones, but he still limped along, unwilling to stop.

Someone was running too fast and tripped, falling hard. Even though his face was covered in blood, he struggled to his feet with the help of his companions, not even noticing that he had knocked out two teeth.

In every corner of the city, young people were rushing out of their homes in panic, screaming in terror, fearing they had been abandoned by the army. They gathered from the city's streets and alleys toward the main road, gradually forming a sizable group. Everyone silently kept their heads down and ran, without any intention of greeting or asking for news.

Pedestrians and caravans on the road made way for them. Everyone understood why these young men were in such a hurry—some of them had sons who were also running, sweating profusely and pale-faced.

Fortunately, they were all strong young men who had passed all the tests. Their endurance, speed, and strength were among the best of their peers, so no one fell behind. They arrived at the wide plain in front of the military camp before the legion was ready to set off.

Driven by a sense of urgency and fear, they crowded onto the road, instinctively moving towards the military camp, surging towards the heavily fortified and imposing army encampment...

This behavior is undoubtedly suicidal... No army would allow a group of obviously agitated young men to approach their camp. Their most likely fate is to be routed and scattered by the elite legion before they can even react.

The archers on guard at the arrow towers and walls began to perform their duties, nocking arrows and crossbow bolts, ready to issue warnings or shoot down these uninvited guests at any time upon receiving orders.

Two tall wooden doors opened, and a troop of over a hundred light cavalrymen clad in red cloaks roared out, quickly spreading out to both sides and encircling their flanks. The rolling sound of hooves finally calmed these emotionally charged young men down, making them realize how strange and foolish they had done. Overwhelmed by fear and dread, they retreated like a tide to the sides of the road, clearing a path for the main army.

A figure with a hideous scar on his face and a lean physique drove his warhorse toward these green, impetuous, and easily excited young men. It was none other than Yuriedos, the commander of the light cavalry in the legion.

The patterns painted on his gold-plated helmet shimmered in the sunlight, the feathers on his head fluttered with the air currents, and the fine chainmail on his body made a rustling sound as it rubbed against each other. The hem of his cotton-padded jacket, which reached his knees, covered part of the saddle. He looked dazzling and radiant, as if he had just stepped out of the morning sun.

Such an imposing and dignified figure naturally made the young people feel inferior, and they all bowed to him, but Euryedos was clearly somewhat impatient:

"You must be the legion's newest recruits, what are you doing gathered here?! Don't you know you're blocking the army's path? You're all courting death! If you're this stupid, why did you even join the army?!"

His words were utterly unkind, relentlessly berating the young men, leaving them humiliated and speechless, wishing they could bury their heads in their crotches.

"You never seem to use your brains. If I hadn't seen you first, and you had actually stormed the camp, it wouldn't have been a waste to have you all dragged out and beheaded!"

"Aren't you going to get any further away?! Back away! Keep backing away, until you're next to that tree..."

He grabbed the whip from his saddle, cracked it loudly in the air, and herded the young men away from the road to the woods like a flock of sheep, before waving his hand to the side.

A cavalry captain nodded in agreement, took out two flags, one red and one blue, from his saddle, waved them a few times in a specific pattern, then turned and led his cavalrymen at breakneck speed along the road into the distance, disappearing in the blink of an eye into a cloud of dust.

Then, horns sounded in unison throughout the camp. Hundreds of horns blared at the same time, like thunder descending upon the earth, or Leviathan breaking through the sea, rolling over the surroundings like a tidal wave, making the young men dare not even breathe, holding their breath and watching the tall camp gate intently.

The gate was pushed open again, and two elite soldiers in full armor stood on either side of it, spears in hand.

A cloud of dust billowed out from the gate, and the silver chainmail gleamed like the iron scales of a long serpent. More than a thousand light cavalrymen, serving as the vanguard and scouts of the legion, set off first, their crimson cloaks forming a red cloud as they swept past.

Following closely behind were soldiers and archers carrying packs, with mules and packhorses carrying luggage in between. They wore only light chainmail, gripped their weapons, and carried their shields, forming a thick, steely river that flowed out of the camp. Their orderly and heavy footsteps struck the earth like thunder.

A wave of amazement washed over the young people, who looked at the well-organized soldiers with longing and envy, sincerely hoping to become one of them and be led by the best general to gain glory and wealth.

The steel column moved on and on, and after a long time, a more muffled and terrifying sound of hooves suddenly came, as if a large drum had been struck in front of them, making their hearts pound harder and faster.

This instinctive reaction even made some people almost breathless. They quickly realized what this meant—as the dazzling light of armor surged out from the camp gate, a majestic double-headed eagle banner appeared in the sunlight. The golden tassels and golden wings reflected a dazzling and brilliant golden light, instantly attracting everyone's attention.

"That's Lord Tersolius's banner! The lord has come out!"

Someone shouted, but it seemed unnecessary. Everyone recognized the banner and the general. Cheers, like thunder, exploded from the roadside and swept across the land like a storm.

Surrounded by elite cavalry, Tersolius, clad in heavy armor, wearing an eagle-feathered helmet and a white lion cloak, rode up to the scene. The white lion's fur, under the sunlight, had a crystal-clear, silky texture, making it look extremely majestic and extraordinary, firmly attracting the attention of those around him.

"What's going on here? Yuriedos, are they our newly recruited soldiers?"

Euryedos bowed on his warhorse:

"Yes, sir, these hotheads almost stormed the camp gate just now, so I brought men out to drive them away."

Tersolius nodded:

"After that, let them go in... Or let them go back and pack their things first. They'll be spending the next few months in the barracks, so it'll be a good opportunity for them to send a message home."

"Yes, my lord."

………………

The legion had vanished from the continent, but many people still gazed longingly into the distance, chattering excitedly about what they had seen, their faces flushed and their words incoherent.

They were all extremely excited because incredible luck had befallen them—not only had they had the honor of meeting the legendary General Thesolius, but they had also officially become honorable soldiers of the Legion!

Many people still couldn't believe it, as if they were dreaming. Just last night, they were so worried that they couldn't sleep and woke up several times in the middle of the night with nightmares about their failures... But just now, they learned that everyone had passed the selection and had officially become members of the legion's new recruits.

Everywhere in the queue, you could see people getting pinched by others or pinching themselves, and they did it without any mercy, leaving bruises on their skin. Only after feeling enough pain did they finally relax and smile.

They had an afternoon to pack their belongings and send messages to their families. Official and civilian messengers responsible for delivering the letters were extremely busy sending this wonderful news back to their hometowns.

This news also caused a stir in the city. Although they knew that these young men were all excellent, the emperor's elite guard would usually only select the best half as recruits, and it was rare to accept them all.

Many people are speculating that the country may be making some new moves recently, because it's not just this legion; several other legions in the vicinity that haven't withdrawn yet are also recruiting new soldiers, which has become a common phenomenon.

In this context, the young men who were able to join the elite Imperial Guard were even more enviable—they had a much greater chance of gaining merit and wealth than others, and fighting under the command of the best generals was more reassuring; at least in this situation, even dying would be more worthwhile.

Three young people gathered together, with five other companions following behind them, and set off on the gleaming road, bathed in the morning sunlight.

177 Cleaning (1)

This is a magnificent and beautiful white bull, with four hooves as thick as bowls, also as pure white as snow. Its body, as solid and strong as a rock, is free of any stray hair. Standing on the grassland, it looks like a giant white rock, and its head alone is as big as a bushel of wheat.

The most peculiar feature is its pair of curved horns. The cattle raised on the Kurist grasslands are all of the breed with thick hair, short and strong bodies, and cold resistance, and their horns are also relatively short. Therefore, the people of Kurist have to use the horns of ibex to make their bows and arrows.

The white bull's pair of curved horns pointed high into the sky like a majestic and solemn ceremonial guard, or like two polished, gleaming scimitars on its head. If it weren't for the strong neck of this powerful creature, an ordinary bull might even have its neck bent by those horns.

This was no docile creature. The magnificent white bull was struggling incessantly, panting heavily, its dangerous horns constantly slashing out in all directions, and its massive hooves were constantly pounding the ground. If it weren't for the iron chains that tightly bound its four legs and two horns, it would probably have already gone mad and started charging at the surrounding crowd.

"Invincible General Tersolius, esteemed and glorious commander of the Imperial Legion, majestic and benevolent sir, we present this precious white bison to you, and we beseech the protection of the Empire. Please grant us superior breeds and the right to cultivate the land, and allow us to continue to thrive and multiply on this land!"

A nobleman from the Kurist tribe, dressed in a belted leather robe, adorned with gold ornaments, wearing a jeweled hat, and thick leather boots, knelt on one knee before the earthen platform with utmost humility, formally submitting to the empire as the most prestigious representative among all the nobles of the south.

After the Khan's royal banner fell into the hands of the imperial general, the tribes of the entire grassland fell into a state of leaderlessness, and chaos and mutual plunder and annexation naturally occurred... Every ambitious tribal nobleman set his sights on his neighbors, after all, the thousands of corpses that floated down the great river were enough to make any ridiculous thoughts vanish into thin air.

If things continue like this, perhaps in a year or two another powerful tribe will emerge, capable of ruling the entire grassland, and driven by one or two disasters or greed, it will cautiously shift its focus to the empire's lands.

But the order from Tersolius completely disrupted the process. This man, who had just slaughtered most of the army in the entire Kurist Steppe, could terrify the nobles of the tribe with his every move.

In an instant, all the restless guys stopped what they were doing. The enemies who had just been fighting each other gathered together to discuss how to deal with the situation. They hadn't even wiped the blood off their knives, and the corpses and burning tents were still nearby when they stopped in a panic.

Of course, there was no other choice—although they and their horses had legs, where could they go if they left this land? Every piece of land here had an owner, and heading north and east would only lead to increasingly cold and barren lands that could not support people at all.

Not to mention that large-scale population migration in this era was inherently a risky undertaking, almost like gambling with one's life.

In this process, if livestock die of disease, disease spreads, the weather gets cold, or they encounter a hostile tribe that is raiding them... it would be enough to make them die without a burial place, so they definitely cannot choose this option.

In the end, there was only one choice—to submit to the aggressive empire, at least to survive on this land where the water and grass were still relatively fertile, without having to suffer the hardships of life.

But this raises a new question – several of the larger tribes have a certain say, so who should take the lead in doing this?

After all, it is foreseeable that the first person to step forward will receive the most benefits, even if it is just to set an example for others who are still observing. Since they have already decided to submit, they certainly will not want to give up these benefits to others.

If Tersolius hadn't given them a 10-day deadline, they might still be arguing and bickering. While they might not have ended up fighting, some private friction would certainly have been unavoidable.

In the end, the Kuleya tribe, which was slightly more powerful, became the leader and led the nobles from other tribes to present their gifts.

The leader of the Kuleya tribe, Ital, was a worldly man who had previously organized a sizable caravan to trade between the Empire and the Kurist Steppe, making his tribe the wealthiest.

Therefore, he was well aware of the empire's wealth and knew that the so-called precious gifts he offered might not mean much to the other party. After all, as one of the empire's top nobles, what hadn't they enjoyed?

Rather than going to great lengths to produce something they can't do well, it's better to offer a truly unique gift, which is more likely to satisfy those wealthy and powerful imperial nobles.

This white bison was considered divine even within its own tribe, serving as the leader of a nearby herd of bison. The tribe's shaman had previously believed it to be a sacred creature that brought them prosperity and growth, so no one had ever hunted this rare beast, and the bison had survived and grown ever larger.

Now, they no longer cared whether it was an auspicious creature or not. Since they had this need, they simply devised a plan to capture the beast, even at the cost of two skilled hunters.