On a cold, blustery morning, three hundred tall, fierce-looking soldiers, clad in chainmail and padded armor, arrived outside Novgorod.
Alongside the marching column were the weary Veche Militia, who had just violently pushed aside all the carriages queuing to enter and exit the city, enduring the scolding of the residents, just to clear a path for the army entering the city.
"It's the army from Ladoga. It seems they've sent everyone they could. The Baltic Sea is becoming increasingly chaotic due to the war between Denmark and Norway, yet they still sent troops. They truly live up to being the first city to submit to Rurik; their loyalty far surpasses others'."
On the city wall, Bishop Luka said beside Rostislav, the old man stroking his beard, calmly observing the army below.
Since it was them, their violent clearing of the city gate was not surprising. These were the most direct of direct lineages and had to be treated well.
Ladoga could be said to be the oldest city in Rus', and at one point, the most prosperous, though its status has now been replaced by Novgorod further south, it remains a considerable city in size.
Ladoga was one of the powers that invited the Rurik brothers to Rus' back then, and as such, this city has always held a unique political significance within Rurik's domain.
And speaking of the war in the Baltic Sea, Rostislav thought of the legendary Norwegian King Harald, his distant relative—he married his grandfather's daughter.
Even after becoming king, this adventurer was still restless, still keen on war and adventure, and recently added another glorious page to his war record—the destruction of Hedeby, Denmark's most prosperous city.
Rostislav still remembered that after Hedeby was destroyed, a large number of refugees flooded into Novgorod, and his father had a headache trying to settle them.
Furthermore, he had to deal with the trade route fluctuations caused by the destruction of Hedeby, an important Baltic Sea trade hub. Those were not easy times for Novgorod, and it left a deep impression on Rostislav.
The Prince gazed into the distance, where the Volkhov River could be clearly seen. The river bisected the entire city, dividing Novgorod into two. The river was filled with tiny boat sails, appearing as small white dots from this distance, orderly entering or leaving the city.
The Volkhov River is the main artery for Novgorod's development; one could say the city itself rose because of it. But then again, which city-state isn't like that?
Flowing rivers bring flowing gold and silver; this is a widely accepted truth in Novgorod and even throughout the entire land of city-states.
"Who are those people?"
When the Prince lowered his gaze, a group of soldiers wearing sealskin cloaks and carrying javelin quivers on their backs were walking past the ubiquitous wooden house eaves of Novgorod, entering the Nuo City Prince's view, making him shift his thoughts from the "Last Viking."
"Lake dwellers from Ladoga."
The Bishop recognized their identity with just a glance.
"Even they've come. It seems this is the last batch; everyone who could come from around Novgorod has arrived."
Outside the Novgorod city walls, it had become a sea of tents; the boundless snowy plain had transformed into the army's encampment. Nearly 5,000 soldiers were gathered here, and even a few small Chud tribes had moved here. They were like winter flames, ready to burn everything.
The Wise One's authority was evident at this moment; the northerners were happy to respond to Yaroslav's summons. After all, they had nothing to do all winter, and joining the war could even supplement their households through plunder.
"The Grand Prince has set the date for the expedition: tomorrow morning. I truly don't know how many will die in this war. May the Lord bless their souls."
After habitually praying for everyone's souls, the Bishop walked towards the streets of Novgorod, and Rostislav quickly followed, attended by four chain-armored strongmen behind him. These had once been his father's personal guards, and now they were his.
The personal guards' hands rested on their sword hilts, scanning the crowd vigilantly, as if ready to lash out at any moment. Their iron boots clanked on the wooden-planked streets. Ever since he realized someone might be after his life, Rostislav always brought guards wherever he went.
Both sides of the street were filled with shops and vendors of all sizes. The hawkers shouted their loudest, and taverns were always packed with soldiers. Whether citizens, farmers, or tribesmen, the joy of alcohol was the same for everyone; if not wine, there was kvass.
Throngs of people filled the streets; no one wanted to miss such a grand market. People bought and sold various goods.
Drunken soldiers and fire-breathing acrobats could occasionally be seen in the crowd. The Veche Militia ran around wearily, trying to maintain order, but unfortunately, the drunkards could always quickly undo their efforts.
Nobles owning fortified manors paraded through the streets with their subordinates. They wielded considerable power both inside and outside Novgorod. These strongmen were a crucial component of Novgorod's military strength.
Novgorod was like a giant magnet, drawing in all the surrounding manpower and resources. Behind one soldier were several related service personnel. The army's gathering was an unmissable opportunity for merchants, and many farmers also came. This market was a chance to exchange farm produce for good things. Some Chud tribesmen even moved their entire tribe outside Novgorod for trade.
The citizens of Novgorod had many complaints about this, as the entire city, inside and out, was crammed with bumpkins and outsiders, but they were just complaints. After all, Novgorod itself also profited handsomely from it.
Various miscellaneous taxes added up to no small sum, and the furs brought by tribesmen and hunters were always in demand in Novgorod. Exporting them to the West or South doubled the returns.
The unhappiest were only the city's administrators. Their workload increased geometrically, and immense management pressure weighed on them. The Veche even had to call up militia to increase administrative staff, but no one cared about their thoughts.
"The people from Ladoga just arrived, and we're already deploying? Is grandfather that urgent?"
The Nuo City Prince was somewhat surprised by the deployment time, that it was so early. And as he was surprised, several Rus' people wearing fur hats spotted Bishop Luka and greeted him, while Luka made the sign of the cross for them.
Upon seeing Luka's robes, some soldiers would respectfully salute the Lord Bishop. But more people simply disdained him, continuing with their own affairs. Rostislav noticed that many of these people wore oddly shaped crosses, which were products of the fusion of crosses and pagan styles.
After all, although present-day Rus' was considered an Eastern Orthodox Church country, Christian faith actually only existed in cities and suburbs, and even in these places, the number of dual-believers was not small. As for most rural areas, they remained the domain of pagans.
Bishop Luka understood this even more clearly; the missionary work was still a long and arduous journey. Not to mention, there were already a large number of pagans in Novgorod right now. Even the conversions back then were not through preaching with the cross, but by forcing people with swords at their throats.
"Yuryev doesn't have much in the way of provisions, so we must deploy quickly."
Bishop Luka spoke of things Rostislav did not know, while somewhat laboriously ascending the damp wooden steps. Rostislav quickly stepped forward to assist him.
"The Grand Prince will give you a thousand men, and Vishata will be responsible for assisting you. Do well and you must achieve military merits."
"Teacher, I understand. I will definitely seize this opportunity."
Luka admonished his student, his words full of concern, which warmed the Prince's heart. Only a few people in this city cared for him, and this one was among them.
And Vishata, who would assist him, was another person who genuinely cared for him. He saw the help from his father's old comrade, and Vishata even sent his son to serve under him—a very energetic young man—and more importantly, this meant the Vishata family stood on his side.
At this moment, the Prince and his retinue happened to pass a blacksmith's shop. The clanging blacksmith's shop was crowded with people. Armed men clamored for spearheads to be attached or for fine iron swords to be made, while others were busy shoeing horses.
Soldiers could be seen from time to time near the blacksmith's shop. Armed figures were everywhere, either drinking and making merry on the street or gathering in small groups to chat. For them, about to go to war, nothing was more important than weapons and armor.
And looking at the soldiers, Bishop Luka recalled more information about the war, "Speaking of this time, the Estonian tribes have truly fielded all their forces. And as far as I know, besides the Estonian tribes, the Chud from Karelia have also crossed the sea to help their kinsmen, and Norsemen from the west (referring to the westernmost part of the Estonian region) have also come. I estimate the total strength of the Chud is more than the four thousand under Yuryev City."
"That many? Alar's influence is that great?"
Rostislav was somewhat surprised by this; it was truly unprecedented. Even in the centuries that followed, it was unheard of for all of Estonia to unite and launch such a war.
As for Alar, as far as Rostislav knew, he was merely the spokesperson for the interests chosen by the Estonian tribes to negotiate with Rus'. Now, he could make the tribes field all their forces, which was truly surprising.
"Don't worry too much about those Chud kinsmen and allies; they can't field many people, at most a few hundred more on top of the four thousand. It seems that increasing the tribute this time was indeed a bit inappropriate, making them so desperate. I should have advised your father more at the time."
Though Bishop Luka's words were unintentional, they still made Rostislav's face flush. His father's action was a direct result of his and his father's discussion about the situation after his grandfather's death, with the final conclusion being the necessity to mobilize and arm forces to prevent unforeseen incidents.
It was just that Rostislav hadn't expected his father's method of seeking funds to reorganize the army would be to increase the tribute from the Chud tribe... As expected, the Chud tribe soon caused trouble, followed by his father's death.
It could be said that a part of the reason for this matter, in the final analysis, could be attributed to him.
"Teacher, that matter I mentioned last time..."
Rostislav was somewhat embarrassed, so he quietly changed the subject when they happened to reach a secluded alley, talking about the attack and his suspicions.
"Be careful with your words, my child."
Luka's expression instantly tensed, his words filled with seriousness. His eyes scanned the alley, and only after confirming there were no idle people nearby did he relax, but his tone became more earnest.
"The information is still too fragmented, and too much is involved behind it. I simply can't find any useful information, and I don't dare to openly search for it."
Upon hearing this, Rostislav's mood visibly dropped. Even his teacher couldn't find information; this feeling of being in the open while the enemy is hidden was too unbearable.
"But don't worry too much."
Seeing his disciple's low spirits, Luka instinctively comforted him.
"Don't think of those people as too terrifying. If you are cautious and self-preserving, they naturally won't find an opportunity. Your most important task now is still this war. And remember our creed, as it is written in the scriptures, 'Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.' Practice it, my child."
Upon hearing these words, Rostislav quickly dispelled the gloom in his mind. Just as his teacher said, the war was the most urgent matter now; everything else could be put aside.
"Yes, Teacher."
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Note 1: Veche is a self-governing council of city residents, widely present in Rus' cities. The Veche had administrative, legislative, and other powers, as well as its own armed forces. It was a political entity that Rus' Princes could not ignore, representing the will and interests of the city's populace. In the context of the weakening power of the Rurik Prince in local areas during the Rus' civil war after Yaroslav's death, the power of the Veche grew day by day.