As they drew closer to Yuryev, the signs of war became more frequent.
For instance, the village they were passing now was completely destroyed by fire, leaving only charred ruins.
And in what used to be the village square, a tall man was impaled and suspended in the air by three or four spears, surrounded by dozens of skulls on spears, with other skeletal remains below.
This sight made Rostislav's stomach churn; he could kill mercilessly on the battlefield, but he still found such a scene difficult to accept.
However, the soldiers showed no reaction, and the need to maintain his authority as commander forced Rostislav to suppress his urge to vomit, leaving him only to lament the barbarity of the era in his heart.
"It should be the Estonian tribes sacrificing to their gods."
Gvaran approached the Prince, the Captain of the Guard appearing unfazed by the sight, explaining the bloody scene to him.
"Your Highness must be seeing this kind of scene for the first time, but it's not that uncommon outside Novgorod.
Whenever war breaks out, the barbarians use such sacrifices to their gods, praying for victory in battle."
"This is truly barbaric…"
Rostislav muttered softly, but some soldiers still heard him.
They immediately looked at their commander with strange eyes, and the number of people looking at him this way steadily increased, making the atmosphere suddenly awkward.
"Your Highness, I must warn you, many of your subjects are barbarians who do such things, and more importantly, there are many such barbarians in this army as well."
Gvaran's expression was grim; after speaking to the erring Prince, he immediately glared at those casting strange looks, and the Captain of the Guard's fierce gaze successfully made them cower, as people lowered their heads wherever his gaze swept.
"Ah, I misspoke."
Realizing his mistake, Rostislav couldn't help but slap his forehead; he had forgotten such an important detail.
The majority of his army consisted of farmers and tribesmen from outside the city, and this was truly a grave mistake.
As for why it was a grave mistake, it was because in the Rurik lands today, Christianity only held sway in cities, while the countryside remained the domain of the followers of perun and veles (the chief gods of Slavic polytheism), and various barbaric pagan sacrifices still existed in this land.
Even in the cities, many Christians were actually dual believers, their faith in the Lord not devout, and they still secretly worshipped pagan gods.
The Rurik regime could only tolerate the existence of these pagan beliefs, promoting the spread of Christianity, building magnificent churches everywhere, as well as monasteries to train priests, and sending priests deep into the countryside—all to advance the development of Christianity.
The Rurik regime did not want to impose conversion through blood and fire, but doing so would mean making enemies of the entire society, and the cost would simply be too high.
This situation was more severe the further north one went, even in Novgorod, the center of northern Christian civilization.
After all, the conversions back then were accomplished by Grand Prince Rurik with fire and sword, forcing Novgorod citizens to convert with swords at their throats.
Although it was winter and everything was covered in snow, Rostislav's face, having realized all this, became uncontrollably red, as if on fire; to have made such a foolish mistake was truly shameful.
"I will have the Bodyguard Unit handle the cleanup for you, Your Highness, but please don't do this again."
Gvaran shook his head, such matters were truly helpless, and the Prince could only respond with silence, accepting the criticism.
— — — — — — — —
After the small interlude, the army advanced for three hours before stopping in a spruce forest under Vishata's command.
Dismounting, Rostislav followed Vishata's footsteps to the front and saw the city, shrouded in distant black smoke, standing on the river, with the vast Lake Chud further beyond.
Below the city's wooden walls was a chaotic encampment, with countless figures moving between tents and campfires.
"I never expected to reach this place so easily."
While Vishata was diligently observing the situation below the city walls, the Prince couldn't help but marvel at how easily they had approached, without even a scout skirmish, meaning the Chud had not yet discovered them.
"I still feel something is off."
Vishata, seasoned by war, spoke with a tone full of suspicion; his wartime experience told him that the situation on this journey was not right, but then he changed his tone.
"But there's no use thinking about it now, there's no other choice.
I've already sent someone to inform the Grand Prince behind us; the main force will arrive soon, let's rest for a while."
Vishata's Bodyguard Unit pulled over two dry logs, and Vishata chose one to sit on.
Rostislav, seeing this, naturally sat opposite him.
There was still some time until the main force arrived, so chatting to pass the time was good.
"What do you think of that child, Yan?"
As soon as Rostislav sat down, Vishata mentioned Yan Vishatich, whom he had sent to the Prince's side.
"Yan, he has the passion of youth, it's just that sometimes his passion is a bit too much."
Rostislav subconsciously gave his assessment of Yan, but then he suddenly saw Uncle Vishata's half-smiling expression, as if he was trying to hold back laughter.
Rostislav immediately realized the humor in it.
He was still a teenager, and Yan was only a few years younger than him, yet he was talking about the passion of youth here, which seemed quite comical.
The Nuo City Prince also laughed; to outsiders, he had indeed made a joke.
Of course, he knew in his heart that as someone who had lived two lives, he was qualified to say such things, but it was something that could not be spoken aloud.
"Yan is indeed a bit immature, I still have to ask you to discipline him well."
After laughing, Vishata said seriously, his words heartfelt.
He had watched Rostislav grow up and knew the child's intelligence; he had thoughts and wisdom far beyond his peers.
Because of this, Vishata never doubted that this child would achieve great accomplishments in the future, perhaps even surpassing his father.
"Of course I will, Uncle Vishata."
Rostislav responded earnestly, his attitude very proper.
Uncle Vishata was his most important ally, always helping him wholeheartedly, so he had to treat him with the utmost seriousness.
"Speaking of which, Uncle Vishata, do you think we can easily win this war?"
After some small talk, the conversation returned to the war.
No matter what, they were now on the verge of battle.
"Given their current performance, we can easily crush them."
Vishata's eyes, as he looked at the chaotic siege encampment, were filled with contempt, and his words were full of confidence.
This old warrior had seen many powerful armies in the world, and these barbarians before them were truly not worth considering.
"The entire camp is a mess, and their reconnaissance work is terrible.
We've reached this point without any reaction from them; I don't know what the Chud commander is doing."
Just as Rostislav was about to say something in response, behind them, a unit bearing the Rurik Trident appeared.
Seeing this, Rostislav and Vishata both stood up.
They both knew that the main force had arrived, and battle would soon follow.
— — — — — — — —