Soon after seeing the banner, they spotted the border outpost, though it was more like a caravanserai than a mere guard station.
Although the red-and-white cross flag of Hungary hung there, few Magyars guarded the place; it was primarily manned by mountain people from the Carpathian Mountains.
The locals welcomed the Rus' army, and the outpost's gate opened for them without hesitation, after which the person in charge came forward to receive these Rus' Princes.
Upon entering the camp, they learned that this was originally the last resting place for those traveling from Rus' into the Carpathian Mountains.
However, because Magyar mountain tribes from Hungary frequently crossed the pass and rested here, and these mountain people also received appointments from the Arpad court to collect taxes from groups passing through the pass, it gradually became Hungarian territory.
Now, the camp was full of mountain people who usually lived in the Carpathian Mountains; they came here to escape the winter in the mountains.
They were very grateful for the camp bestowed by the royal family; since obtaining the camp, they no longer had to drive out the elderly to their deaths in winter like many other tribes, and their tribes grew increasingly stronger.
It was also for this reason that their loyalty to the royal family grew, but the Arpad civil war left them uncertain whom to support, so they ultimately chose, like many others, to hold their ground and await the emergence of a victor.
Of course, there were still many mountain people in the mountains who were unwilling to leave, but even they could only huddle in their warm tents in this winter, relying on the food accumulated before winter to survive.
If winter did not end as they expected, they would still have to push the elderly out of the village to their deaths.
Besides the mountain people, there were also many Hungarian refugees staying here, seemingly planning to return to Magyar once the heavy snow blocking the mountains ended.
These refugees were clearly wealthy individuals, as could be seen from their attire; it appeared they had only left Hungary to escape the war, and now that the war was over, they naturally wanted to return to their homeland.
The local mountain leader was very sensible and proactively offered gifts—the taxes collected from patrolling the Carpathian Mountains pass were quite substantial.
After understanding these matters, soon no one paid attention to the camp, because there were more magnificent things before everyone's eyes—the majestic Carpathian Mountains, the natural border between Rus' and Hungary.
At first glance, what appeared before them seemed like a snowfield that had materialized out of nowhere, but the next moment Rostislav realized that it was actually the mountains themselves.
The chill hit him directly; Rostislav felt his eyes were stung by the cold released by the mountains just by looking at them, and even from such a distance, he could clearly feel the biting cold accompanying the gentle breeze.
Seeing this, Rostislav understood that passing through the mountain pass was impossible; attempting it in such conditions would be courting death.
"You've really come at the wrong time; the Carpathian Mountains are already sealed by heavy snow.
If you had come a week earlier, you could have caught the tail end, rushed through the pass before the snow became truly heavy, and at most, only lost a few people."
The leader of the local mountain tribe shrugged; passing through the mountains now was basically impossible.
"What if we force our way through?"
Izyaslav asked this question with a grim face; he had originally expected them to pass through the Carpathian Mountains pass before the heavy snow, but they had just missed the last opportunity.
"My lord, if you were to do that, you would surely be annihilated, or even if not completely annihilated, most of your men would die."
The leader gave a merciless answer without hesitation, and his words were sincere; he had seen people who had tried to force their way through the Carpathian Mountains in winter, and every spring, after the snow melted, they would always find their bodies.
"The Carpathian Mountains in winter are man-eating; countless people have proven this with their blood, and this is not even when the snow is at its worst.
In the coming days, the snow will fall heavily, and the entire road will be blocked."
The fate of countless individuals who attempted to cross this mountain range in winter has been passed down through generations among the mountain tribes of the Carpathian Mountains.
Whether they were Nomads from the east or imperial armies from the south, crossing the mountains in winter had only one outcome—death.
There were no supplies along the way, only an endless snow desert; even the strongest army would struggle to survive, and there could also be disasters like avalanches in the mountains.
If they encountered an avalanche, the entire army could be wiped out.
Then, in the spring, their ancestors would go and collect the equipment and valuables left behind by these fools, stripping valuable items and weapons from the dead bodies, things they wouldn't even dare to dream of in their daily lives.
Several tribes in the history of the Carpathian Mountains rose this way.
Faced with such a result, the uncles would naturally not make that choice, and neither would Rostislav; their personal guards were bought with real gold and silver, so how could they be allowed to take such a risk?
It wasn't worth risking their lives for a shortcut.
"Then what should we do? We must go to Hungary."
The slightly anxious voice of the third uncle rang out; it would be too ridiculous if the bridge-builder for their meeting couldn't attend, and then all of Rus' would make them a laughingstock, and his words made the eldest uncle even more anxious.
The second uncle was calling for his subordinates to bring a map; his face was a bit grim, indicating he already had a plan in mind.
"We can only go through Wallachia, my lords."
The mountain leader's words made both the eldest uncle and third uncle's expressions change, while the second uncle only sighed.
Wallachia, that land was not a good place; it wasn't that it was terrifying, but rather that the people living there were difficult to deal with.
The Rus' former great enemies of the steppe, the Pechenegs, lived there.
The Pechenegs, fifty years ago, were the masters of the vast steppe south of Kiev; they frequently besieged Kiev, threatening the city's safety, and had also allied with Rus' to jointly attack the imperial capital to the south.
Of course, they ultimately chose to betray, and the skull that Rostislav had reclaimed from Brus Khan was a product of their betrayal.
After another wave of hegemonic shifts on the steppe, the Pechenegs were driven westward, specifically to the land of Wallachia, and the local people quickly submitted to them.
Wallachia is a vast plain with abundant water and grass, making it arguably the most suitable area for Nomads to live.
As they were defeated by the new powers of the eastern steppe, large numbers of Pechenegs poured into Wallachia and rooted themselves in this land.
Incidentally, the Wallachians are the main component of the later Romanian nation, though they have not yet formed a state.
And with the Pechenegs taking root, this place also became a source of trouble; they either invaded the wealthy empire to the south or harassed the Magyar lands to the west.
It was a coincidence that the Magyars were driven westward by the Pechenegs back then, but they established a state in the land of Hungary instead of migrating further west.
And now the Pechenegs have also been driven westward and have begun to harass the Magyar lands again; it must be said that this is truly a karmic entanglement.
"It seems we can only go south."
The eldest uncle finally made the decision; fortunately, they had plenty of time, and even a detour through Wallachia was acceptable in terms of timing.
The expressions of the people behind the Rus' Princes changed; no one really wanted to go through that land, especially the merchants, who were unwilling to go to such a dangerous place, but this was the only choice.
The only comfort they had was that they were accompanied by a powerful army.
Rostislav had no strong feelings about Wallachia; on the contrary, due to the vampire cultural symbols of later generations, he was somewhat curious about this land and wanted to go and see it.
As for Nomads and such, as a Rus' Prince, war was already a part of his life, so let them come.
That night, the army rested there, and the local residents naturally provided food, while the eldest uncle did not forget to give compensation; they were now considered to have entered another country, and matters needed to be handled properly.
The next day, the contingent set off on the southward road; they first had to cross Moldavia, which was Rus' territory, and the locals were still respectful to Kiev, and then came the dangerous plain of Wallachia.