"Alright, quickly tell me what exactly happened?"
Soon after, at the very site of the brawl, Rostislav sat on a platform made of stacked wooden crates, looking at the two groups of people before him and saying impatiently.
Behind Rostislav stood a line of armored warriors, his personal guards who had rushed over upon learning of the brawl at the Ross merchant camp. Rostislav had temporarily assigned them to serve as the honor guard for his role as "judge."
The local Magyar judge also stood beside the Prince, ready to respond to the Rus' people's inquiries at any moment. Behind him were several city militiamen.
Normally, he should have presided over the trial on behalf of the Kingdom of Hungary, but since a Rus' Prince was here to handle this mess, he deferred.
The officials of Fehérvár had been vexed by these numerous foreigners lately, so it was better to push such matters away if possible, to avoid problems that would eventually come back to them.
The two distinct groups before Rostislav were, naturally, the Ross merchants who had followed the Ross Army—these merchants mostly had the backing of the Rus' Princes.
They mostly wore overcoats, though now their coats were dirty, given how intense the fight had been and how much sewage was on the ground. However, among these Rus' people, there were also some Magyars standing.
On the other side were, naturally, the people they had brawled with, which was basically a group of Magyars. They were mostly dressed simply, some even wrapped in furs, looking like Nomads.
The two groups continuously exchanged hateful glances. The brawl had resulted in three deaths and nearly ten injuries, and everyone had numerous bruises, which was enough to escalate their anger.
Some might ask why Rostislav, who had clearly participated in the brawl, could now sit here in a judging posture.
The reason was simple: he was a Rus' Prince, and the onlookers had seen Rostislav directly knock everyone down earlier, showing no favoritism.
Then, he even waited for the knocked-down people to wake up. With such fairness, he could naturally pass judgment.
And so, under the command of the Moscow Prince, both sides began to recount the events from their perspective.
Through these descriptions, Rostislav learned why they had fought.
It was actually a simple matter: some Ross merchants had ordered a batch of grease from a Magyar tribe, intending to sell it back in Kiev.
For this business, the Rus' people had negotiated for a long time, not knowing how much effort they had put in to secure the deal.
They originally thought that was it, as both parties had agreed on the business, and the Rus' people had even given a deposit in the form of a gift. But they didn't expect problems to arise the next day.
The next day, they were informed that the Magyar tribe would not proceed with the business, which left the Ross merchants very confused. How could something that had been agreed upon be reneged on just like that?
So, this Magyar tribe pushed forward the person who had previously negotiated with the Rus' people. That person had once been the chief of this tribe, a Christian, but now he appeared to be held hostage and sidelined.
This made the Rus' people suspect if there was some internal issue on the other side, but they quickly dismissed the doubt, as it was not their concern. They continued to discuss the business.
The Ross merchants were very eager to complete this order, which they had spent so much effort negotiating, but the other side's refusal was very firm.
And most importantly, they were unwilling to return the deposit that had been given as a gift, stating that it was a gift, not an item of trade.
This enraged the Rus' people. How could they tolerate their money being swallowed like that?
Subsequently, the conversations between the two sides became increasingly heated, and they began to hurl insults at each other, leading directly to a physical confrontation.
At first, only a few people were fighting, but then both sides continuously pulled in more people, until finally, the entire camp was fighting, continuing until Rostislav arrived.
"Hmm, alright, I generally understand the situation. Then, what needs to be done will be done. Pay the blood money if you can; if not, someone will have to pay with their life. As for the deposit and such, the Magyars just need to return the deposit."
Rostislav's method of handling the situation was also very much in line with the times: using money to buy off lives. If lives could not be bought, then people would naturally have to pay with their lives.
Fortunately, both sides were wealthy, so paying the blood money was not an issue. The Magyars also readily returned the deposit; they had originally intended to extort some money but did not expect to get into a large-scale brawl with these Rus' people.
They also did not wish for such a large commotion, as they did not want to attract too much attention.
Once the main cause of the brawl was resolved and the two sides exchanged blood money, the atmosphere immediately eased. After all, wasn't everyone fighting for money? Once the money was in place, everything naturally ceased to be a problem.
Their leaders even became increasingly harmonious. This group of people were all adept at speaking to people as people and to ghosts as ghosts, so harmonious that it was unlike a group that had just fought.
Only the people below still harbored mutual animosity, waiting for another fight to break out. However, since the leaders had reconciled, how could they still fight?
This also caused the disappointed crowd to disperse. To be honest, brawls were not uncommon; what attracted people was only the scale. They had hoped to see another fight but were met with this outcome.
Rostislav called out to those Magyars—he knew some Magyar, though only enough for basic communication—and asked them why they had violated the contract and torn up the order.
But their subsequent reaction made Rostislav quite intrigued. These people actually stammered and avoided eye contact, and their previous arrogance in accusing the Rus' people immediately vanished.
"My Lord, we found more suitable merchants who are willing to offer a better price. As for defaulting on debts, that was merely the act of naive young people within the tribe driven by greed. Please, My Lord, do not mind it."
Finally, an old man with a cross on his chest came forward and spoke, and the tribesmen echoed his words as if they had found a lifeline.
Rostislav had an impression of this old man; he had previously recounted the events before him, but he had seemed to be held hostage. Even when he came forward to explain to the Prince, there were two young men standing too close to him, as if supervising him.
Rostislav felt puzzled by the behavior of these Magyars. Breaking an agreement and seeking other parties was a normal business practice, but why were these tribesmen so nervous?
And as the Prince was pondering, the old man suddenly took the Prince's hand and placed a beautifully crafted emblem into his palm.
"This is a small gift, not worth mentioning."
The man simply pressed this item into Rostislav's hand. He even winked at Rostislav, then walked away surrounded by the tribesmen.
Rostislav was somewhat at a loss, only able to look at the emblem in his hand. It was a combination of lightning and wings, a rather crude and common amulet. He vaguely recalled it being an emblem of a Hungarian pagan deity…
Wait, why would a Christian send such a thing?
Rostislav discovered the problem, and then his sensitivity to paganism made him think of other things.
What was the item they were supposed to trade? Oh, right, grease! This stuff was excellent for starting fires! This couldn't help but make Rostislav sensitive.
However, just as Rostislav was about to catch up with the old man to ask what was going on, to ask if the old man's intended meaning was what he thought it was, he found that the old man had already disappeared into the crowd.
And just as Rostislav was about to search further, a personal guard suddenly stopped him.
"My Lord Rostislav, your uncles want you to return. His Majesty Solomon and his mother will arrive tomorrow, and we must begin preparations."
"Why at this time? Never mind, I'll go back."
Seeing this, the Prince could only put aside the current matters, as that was the most important thing. They had traveled so far from Ross for this very purpose; they could not abandon the fundamental for the trivial.