After sending the letter to the Imperial Capital, Rostislav had expected a long wait for a reply.
The Imperial Capital was always busy, dealing with countless requests for aid from various regions daily, so a longer waiting period was normal.
Coupled with the significant travel time, half a year was the minimum wait, and Rostislav only hoped that the Imperial Capital's envoy would arrive the moment he deployed his troops.
This experience was also the result of Rus's numerous interactions with the Imperial Capital; after all, the Rus Church was largely a place for exiling failures from the Imperial Capital, so the Imperial Capital was somewhat neglectful of Rus' affairs.
And the Rus Church could only endure this; from this perspective, the Rus Church was quite miserable, on one hand facing various compromises demanded by the Prince and the common people, and on the other hand not being valued by the Imperial Capital.
However, if history were to develop normally, the Imperial Capital would discover that the Rus Church, which they once looked down upon, would become an indispensable and important component of the Imperial Capital, even falling into disputes over going to Rus' to make money.
But that's for later; let's return to the present.
This time, unexpectedly, the Imperial Capital's speed was much faster than before.
Just six months, or half a year, after Rostislav sent his letter, the Imperial Capital dispatched a team to the remote Northeast Rus.
Thus, in July 1062, Rostislav stood before the gates of Moscow, waiting for the Imperial Capital's delegation, with Adam, the other host of this meeting, by his side; both wore their most magnificent attire.
The Moscow Prince wore no hat, but beneath his luxurious fur cloak was a golden chainmail, entirely befitting the Prince's prestige.
Beneath him was a magnificent red warhorse, draped in a thick blue linen horse blanket.
Adam wore a robe embroidered with various splendid animals, a luxury item from Persia, and his hands were adorned with gold and silver rings, showcasing his wealth.
His head was decorated with many gold and silver ornaments, which made his face appear even more beautiful; if one only looked at his face, many might even mistake him for a girl.
Although his face was somewhat effeminate, a quality difficult to conceal even when riding a magnificent warhorse, his demeanor was not lacking; to the common people, Adam exuded the majesty of a ruler.
This was actually the result of training by Rostislav and Zoe; after all, the Moscow Prince always believed that a king is not born; whether you are a king or not doesn't matter, the key is whether you *look* like a king; as long as you look like a king, everything else is irrelevant.
To highlight the power of these two rulers, iron-clad warriors were naturally arrayed around them; Rostislav's subordinates, of course, were never short of iron armor, many even wearing uniformly styled armor.
Adam's side, however, looked a bit shabby; Bulgar warriors in assorted armor stood there, and even though they were all iron-clad, compared to Rostislav's troops...
While it wasn't that they lacked majesty, their presence simply seemed a bit subdued, but neither Rostislav nor Adam paid much attention to these details.
In front of them were the clergy of the Moscow Church; to welcome the delegation from the Imperial Capital, Bishop Luka brought out all the good things of the Moscow Church.
Various expensive candles were placed along the roadside as if they were free, and the air was filled with the scent of high-quality incense; these things were not cheap, as Northeast Rus could hardly produce them, and they were usually only brought out for religious festivals.
As for the clergy, almost everyone had changed into embroidered vestments, and their various ritual objects in hand were made of gold and silver.
Seeing all this, Rostislav felt a slight urge to exploit the Church, but he quickly suppressed that desire, as there was no need.
The Moscow Church looked magnificent now only because they had squeezed out all the good things they could; as for how rich this church was? One could only shrug.
As the Moscow Prince, Rostislav was very clear about all of this.
Behind the clergy were numerous onlookers; they had heard that envoys from the legendary Southern Imperial Capital had arrived and wanted to see this distant spectacle, to see what these Imperial Capital visitors were truly like.
However, as the wait had already lasted almost an hour from start to finish, and the Imperial Capital's delegation had still not arrived, considerable unrest began to appear in the crowd; some impatient individuals were now doubting whether the Imperial Capital's envoys were real.
But Rostislav was not swayed by this, because the Imperial Capital's delegation had previously sent an envoy to inform Rostislav that they needed to change their clothes and would therefore be delayed for a period.
"They're here! They're here, they're here."
Finally, with the shouts of the common people, the Imperial Capital's delegation appeared before everyone's eyes.
Everyone first saw the purple banners, and the Orthodox crosses arrayed alongside them, and then, the Imperial Capital's delegation appeared before them.
The main body of the delegation consisted of clergy dressed in black vestments; they either held gold and silver staffs or carried gold and silver ritual objects, advancing in neat formations.
Many attendants scattered among the clergy held banners, with various embroidered flags fluttering above their heads, forming a colorful ocean.
The leader rode on horseback, his vestments also black, but over his shoulders hung a stole embroidered with crosses, and the pastoral staff in his hand was even more meticulously carved, showcasing the skill of the Imperial Capital's artisans.
On both sides were escorting warriors; these iron-clad soldiers were entirely encased in armor, and they rode incredibly expensive warhorses.
Undoubtedly, this delegation displayed the majesty belonging to the Imperial Capital; look at those magnificent robes, many of which were made of velvet and silk, and as for the weaving craftsmanship, Rus' could hardly compare.
Following this delegation were also many shabbily dressed people; these were pilgrims who had followed along the long journey, and seeing this large religious procession, they had spontaneously joined; among them were even some Greeks and Bulgarians.
Looking at such a delegation, Rostislav couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, because the number of clergy and their escorts appearing before him far exceeded his expectations.
The Moscow Prince thought it would be at most a hundred people, but what appeared before him was clearly three or four hundred, or even five or six hundred; how could so many people come? The Imperial Capital must attach too much importance to them.
As Rostislav harbored this doubt, in front of him, these clergy from the Southern Imperial Capital had already met with Bishop Luka and his welcoming party.
Both sides approached according to etiquette, then engaged in a ritual exchange in Greek; Rostislav understood what they were saying, which was roughly about identity confirmation, daily greetings, and other conventional phrases and rituals.
Rostislav had never liked overly cumbersome rituals, but since this was a Church matter, their internal ritual, he was too lazy to interfere; he would just wait.
However, Rostislav was very surprised that Bishop Luka, despite not having had contact with his Southern counterparts for so many years, was still so familiar with these rituals and performed them without any hesitation.
And Rostislav was not the only one who disliked all this; in fact, almost everyone present felt the same way; most people didn't understand Greek, only seeing the priests babbling there.
Rostislav, who could understand, found it boring, let alone the audience; they just felt bewildered, but overall, the sight still pleased them; even their Prince wasn't so magnificent.
Fortunately, their ceremony didn't last much longer, and then Bishop Luka led the leader of this delegation to Rostislav and Adam; it was then that they clearly saw that the person leading the delegation was a strong, black-haired, black-eyed middle-aged man.
"Greetings to you, Lord Rostislav, and Lord Adam."
To Rostislav's surprise, this person then spoke in Rus', and by the looks of it, he had mastered the language very well.