Almost two hours after Prince Rostislav's army departed, a formidable troop of Polovtsian cavalry arrived at the former battlefield.
By then, the sun had risen high, illuminating the ruined camp and the piled corpses, stripped of their armor and clothing. A gentle breeze stirred, carrying a few remaining fabric scraps, revealing the desolation of the battlefield.
The leader of the Polovtsy, Tugel, was a tall and robust man. Over his chainmail, he wore lamellar armor, with additional protection on his hands and feet, making him resemble an iron golem. His head was encased in a Qipchak full-face helmet, adorned with silver inlays, distinguishing him as a noble.
Through the cold, iron mask, only narrow eye slits allowed him to observe his surroundings, and through them, a ruthless gaze peered out.
A scimitar hung at his waist, a riding bow was on his saddle, and in his hand, he held a horsewhip. Tugel was toying with the horsewhip, his mind seemingly lost in thought.
The black warhorse beneath him was clearly not an ordinary beast; its eyes gleamed fiercely, and it occasionally let out a roar, as if suppressing its own combative will.
This man was the notorious Tugel. Surrounding him was a circle of fully armed Polovtsian chieftains and warriors, all clad in iron armor, many with emotionless silver iron masks.
They were Tugel's guards, and also his elite. Upon receiving news of the attack on the horse herding camp, he brought all the forces he could gather in a short time.
Behind the elite were the noble sons of the Qipchak people, the children of these chieftains and warriors. They wore sturdy armor and carried the arrogance of young nobles. Many of their helmets were adorned with flamboyant feathers of various colors, making them resemble proud, competing roosters.
Most of these young men were on their first campaign. They belonged to a generation that had grown up after the Polovtsy gained hegemony over the steppe. Although they had participated in many raids, they considered the slaughter of villages and towns to be no measure of martial glory. Many hoped to display their martial prowess with the heads of Ross Warriors.
Further back were the common Polovtsian herders, dressed in fur clothing. Many were casually astride their horses, either watching everything with interest or chatting with their companions.
The Polovtsian camp was in disarray; all the tents had been toppled, torches and fires extinguished, and various items scattered across the ground, indicating the haste with which the attackers had departed.
To the people of the steppe, such disarray was not surprising; it was commonplace for them. Scenes like this were never scarce on the steppe; inter-tribal raids and invasions constantly caused widespread destruction, making the spirit of the steppe people exceptionally resilient and brutal.
"Tugel, it's here. It looks like they haven't gone far."
The scout dismounted and examined the tracks on the ground. After confirming the information, he reported to his leader.
"They went northeast!"
"Then follow them."
The "famous" Tugel of Ross said, his tone very unfriendly, brewing with anger as he swung his horsewhip a few times through the air.
"They dared to steal my horses! I will make these people pay the price!"
"Yes, Tugel!"
The steppe gray wolves behind him responded in unison. Then, the steppe wolf riders began to gallop, heading in the direction the Ross people had departed.
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"Valin, is everything alright?"
At this moment, Prince Rostislav stood before a vast, boundless swamp. Besides the endless swamp, dense reeds and scattered trees could also be seen.
The Valin he called out to was a middle-aged man who had joined Rostislav's army in Kiev. He was born in this swamp and had spent his entire life there, making him very familiar with the terrain.
He joined the army to earn some money. He felt that he was already middle-aged but had not yet started a family, so he intended to earn a sum of money through war to set up a household in prosperous Kiev.
This was also the thought of many soldiers, simple and straightforward. Most participated in war merely to secure a better future.
"perun... God above, my lord, rest assured, I am most familiar with this place; I've lived here my whole life."
Valin almost slipped and uttered the holy name of perun. He could only give Rostislav an awkward smile, then skillfully rolled up his sleeves, changing the subject to defuse the awkwardness and his slip of the tongue.
"I know a safe path, and it's wide enough for the army to pass. Please follow me, my lord."
Prince Rostislav, of course, paid no mind to his slip. There were many pagans even in Kiev, not to mention outside of Kiev. If all of them were to be held accountable, life would be impossible. pagans were everywhere, both inside and outside Kiev.
Valin's reaction was simply out of fear that Rostislav might dislike pagans. Now it seemed he had worried too much; Rostislav had no intention of being so particular about his subordinates' beliefs.
"Follow Valin, let's go!"
Rostislav was the first to follow Valin. Behind him, the Ross people, leading the horses they had acquired, entered the swamp, a place they would normally never even approach.
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"Are you sure they went in?"
Shortly after Rostislav entered the swamp, the main body of the Polovtsy also arrived at the location. Looking at the boundless marshy forest, Tugel asked.
"The tracks disappeared after reaching the swamp, Tugel. I am very certain they entered the swamp. These Ross cowards still don't have the guts to face us, just like always; they'd rather hide in the swamp than confront us head-on."
The scout's answer was firm and confident in his conclusion. His words even drew a round of laughter from those present; mocking the Ross people was their favorite pastime.
However, the mockery also served to mask their inner fear. In the tribal stories, approaching the swamp never led to a good outcome...
"This is troublesome. If we rush in, something bad will happen. These bastards..."
But Tugel's tone was filled with suppressed anger. Although he was a rash and easily angered man, he knew well the principle of not entering unknown territory, and a place like a swamp was even more dangerous to enter lightly. Getting stuck would be disastrous; perhaps the entire army would vanish without a trace.
"Go around! They'll have to come out eventually anyway; we'll just wait for them."
Tugel would not give up so easily. Since he couldn't cross the swamp, he would go around it. The Ross people entered the swamp to avoid being caught, but their ultimate destination was still Kiev, so he would block that direction.
"Everyone, hurry up! We need to get around quickly!"
At Tugel's command, the steppe cavalry began to gallop, kicking up a large amount of dust, and the light yellow banners fluttered in the wind.
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