"Form ranks! Form ranks!"
In the morning mist, Ross soldiers crawled out of their tents, many still in their armor, picking up their weapons and shields to take their positions on the battlefield at the Captain of the Guard's command.
Although much preparation and emphasis had been made beforehand, when tens of thousands of people moved, chaos was inevitable, such as conflicts in formations, soldiers unable to find their generals, and confused orders. The Prince himself had anticipated such a situation, and his Bodyguard Unit ran back and forth along the front lines, mediating various disputes.
Prince Rostislav was fortunate; he only needed to manage his two thousand men, and these two thousand men had good discipline, requiring less effort.
At dawn, Prince Rostislav and the Captain of the Guard mounted their warhorses, led their army out, and reached their assigned positions.
The chosen battlefield was a flat slope, perfectly suited for the army to deploy and fight. Of course, such a flat slope was also suitable for cavalry to charge, but the numerous wagons the Ross Army carried were precisely for countering cavalry charges.
At this moment, the slope was shrouded in the morning mist, preventing both sides from seeing each other's movements. From time to time, sounds of fighting could be heard in the mist, indicating that both sides' scouts and skirmishers were engaging.
Screams constantly echoed. Fighting in such thick mist meant that when an enemy was spotted, they were often already at a very close range, and at such a distance, only fierce and brutal close-quarters combat could take place.
Brutal melees continued. Both sides' reconnaissance efforts were limited by the mist, which was not a bad outcome for either side; although they couldn't see the enemy's deployment in advance, their own deployment also remained unseen.
According to yesterday's arrangements, Prince Rostislav was positioned at the very end of the left flank. Some Black Hat Army units were reinforced under his command. Prince Rostislav's task was very simple: hold the left flank and prevent a possible Polovtsian flanking maneuver.
It seemed the Prince had been observing Prince Rostislav's performance in recent days. A wise man lets those skilled at something do what they should. After all, there was no better way to prevent a cavalry flank than to deploy cavalry.
Prince Rostislav currently stood beneath the Saint George military banner, surrounded by busy soldiers who were pulling wagons to the front of the formation. This was a common tactic for infantry armies to counter cavalry. Watching these wagons being dragged into position, Prince Rostislav felt a sense of reassurance; he believed this could effectively resist nomadic incursions.
The fanatical guards were shouting fervent religious slogans within the formation. Most of the soldiers in Prince Rostislav's army were Christians, which drew cheers from them, and their morale rose accordingly.
The Prince's gaze swept towards the center of the battle line, where soldiers armed with swords, spears, and halberds were densely packed. Some wore fur-lined caps, others wore pointed helmets. In front of them were wagons manned by spearmen and archers.
Moreover, there were many chevaux de frise in front of the wagons. The Prince ordered the soldiers to re-position the chevaux de frise from the camp in front of the formation to strengthen the defenses. The Prince was truly meticulous in his actions, striving for perfection.
Behind them, archers calmly adjusted their bowstrings. Most of them wore padded armor. Prince Rostislav saw many among them holding longbows and heavy arrows, seemingly Norse warriors. Longbows and heavy arrows were also a tradition of northern martial arts; their arrows were far more powerful than those of weaker shortbows, truly made for killing.
Mounted messengers constantly moved within the formation, and soldiers adjusted according to their commands. Bodyguard Unit members were also dispersed among the soldiers, standardizing formations and stances, and serving as the foundation and backbone for encouraging soldiers once combat began.
His grandfather's banner was positioned at the highest point of the Ross battle line. Where the Rurik Trident fluttered, his grandfather could oversee the entire battle situation and make timely military adjustments.
Due to the mist, Prince Rostislav could only vaguely see Rurik's grand banner, completely unable to discern his grandfather and his reserves.
As for the right flank, it was completely out of sight. It was said that his grandfather had placed his two uncles there. With two Princes and the Bodyguard Unit, it seemed, like last time, his grandfather intended to use this side as the iron fist for a counterattack.
From time to time, soldiers left the formation and entered the mist. These were mostly mercenaries from outside Ross: Poles, Germans, Chud… All the peoples the Prince knew could be seen here, their armor and equipment incredibly varied.
They were the units joining the close-quarters combat in the mist. Such fighting was most suitable for them; in a battlefield with such limited visibility, these mercenaries could only fight their best to survive.
The fighting in the mist began the moment the sun rose, with both sides committing large forces to it.
"Yang, are you still nervous this time?"
The Prince suddenly asked his standard-bearer, and Yang merely shrugged casually.
"Much better than last time. Though I'm nervous, it's not like my first battle."
Yang's words exuded the confidence of a veteran. During this period, he had participated in dozens of skirmishes, big and small, and his spirit had long been honed to be incredibly strong. The demeanor of a greenhorn was now completely a thing of the past.
"That's good. Come with me, let me see my soldiers."
Prince Rostislav rode his horse through the army, and the soldiers cheered when they saw the Saint George banner. They knew this meant Prince Rostislav himself was present, and in their eyes, Prince Rostislav was the one who would bring victory.
The Prince did not forget to wave to the soldiers, which elicited an even stronger reaction from them. After all, Prince Rostislav had completely convinced them with his military achievements. In their eyes, Saint George favored this Prince, and in the easily excitable environment of impending battle, their reaction was naturally enthusiastic.
The cheers even drew glances from allied forces, but they soon focused on their own tasks. Battle was about to begin; it was better to prepare thoroughly than to look at something unusual.
Prince Rostislav passed by his crossbowmen. These thirty crossbowmen cheered the loudest, after all, Prince Rostislav had elevated them from the lowest-ranked infantry to crossbowmen, and had given them such generous (relatively speaking) pay.
"This is the last batch, right?"
Prince Rostislav asked, waving to them. The Prince valued these crossbowmen greatly. In the previous battle against Tugel, it was they who effectively struck the Polovtsian heavy cavalry, preventing that cavalry from unleashing their full combat potential. After returning to Kiev, he even bought crossbows all over Kiev, gathering more than a dozen, forming the current unit.
Prince Rostislav hoped these men could continue their efforts, delivering a heavy blow to the nomadic army, and their weapons would also be convenient for breaking through when he needed them.
"Yes."
Yang replied.
"Ah, the mist is starting to clear."
Suddenly, Prince Rostislav looked up. The mist was gradually dispersing.
"Return to formation. The battle is about to begin."
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