"It seems we've arrived just in time. Draw your swords," Yan said, looking at the defeated peasants, and everyone immediately drew their swords. The Gael didn't react for a moment, only hastily following suit when they saw everyone else had already drawn their swords.
"Help those peasants and defeat Olaf's lackeys. We need them this time."
"Yes!"
"Remember to capture a few alive. We'll hang them by the roadside later to deter disobedient peasants. I can't wait to see them kicking!"
On the attacking side, a figure clad in chainmail roared. This was a Ross Warriors, and his words were full of glee. For him, slaughtering these peasants and watching them die was a pleasure.
His words drew a chorus of responses, and some Ross Warriors even leisurely discussed how to torture the captives to better scare the peasants into paying their taxes obediently.
Since arriving in Northeast Rus', this Ross Warriors had never been in such a good mood.
After arriving in Northeast Rus' a few months ago, he had originally thought that by pledging allegiance to Rostislav, he would gain wealth, or at the very least, land and people. Instead, he was told he had to tame the peasants himself, and the fortresses also had to be built from scratch with his own organized manpower.
Watching some people choose to compromise with those peasants, and even work alongside them, the Ross Warriors simply couldn't accept it. He had been fighting on battlefields since he grew up, and after battles, he enjoyed women and wine. The thought of him negotiating or serving peasants was unthinkable.
So he had been wasting away in Moscow, living day to day on the gold and silver issued by the Veche. He absolutely refused to deal with those peasants who smelled of dirt.
This kind of life continued for several months. Initially, many people shared his views, but as time went on, many either obediently went to the countryside or simply returned to their hometowns. Only a few, including this Ross Warriors, managed to endure.
However, their endurance had reached its limit. Someone approached them, telling them there was another way to quickly acquire land and people: force.
But regarding force, these people had considered it before and ultimately given up, because how could one or two people face dozens or hundreds of armed peasants?
This time was different. Those people told the Ross Warriors that since they couldn't do it separately, they could unite. They had already secured the support of a powerful figure in Suzdal and had brought together many people like him.
Seeing the situation, the Ross Warriors was naturally happy to join their ranks, and his happy times finally began.
With the help of that powerful Suzdal figure named Olaf, they easily found the local village communities and suppressed them. The Ross Warriors still remembered how those villagers dared not speak out, and how they were slaughtered after their failed resistance. That feeling was truly exhilarating.
Through suppression, he easily became a lord. The peasants fearfully offered him tributes, built his fortresses, and even presented their young daughters for him to impregnate.
Of course, in return, he also had to participate in other people's actions to suppress peasants and pledge loyalty to the powerful Suzdal figure who provided them with support and supplies.
The Ross Warriors didn't care about changing masters. He came to Northeast Rus' to be a superior person. Since someone allowed him to be a superior person, he would pledge his loyalty.
As for their new master seemingly plotting against the Prince, he didn't care at all. At most, it would be war. Dying in battle was a Ross Warriors' duty. For someone like him, who lived by the sword, if he died, he died. He had already enjoyed everything anyway.
Just as this Ross Warriors was thinking this, he suddenly heard the sound of hooves behind him. He looked back and saw a heavily armed troop of soldiers riding towards him. He subconsciously thought that reinforcements had arrived.
After all, at this time, their group was the largest armed force in Northeast Rus'. Besides them, who else could have so many armored soldiers?
However, he found it a bit strange. He didn't remember Lord Olaf having so many warhorses.
Just as the Ross Warriors was about to go forward to meet them, he suddenly noticed that the galloping cavalry all held swords and looked menacing.
"Enem—…"
Even the most dull-witted person should have realized that these were enemies, not comrades. However, just as his cry left his lips, a sharp sword had already cut into his mouth.
"Teacher, why are those Christians fighting each other?"
Just as Yan's forces were slaughtering Olaf's unprepared followers, in the dense forest, the defeated peasants, no longer pursued, reassembled.
The residents of the forest called all outsiders Christians, as many of these people believed in Christian. This was not something seen everywhere in the countryside, and over time, the free residents of the wilderness used this term for all outsiders.
The person referred to as Teacher was an old man wearing a gray robe and a thick beard. The light of wisdom occasionally flickered in his eyes.
However, from the various ornaments and divine emblems on his body, it could be seen that he was a pagan sorcerer, and he worshipped veles, the God of Earth and the Underworld.
Facing the question, the old man simply said,
"Let's wait and see."
Everyone followed his command, showing the immense influence of this sorcerer.
As far as their eyes could see, the iron-clad men who had brutally slaughtered them were now being massacred by Yan's cavalry. The peasants saw a Ross Warriors in a blue cloak effortlessly wielding a large scythe, cutting down enemies like harvesting wheat.
The iron-clad men who had once driven them into such a sorry state were now retreating under the onslaught of the newcomers. They had already endured a battle, and then were caught off guard by a sneak attack. Their original combat strength was already greatly diminished, let alone anything else.
Those iron-clad men collapsed, fleeing in disarray. Some even ran into the forest where the peasants were, and their fate, of course, was to be struck down and killed, just like slaughtering animals.
However, after Olaf's subordinates either died or fled, the situation fell into an awkward standoff.
The peasants in the forest looked at the iron-clad men, unsure if they were friends or foes, and Yan's group viewed the peasants in the forest in the same way.
Finally, Yan took the initiative to break the deadlock. The Prince's right-hand man rode forward:
"Friends in the forest, may we explore? I am also here to oppose Olaf. I believe we can have much in common."
Silence was Yan's only response, and just as he was about to retreat in disappointment, a voice answered him, and a figure emerged.
"Then let us talk."
It was clearly the sorcerer referred to as Teacher.