While the Winter Army was briefly resting in Yaroslavl, Yegor Ivanovich Sherikhov, a key commander under Rostislav and the officer of the Moscow Camp, crossed the Volga River.
He arrived at Andreyev Fortress, the Sherikhov Family's most important colonial stronghold and fortress.
Yegor had spent many years in Andreyev Fortress; it was from here that he had set out countless times with his father and brothers on distant adventures, experienced countless firsts, and honed his skills.
Yegor's departure was permitted by Rostislav; the Moscow Prince understood his desire to visit his deceased brother and agreed to let him leave first to see his brothers, rejoining the Winter Army directly when it arrived.
Andreyev Fortress is a typical Eastern European stronghold, with the immigrants' houses and the lord's tower behind thick wooden walls.
Outside the wooden walls were the fields cultivated by the residents, but they were now covered in ice and snow, looking like a world of ice and snow.
Not long ago, this place had been besieged, so the fields were scattered with some disorganized weapons and broken shields; as for corpses? They had already been stripped of their clothes and buried in the ground to fertilize the fields.
Yegor rode his horse to the gate and called out to the gatehouse above.
Although the tribes had been subdued, the appearance of a horseman still put the stronghold on alert, and soldiers quickly lined the walls.
Yegor didn't see any familiar faces, and he already had an idea of what might have happened to those familiar faces.
"Open the gate, I am Yegor Ivanovich Sherikhov."
Since Yegor had been away for several years, the guards above did not recognize the young master.
However, as the butler heard his voice and arrived, the main gate was immediately opened.
The officer of the Moscow Camp reined in his warhorse behind the gate built by his forefathers, surrounded by everything that was both strange and familiar.
The buildings were still the same buildings, as if nothing had changed, but many people had changed.
Many of the stronghold's core members and young people had died in the tribal attacks, and now the guards on the walls were either too old or too young.
However, there were still many armed men within the stronghold; the passing soldiers, the warriors from the Chud Camp, and the Moscow mercenaries reassured Yegor.
It was their arrival that completely stabilized the situation and allowed their family to take the initiative to punish the rebels.
Handing his warhorse to the arriving stable boy, Yegor looked at the old butler walking towards him.
This butler was a fellow villager of his father; he had been here since the early days of his father's eastward expansion, and his son was also a core member of the stronghold.
Unfortunately, his son, like Yegor's elder brother, had died in that ambush.
"My condolences."
Looking at the butler, Yegor uttered these words; it was all he could say.
Moreover, his heart was actually very sad; the butler's son was also his good friend, and he was deeply grieved by his friend's death.
"No, Lord Yegor, it's nothing now."
The old butler, however, appeared quite calm and showed no sadness; after all, it had been so long, and death was simply a part of the era, people had long become numb to it.
"Where are my brothers?"
Seeing the old butler speak this way, Yegor said nothing more; if others weren't dwelling on it, what more could he say? So he asked about his brothers.
"Here, our brother."
Just as Yegor was asking, a familiar voice sounded from behind him.
He looked behind him with a surprised expression, and indeed, it was that person.
It was his fourth brother, Anton Ivanovich Sherikhov, and beside Anton was his third brother, Vasily Ivanovich Sherikhov.
Anton's attire was quite conspicuous among the Rus' people; he wore a Greek-style robe over his fur coat, which undoubtedly made him stand out, giving him a more civilized feeling.
However, the axe at his waist and his rough hands indicated that he was not some bookworm whose head was full of texts.
Vasily, on the other hand, dressed like countless simple farmers in this land; if it weren't for his luxurious fur hat, no one would have recognized him as the young master of the stronghold.
Vasily was usually taciturn, rarely—to be precise, he would not express his emotions—but he was excellent at handling daily affairs, always completing things quietly.
"God bless you, Vasily, Anton, it's wonderful to see you."
Yegor warmly embraced his brothers; he longed to see his brothers more than ever now, and upon seeing them, the intense emotions in his heart immediately surged forth.
After embracing his two brothers, he looked at them carefully; Vasily was as silent and honest as ever, giving a very reliable impression.
Anton, who had returned from studying in the imperial capital in the south, carried an aura of foresight and knowledge, an aura unique to intellectuals.
The brothers' relationship was very harmonious; their bond had not changed due to their different experiences and work; they chatted about past events, their faces full of smiles.
Anton was the most lively; this brilliant student from Constantinople University told them many interesting stories from distant lands.
Vasily, the long-standing quartermaster of Andreyev Fortress, recounted the stories of pioneering and harvests as if reciting an article.
As for Yegor, what he spoke of, of course, were his tales of conquest.
The three brothers showed no boredom with each other's topics; they were such brothers, back in the day, they had spent an entire week together in the wilderness to clear out beasts from the forest.
He also asked about the whereabouts of Joseph Golovin, the leader of the East Bank Church and an elder who had watched them grow up, and the answer he received was that the priest was in the wilderness preparing for the protection of the expeditionary route.
Speaking of which, this Priest Golovin was also a legend; he had gathered so many sectarian priests in the south to come north to pioneer, and not long ago, he had even gone to the imperial capital to seek the Patriarch's help.
It was a pity that the Patriarch was very angry at the time because of the Prince of Rus' half-hearted attitude regarding the Hungary incident, so he gained nothing and could only return empty-handed.
No, saying he gained nothing isn't quite right; on the way, he also tricked a few Greek farmers into coming north to farm, and he pilfered a large handful of finely crafted candles from Saint Sophia Cathedral.
However, those few Greek farmers had bad luck; they died halfway due to acclimatization issues.
They were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn't even notice they had been standing at the city gate the entire time.
However, no one dared to disturb the three young masters; the most senior butler in the stronghold merely watched their brotherly affection with a gratified smile, then went about his work.
But no matter how joyful or how invigorated the brothers were, some things ultimately had to be faced: the incredibly cruel truth.
At this point, the three fell into a tacit silence; no one wanted to bring up that matter, that truth was simply too cruel for them.
"Yegor, do you want to see Boris?"
Finally, Anton broke the silence, and Yegor simply nodded silently in agreement.
At Anton's command, servants quickly brought warhorses for the two young masters of the stronghold; Anton also instructed the servant about something, seemingly to place something on the saddle.
Then the three brothers rode together from Andreyev Fortress to a small hill outside the stronghold.
And at the top of the hill was the tomb of Boris Ivanovich.
Boris's tomb was very simple: just a gravestone, with the land containing Boris's body buried behind it.
Looking at his elder brother's tomb, Yegor thought of many things.
He thought of the happy times they shared as brothers, of their struggles together, and of how they had worked together for their father's cause.
Those years contained sadness and joy, exhilaration and loss, but all were so worth reminiscing.
With these memories, tears streamed down Yegor's face; such behavior is usually seen as weakness, but at this moment, no one saw it that way, and Anton and Vasily were also silently grieving.