Although the Grand Duke suppressed his anger, it was only a temporary suppression, because if you saw his expression, you would understand his true feelings. Soon, the entire army knew of the Grand Duke's fury.
After clearing the battlefield and arranging the corpses, the army set out again. However, this time, military discipline was significantly stricter than before, and preparations were also enhanced. The Grand Duke required everyone to march in half-armor to respond to any possible Nomad raids.
The soldiers had no complaints; after all, everyone had witnessed the defeat of the Southwest Rus army.
On the other hand, the Grand Duke ordered the cavalry in the army to search for traces of the Polovtsy. Only three days had passed since that battle; it was impossible for the Nomads to have gone too far.
This made Rostislav breathe a sigh of relief. It seemed that even when he was that angry, his grandfather only sent out the cavalry and did not make the troops blindly advance through this ravaged land, which was filled with enemy scouts.
Prince Rostislav, who led over a hundred cavalrymen, was naturally among those dispatched. He entrusted his subordinates to Granval's management and led the cavalry himself to carry out the Grand Duke's mission, also to alleviate the melancholy he felt upon seeing the defeat of allied forces.
However, to Prince Rostislav's surprise, his second uncle, Sviatoslav, also had a capable unit of heavily armored cavalry. He hadn't noticed their existence when he was moving around the army before; at the time, he thought they were mounted infantry.
While surprised, Prince Rostislav became even more wary of his second uncle. He had actually kept this unit hidden until now. This man was truly... deep and inscrutable. Fortunately, they were still in the same trench for now; as for the future, that was a matter for later.
Rostislav's cavalry unit was luxuriously equipped, especially given the substantial number of horses captured in the last battle. Currently, his hundred riders all had a lavish setup of three horses per person: one for combat, one for marching, and one for transport.
The cavalry galloped across the vast plains, searching for any trace of the enemy. Rostislav always controlled the distance of each outing, preventing them from straying too far from the main force to ensure timely support.
Nevertheless, there were still many skirmishes with Nomad riders. Fortunately, Rostislav's forces always managed to achieve victory due to their superior discipline and equipment.
Today, just like any other day, Prince Rostislav led his troops out on patrol, but this time he saw something interesting.
"Whoa, that thing is really big."
Looking at the stone statue, which was three people tall, Yang subconsciously exclaimed.
Although the craftsmanship was rough, it was still vaguely discernible that the stone statue depicted a steppe warrior, wearing a pointed hat and holding a bow and arrow. Despite countless years of wind and rain, it still stood tall.
This was a custom found across the Eurasian steppes: carving tall and majestic stone statues to express fear of the sky god or commemorate military achievements.
However, some of these statues, due to being weathered by time and with the tribes that built them long forgotten, had no one left to remember their purpose, so they simply stood there in solitude.
"I wonder which Nomad tribe left this behind."
Rostislav stroked the stone statue, feeling the rough texture of the stone and the weight of its history.
Judging by the erosion of time on it, it was likely hundreds of years old. Perhaps the tribe that built it had already vanished into time. This was the steppe, where countless tribes rose and fell over centuries, new ones emerging and old ones disappearing—an eternal truth.
Around the two of them, Rostislav's riders were scattered across the plains, eating. They took food from their packhorses, lit small fires to briefly heat it, and then consumed it. This food mostly consisted of easily preserved items like cheese and dried meat.
The soldiers' morale remained very high. Although there had been constant battles, they had all achieved victory under the Prince's leadership, with almost no casualties on their side. Everyone also received spoils of war, which made them even more eager for combat.
It was also through battle that the relationships among the members of Rostislav's cavalry, a mixed force of Rus, Greeks, and steppe peoples, grew closer, and their coordination became more seamless. Nothing fosters camaraderie and teamwork better than fighting together.
"Your Highness, speaking of which, how long are we going to keep searching here? Are we going to fight those herdsmen again? I'm tired of fighting."
Yang's curiosity about the stone statue quickly faded. Young people are like that; their interests come and go quickly. His eyes were still on the statue, but his mouth was already talking about war.
"These days won't last much longer."
Rostislav said, looking at the steppe warrior stone statue.
"The conflicts have been increasing these days, which means we are getting closer to the main force of the Polovtsy. Otherwise, we wouldn't be encountering enemies so frequently."
"So, it's finally time to fight?"
Yang immediately became excited. Nothing stirred a young man's interest more than a major battle. Yang was filled with a longing for the battlefield, hoping to gain more glory.
"Yes…"
As Rostislav spoke, he suddenly hesitated, because he saw the dispatched scout galloping back in a hurry. His intuition told Prince Rostislav that a battle was imminent.
"Everyone, mount up!"
Rostislav said as he swung onto his red warhorse, meeting the scout. He received good news: a hundred Polovtsy were advancing with a large herd of horses not far from their current location.
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Undoubtedly, Rostislav decided to launch a surprise attack. He hadn't gained anything from the many recent battles with the herdsmen, and his equipment had suffered considerable wear and tear. After all, what spoils could those smelly fellows offer besides rotten knives, broken arrows, and a few horses?
But a herd of horses was different. These animals were valuable whether kept or sold. How could Rostislav miss this opportunity? He still remembered earning so much money from Tugel's horse herd and even upgrading his subordinates' equipment.
Moreover, the number of guards for the horse herd was not large, which was enough for him to intercept and seize the horses.
Following the scout's directions, the Rus cavalry quickly found the herdsmen driving the warhorses. Rostislav looked down from the ridge; the herdsmen and their flock appeared as tiny as ants.
As the Rus saw them, the Polovtsy also saw the Rus. Most of the Polovtsy quickly gathered, leaving only a few people to guard the warhorses; they were going to confront the Rus.
Prince Rostislav fastened his helmet and drew his cavalry bow. Yang, understanding the signal, put the horn to his lips and blew with an intensity that seemed to threaten to burst his lungs. With his action, a deafening battle signal soared through the heavens and earth, announcing to everyone that the battle had begun.
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