When the wooden walls of Smolensk appeared within sight, Rostislav couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief.
He had finally arrived at his own territory and could at last get some proper rest.
After resting in Smolensk, he could proceed directly to Northeast Rus'.
The immigrant convoy arrived at Smolensk in the early morning, with dense, grayish-white mist occasionally disturbed by galloping warhorses or crowds.
Loud, clear horn calls echoed almost constantly at the front and rear of the convoy.
Rostislav rode a red warhorse at the very front of this massive, snake-like procession.
Accompanying him were Poleye, the former Kiev Centurion, Gvaran, the Captain of the Guard, Varu, the nomadic chieftain, and several other renowned warriors.
Facing them, Prince Vishata, Rostislav's uncle, approached, surrounded by the dignitaries of Smolensk.
The continuous horn calls from the immigrant convoy had long drawn the city's attention, informing Vishata of the arrival of his comrade's son.
The moment they met, Rostislav noticed that his uncle Vishata was accompanied by a strong, red-haired Norse warrior.
Unlike many Christian Norsemen he had seen, this Norseman wore Thor's Hammer around his neck, clearly indicating his pagan identity.
Rostislav did not proactively inquire, nor did he question the Norseman's pagan status.
He knew that since his uncle Vishata had brought this person, he would introduce him himself.
"Long time no see, Uncle Vishata."
The Prince's words were filled with warmth; it was truly good to see Vishata's kind face.
"Your convoy has grown even larger, Rostislav.
The child who left home back then now returns with such a grand procession.
Fate is truly unpredictable.
After your father passed away, I once wondered where your destiny might lead, but this scene now was not among any of the possibilities I imagined back then."
"Didn't you also become the mayor of Smolensk?
Your father is still serving as the mayor in Novgorod.
The power of you and your father truly surpasses everyone in all of Rus'.
Is there any other dignitary in all of Rus' who can compare to you?"
As Rostislav said, the Vishata family now controlled the two most important and developed cities in the North, undoubtedly holding immense power throughout Rus'.
"It's just wealth gained under special circumstances; it won't last long.
My father will have to retire when Izyaslav's son arrives in Novgorod.
As for me, if it weren't for your efforts, I wouldn't have become the mayor of Smolensk."
Vishata's words were more understated, completely unmoved by Rostislav's flattery.
He clearly understood that all of this was merely a chain reaction from Vladimir's death and Rostislav's struggles; he was simply benefiting from this child's success.
The mayor of Smolensk was well aware that he became the mayor of this infinitely promising city only because the Grand Prince wanted to give his grandson more power.
Rostislav merely smiled in response to these words.
He didn't see it that way; his uncle Vishata had given him too much crucial help in recent years, which could no longer be easily measured.
"Let me introduce you to this person; he is a friend from the North, Sogier of Riga."
Vishata was unwilling to say more on the matter, so he gestured to the red-haired strongman beside him and introduced this Norse warrior to the Rus' Prince.
"Riga…"
Rostislav chewed on the word.
In his previous life, his most profound memory of it was about the history of the Northern Crusades.
But in this era, Riga was still a colonial city established by Norsemen.
In an era when royal power in the Nordic countries was strengthening, many people, to escape royal authority, chose to leave their homelands and travel to England, Iceland, or the other side of the Baltic Sea, and Riga was established for this reason.
"Greetings to you, Rostov Prince.
I have long heard of your martial renown in the North, and now that I see you, I find you truly a man of outstanding talent, living up to those rumors.
However, I would presumptuously make a request: could you show me the cross that Harald His Majesty entrusted to you?"
This request felt somewhat abrupt to the Prince.
He, of course, still remembered the cross, which incorporated the style of Thor's Hammer, that Harald had given him, but why would this person mention it?
Could it be… Rostislav thought of what Harald had said when he left Rus'.
Thinking this, Rostislav took out the cross.
"It is indeed Harald His Majesty's cross… Lord Rostislav, in the name of Odin, the Jomsvikings are willing to serve you."
Upon seeing the cross, the red-haired Viking knelt down and pledged his loyalty to Rostislav.
The Rus' Prince was quite bewildered.
Why did this person pledge allegiance just like that?
And shouldn't the Jomsvikings have been long gone?
The so-called Jomsvikings were a group of pagan warriors in the Nordic region, referring to a disciplined warrior band.
This warrior band once roamed the North, renowned for its powerful combat ability, and their fortress, Jomsborg, was also the strongest fortress in the North.
However, this powerful fortress was ultimately destroyed by Christian armies; Saint Olaf's son, Magnus, completely turned this pagan warrior band into history.
And now, this organization, which should have perished, reappeared.
The Rus' Prince was quite surprised, but then he calmly considered it.
After all, Yaroslav died earlier than in history, so it was not strange for other things inconsistent with history to occur.
As Rostislav was contemplating the Jomsvikings, the kneeling Norseman seemed to think the Prince was troubled by his arrival, so he began to explain:
"Harald His Majesty requested us to come.
He commanded us thus after learning of your enfeoffment as Rostov, and he paid enough gold and silver to cover a year of our work.
Lord Rostislav, our swords are now your swords."
Hearing the red-haired Norseman speak this way, Rostislav was relieved.
So it was the help of his uncle Harald.
"Now you have strong soldiers and horses.
It shouldn't be any problem to take Northeast Rus', and with a bit of luck, you might even conquer Volga Bulgaria, just like our ancestors, hahaha."
Vishata, who witnessed this pledge of allegiance, burst into laughter.
Nothing was better than seeing Vladimir's child grow stronger.
As for the ancestors he mentioned, he was referring to "Saint" Vladimir and his maternal uncle Dobrynya, who together had once defeated Volga Bulgaria, forcing this Volga power to bow to Rus'.
"Indeed."
Rostislav helped the Norseman up, then turned to Vishata and spoke, his words full of anticipation for the future.
He had just arrived in Smolensk and encountered such a great gift, which made him involuntarily think of the journey ahead.
Since the beginning was so surprising, then the rest of the journey must also be problem-free.
Rostislav's heart was filled with expectation, with anticipation for the future.