Led by Wallachia guides, the Ross Army marched north, following the ancient Roman roads. The existence of these roads provided the Ross with a clear direction forward.
This road was said to have been built by Emperor Trajan to conquer the Dacian Kingdom. It had endured a thousand years of trials and lacked maintenance, with many sections overgrown with weeds. The paving stones that once covered it had disappeared, but the general path of the road could still be vaguely discerned.
This left Rostislav feeling somewhat disappointed. He had been quite curious about this ancient Roman road, but what he saw was a scene overgrown with weeds. The great engineering and symbol of national power of the former empire had completely declined in the hands of barbarians.
"This is truly it. No empire is eternal. The Romans' empire has ultimately passed and will not return."
Looking at the neatly arranged Ross soldiers walking on the overgrown and decaying road, Rostislav couldn't help but imagine the scenery when they were still intact, imagining how the imperial legions advanced on such roads, and how they fought in all directions.
"What you said, the residents of the South Empire capital wouldn't think so. If they heard it, they'd probably jump up and curse you immediately."
As the Moscow Prince was expressing his sentiments, Vsevolod's voice interjected.
Rostislav's third uncle was riding on horseback, dressed in a capital-style robe. Compared to the advancing Ross soldiers behind him, he looked like a Roman general leading barbarian mercenaries.
Sviatoslav rode behind his third uncle. He was still in standard Rus' Princes attire, wearing a leather coat and a fur-lined leather cap. His second uncle clearly had his own views on that South Empire.
"Greeks, they are merely continuing to play the role of ancient empire monarchs in a fragmented land. The throne of the capital has seen nothing but a succession of pathetic Greek Kings come and go over the past century."
His second uncle's disdain for the capital's great monarch was evident. His eyes gleamed with ambition. He didn't put that ancient empire in his eyes at all.
And in his mouth, it was one "Greeks" and "Greek Kings" after another, terms that were most likely to trigger the Eastern Empire. This was not several centuries later; in this era, a single reference to "Greeks" could escalate into a diplomatic incident.
"The future ultimately belongs to us 'barbarians.' The decadent empire of the Greeks will collapse sooner or later. At that time, we will display the glory of God, bringing about the eternal kingdom of the Lord, unlike those scheming Greeks who only solve problems with money and dare not fight."
As he spoke these words, Sviatoslav's expression grew increasingly fervent. Clearly, his uncle had a strong Messiah complex.
Rostislav couldn't help but look at his uncle with new eyes. He hadn't expected him to be so disdainful of that Eastern Empire. However, that self-proclaimed Messiah mentality certainly fit his religious piety.
Additionally, considering his second uncle's admiration for Emperor Simeon of Bulgaria and his fondness for Bulgarian priests and their writings, it was not surprising for him to hold such an attitude. Those Bulgarians and their writings wouldn't have a good opinion of the capital's empire.
As for that view, it was somewhat old news, about the Eastern Empire heading towards destruction due to corruption and decadence. These things had been said for hundreds of years, hadn't they?
They were talking about its demise during the Arab conquest, and yet, after hundreds of years of being "doomed," that empire still persists today.
However, if his second uncle could see the state of the Eastern Empire twenty years later, he might believe he had received a revelation.
At that time, the Eastern Empire was almost on the brink of collapse and ruin. These statements were almost coming true, and the demise of this ancient nation seemed imminent.
"Perhaps, uncle, but I don't think the South Empire capital will collapse so quickly. Its glory might even continue for another century."
Through the collapse of the Eastern Empire, Rostislav thought of the hero who saved this nation from its downfall. The dynasty he founded allowed this living fossil of ancient history to continue its glory for another century.
"Uncles, I think we should move forward."
The Moscow Prince shook his head, casting aside his thoughts. The South Empire was still too far for him. He estimated he might only be able to intervene in its affairs after he became Kiev Grand Duke. For now, he would focus on what was at hand.
Then Rostislav and his two uncles rode side by side, the Moscow Prince changing the subject and talking about other things.
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Following the ancient Roman road, the Ross Army quickly crossed the southern Carpathian Mountains.
The mountains in this direction were significantly lower than in the north, making their passage through the mountain passes easier and faster, with less snow and much better roads.
Furthermore, by the time they passed through, it was already 1061. Finally, in the first week of 1061, the Ross reached the land of Hungary, arriving in this Nomad nation.
After crossing the Carpathian Mountains, they arrived at what would later be known as Transylvania, a land closely associated with the symbol of vampires.
However, after traveling through Wallachia, Rostislav had no particular interest in this land; it was just another gloomy place. He'd rather continue to brainstorm his novel.
This was a land where hills could be seen everywhere. If there were no roads, walking would be quite troublesome, but they were following the ancient Roman roads. The condition of the Roman roads here was not much better than in the south, but at least they had some semblance of a path, as the local residents still used these roads to some extent, and at least there was some maintenance.
The local residents were poor and indifferent, just like in Wallachia. These people were not Magyars; they were the conquered locals.
This land had not been ravaged by civil war; the area remained gentle and peaceful, and agricultural production continued steadily.
However, the impact of the war was still evident; the soldiers scurrying about collecting supplies were proof.
According to them, civil war seemed like it could break out again at any moment. It seemed that even after the war ended, local lords would still take the opportunity to exploit the farmers.
This made Rostislav sigh repeatedly. He hadn't expected them to still be able to exploit them like this.
The local residents were also very indifferent to the Ross Army, including the local lords. However, after learning of their victory over the Pechenegs, the locals became much more enthusiastic, eagerly offering gifts.
This was Rostislav's idea. Hungary was also a land harassed by the Pechenegs. For the locals, nothing was more exciting than seeing those Nomads dealt with.
So they spent a lot of money hiring local poets to compose poems praising their achievements. However, Rostislav hadn't expected the news to spread faster than he imagined—but that's a story for later.
The local Magyar lords were even more enthusiastic. As Rostislav and his party traveled, they basically enjoyed banquets whenever they encountered a Magyar lord, and the banquets at the level of a governor were even grander.
Bela ordered the Magyar lords to warmly welcome the distant Ross guests, allowing them to feel the warmth of Magyar and the power of the King.
And the lords did indeed do so, even those who had non-violent disagreements with Bela. After all, most people warmly entertained the distant guests, so it would be inappropriate not to.
Rostislav could no longer remember how many Hungarian delicacies and fine wines he had tasted during this period, or with how many local nobles he had toasted.
Many people's gratitude was heartfelt; the news of the Ross's campaign against the Pechenegs delighted many Magyar lords.
In this atmosphere of welcome, the Ross also relaxed their guard, as this was a friendly land.
It was also here that many merchants and Princes' retinues parted ways. Now that they had reached Hungary, they would go to sell their respective goods.
His uncles became somewhat carried away in front of the fawning Hungarian nobles. Rostislav still remembered his elder uncle constantly boasting about his renown, and the nobles, in turn, offered timely praises.
And amidst such jubilation, they left Transylvania and entered the Pannonian Plain, the land where the Magyars gathered.
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