The boulders that Yaroslav targeted exploded into smaller pieces that flew into the distance.
But before they could go far, many of them were quickly encased in pillars of ice.
A few seconds of silence passed by before another explosion ensued.
A two-tiered circle, engraved with markings that were completely unrecognizable to Andy, appeared over these pillars of ice. The circles then turned into clouds of fire that engulfed the ice pillars.
"Spellcaster!" Fyodor roared with rage and charged forward with his sword drawn.
The other soldiers followed suit, drawing their weapons too and charging ahead.
From behind those boulders that Yaroslav's arrows struck, more than two dozen men in dark robes exited.
Beneath these robes, some of them were wearing steel armor.
Behind them, a few bodies lay lifeless, succumbing to the force and cold from Yaroslav's arrow.
Some of those robbed men charged out, heading to clash against Yaroslav's soldiers.
"Kill all these heretics!" Fyodor commanded.
Different, powerful auras, all matching those of Yaroslav's soldiers, exploded forth, causing this section of the valley to fall into chaos.
Roars and ringing of metal violently clashing against metal, drowned the neighs and hooves of the horses.
Yaroslav remained where he was, looking at a group of four who hadn't moved since the battle began.
One of them was the source of the danger he had been sensing.
"Prince Yaroslav!" one of the robbed men from the group of four called out. "We didn't come here to fight, if you do not wish to fight!"
"Then why wait for us in such a precarious location? Escorts?" Yaroslav said lightly, as if there wasn't a dangerous battle happening.
"We didn't mean to, but, we couldn't afford to have you change directions after sighting us from afar."
"Is that why you sought help from Spellcasters? To use their heresy to shield you from my sight, Yakov Volynsky?"
Upon hearing this name, the hooded man who had been conversing with Yaroslav removed his hood, revealing a handsome face that was no less attractive than Yaroslav's.
Blonde hair that shone like gold under the sun, almond eyes that could mesmerize any damsel.
"My Pa always said that you are a man amongst men, I always wondered why. Prince Yaroslav, I am pleased to see that you haven't forgotten the voice of this lowly Boyar." Yakov said.
"Please forgive our approach, but it is necessary." He added.
"Why do you want to stop me from returning to Groscow?"
"Nothing personal, but the Boyars cannot have your mighty self, choose the Tsar's side at this point. The Tsar… I say regrettably, he has lost his mind. His tyranny has become unbearable to both the common folks and the Boyars. If we leave him be, nothing will be left of Durssia when he's done with us."
Yaroslav frowned.
Was his cousin a tyrant? To an extent yes. However, he had never acted in ways that would destroy the empire. Yaroslav trusted this. However, this wasn't what he was concerned about at the moment.
He wanted to see Anastasia's corpse before she is sent to join their ancestors in the stars.
"I don't have time for this, Yakov. Cousin, the Tsar, is grieving… I also have to be there. Regarding this civil war that is brewing, it will leave Durssia more damaged than united in its wake. We are already fighting a war on three fronts, do the Boyars want an internal one so that they can finally bring Durssia to its knees!?"
This was the first time Yaroslav had raised his voice since Andy arrived. His tone seemed to carry a threatening chill to it, one that made the temperature of the already freezing valley, drop some more.
"Prince, I understand your plight. But this is necessary. Who knows, you might be the Tsar if we can get the Tsar to step down. After all, you are of royal blood." Yakov said with a small smile on his face.
"You dare!?" Yaroslav unleashed his aura, creating hurricanes that spun around his horse.
His ponytail seemed to have lost its hold as his hair flowed behind him.
Yakov couldn't help but take a few steps back with a frown on his face. "My Prince, you have gotten stronger?"
Yaroslav didn't entertain that question with an answer. He only glared at the daring Boyar.
"Which factions of the Boyars are against this?" He asked.
"It's unanimous," Yakov said softly.
A few things began clicking in Yaroslav's mind.
"Anastasia… was she killed?"
Yakov seemed to have been caught off guard for a second by this question. "Her passing is heavy on all of us my Prince. She was carrying a child, the Boyars are loyal to the Royal blood."
Somehow, that response seemed to ease the pressure that Yaroslav's aura was putting on the valley.
And at the same time, it filled his heart with so much pain that he shut his eyes for a few seconds.
My beloved, Oh Anastasia. I have failed you miserably.
"Tell your men to stand down, Yakov."
"Forgive me, but I cannot."
"Then be prepared to die."
"I already was, from the moment I was sent here. That's why I came with two gifts, Prince Yaroslav." As soon as Yakov said this, two of the robbed men beside him stepped forward.
Fiendish auras exploded from their bodies, almost bringing the taste of blood to one's tongue.
Their robes began to tear, from multiple angles as their bodies expanded.
The two robed men grew to a height of more than twenty feet, eclipsing the men behind them. "Werewolves!" Yaroslav whispered.
But they weren't just as simple as that, they were more than the werewolves the young general was familiar with as Mana seemed to gather around them.
This made Yaroslav apprehensively clench his reins as his brows arched slightly.
"With Mana, how?!"
"I had to come prepared, my Prince," Yakov drew his sword as he said. "You are a force to be feared… however, I won't give you the chance to use your specialties!"
With that being said, the two werewolves, with Yakov behind, pranced at Yaroslav.