"Gazing at the towering Saint Sophia Cathedral,
On the fairy's ribbon named Volkhov.
The morning light casts a myriad of golden rays,
Enticing my heart to fly to the island on Lake Ilmen.
Strolling through the lavish market of Novgorod,
Only a small black cat by my side,
Please remember, my dear, for all eternity,
Only I, in this world, can reside in your heart."
In a simple camp under the trees, a person in a blue cloak was playing a lute and singing, with an empty bowl of broth set aside, and beside him, a small black cat lay quietly, as if listening to his poem.
Nearby, five Gael warriors were listening to the poem and enjoying their broth, though it was clear from their expressions that despite the poet's passionate performance, his companions did not particularly care for his verse.
"Alright, that's enough, Domnar Pence, you horny Fire Rain Sea Wither, if you want a woman, go buy one! Stop singing your rotten poems every day. You earned so much money as Grand Prince Yaroslav's court poet back then, what kind of woman couldn't you have? Yet you did absolutely nothing."
The warrior, having finished the broth in his bowl, said irritably. This guy sang his melancholic, rotten poems all day long, constantly thinking about women. At first, it was tolerable, but after hearing them so much, it was just annoying.
The others also expressed their agreement. Although their Gael countryman was both a good fighter and a poet, no one could stand his endless singing.
As if startled by these Gaels, the small cat suddenly jumped onto the poet. The poet quickly stroked the little creature, soothing its emotions.
"Hey, how do you understand the true meaning of love? If I truly found a woman I loved, I'd give her everything I own."
Domnal, as if showing off, pulled out a large ruby. He had found it on the battlefield, but unlike typical mercenaries, he hadn't sold it for gold and silver. Instead, he kept it, intending it as a gift for his future wife.
Seeing him like this, no one wanted to say more. Domnal was good in every way, except when it came to the elusive topic of love, he would get stuck. Nothing could convince him, which was truly frustrating.
"Forget it, there's no point in talking about that. Let's talk about something more realistic, Domnal, can we really make money with Rostislav?"
Since that topic couldn't be reasoned with, they dropped it. These men had left their homeland to venture out, all for the sake of making money, which was the most important thing at hand.
"Hey, when have I, Domnal, ever lied to you, my countrymen? Every choice I've made on this journey has been right. Haven't I led you to wealth? Have some conscience, alright. Rostislav needs warriors, and you've heard the news about the Bulgar invasion. Even without war, a silver mine has been discovered in his territory—a silver mine! Digging it out means money."
The poet thumped his chest, assuring everyone that he could lead them to wealth, but they responded with looks of utter disdain.
"Oh yes, you lead us to wealth, and then you make us lose everything. In Paris, in Yakun, in Kiev, you always find something for us to spend all our earnings on to clean up your messes. Take the most recent example: this trip to Kiev, we finally earned enough gold and silver to return home in glory, but you got drunk and burned down the Grand Prince's warehouse. We had to use all our savings to bail you out."
Finally, Domnal's usually smug face showed embarrassment. Those incidents were indeed his fault for getting everyone into trouble. Otherwise, they could have returned home in splendor long ago. Wasn't the point of their adventures to return wealthy and show their families?
However, despite their complaints, seeing these people repeatedly help the poet after being repeatedly wronged by him, and continuing to follow him on adventures, showed that their relationship was no longer just that of ordinary mercenary companions, but a deeper friendship.
Seeing his embarrassment, the others didn't press the issue but started chatting and joking. They knew their old friend's personality; pushing him too hard was pointless. And although they complained, this life of traveling around was still quite interesting, so their resentment wasn't deep.
"Speaking of which, it's really desolate here, always reminds me of the Highlands."
"At least it's not as mountainous as the Highlands, and the farming conditions are much better."
"Who cares about farming or not farming? Why are we concerned with these things? Aren't we here to fight?"
The group quickly started chatting and joking, and before long, Domnal relapsed into his old habits, ready to start boasting about himself again.
But suddenly, just as he was about to launch into a grand self-praise, Domnal's sharp eyes spotted a cavalry troop appearing in the distance, and on their banner was Saint George slaying the dragon—that was the banner of Rostislav, whom they were planning to join!
He quickly kicked his friends, urging them to stand up and greet their client.
"Greetings, travelers."
The cavalry stopped in front of them first, and the young man in armor at the head greeted them.
Domnal jolted. He recognized this person; it was Yan Vishatich, Rostislav's standard-bearer. He had seen him at the celebration banquet after the victory over the Polovtsy.
"Is that Lord Yan Vishatich? I am Domnal Pence, a mercenary who once served the Grand Prince. I even sang poems at a banquet. Do you still remember me?"
Domnal's Take the initiative to say hello surprised Yan, but he quickly understood. It was normal for these mercenaries to appear in Northeast Rus'. After the news of the silver mine spread, all sorts of people came here for wealth, not to mention the news of war now.
As for the banquet this man mentioned, it did bring back some forgotten memories for Yan.
"You're that poet? I do remember you. Weren't you a poet in the Grand Prince's court? How did you end up in Northeast Rus'?"
Faced with this question, the Gael's face showed an embarrassed expression. He couldn't very well say he was kicked out for burning down the warehouse while drunk, could he?
"Ahem, this is a bit awkward, but we are clean, have no debts, and haven't caused any trouble. We mainly came to Northeast Rus' to join Lord Rostislav."
Domnal quickly stated their identities and assured them that they had no criminal records or anything of the sort. A clean background was crucial for whether they could be hired; few people were willing to hire mercenaries who might bring trouble.
"To join Lord Rostislav? Perfect. Since you know me, then join my troop. I need men."
Yan also took the opportunity to state his purpose in greeting these people: he wanted to recruit them. His upcoming missions would surely involve a lot of fighting, and it was better to have more strength by his side.
"Yes, yes! We will join you immediately."
Domnal said eagerly.