Facing the somewhat bewildered duo, the Prince had his own thoughts.
As someone with a modern mindset, Rostislav could naturally discern the potential of the script's author.
The Moscow Prince could be said to be one of the people who valued culture the most in this era, for he deeply understood what true greatness was; the glory of victory and the achievements of construction would eventually fade, but words and culture would be passed down forever.
Just as his grandfather had told him, only culture and knowledge could achieve true greatness.
And now, an opportunity that could promote cultural development was before him, a performance art different from farces and miracle plays, one with a certain artistic level yet simultaneously enjoyable for the common people.
"I think Alexei's script is very good, it's just not suitable for the Miracle Troupe to perform."
The Prince's words made the puppeteer's eyes, which had lit up for him, dim again, but the subsequent words re-illuminated them.
"There should be a troupe for secular plays... Alexei, would you be willing to be its leader? I believe you have the ability."
"My Lord... My Lord, of course I'm willing!"
Alexei immediately responded with his loudest voice, his face flushed with joy; in his eyes, the Prince was like an angel, bringing him good tidings.
"Very well, come to the palace to find me tomorrow. I will provide you with funds, but you will need to overcome the challenges of manpower and venue yourself. Any problems? Nestor, go assist his friend."
"Of course not, My Lord!"
Nestor watched this scene, somewhat dumbfounded. He never expected this young Prince to be so enthusiastic about drama. Shouldn't someone like him be passionate about warfare and glory? He had seen too many such people in Kiev.
For Rostislav, a troupe didn't cost much, and he was very willing to spend the money.
The Moscow Prince valued cultural means of propaganda more than most people of this era. When he needed them, these troupes could be incredibly powerful...
Having given these instructions, the Prince promptly left the theater, leaving behind the ecstatic duo. He still had other matters to attend to.
The Prince chose to return directly to the palace. He had seen enough for today and needed to handle the day's audiences. He couldn't keep the petitioners waiting too long, and after that, he still had state affairs to manage.
However, as he crossed the inner city gate, the Prince witnessed a scene that greatly surprised him.
In front of the Bodyguard Unit's residence, armored and unarmored Bodyguard Unit members surrounded two people who were fighting, without weapons, merely cheering for the brawlers.
As the Prince approached, he realized it was his Captain of the Guard, Gvaran, fighting with a man in a blue cloak. Both had rolled on the ground several times, leaving them covered in dust.
The Bodyguard Unit naturally noticed the Prince's arrival and silently made way, allowing Rostislav to approach.
Looking at the man in the blue cloak, the Prince inexplicably felt a sense of familiarity. He must have seen this person somewhere before, but he couldn't recall it now.
Gvaran's face was full of rage, while the man he was fighting was disheveled, clearly suppressed by the Captain of the Guard. However, Rostislav saw that this man clearly still had strength left, but for some unknown reason, he wasn't fighting back.
When the Prince reached the front, Gvaran noticed the approaching Prince and immediately ceased fighting, kneeling before the Prince.
The man he had suppressed finally caught his breath, and upon realizing there was an important figure present, he also quickly knelt down.
"Quite spirited, Gvaran. What's going on here?"
The Prince's tone was very calm. He just wanted to understand what was happening. Rostislav felt it was very novel; his Captain of the Guard was always stern and unsmiling, and the Prince had rarely seen him fight anyone privately.
"It's like this, My Lord."
The Captain of the Guard glared at the man, his eyes full of irritation.
"Do you still remember the jeweled helmet you bestowed upon me in Estonia? The large ruby on it was later lost in a battle against the Polovtsy."
"Ah, I remember that.
The Prince recalled the battle from back then; the Captain of the Guard valued that helmet greatly, and after losing it, Gvaran had only worn a plain helmet.
"I've finally caught the thief; this scoundrel stole my ruby."
"Nonsense! You old fool are spouting nonsense, I picked it up on the battlefield! I also participated in that war against the Polovtsy, this is my spoils of war. Prince, my name is Domnar Pence, from Britain, and I even performed at the celebration banquet that night. My poetry was appreciated by the Grand Prince, and I even served as a court poet in Kiev for a while. I have come to join your court."
No sooner had Gvaran finished speaking than the young man he accused of being a thief started yelling, and this young man named Domnar only felt unlucky.
He had rejected Jan's invitation to meet the Moscow Prince, hoping to pledge his loyalty and join his court.
After witnessing the valiant battle formation of the Moscow Prince's army, Domnar saw the potential behind that young Prince. He would surely become a great ruler, and one worth serving. Joining his cause was absolutely worthwhile.
After being away from home for so long and so far, the Gael finally found a place where he was willing to settle down.
That large ruby was what he intended to use as a stepping stone to join the court. However, when he showed the gem to the Bodyguard Unit, hoping to gain an audience with the Prince, those Bodyguard Unit members didn't go to the Prince; instead, they brought their Captain of the Guard.
Then Domnar unluckily discovered that, so far from the battle, he had encountered the gem's rightful owner, and thus followed this beating.
"I remember you now, my grandfather's poet. Well, I permit you to join my court. As for the gem, you can return it to Gvaran. Gvaran, he obtained it on the battlefield; I don't think there's anything to blame."
Rostislav pronounced his judgment on the matter, and both men agreed to the Prince's arrangement.
However, Domnar was still a bit embarrassed, though he didn't show it. He certainly wouldn't say that he had picked up the gem from beside a dazed Gvaran back then—he now remembered how he got the gem.
Since the Prince had spoken, the Captain of the Guard naturally agreed. He was not a person dominated by anger, and his rage had mostly dissipated.
Having given these instructions, the Prince walked into his palace; there were still many things to attend to.
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