A powerful arrow left the bowstring at lightning speed, striking a rabbit on the ground.
The arrow was so powerful that it pinned the rabbit to the ground, where it twitched a few times before becoming still.
The guards eagerly rode forward, pulled the rabbit and arrow from the ground, then excitedly waved towards Rostislav, displaying the prey to the Moscow Prince.
The Moscow Prince merely waved him back; it was just a rabbit, not a remarkable catch.
"Prince Rostislav truly has excellent archery skills."
Watching Rostislav already shoot his fifth beast while he himself had caught nothing, Adam couldn't help but exclaim.
People always have a desire to compete, and Adam was still young at the moment, so such a sentiment was quite normal.
Both were dressed in hunting attire; Rostislav naturally appeared tall and valiant, while Adam... he was as beautiful as ever, like a man dressed as a woman.
There were already strange rumors circulating in the army, saying that Adam was selling himself, and Rostislav was speechless about it; he had no interest in sodomy, and he didn't know why people kept spreading rumors, those nobodies just enjoyed these things all day long.
In Rostislav's opinion, the problem was that Adam was too soft, making people feel like he was a wimp, like a puppet.
He suggested that the boy should thoroughly kill a group of people, instead of mostly choosing exile; he believed that the rumors would then disappear, but unfortunately, the boy was unwilling, and Rostislav felt he was still not ruthless enough.
"Prince Adam, you must practice your archery as soon as possible, so that you can perform well in front of your subjects during future hunts. Hunting is a moment to display authority, so you must prepare well. It allows soldiers and subjects to see your might, and such large-scale operations can also train soldiers and vassals, preparing for future wars, and accumulating supplies for the warehouses. Such activities must not be underestimated."
Rostislav earnestly shared his seasoned insights and the various benefits of hunting, drawing from years of experience. In short, hunting had many advantages, and the more it could be done, the more it should be done.
And Adam indeed acted like a good student, nodding repeatedly in front of Rostislav, learning everything Rostislav taught him very seriously.
But the Prince didn't know these things; the Moscow Prince only hoped he was truly listening. He had invested so many resources in supporting Adam (though the returns were also abundant), and he didn't want Adam's regime to collapse.
Moreover... he had to leave this land as soon as possible. These experiences should be conveyed as early as possible, lest there be no chance to say them later.
"Prince Adam, would you like to race horses with me?"
Suddenly, Rostislav uttered these words. Adam raised an eyebrow, realizing that Rostislav had something in mind, so he nodded in agreement.
"All of you, stay far away, don't follow too closely!"
He threw these words at his guards, then fiercely lashed his horse's rump, and the warhorse began to gallop wildly.
Adam quickly made the same move and followed suit.
After the two did this, the guards looked at each other, slightly bewildered, then spurred their horses to chase, but still followed from a distance as commanded; their commander had given the order, and they dared not disobey.
The feeling of galloping on horseback was exhilarating. Rostislav had always loved this feeling because only then could he think of nothing and fully immerse himself in his own world.
At that moment, he had no worries, only the pleasure brought by speed.
The Prince's warhorse was naturally the best in all of Northeast Rus; once it started running, no horse could catch up. Only Adam had a warhorse of the same caliber, but he could only manage to trail behind.
As for the guards, their warhorses were inherently inferior to the Prince's, and they also slowed down under the Prince's command, so they naturally couldn't catch up to the Prince. Gradually, they disappeared behind, which was exactly the effect Rostislav wanted.
Upon reaching a forest, Rostislav slowly stopped his warhorse, and Adam immediately did the same.
The two slowly rode forward like this; galloping not only consumed a lot of the warhorse's energy but also a considerable amount of the rider's, and both needed time to recover.
Though tired, Rostislav still felt great. Nothing could shake off annoying matters better than racing horses, and Adam naturally felt the same way.
But Rostislav wasn't racing for the sake of racing. After riding for a while, the Moscow Prince suddenly spoke.
"Prince Adam, the Winter Army must leave Bulgar in a week at most."
"En... I understand."
Adam's words first hesitated slightly, then he continued. He was a bit surprised at first but quickly became relieved.
Rostislav had used this method to get them alone, clearly to discuss matters that shouldn't be publicly known, and the Winter Army's withdrawal was indeed something not suitable for immediate announcement.
"Then... did something happen in Moscow?"
Adam then tentatively asked. It was a tentative question because since Rostislav was leaving so urgently, perhaps the Prince didn't want him to know the reason.
But the Bulgar Khan was not in a hurry to know; he would eventually understand, it just needed more time. And even if it was something very detrimental to Rostislav, he would not interfere, after all, the Moscow Prince was his benefactor, and he would not be ungrateful.
"Moscow was besieged by pagans and almost captured. Fortunately, the army I left behind defeated them, but the situation in Northeast Rus is unstable now, and I must return as soon as possible."
Rostislav did not hide anything, stating the reason for his return to Moscow.
There was no need to conceal it; after all, Moscow had been held no matter what. He had been ambushed at home, but the enemy couldn't take his home, and his home was still fine, so there was no need for concealment.
However, if he were to wait a few more days, after Rostislav received more detailed news about the situation in Northeast Rus, he probably wouldn't even wait a day, but would immediately break camp and leave.
After all, Northeast Rus was in extreme chaos, and an army had to go and suppress it with lightning speed, and the Winter Army could do just that.
"Is that so? I understand. Is there anything you need me to do?"
Adam suddenly felt a little melancholic. He had always wished for the Rus' people to leave, so why did he feel this way when they were actually leaving?
Was it because he felt he couldn't control the Bulgar situation? No, that was impossible. All the Bulgar cities were now under his control; as long as he held these cities tightly, he had nothing to fear!
But deep down, reason told him that the Rus' army was still needed. His own troops still needed to be reorganized and trained, and until that was done, some situations could only be handled by the Rus' people.
However, although Adam hid it well, much better than before, Rostislav keenly noticed the hint of melancholy in his tone. In front of the Moscow Prince, this Bulgar Khan was still too green.
"Don't worry, the Moscow Camp will not leave; it will stay here until the situation in Bulgar stabilizes. As for what I need? I just need a batch of grain, just enough will do. This is for the return journey, and it's good to take these with me when leaving here."
Rostislav didn't demand much, only requested some supplies. He had already made a fortune and had no intention of asking for more.
"Alright, I'll arrange it immediately when I get back."
Adam immediately agreed wholeheartedly. After all, Rostislav's request was not very high and completely acceptable. However, he didn't plan to just send enough; instead, he intended to send a grand gift, as Rostislav was about to leave, and the farewell gift had to be generous.
But just as the two were discussing the troop withdrawal, many figures subtly appeared in the forest behind them. They moved agilely through the forest, concealing themselves well, and all these figures were coming for the two conversing individuals.
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