Prelude: Mustering the Host...
The sun rose, a glaring burst of light amid the dark, clouded sky and shone over the landscape weakly trying to warm the Dirt. Dirt that belonged to the Rhos Khaganate. This far north and deep into fall, the chill entered the land earlier than most places. So the days that the sun did come forth and shine on the city of Kyiv were few indeed.
He awoke with a snort, a bit of drool still grazing his cheek from the lusty barmaid in his past night's dream. He wiped his face and rose from the bed stumbling slowly over to his store of liquor. Oleg was very fond of drink. He carried on his person a flask into battle, a personal gift from one of his previous wives, not that he put any sentimental value there; his days of lust were spent with his concubine, not his wife.
Oleg takes a long pull from the harsh liquid and lets it fill his veins with fire. Since he had been a boy in Novogorod he had been fond of the drink. It allowed him to become something more on the battlefield, something deadly, something feared, so much that his foes would flee before him! He pulls the flask from his lips and replaces the stopper. There was work yet to be done today and he would need his wits about him, for now.
"Servants!!" yells Oleg.
As Oleg's servants begin to attend and dress Oleg one of them reports a carrier pigeon had arrived with a letter from Novgorod, from Kniaz Igor his friend and heir and it read:
Father,
My latest reports from my spies of the surronding settlements concerning Novgorod are dire! We have a rebellion on our hands Father. I have begun preperations to fortify the city walls and reinforce the current milita forces in the city. Currently we have adopted an economic policy specifically targeted at our ports to open trade routes through the Baltic. Per your commands, construction on a safe harbor, shipwright and merchant fleet have begun. This project will take some time to complete. In the meantime, I will consolidate our forces here in north. I regret to bring you word on our eastern front. Moskva has fallen to a surprise attack by the Penchengs!! Our garrison there has capitulated without a fight!! Once the situation here in Novgorod has stabilized I will muster forces and procede towards Moskva with your orders milord.
Your humble servant and heir,
Kniaz Igor Prince of Novgord
As Oleg begins to read the letter the flush of his skin begins to increase in color. The more he reads the more the thirst for rebel blood begins to call to him. They would think to rebel against him? He, Oleg, who had united the Rhos? They would soon see the might of the Rhos and the swift death to follow!!!
"Fools" he mutters. "Arrogant fools. How well they think of themselves. What protection do they think they can afford against my might?! Summon Mikhail at once!!!" Oleg roars at the closest servant.
The servant goes pale at the sound of his masters voice and leaves the room. As the servant leaves to summon loyal Mikhail, the Grand Prince's capable cavalry general, Oleg begins to rub his beard in thought. "Yes", he thinks to himself. "This will work perfectly...."