On December 1, snow began falling from the sky, and the two Mountain Brigades arrived in the town of Paraćin one after the other.
By sunset, the snow on the ground was ankle-deep.
The Varangian Legion made slower progress and was still stranded in the mountains. The soldiers lit campfires and pitched their tents around them, spending a bitterly cold winter night in the wilderness.
After daybreak, the army set off again. Their boots trampled through the snow, while the meltwater turned the roads into mud that was difficult to traverse.
Unwilling to waste time, Vitus took his guards and hurried ahead to Paraćin.
The town stood on a plain, with the Great Morava River to its west. The river flowed north from the south and emptied into the Danube. A large hole gaped in the town's eastern palisade, and the Palaiologos Flag flew above the watchtower.
Entering the mayor's residence, Vitus removed his thick black fur coat and sat beside the fireplace to warm himself. His hands and feet were so cold they felt about to freeze solid.
An attendant brought him a bowl of mutton soup. He lifted the bowl and drained it in one go, and a surge of warmth instantly rose from his belly and spread through his limbs. It was as though he had come back to life.
"Fighting in winter is sheer torment. Ah, fighting in summer isn't easy either. Only autumn is fit for war."
With his hunger and thirst satisfied, Vitus leaned back in his chair and drifted into a heavy sleep. Before long, footsteps outside woke him.
An officer relayed the scouts' report: they had discovered a small Hungarian force to the north, and the two sides were exchanging fire.
Vitus did not know whether the enemy had guessed his raid