March 10, Lapovo, early morning.
As Vitus got up and washed, an attendant reported urgent news:
An enemy force several thousand strong had appeared to the southwest, its movements elusive. Its banner was red, bearing a black double-headed eagle-the family banner of Skanderbeg.
Skanderbeg? How did he get here?
Before launching the offensive, Vitus had made the necessary preparations, dispatching several thousand auxiliary troops to garrison the mountain passes and build fortified camps.
A small force of a few dozen men might have slipped around them along some hidden mountain trail. But an enemy force this large could not have appeared without a sound.
These were most likely Hungarian or Serbian troops in disguise.
Even so, Vitus prepared for the worst.
"Tell the towns in the rear to prepare their defenses. Send another two cavalry battalions to patrol along the river. We must ensure the safety of our riverside strongholds."
At seven in the morning, the Attica Legion set out first, continuing to serve as the army's vanguard.
Boranov sat in his saddle, occasionally scanning the surrounding terrain through his telescope. Swathes of gray-brown fields stretched along both sides of the river. A little farther from its banks lay a vast expanse of woodland.
The Hermes Brigade was in poor condition after its bitter fighting. The Second Mountain Brigade was now guarding the western woods, covering the legion's left flank and clearing out the few enemies within.
"Beech, oak, linden... so much fine timber."
After gazing at the scenery for a long while, Boranov remembered the landscape of his homeland, Ryazan.
The forests of the Principality of Ryazan were denser, like a boundless green sea, wild and dangerous. Scattered settlements lay within them like lonely islands cut off by that sea of trees.
The trees back home differed somewhat