The Polotsks had to accept the reality of defeat, at least the conquerors seemed reasonable.

They have to pay more for defeat, and a batch of food is the price.

The cavalry was always stationed outside the city, and Fisk tried his best to restrain his subordinates. At least the Ross Army did a good job. At least the Pecheneg people of Quetzal did not rush into the village to loot, but these steppe people drove their horses to eat the wheat that was about to be harvested, and the farmers could only stare in grief and indignation.

The war compensation Fisk demanded was half of Polotsk's harvest this year, and the pressure was distributed to every village. After threshing and husking, the army received food as a tribute.

After that meeting, Proclaw, who had lost face, could no longer be the leader, and the new leader, Rambat, was only supported by the clan on the surface, and was full of curses in secret.

After all, Lambert's inconsistent scumbag, a surrenderer, is now taking everyone's food.

Collecting tribute from the defeated is risky, and Fisk fears that he will face strong resistance from the irrational.

It's time for Lambert to prove his loyalty!

For the man who finally got the chief position, of course he will do things for the Rus conquerors for this power. At first, he was also simple in thinking, and felt that this group of people would not be careful when asking for food. Unexpectedly, the bald general did some calculations and gave a specific number.

"According to your ten thousand people, there are two thousand small families, each family has a field of one Ross hectare, and the oat harvest is calculated as one thousand pounds. In the end, you will attack Ross one million pounds of oats."

Even the residents of Polotsk use a unit of measurement left over from Roman times, and for them the "Roman pound" is the only standardized unit of weight. I don't know when this set of standards started. At least the Latvian and Varyag merchants in Riga who passed through the border were using it, as were several tribes in the distance. Polotsk must also use it to do business with people in the distance.

Fisk's request Lambert can understand, at least the number of requests is too large, he kept a mind and wanted to operate carefully and give less.

Such a strategy was seen through by Fisk, but after thinking about it, it was like cutting wool. If the sheep were cut bare in one breath, they would definitely freeze to death. It would be too hard to search for these defeated guys.

Other things can be a horse bandit. After all, he is a general under the king's command, and he has to consider the face of the Rus in everything he does.

He knew Lambert's inner aspirations, so he made a compromise: "You can pay the tribute in batches. I will give you five years and deliver 200,000 pounds a year. The oats will be delivered to Vitebsk on the upper reaches of the river. Even if the task is completed."

After the war, the population of Polotsk still exceeded 10,000 people, but the loss of many high-quality agricultural tools caused a big blow to agricultural production. It is impossible to try to get back the iron farm tools, and the remaining farm tools can still be produced.

Fisk first estimated the area and yield per mu of a local person. Out of his contempt, he didn't think the farmland of these guys could be highly productive. . Although the situation was not as bad as Fisk had predicted, the agricultural conditions were far from the fertile fields of the Rus in Yinermen Lake.

Taking 200,000 pounds as a tribute for five years, handing over this batch of grain will not make the people hungry, but the agricultural surplus will become better than nothing, so in five years, don't think about exchanging more materials to fill yourself up.

At least, the people will not suffer from famine.

Assured that the conquistadors would not slowly torture the Polotsks to death, Lambert ventured to ask: "Are we to you... sheep?"

"You are indeed sheep, but they are only cut by us on a regular basis. But it is not necessarily that our king is a benevolent ruler. If you are obedient enough, King Rus may exempt you from all offerings."

Fisk skillfully described a bright future for them, and on the issue of tribute, first handing over one million pounds this year, and then adjusting the mortgage payment to pay it off in five years. Fisk showed the kindness of Ross, and to the Polotsk nobles, they felt that the conquistadors were compromising.

A lot of old guys have properly committed Stockholm Syndrome and began to feel that it was too late to meet the Russians. If they knew this, it would be better to send envoys to the north to ask for surrender.

The autumn harvest in the T-junction area of the Polota River and the West Dvina River, where Polotsk is located, was in full swing, and a group of cavalrymen stayed on the side to rest lazily.

Normally, the dried straw of oats and rye is used as raw material for roofing hay and as fodder for livestock. The effect of feeding wheat straw to livestock is a bit poor, and it is perfect for roofs, especially when the autumn rains are coming soon.

The Polotsks kept few cattle and sheep, and each of the ten villages handed over five cattle, making a total of fifty cattle for the conquerors to enjoy. They took out a group of old cows very ruthlessly, which was clearly seen by the prairie people, as well as by the Ross-Ostara coalition. Fisk couldn't say anything. He blamed himself for not making it clear when he asked for this special tribute. The quality of the old beef is not bad, but it is not inedible, and it is good to eat roasted meat, not to mention that the army does have to prepare for the next stage of action.

In the riverside area, the large open-air camp of the Ross army has been lively, even at night.

The wheat harvesting work is underway, and no one from the army has set foot in the settlements of local villagers these days. At first, the villagers still called the people on the river "horrific horse bandits", but after they continued to observe how these guys were not disturbed, their vigilance became less and less. Even the way they slaughtered cattle by the river was too terrifying, and what was even more terrifying was that these guys didn't even spare the blood of the cattle.

At least the Polotsk people are no longer a race that drinks blood. Essentially, they feel that the blood of cattle is too stench. Secondly, it is a thing of priests and gods. Various explanations are combined to say that the nation is not unavoidable to eat cattle blood.

Ross also has a similar explanation, but the real Ostara people are indulged in animal husbandry and cooking cattle blood. Unfortunately, the current Ostara and the old one are already two concepts.

This is not the case with the Pechenegs, the "blood eaters" they are hit with are them. After all, living in the vast grasslands, any food is precious. They will drink the blood of the cow, eat the marrow in the bones of the cow, and wash the smelly cow intestines and roast them.

The whole army is roasting beef on a large scale, and each soldier intends to roast the meat that is assigned to it until it is completely dehydrated.

They will also receive a new supply of newly harvested oats from the Polotsks.

Each cavalryman will hang a large bag on his saddle, which must be new wheat.

Old Harold, the leader, still maintains his pseudonym Olaf. He has already learned about the next plan of the Rus people, and he is inevitably a little worried.

The bonfire crackled, and the scent of wheat and barbecue filled the camp.

Old Harold had had his fill, and he knew that Ross' bald general had something to say when he asked him to sit by this bonfire.

"Soon we'll be moving further downstream. You're coming from the Gulf of Riga, and you have to be the guide. How? I think you've figured it out."

Although he had already made an estimate, old Harold was still very worried now that he was asked bluntly. He looked into Fisk's eyes: "You...you don't mean to sack Riga, do you?"

"Looting? No. It's not in my plan. But... it's not entirely impossible."

Old Harold was startled, and there was obvious panic on his face.

"You're scared. Olaf, remember your current identity. You are a servant of the Principality of Ostara, which is also a servant of Ross. You should make a cut with the Gulf of Riga."

"Cut? How is it possible to cut?" He lowered his head and smiled bitterly.

"Yes." Fisk raised his head to look at the bright starry sky, and then turned his head to look at his eyes: "That's why you need to lead the way. I don't want any misunderstandings."

"So I hope I can mediate and ask the locals to surrender to Ross?"

"If this is the best." Fisk slapped his thigh happily, not hiding his desire for honor: "The king gave me the power to act independently, and I want to expand territory for Ross. In fact, even if the local people in Riga show Strong resistance, when the Rus army assembles, it is not a problem to calm the local area. If you can establish a friendly relationship from the beginning through negotiation, this is the best. I will talk to the local leaders in Riga before winter. , I'm also very interested in your Danish settler community and hope we can chat."

Hearing these words from the bottom of my heart, old Harold's mind went crazy. He is a Danish immigrant, and with the local Latvians, and several surrounding tribes, are only ordinary trade relations. This is the main reason why more than a dozen young Latvians who followed him to the world were hacked to death by the Rus, and he was not sad as the leader.

Those who want to come to this group of Rus and the steppe do not understand the language of Latvia at all, and the only people who can communicate with them perfectly are the Danish descendants who live in Riga.

Old Harold thought for a while, and then said meaningfully: "Actually, there are not only Latvia there, but also some other tribes. They speak a similar language, and sometimes they are friendly and sometimes they fight when they see each other."

Fisk was smart: "Oh? Aren't they a kind of person?"

"They are very clear on their own."

"Now that you have nothing to do, you...let's talk about those guys."

Fisk asked this, and Harold somehow realized that this was not a simple and boring question. This bald general of Ross wanted to know the names of the tribes that might be conquered, so that he could actually launch a war of conquest and choose the right target.

In the end, old Harold and the various Latvians who do not believe in Odin lack empathy. It is said that a new king has emerged in Denmark, that is, the nobles of the Stonewall tribe, and Denmark and Ross are in an alliance relationship. Now the Danish society living in Riga. As long as the group has a relationship with Ross, can't they gain huge power overnight?

"There are Latvia (), Selonia (selon), Livonia (liv), Semigalia (), Kurland (kuron), Samogitia (), Okstedt (aukshtait), zhemait (zhemait), Prussian (pruss), Utween (). Old Harold pointed his finger up, and just counted ten clan names, in fact, there are some small clans, but unfortunately the strength Extremely weak and not even worthy of a name.

Fisk knew almost nothing about these names, only heard of them. After all, it was the Latvian tribe that now controlled the city of Riga, or the name of Riga was a variant of the tribe's name.

"Is there actually ten tribes?"

"This is what I've known all my life. I've done business with many tribes, and I know a little bit about them." Old Harold continued.

"So, which tribe do you think is the most powerful?"

"It's Prussia and Juventus." Old Harold asked cautiously again: "Are you going to attack them? You want to defeat the strongest?"

"The battle is no longer in my plan!" Fisk repeated: "However, if a conflict does break out in the future, we must know about potential enemies in advance."

Old Harold had always been truthful, that the Prussian savages were constantly fighting with the Slavic-speaking fellows in Poland, as did the Utvins (the direct ancestor of the Lithuanians). The reason for their strength is that they occupy a good land suitable for growing food, and the clansmen are more combative many times. It was also the case that the nearby Slavs wanted to occupy the local area, and the conflict broke out.

This old guy has said a lot, but unfortunately Fisk is also very vague about the concept of "Poland". I heard that those people also speak Slavic, and I have a little more affection. Maybe it can be conquered by Ross in the future. .

A lot of names hit his head, and Fisk at least understood that his understanding of the Gulf of Riga was too one-sided. It was a whole new world, and it was also a world that the Rus people had never set foot in in the past.

There are ten local forces speaking the same language, which are actually the ten largest tribes of the Baltic people.

Now that the gates to the Gulf of Riga are open, the Russ cavalry only needs to continue down the river to finally reach the Danish settlement in Riga. The various tribes cannot be contacted in a short time, and Fisk only intends to have a good chat with Latvians and local Danes in the next move.

He explained this idea to old Harold unreservedly, and immediately got a brand new rhetoric from the old guy.

"If the cavalry continues to move, you will not immediately encounter Latvian villages."

"Who will meet?"

"The Seronians. According to their language, the people of the hills."

"Will those guys block the river?" Fisk couldn't help asking.

"It won't, they don't have the ability."

"I think so too. If they dare to erect obstacles, my cavalry will attack them. By the way. Are they strong?"

"Not strong. Not many people, but they all live on mounds, and even built forts. Like you said, don't fight. Those guys aren't rich, and forts are built just to protect themselves. Attacking them takes a lot of work. You won't get much benefit by working hard, you don't need to waste your time here."

"Okay." Fisk shrugged and turned his face to the old guy again. "Aren't you speaking for this Theron tribe? Are there any friends of yours there?"

"Neither friend nor foe. If you're in a hurry~www.mtlnovel.com~ don't waste time with the Therons. At least this year."

"Alright. Then move quickly along the river!"

Thus, the cavalry quickly completed the supply. The steppe cavalry did not realize the dream of making a fortune, but the curiosity to explore the new world dominated the body, and this regret was quickly turned away. After all, as long as you continue to walk along the river, you can finally reach the sea in the north. The Pecheneg warriors have seen the sea in the south (referring to the Caspian Sea), but they don't know what the sea in the north looks like.

Each cavalryman brought a sack of freshly hulled oatmeal and beef jerky toasted hard. The cavalry generally hit the Polotsk settlement, and now it is also quickly leaving.

For the Polotsks, they had a mixed autumn feeling, realizing that times had completely changed. A group of plague gods headed towards the mouth of the river, and people let out a sigh of relief, as if everything had returned to normal.

But how can the large number of horseshoe prints left by the river disappear so easily?

They will be back soon...

(I found an anthropology paper, a linguistics paper, and an ancient map of Northeast Europe drawn in the 16th century for reference)