The steppes used to be quiet before, thought Igor. He missed the hot summer's hunt of his childhood,
the usual chatter outside the gates of great city, now his capital, the usual hum of the guards on the walls, he missed it all now.
The city of his childhood now being turned into a capital of slavs, once again, like so many years before him, before Varangians fell, the city has turned into a great hive.
If his grandfather saw him today, thought Igor, he would be mighty proud. A tribe after tribe crushed, differences settled and old enemies at council, like snakes, beheaded.
No one dares challenge Igor now, not after what happened to Poles. A king's head in basket, that was a good present brought by his generals. They get their share.
The great city is buzzing and swirling, trying to store and forage food for a new army, an army that will challenge the West for the first time. Our ambassadors in the inner chambers praying and learning their instructions, ready to leave for the frontier cities of Hungary, to be offering fair terms to mayors who have good sense of living. Prayer is always good too before offering to foreigners what Igor has to say.
Igor now smiled, realizing the whole picture once again.
This is the biggest summer hunt of his life.