Road West of Novgorod
Scouts had confirmed the rumours some days ago, the Lithuanians were indeed marching out of the traitor Moscovite lands in the direction of Novgorod. There was no way the army could possibly be marched in time to meet them before the city and so the city was simply going to move west instead. The lands in the southeast had already been cleared well in advance in preparation for orders given out the very day the war was declared. In the central and western portions of the province, it was now their turn as well.
The carriage of the Kharins rolled uneasily down a road already heavily scarred from the unprecedented traffic of the general western exodus. The noble families were moving to their western and northern estates away from the invading army. The merchant families had already gone at least a week ago. Behind them were the endless trails of peasants and commoners, their own carts (carts having become the single most valuable thing in Novgorod of late) behind them filled to the brim with early harvested cereals and hay, many even including farm animals. Even much of the common population of Novgorod herself were moving, without the nobles and the merchants, the city had no heart leaving behind only the prisoners set free from the dungeons, numerous looters and low-lifes, or those simply unable to make the journey. After all, with the merchants and nobles was the work, there was no reason to stay.
Svetya Kharina was constantly twisting in her seat to look at the endless trail of humanity behind her. Despite leaving their homes behind, most everyone seemed in rather light spirits. Russia was a land of harships at all times, and this was simply another to overcome. People spread rumours about miracle workers, about the latest victory of the Russians over the invading Liths, and of course the ever more popular theory about King Vytautas being the anti-christ. They lugged behind them their wordly posessions, religious icons, and even notable enough the famous veche bell which took no little amount of doing. Some people spoke of their relatives in the west, a particularly healthy crop being grown in Pskov and Tver - and of course the allure of the frontier. No few people were heading north and northeast to without their old homes, try and make a new life in the great expanses.
Konstantin kept up a brisk pace as he approached the Kharin carriage as it rolled its way along, fully armoured as many of the escorts he pulled up along the carriage and nodded his head to the Count,
"Fine day, no?"
The Countess, very displeased by having left behind a couple of her favorite closets in favour of a few more members of the serving staff only gave the young man a quick glance. The Count on the other hand smiled a bit and took his fingers from his beard he had been thoughtfully stroking,
"Well Kostya, its definitely been a while, been keeping yourself busy since Portugal?"
Konstantin chuckled and shrugged, the latter maybe more to take the weight of the sun off his shoulders momentarily than anything else,
"Actually no, until this war broke out I thought I was to die of boredom. Are you headed to Pskov or Gdov?"
The Count nodded nonchalantly, catching his daughter's rather fixed gaze on Kostya from the corner of his eye,
"Both actually, Pskov first for some business with the Czarina, then north to Gdov, i'd like to be there for harvest." He stopped his thought short as he noticed the smile exchanged between his cousin and his daughter.
Kostya met the Count's eyes once again,
"Ah well, it has been pleasant, but I must ride ahead. I shall no doubt meet you in Pskov. Fare well." Kostya gave his horse a gentle nudge bringing it into a brisk trot further down the line... The Count sighed and looked behind him dissaprovingly as he thought he heard yet another plate crack...
Novgorod
The great city of the north was now but a shell, much as it had been following the Mongol occupation not so many years ago. Here and there as in a bee-hive long since deserted was a flurry of action, a bee having returned maybe to refresh a memory, or explore some previously forbidden place. Such was what was until a week or so ago the largest city in the north. Only now in the city were the looters, everyone was a looter at this point, taking from the richer homes what could not be carried with them. Those that remained were the profiteers, those that sold the carts going for about twenty times their usual price at this point, those looking forward to selling their wares to the uncoming Lithuanians, there were the prisoners let loose from the dungeons if only to avoid the stench of hundreds of rotting corpses having died from lack of food.
Those that remained made were technically in anarchy, but as always happens under a lack of authority made something of a community of their own. The couple thousand that remained ruled the city in two distinct parts, that east of the Volkhov and that west. They each had their own rag-tag militia built to keep the peace - or to better put it, control who looted what from where, but aside from this there was no order and people moved about as they pleased. With their deed done the frontier guard was the last semblance of the government to pass through the city, and aside from organizing a spirited but brief resistance against the invading hordes, simply passed through unnoticed acting as a rear-guard to those heading west.
When the Lithuanians hung a cheap bell and rang it for a veche meeting, Alexei Sudislavivitch, hetman of the west-side only laughed. The Lithuanians elected their own prince of a husk representing nothing, and nobody was willing to start a fight over nothing. The Lithuanians acted much as the ramining bits of the resident population, drunken brawls, looting and living off of the scraps of a society no longer present. It was not a lifestyle maintainable either to the inhabitants or the occupiers, but it was well enough as it lasted. Even as early as now more and more of the stragglers were once more taking the road for the empty countryside or west toward Pskov. The mood was virtually the same everywhere, as everyone remaining were aware of the reality of the situation, it was temporary. One day the army would come drive out the invaders, and Novgorod would return with it. Until then, among the skeleton of a city life carried on as life always does - along the easiest path possible.
