1240. Rus' between two fires. The devastating waves of the Tatar-Mongol invasion are rolling in from the east. But the threat from the west is even worse. Because the steppe people come and go, but the Swedes and Germans remain on the conquered lands forever. The fate of Rus' is decided on the banks of the Neva, where the army of Earl Birger landed. Prince Alexander Yaroslavich and his retinue are hurrying towards the Swedes. He is only 21 years old. He does not yet know that it is the Battle of the Neva that he will owe the nickname under which he will go down in history. He still has no idea how great the future is in store for him. Ahead of him is the glorious Battle of the Ice. Ahead lies early death from Horde poison and immortality in people's memory. But all this is in the future. And now he needs to win his first battle, he needs to defeat the Swedes, throw them into the river... It’s getting light. Behind the prince, his squad held their breath. Ahead, the tents of the Swedish camp and grinning carved figures on the bows of warships emerge from the morning fog. Alexander earnestly crosses himself, puts on his helmet, takes out his sword and spurs his horse...