Finally, the prince ran out of steam and fell silent grimly.

Stas patiently listened to his vibrant and emotional speech, and then, under the prince's wary gaze, he stretched his shoulders and approached as close as possible to the patient's bed. Judging by the prince's tense look, he clearly thought that Shiro had something nefarious in mind.

Considering the earlier mentioned lack of "prana," it was easy for Stas to see the hidden fear deep in the prince's eyes.

However, Ordyntsev sat closer only to ensure that their conversation remained confidential. The man doubted they were being overheard, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

"I'm sure my actions seem hostile to you right now, but allow me to say something. And I would like our conversation to remain just between us," Stas said quietly, almost whispering, so that only the lad lying beside him could hear.

Jishin showed no interest but did not object either.

"Right now, you're probably wondering how it happened that you managed to survive and be captured. Your guards fought and lost, the army was defeated, and the survivors fled in fear. Have you become like those cowards who escaped? Or perhaps your thoughts are swirling about what your father, the head of the Sumada clan, will think when he learns of your capture?"

The lad's gaze flickered.

"But you should consider this," Stas waved his hand. "What good would it have been if the Sansa clan killed you as a helpless cripple? You wouldn't have been able to take even one life with you to the afterlife. Do you think your father would have been pleased with such a death for his son?"

'Any normal father wouldn't be pleased with the death of his son at all, but what's considered normal here anyway?'

"What do you know, you lowlife, about my father?!" the youth snapped.

"You're right," Ordyntsev immediately agreed. "I know nothing about him. Only that the dead, in any case, could no longer do anything. The living, however, have a choice. Sometimes it's not at all obvious, but it's there nonetheless. There are no dead-end situations, Jishin-san. And even if it is truly hopeless, a person can still choose at least how to die. How exactly will they accept it, submissively, like a sheep, or will they fight to regain their lost honor and that of the clan? Will they lie in wait to strike at the right moment or foolishly meet death head-on?"

"What do you want to say, healer?" the prince asked with a puzzled frown. The earthling's words crawled into his ears like sticky syrup, confusing his thoughts and throwing him off balance. "Speak clearly. You're like Jogorumo, the demon spider, spinning a web of lies!"

"I've said all I wanted to, prince," Stas smiled, standing up. "Now, I will leave you to ponder my words. You will have plenty of time to do so in the coming days."

Returning to his futon, he lay back and smirked.

'I've planted the seeds of the right thoughts in him. Let them ripen now. There's no need to rush, as I am more of an enemy than a friend in the prince's eyes right now. Let's see how firm his convictions are after days and weeks. It's hard to hate someone who cares for you and heals you.'

In any case, Stas had no reason to rush. His current task was the gradual assimilation into the local society and learning its traditions.

Ordyntsev's calculations began to unfold exactly as he had anticipated in just a few days.

It's hard to remain independent when you're isolated from any communication and news. While Stas would occasionally leave the tent to stretch his legs or join the evening gatherings of servants, Jishin was forced to lie flat for hours on end.

Speaking of the servants, finding common ground turned out to be quite easy.

Stas immediately noticed how, after finishing their work, they would gather around a couple of bonfires and quietly swap stories.

Interestingly, there was no division between men and women at such gatherings. Though the women did behave much more modestly and spoke less.

Ordyntsev's appearance caused a stir and many puzzled glances, unsure how to react. On the one hand, rumors had already spread that the healer was not noble, nor was he a fully-fledged medic; on the other, he was treating an actual prince, and there were even rumors about his possible entry into a clan.

So the locals didn't know how to behave with him.

"Don't mind me," Stas said softly, bowing with a friendly expression. "I'm just a country healer who, by fate, has ended up with such a high-born patient. Continue speaking, and don't mind me; I won't interfere."

"For us, it's an honor... Esteemed healer," an elderly servant who commanded respect, replied uncertainly. "Take a seat and warm yourself."

Ordyntsev didn't need to be asked twice.

Stas would come to their gatherings, sit in a corner, and listen to stories about how this or that warmaster was outraged that the water wasn't clean enough and chased his servant around the camp, beating him with a scabbard.

Or stories about who had been where and seen whom. Since warmasters often moved from place to place, their servants managed to see quite a bit of the world.

If one were to count, each warmaster should have had two to three servants, but in reality, there was usually only one at best. The rest belonged to the strongest warmasters who refused to travel without the proper comforts.

As Stas understood it, no one deliberately killed servants. If their lord was slaughtered, a servant could be taken into the retinue of the victor. If the latter didn't need them, he could calmly sell them, give them to other warmasters, or even to samurai, who would make them ordinary peasants.

The latter, by the way, was the real bogeyman in the eyes of the local servants. Being servants of warmasters was considered a surprisingly good job for ordinary residents of this world.

If peasants toiled their backs on rice fields and didn't live to forty, then the servants ate well and had some of the coolest protectors.

It's worth pausing to mention what Stas learned about who warmasters really were.

In short, warmasters occupied the niche of super-efficient and very expensive mercenaries, who often lived as hidden clans or small families scattered across all the surrounding countries and the world in general.

Each clan possessed some mystical knowledge about the magical training of its members. For example, the Sansa clan was known as the acidic clan, as its fighters had been developing this aspect of the local magical arts for generations, thus preferring it over other options.

Naturally, all such secrets were kept in the strictest confidence, which did not prevent warmasters from constantly raiding each other to capture these very secrets or those who possessed them.

As it became clear, all warmaster clans were incredibly insular and secretive organizations, and this was not without reason.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Their disregard for the lives of everyone else, as well as the fear of the unknown, made warmasters pariahs of this world. They were feared and hated. And most importantly, quite deservedly so.

When experienced warmasters clashed in their battles, the consequences were in the form of destroyed dams, burned forests, collapsed bridges, and devastated cities.

Would a warmaster bother about some rice fields? Of course not. Aiming to hit another warmaster, in the heat of battle, they would simply lash out with a three-meter-high wave of water, completely sweeping away the nearest village and all those who lived there.

As if that weren't enough, the nobles saw great potential in warmasters. They didn't hesitate to pay clans living on their land to send their members to fight for the interests of daimyo and other rulers.

Naturally, the opponents of those nobles, not wanting their armies to be simply destroyed, hired their own warmasters.

Thus, an unofficial agreement was formed between warmasters and ordinary people. First, warmasters settle matters amongst themselves, and then they turn their attention to ordinary people.

This rule did not apply to tasks from merchants, who needed only one or two warmasters, instead of dozens, to carry out some dirty work.

Killing competitors, cutting down a family, blowing up a factory – warmasters took on the most diverse orders.

Someone might wonder why, with such overwhelming power, warmasters didn't try to take over the world altogether?

The answer lies in their small numbers, strong disunity, and the presence of samurai.

More precisely, samurai who could use prana.

Here, Stas casually inquired with the servants, and although they didn't know much, he did find out something.

Even though samurai were weaker than warmasters, there were many more of them, and in the event of a clash, they could still significantly thin the ranks of even a strong clan.

Should any clan weaken, a war would immediately break out among the nearest warmasters, eager to grab their piece of meat off the cooling body.

Then Ordyntsev asked whether samurai sometimes gained their status due to their merits? He received confirmation that yes. Samurai were constantly dying, and the daimyo sometimes had to appoint new samurai from particularly brave and loyal ashigaru.

And here, Stas almost forgot how to breathe.

His question sounded simple, but it decided everything.

"Could new samurai control prana?"

Again, Ordyntsev heard a positive answer.

It turned out that even a former peasant with no lineage could still master the technique of controlling prana. Albeit imperfect, as samurai could only infuse their swords with it and weakly strengthen their bodies, but the very fact itself!

It meant that even Stas himself might have a chance to learn to wield this wondrous energy.

But why would he need the shabby techniques of self-absorbed samurai when he had a quality and exemplary source of knowledge right at his side? A deadly-dangerous walking library, to which he just needed to find the key.

And Stas already had something that might interest the prince.

Another bandaging, another grinding of teeth from pain when the strips of cloth, firmly stuck to the wounds, didn't want to come off.

"Your wounds are healing remarkably well. The stitches on your chest can even be removed in some places," Stas commented methodically on his actions, and Jishin didn't even wince anymore.

This wasn't done for no reason. Stas was accustoming the youth to his voice, to the fact that he could talk to him.

And if, at first, the prince angrily kept silent, as he deemed responses beneath his dignity, he now listened with interest to Ordyntsev's tales of various medical facts.

It didn't take much, just explaining the importance of measuring temperature, or what an increased or slowed pulse could mean. A systematic approach to treatment – that was something this world could only dream of.

The usual one-sided monologue allowed two different people to relate a little better to each other.

"You know," Stas removed the remnants of the threads from the wound and wiped it with alcohol. "I recently heard from the servants an extremely interesting piece of information regarding the successes of the Sumada clan and even your father. Just a couple of days ago, there was a general battle between the forces of the Sansa clan and the Sumada clan, led by your father."

Ordyntsev finished speaking and began applying bandages, deliberately ignoring the prince's gaze burning with interest.

'Come on, stubborn one,' the earthling thought. 'Drop your damn hauteur and ask. Come on!'

As if hearing the man's call, Jishin finally spoke.

"And what? How did the battle end?" the prince's voice was deliberately indifferent, but Stas wasn't fooled. The youth was very tense, ready for the healer to just laugh in his face and say nothing. Such a response could be expected from the locals.

"They say it was the most brutal battle seen in recent years. The forces of both sides, both warmasters and samurai, were roughly equal. Neither side wanted to surrender or retreat. And when it seemed like it would be a draw, the clan leaders entered the fight..."

"And what?" the prince eagerly clarified, even forgetting about the pain.

"Sansa clan leader, Ketsero Sansa, faced off against Sumada clan leader, Goro Sumada. As you can imagine, servants don't really understand fighting, but rumor has it that after their battle, the main road connecting our countries no longer exists. Now, in its place is a valley filled with the strongest poisonous fog, surrounded by sharp mountain ridges."

"Enough stalling, healer, tell me who won immediately!"

"That's what I'm getting to," Stas smiled cheerfully. "Sansa's leader was forced to retreat, followed by the Otomoto troops, leaving the battlefield to Sumada. Your father won. This means the war will continue, and your value has only increased."

For the first time, a small but sincere smile appeared on Jishin's face. Ordyntsev also couldn't help but smirk.

"Why are you smiling too?" the prince asked quietly but firmly, looking at Ordyntsev's face. "Aren't you supposed to be upset about your country's defeat?"

"Because, prince, as I have already told you, I don't consider this place my home. You are my patient, whom I am obliged to get back on his feet. But not because I was ordered to, but because I wanted to myself. Besides, if I may confide in you, I was born far from this country. As for the army of Nobunoro-sama, I joined it by pure chance."

Jishin said nothing more, but for the rest of the day, Stas felt the youth's gaze on his back. The prince was thinking, and that was good.

Someone might say that saving the prince's life made him owe something to Stas. But debts exist between equals. A noble or warmaster cannot owe anything to an ordinary peasant.

By the eighth day after Jirobu's arrival, Ordyntsev finally decided that the time had come.

Now, the prince occasionally reacted to the earthling's words and sometimes even responded. Compared to the past, a huge progress.

Now, he could try to find out the first piece of information.

Moreover, Stas was greatly concerned about Levi. Her growth had not slowed down, and over the past time, she had added another ten centimeters in length. If this continued, it would become much more difficult to carry her around secretly.

However, this was not the only problem. Two bulges had appeared on Leviathan's snout, running along the entire snout. And the more they grew, the more they resembled some sort of bony crests.

Such mutations could not help but worry Stas, so he decided to turn to the young warmaster.

"Prince," Stas deliberately never addressed Jishin as "master," because, in that case, there could be no talk of even a semblance of equality. "Can animals control prana?"

The prince frowned and then looked at Stas attentively.

"Rarely. Usually, animals just receive... Why are you asking?" he cut himself off.

Stas demonstratively picked up Leviathan and placed her next to the prince's futon. The relationship between the youth and the snake was neutrally positive. Levi had crawled over a few times to sniff him, and the prince didn't touch her in response.

"And what's with her?"

"Here," Stas pointed to the crests. "None of this was there before. Now, not only is she growing very fast, but she's also acquired this decoration. What's happening to her?"

"The all-knowing healer doesn't know?" the prince chuckled, but without much malice. "You've told me so much I thought you knew everything in the world. As for your snake... She's been touched by natural energy," he said, then fell silent as if Stas was supposed to understand everything right away.

"And what is natural energy?"

For a few seconds, Ordyntsev thought he would be sent packing, but Jishin eventually spoke.

"Natural energy is the energy that surrounds us all and is present in everything. Except for people and animals," he added after a moment's thought.

"And why not?" Stas eagerly clarified.

"Because people and animals have prana flowing through them. So, do you still want to know what natural energy is?" the prince asked irritably.

"Yes, yes, sorry."

"Natural energy tends to randomly concentrate in certain places. If animals end up in them, they start to change. They become stronger, tougher, and sometimes even acquire different abilities. The strongest of such creatures are even called demons, so great is their power," Jishin paused, remembering. "They say that some of the particularly powerful demons even possess intelligence and can speak. Other animals even join them, threatening human settlements."

"Are you saying that my Levi is now a demon?" Stas snorted.

"No, for now, just a magical beast. But you yourself said that she is growing," the prince curiously surveyed the little snake. "If I were you, healer, since she's so dear to you, I'd let her go before it's too late. If you're not from a clan like Kiatto, who can tame magical beasts, you shouldn't get involved with those who could eat you in a couple of bites."

'So, Leviathan started changing because of the natural energy provided by that portal. And I got a new youth. Interesting information. Now I'm one step closer to understanding what I was looking for.'

Stas thoughtfully stroked Levi, and the prince didn't interfere with the man's reflections.

Finally, Stas gathered his thoughts and asked the main question.

"Can a person born not from warmasters become a warmaster?"

The eyes of the patient and the healer met. It was being decided right now whether the earthling had calculated everything correctly or not.