The interior of the palace delighted with its cleanliness and surprised with its minimalism.

Modern life has taught us to appreciate a multitude of beautifully looking but absolutely useless things. Various figurines, tables, handcrafted items, and other clutter that fills the apartments of most people on Earth.

Not to mention such essentials as refrigerators, microwaves, electric kettles, computers, exercise bikes or treadmills, and televisions.

If someone decides to go against the established tradition, they risk being judged with comments such as: "You live too spartanly," or, if friends are polite, "Decided to go for minimalism in your apartment?"

In ancient times, when each item was made by hand and through long labor, the value of such trinkets increased manyfold.

In the palace of the ruler, the categories of decorations and art objects could almost be counted on one's fingers and divided into several clear types.

Firstly, there were wide fabric paintings depicting scenes from the lives of gods or people. Sometimes, it could be white canvases with wise sayings written in hieroglyphs that Stas could not understand.

The second type of notable objects were richly furnished suits of samurai armor sitting on display. If one looked into the eye sockets of the empty helmets, it involuntarily seemed that these lifeless warriors were watching you closely, ready to stand up and punish any intruders if necessary.

The third category of decorations included vases, big and small, amphorae, and huge vessels as tall as a person, all variously adorned with different images and lines.

They could stand simply on the floor, on pedestals, or even on beams under the ceiling.

The fourth and last category of art objects were statues of various magical animals or local gods. As Stanislav understood, in this world, there was no single god, but a great many gods, minor deities, and simply powerful spirits.

Some of them cared for people, protecting them from danger, while others, on the contrary, actively caused harm. But even the latter had to be prayed to, as they could become even angrier and cause more trouble otherwise.

However, one should not think that the surroundings looked poor. As if knowing that they lacked works of art, the locals threw themselves into meticulous carving of walls, doors, ceilings, and columns with all their might.

Wherever the eye fell, it was pleased by the intricate and complex woodwork.

If it weren't for a couple of samurai guards following him, Stas would have said the walk through the palace was worth it.

How many people could boast such an authentic excursion into ancient times?

The impression was also marred by the looks of the surrounding servants and the nobles going about their business. The palace complex turned out to be a well-populated place. There were very important-looking masters in ridiculous clothes and huge hats scurrying about everywhere.

Ordyntsev involuntarily recalled the boyar headgear[1]. Apparently, the principle of "the bigger the hat, the bigger the nob" worked regardless of nationality. Grandpa Freud would have had a lot to say about that, but at this time, he had not yet been born.

Stas's rough, frankly dirty, and smelly clothes made the important people wrinkle their noses in disdain and wave their expensive fans. Some even pinched their noses, casting looks full of disgust.

At that moment, the man felt awkward, not so much for himself as for the prince walking beside him, who endured all these looks with truly royal dignity.

Only, what Ordyntsev learned about him was enough to understand that he certainly hadn't forgotten any of that.

The apartments they were brought to turned out to be a bright room with a couple of built-in wall cabinets and several low tables.

In the corner was a small altar for prayers, and on the tables were writing supplies and several scrolls of paper.

The suite consisted of three rooms, two of which were bedrooms. Entering the hall, the prince demonstratively closed the doors in the faces of the dumbfounded samurai. They didn't protest or break down the doors, as Stas feared.

"So, what do you think of the palace?" Jishin sarcastically gestured around the room. "After your 'village,' I'm sure it's impressive."

"Yes, prince. I never thought I'd get to spend the night in something like this."

"Ha," chuckled Sumada. "Stick with me, and you'll either die young or live in halls like these." The prince probably involuntarily recalled the people from his guard who had died.

"Prince…"

"Why do you keep calling me 'prince'?" Jishin interrupted, looking intently at Stas and stepping closer. Covering his mouth, he whispered, "Aren't you supposed to call me 'master'?"

Stanislav hesitated. Interacting with this lad, he involuntarily forgot the social disparity between them. Ordyntsev simply didn't want to demean himself by calling someone "master" again.

Stas was a free man, and he could do without all these servile gestures of the locals.

However, the prince was waiting for an answer, and something had to be said quickly.

"Because you are not yet my master," Stas replied confidently, pushing aside his doubts. "For now, I have no master. When I save you, things might change."

Stas expected various reactions, but not that the prince would suddenly giggle.

"No master? Ha, what nonsense. We all have a master. Even over me, the clan head's son, there's my father."

"And over your father?" Stas pointed out the inconsistency.

"My clan lives on the land of a daimyo, even though his power hardly affects us. The daimyo, if you ask, is accountable to the gods themselves."

'Of course, accountable,' Stas thought acrimoniously. 'Just like it was with our "rulers, anointed by God." Yet, for some reason, God didn't protect his so-called "delegates."'

"Alright," the prince stretched. "I'm tired. This room is mine," he pointed to the right door. "And that one is yours. Appreciate my kindness. Not even every noble can boast their own room in a palace worthy of a daimyo himself."

"Sorry, prince, but I have to decline," Stas shook his head, seeing Jishin's eyes fill with rage.

"You dare refuse my favor?! Seeking death?! Explain yourself at once if you don't want to die!"

Stas didn't know if anyone was trying to overhear them, so, like Jishin before, he lowered his voice, covering his mouth with his hand.

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"It's simple, prince. Living with you, I'd be in the furthest place from those upon whom your salvation depends, and I'd also turn the local servants against me. I doubt they'll be pleased interacting with someone who lives in the master's quarters. To avoid drawing attention, it's better if I settle in among the ordinary servants."

With each word from the earthling, the warmaster's anger lessened until it was replaced by deep contemplation.

"I'm glad I wasn't mistaken about you," he finally said. "You're as cunning as Yamata-no-Orochi. So, what's your plan?"

"For now, I don't know," Stas shrugged nonchalantly. "First, I need to understand who breathes what and how things are arranged here. Once I know the lay of the land, then I can start acting."

"Good," Jishin drew out, not knowing what else to say. "I'm counting on you."

"Also, despite living with the servants, I'll still visit you daily, and if any problems or questions arise, order the servants to call me immediately…"

"Just go already," the young warrior waved him off. "If only you knew how tired I am of your constant instructions. You can't eat this, you can't walk too much, you can't lie down like that, you can't train… Finally, I'll get a little break from you." Despite his words, the lad smiled cheerfully as he said this.

Stas bowed politely and exited, quietly closing the sliding door behind him.

Walking the public corridors was not forbidden by the patrols, though they watched Stas closely. Near the paths leading to important parts of the palace, however, stood serious guards who clearly intended to let no one pass.

Finding the way to the servants' quarters was easy. Understanding who to negotiate with was more difficult. After a bit of wandering, Stas found someone to ask for directions. One of the maids politely led Stas to the personal room of an incredibly important steward.

The latter was, at that moment, diligently writing with a brush on a long scroll. The maid quickly bowed and left the men alone.

The portly, bald man with enormous hanging mustaches did not take kindly to Stas' arrival.

"A healer, eh?" he frowned, dipping the brush in the inkwell and writing another symbol. "Charlatans like you are a dime a dozen," he critically examined Stas' poor attire. "How did they even let you into the palace… But that's none of my business. I just hope you know how to use toilet and won't relieve yourself somewhere in the corridor. That's how it is with you peasants, right? Probably you even have fleas? I order you, stay away from me!"

The steward sighed heavily again, not having received a response from Ordintsev, who was calmly waiting for him to continue. The earthling couldn't care less about the words of the pompous native. Right now, he had other goals and didn't intend to create problems by engaging in a pointless argument.

"Are you mute or what?" the portly man grumbled. "Alright, you will live and dine in the central room for the servants. From there, it will be closest to your prince. Damned warmasters," he suddenly said. "Thank kami, they'll be treated by a bumpkin like you. They don't deserve better. Ha, now I see why Nobunoro-sama, may his steps be blessed, chose you. Now get out of my sight," the steward covered his nose with a wide sleeve and waved fingers that looked more like sausages.

Stas involuntarily noted that each of the courtier's fingers ended in a very long two-centimeter nail. How did he manage to hold a brush with such "claws"?

Stas didn't need to be told twice and silently left the unpleasant office.

Another mention of his hygiene prompted Stas to take this issue very seriously.

"Hello, ladies," Ordyntsev bowed to two maids dusting the windowsills. "Just seeing you has made this palace even more beautiful. But could you help me with something?"

"Your words are very pleasant to us," the maids immediately bowed back, shooting curious glances at Stas. They assessed his appearance, so no respectful address followed.

Obviously, the local servants were quite proud, thanks to serving in such an important place.

"I've just returned from the war," Stas mentioned it as if it were something insignificant, but he was pleased to see the girls' eyes light up with curiosity. "You probably sense how I reek of sweat and blood. I could use a good wash and wouldn't be stingy with stories straight from the frontlines. I'm sure my tales would interest many."

The maids exchanged glances, then looked at Ordyntsev with even greater curiosity. His height, foreign face, and pure white skin played no small part in this.

Stas had already caught the interested looks of maids on himself multiple times before, but this time, it was a sin not to use it.

Now, all that was needed was to "hook" the caught fish, and what could be better for this than the so infamously known female attraction to success and wealth?

"You know," Stas smiled broadly, showing off his white, even teeth. "Right now, I'm quite fortunately free. I'm the healer of the Sumada clan prince. The head of the Sumada clan will soon be negotiating with Nobunoro-sama and, just between us, this agreement might play an important role in the entire war. My master doesn't need me right now; that's why I have some free time…"

Stas knew that these words, seemingly spoken into the air, would soon be known by most, if not all, of the palace servants.

"Master," the first maid, and then the second, bowed much deeper than the first time, recognizing his changed status. Both girls were too similar to each other overall. The locals' primary hair color was black, and the thick white makeup on their faces hid any identity. Stas could only tell them apart by slightly different hairstyles. "If you wait just a little while for these unworthy ones, we'd be happy to help you take a bath."

"Thank you," Stas, hiding a smirk, stepped back to the wall, giving the maids room to work.

Watching someone else's work is always more pleasant than doing it yourself, so time had passed quickly.

While one girl ran off to report, the other led Stas to a special bathhouse.

The sought-after room was not particularly luxurious, clearly for the use of servants. However, Ordyntsev doubted that any servants would have two strapping lads bring several buckets of hot water under the guidance of a maid and then pour them into an extended basin.

And then Stas experienced considerable embarrassment. As it turned out, after preparing the bath, the girls calmly began to undress. Moreover, they undressed completely, showing not an ounce of shyness.

'Behave normally. People here are probably much less shy about their own bodies. Damn, I thought I'd be undressing in front of two naked girls under completely different conditions.'

Ordyntsev made every effort to look natural as he walked to the bathtub under the shameless glances of the maids and got inside.

The girls, making sure the healer was where he should be, began preparing bath items. While one prepared a soapy solution in a special basin, the other, sitting behind Stas, began to gently massage his shoulders.

"Sir, may unworthy Yoko inquire about the war?"

"Unworthy Kayo," the second girl spoke. "Is sure it was very, very scary. Is it true?"

"Yes and no," Stas replied amiably, relaxing under the strong female palms. "During the battle itself, there's no real fear. Blood boils, and the body literally explodes with adren… energy," Ordyntsev still couldn't get used to the fact that many words had no equivalent in this language. "It feels like you can do a lot. But then comes the realization of how close Shinigami himself approached you…"

"Oh, such thrills," Kayo finished mixing the local soap and carefully lifted Stas' right leg to lather it thoroughly.

"Is it true that enormous stone giants participated in that battle? They say they are so huge that they can push clouds with their palms!"

"Well, heh-heh," unable to withstand such naivety, Ordyntsev laughed. "They're not that big, but they would be no smaller than this entire palace in height."

"That huge?" both girls gasped in unison. Yoko, finishing with the back, took some soap solution from the basin and began lathering Stas' head. She cautiously sifted through the man's straight black hair, trying to rub in the solution evenly. "It must have been terrifying to fight next to them."

This unhurried conversation, in which the girls jointly gasped at particularly impressive scenes and giggled cheerfully when Stas told something funny, went on. In the latter case, he adapted a couple of jokes from Earth's army to local conditions.

Not spoiled by the internet or television, the maids soon relaxed and dropped their "unworthy maids" talk, shifting to an informal tone.

Stas chose this moment to start the first steps of his plan.

"Tell me, beauties, who's in charge here? Surely the steward doesn't oversee everything? By the way, I forgot to ask him his name, can you help me?"

"Oh, you're such a flatterer, Shiro," blushed Yoko at the compliment. "The steward's name is Kero Yo. And no, Kero-sama only deals with very important matters."

"Like what, for example?" Stas innocently asked.

"Something to do with merchants and food purchases," one of the girls pondered.

"I see, and if not Kero-sama, who oversees the other servants?" Stas quickly changed the subject, noting the girl's answer in his memory.

"Oh, that's simple. Kero-sama has senior servants under him. Each of them is responsible for a part of the palace, and they assign tasks to us, the ordinary servants."

"Marvelous, Yoko and Kayo, everything is so well-organized in this place. It's clear that you all try very hard to make sure Nobunoro-sama has the best palace possible."

"You're so understanding, Shiro," the maids laughed.

'That's for sure. I'm virtually a paragon of understanding.'

"By the way, I forgot, you said that Nobunoro-sama's guards protect the palace. Who commands them?"

"Really? Oh, I missed to mention," the first girl was surprised. "The guards are commanded by esteemed lieutenants. They, like the senior servants, are each responsible for their part of the palace."

"Wow, how fascinating," Stas 'marveled.' "Now tell me, please, how do you…"

[1] Just a very high hat, two times higher than necessary (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boyar_hat).