As he approached the weary warriors, Stas was highly focused. Although he listened to their conversations, he was careful not to let even a gesture betray that he was paying attention.
Somewhere in the distance, birds chirped cheerfully. Nature was slowly recovering from the recent horror. It was quite ironic against the backdrop of cruelty unfolding around.
"Oh, how it hurts," groaned an elderly man lying in the mud, clutching a puncture wound in his stomach. One look was enough for Ordyntsev to realize that, given the circumstances, this man was beyond help.
The wound was not only jagged and deep, but also filled with dirt. Apparently, the injured man had fallen to the ground stomach-first and crawled for some time, smearing his insides on the grass.
"Father, don't worry, I will bring a healer. He'll surely get you back on your feet!" said the son sitting next to the wounded old man, desperately grabbing his parent's shoulder.
"Genichiro, you know full well that real healers won't do anything in such a complicated situation," the old man tried to calm his son. "And those charlatans from the supply train will put me in the grave even sooner. We can only call an onmyoji. Perhaps the spirits' help will be timely..."
Stas didn't listen any further, knowing he couldn't help anyway.
"Look at this trinket I found!" An ashigaru danced jubilantly, waving a beautiful pearl necklace. "Probably that freak snatched it when they captured the city of Tibatu. Must've shaken down some rich merchants. Us poor peasants would never see such wealth in our lifetimes!"
"Hand it over," said another soldier standing nearby, grabbing his "comrade's" hand and pulling it towards himself. Being bigger, he did so with success. "A fool like you doesn't need such valuables. You'll just drink it away, while I might bring it to my wife."
"Ah, you yokai spawn! You belch of evil spirits!" The two spearmen fell to the ground and started rolling around, pummeling each other with fists and headbutts. The surrounding soldiers just chuckled, occasionally egging on the fighters.
Stas shook his head as he saw the necklace snap under the strain, scattering pearls into the surrounding blood and dirt.
Someone dove into the fray to grab whatever they could, igniting the scuffle with renewed vigor.
Dozens of conversations, brawls, scuffles, and conflicts. Sometimes, the barely living enemies managed to kill one of the victorious warriors, only to be quickly ganged up on and taken down by those around.
Stas diligently memorized how people around him constructed sentences and how they cursed and swore.
His mind worked astonishingly accurately despite everything that had happened. Stas didn't know whether it was due to the newfound youth or if stress had simply unlocked hidden reserves.
He saw how the appearing samurai leadership imposed order. As Ordyntsev understood, the chaos had ensued due to critical losses in the upper ranks of both armies. There was simply no one left to command the ordinary ashigaru.
However, amidst all this chaos, there were useful things to be encountered.
"Did you hear? They say a unit from the province of Koshu was completely destroyed. They were unlucky to be struck down by samurai, and all were wiped out."
"Damn Otomoto! Why did they decide to wage war against us?!"
"They say it's all because of the accursed warmaster[1] clans again."
"May they burn in the light of Amaterasu! If all the warmasters died, ordinary people could live freer..." the conversation lowered in volume.
This information immediately caught Stas's attention, and he followed the two, trying to stay out of their field of vision.
Unfortunately, they didn't say anything else of value, but they led Ordyntsev to those who did.
A trio of ashigaru sitting on an uprooted tree shared their grievances while gossiping about their superiors.
"...Heard? Hoteka Koshu died along with his whole unit! They say he fought like a true dragon."
"Yeah, but who is going to bring back any belongings of the fallen to their kin for the funeral rituals now? I wouldn't want us to end up like that. And being a memorial courier is one of the last things someone would wish for."
"Uh-huh," the second peasant nodded sadly. "They say if you don't perform the rites, your soul will wander the world forever without hope of rest. And it's not far from there to hating everything. And then, well, you're on a straight path to becoming a yokai."
"And where did you learn all this?" his companions wondered.
"Well, a wandering monk once visited us. For a tasty soup and a roof over his head, he told us why rites exist..."
'So, Hoteka Koshu,' Stas lowered his head a bit more to hide his smirk: 'This greatly simplifies my task.'
Ordyntsev paused. He needed to consolidate the information he had gathered.
His stomach growled unpleasantly; it was already midday, and he hadn't eaten anything, despite being very nervous, fighting, and walking around.
In addition, it shouldn't be forgotten that at the moment of the transfer, it was night, and he was about to sleep. Now, it was day instead.
Ordyntsev shook his head and immediately regretted it when a sharp pain shot through it.
'What did that Kansei say? They always have good food? Moreover, if his words are to be believed, a certain "Master Taichi" is far from the worst. Add to that his invitation, and frankly, it's the best option I have. Although Kansei himself is a pretty shady character.'
Suddenly, something stirred at his belly.
'Levi!' Stas quickly looked around to make sure no one was nearby, and, pulling back the collar of his kimono, he checked on the snake.
She looked frankly unwell. The man noted with horror the dried blood near his beloved's nostrils.
"Quiet, my dear," Ordyntsev stroked her gently, trying to calm her down. The movements stopped, and Leviathan lay still again, apparently unconscious.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
'Damned locals,' Stanislav thought bitterly, following the other warriors away from the battlefield: 'Damned middle ages with its brutal laws and absolute disregard for human life. I tried to negotiate peacefully, but no. You actually had to pick the worst option. And where are you now? Slowly rotting in a ditch, and if the local peasants spoke the truth, soon you'll rise as some abominable yokai.'
The man shuddered at the thought: 'I really hope all these talks are just the prattle of uneducated peasants, and not quite real facts about this world. I wouldn't want to wake up at night and find a faceless corpse in my bed.'
At the moment, the unit commanders were diligently gathering the surviving soldiers scattered everywhere and directing them back to the supply train and tents.
The survivors were mostly joyful and cheerful. Thanks to looting, their pockets jingled with copper and silver. There was no gold, as it was unlikely to be found among ordinary ashigaru.
Stas had no one to join, but he managed to find a place in one of the largest columns, where he went essentially unnoticed.
Every now and then, groups of giggling women in colorful yukatas, a variation of summer kimonos, approached the returning ashigaru, shielding themselves with wide fans.
It wasn't hard to recognize them as representatives of one of the oldest professions. Night butterflies, whores, prostitutes, or courtesans - they have many names, but their essence is the same.
Nevertheless, when endless rows of fabric tents came into view, it was clear that something needed to be decided.
"Excuse me," Stas politely bowed to a thirty-year-old soldier who had also been wounded and stopped to rest, leaning on his spear.
"What do you want, brat?" the ashigaru glanced at Ordyntsev irritably. "Go to hell. I don't want to talk."
Stas froze, unaccustomed to being chided for his age at thirty-two. But then he remembered the miraculous rejuvenation this world had granted him, and some of the irritation faded.
"Please forgive me," Stas's lips formed a genuine smile, though he would have relished seeing how this pompous jerk would soon writhe from fever and blood poisoning. "Could you tell me where Master Taichi and his people are located, and where can I find Master Hoteka's camp?"
The wounded man gave Stas an unpleasant look but pointed somewhere to the left.
"Thank you." Stas headed in the direction indicated, first making his way to "visit" the deceased Koshu's warriors.
Involuntarily, Stas pondered whether the Hippocratic Oath or the Russian doctor's oath had any effect in this world. Logically, no one on Earth thought to include such a clause, yet, as far as Ordyntsev remembered, there was nothing about the oath's invalidity concerning the inhabitants of another world.
Speaking of the Hippocratic Oath, it wasn't mandatory, he took it as a student. It seemed like a good academic tradition back then.
'Should I consider the people of this world as humans? Could it be that they are physiologically different, and does that nullify the oath? What if there are elves in this world? They certainly don't fit the definition of humans.'
Why had Stas even considered such questions? Probably because of growing doubts that meticulous adherence to such oaths would be safe under the circumstances.
Nevertheless, he shelved these thoughts as he approached his first destination. As expected, it had already been thoroughly looted.
Everything was recklessly tossed about. Broken items were scattered around, indicating that the looters were in a hurry.
Luckily, not all the small tents had been taken. One of them, with great difficulty, Ordyntsev folded and slung over his shoulder.
Now, he could proceed to the next location. Otherwise, it would be strange if he hadn't taken "his belongings" from the former camp.
He had to ask for directions two more times to finally reach the right place.
But as soon as he approached the indicated fire, several ashigaru blocked his way.
"Who are you? We don't know you! What do you want?" The suspicious glances of the three surrounding peasants were quite unfriendly.
'So, there's no such thing as good neighborliness. I wonder what they're afraid of? Theft? Or something worse? Let's remember this.'
Stas stretched his lips into a friendly smile and slowly, carefully spread his arms. He had read somewhere that such a gesture during a conversation tends to put others in a positive state of mind.
"I was invited as a guest. You are Master Taichi's men, right? Kansei invited me to dine by your fire..."
"Kansei?" The peasants looked at each other, puzzled. "Hey," the eldest turned to the young lad. "Go fetch Sly."
"Sly?" Stas asked casually, keeping the conversation going to gather new information.
He had to play the part of pure cordiality, lighting up the world with a dazzling smile, even though he inwardly cursed everyone around and himself.
"Sly is Kansei's nickname," grumbled the eldest peasant. "And what kind of friend are you if you don't even know his nickname?" Suspicion in the ashigaru's voice only grew stronger. The second peasant also tensed up.
"We just met today," Stas leaned casually on the spear propped against the tree, showing absolute calm and confidence, even though he felt none. "After the battle ended, like all of you, I went around finishing off the wounded. Those dirty pigs attacked our home, and they can't even die on their own," Stas lamented, noting with satisfaction how his listeners nodded in agreement.
"And then I heard someone calling for help. It turned out Kansei was tangled up with a huge, fat spearman," Stas continued, pretending not to notice the approaching Kansei. "Just imagine, his arms were like my legs. And Sly managed to hold him off, on equal footing. It was a formidable sight, I tell you..."
Kansei slowed down, listening, then began to smirk slyly.
"I don't know where that boar managed to fatten up so much, but he fought like a real beast," the listeners followed the unfolding story with interest. "And at that moment, I came to the rescue. My spear thrust distracted and wounded that yokai spawn, and Sly didn't miss the chance to strike!" Stas clapped his hands sharply, making the peasants jump.
"That's exactly how it happened," Kansei, smiling cheerfully, put an arm around Stas's shoulders. "This brother proved himself to be a true ashigaru and comrade."
"I didn't know you were so good with a spear," the eldest said with a hint of doubt. The young peasant, as Ordyntsev noticed, looked at Kansei with admiration.
"Do you think I'm lying?" Kansei suddenly lost all his cheerfulness and irritably thumped his chest. "Do you think this brother would lie?"
"No, no, not at all. I didn't say that," the eldest quickly backed down, looking away.
"Good. You shouldn't call me a liar," Kansei's voice carried a warning. "Hey, Shiro, let's go, buddy. We won't bother our valiant guards from their important watch."
"Hey, Kansei, where's Eru?" the young man asked, probably referring to the spearman who had called Stas's acquaintance and, for some reason, hadn't returned.
"A couple of courtesans caught up with us," Kansei waggled his eyebrows, causing the eldest to spit. "He was so eager to snatch at least one that he almost lost his pants on the run."
"Son of a desert rat! I'll give him a 'good time' like he's never given to any of those girls!"
Stas and Kansei moved toward the fire.
"I didn't think you'd visit so soon," Kansei looked at Ordyntsev with interest.
"I thought, why not," Stas shrugged, then looked somber. "I looked for my squad, fortunately remembering some things. But I was greeted with sad news. My lord, Hoteka, died in battle."
"A brave samurai he was," Kansei nodded. "May Shinigami-sama be merciful to him."
"But as if that wasn't enough," Stas hung his head and added sorrow to his voice. "My whole squad perished. It seems I survived only by the spirits' grace. Now I'm thinking about what to do next."
Stas waited the appropriate time, then raised his eyes and glanced at Kansei's expression. What he saw reassured the earthling - Sly, judging by the thoughtful look, had probably bitten on the fabricated story.
Or maybe he was actually considering how to expose the newcomer, and this possibility couldn't be dismissed either.
They passed several fires and the battered people sitting around them. Their soup was just starting to heat up. Here and there, local healers bustled over the wounded. One glance at this disgrace was enough for Stas' eye to twitch.
The man doubted that fumigating a punctured lung with a thick bundle of smoking herbs would be of any help to him. And the sight of another doctor making a narrow incision, draining "tainted" blood into a specially decorated cup, even made Ordyntsev turn away.
Of course, somewhere, the healers were doing something useful, such as sewing up wounds or carefully removing arrows firmly lodged in flesh. In the latter case, it was a heartrending procedure.
Local arrows were monstrously long and thick, matching their equally massive bows. The tips of such giants penetrated bare, unprotected flesh very deeply, causing intense suffering.
Ordyntsev involuntarily scratched his own chest, imagining what would happen to him if one of those "monsters" hit him.
[1] In the original, it's "warrior clans/warriors," but not exactly the modern word. Rather, it's a synonym that sounds archaic and grander. They are not shinobi or samurai; they are a separate caste of noble families with special powers.