Master Taichi was found near his tent, which looked more like a small pavilion, beside which his horse grazed. The black stallion glanced at them with a displeased eye before returning to nibble on the sparse grass.
They stopped near the threshold, after which Kansei carefully knocked on the wooden low bench that served as a doorstep, next to which sandals were placed.
"Master Taichi! It's me, Kansei. I'm really sorry to disturb you, but it's important!"
For a few seconds, there was no sound, and Stas thought that they would not be called in, when a tired sigh finally came from within.
"So it is you again, Kansei? Why am I, oh spirits, not surprised? Alright, drag your lying arse in here."
"Taichi-san, I apologize, but I am not alone."
"Did you come here with a request related to this someone?" the voice inside insightfully inquired.
"As always, you amaze us mere mortals with your wit, master."
"Both of you, come in," decided the samurai.
Stas and Kansei carefully removed their shoes, leaving them next to the wooden bench. As Ordyntsev noticed, all the nearby tents also had such low thresholds. Apparently, it was some kind of cultural tradition, as Stanislav saw no practical use for them.
Sly opened the heavy curtain, and Stas immediately stepped in after him, closing the 'door' behind them.
Inside, it was quite spacious, though austere. The floor was covered with a coarse grey cloth. The usual mat lay in the corner, albeit painted and thicker. The saddle from the horse was right there, too. In the center, a small fireplace, lined with stones, gently smoked with a teapot on it. The smoke from the fire exited through a hole cut above.
Master Taichi was found on a neat folding chair. The samurai leaned back on the fabric backrest and pensively examined the guests.
Ordyntsev was not surprised to see two swords in sheaths on the man's knees, one notably shorter than the other.
If one were to describe the samurai in a few words, Stas would choose something like: "black-haired, dark circles under the eyes, a tired face, an intricate hairstyle." Fortunately, in this world, they did without the peculiar Japanese practice of shaving the top of the head. However, the structure made of thin sticks and twisted locks was quite intimidating.
Stas's attention was involuntarily drawn to armor hanging on the tent wall. Unlike the wooden-leather armor of poor samurai, it immediately became clear that this was a different level of quality.
The metal plates were carefully fitted together, creating a strong and beautiful lamellar chestplate. Moreover, each plate was skillfully edged, creating a unified picture.
On the other hand, the absence of a quality helmet, armguards, and greaves made it clear that the owner of the armor was still not wealthy enough for a full set.
"What brings you this time, Kansei?" the samurai tilted his head to one side. "Did you sell rabbit droppings to someone as legendary youth pills again? Or did you palm off fish oil on the simpletons as an incredibly rare ointment for all ailments? Then know this!" Taichi sharply jabbed at Sly with his palm. "I will not lift a finger when they beat you with bamboo sticks!"
"Master, you are too harsh on me!" Kansei threw up his hands. "Today's purpose of my visit is completely and absolutely lawful."
"Really," the samurai feigned surprise. "That's something new. And here I thought you've decided to eternally rely on my gratitude for saving my life long ago. Gods know, sometimes I think it would've been better had they found and killed me then, rather than now having to eternally save your lying arse!"
"What are you saying, master? That would have been an incredible loss for our entire country!"
"Heh, an entire country, you say," the samurai's stern face twitched and returned to its former tired look, though now with a small smile. "Alright, spill it, old rogue, who's this disrespectful lad behind you?"
Hearing such a reference, Stas flinched. Following the conversation, he had completely forgotten about local manners and was quite boldly staring straight at the samurai.
"Forgive him, master!" Kansei quickly stepped back and forced Stas to bow, then bowed himself. "Young, foolish, you understand."
"I forgive," Taichi's voice was bored. "But you better teach him. I wouldn't want to kill if my reputation was damaged, even by accident."
And Stas, with a sinking feeling, realized that this man was not joking at all. Indeed, the samurai might not enjoy doing it, but he wouldn't hesitate for a second to kill a regular ashigaru who offended his honor.
"Master, this young man is precisely the one for whose sake I have disturbed you," Kansei decided to take the situation into his own hands before it completely spiraled out of control. They both straightened up, but now Ordyntsev was careful not to bore into the samurai with his gaze. "By chance, his lord, Hoteka Koshu, died along with the entire squad. Shiro-kun expressed a desire to join the ashigaru of Nobunoro-sama. Moreover, he wants to dedicate his entire life to the military, becoming a serving ashigaru."
"Oh, this young man is not so simple. Lend him a roof, and you'll lose your house," Taichi shook his head in surprise. "Serving ashigaru are the elite among ordinary warriors. Getting there is an honor that maybe one in several hundred is worthy of."
'I just mentioned serving ashigaru to Kansei offhandedly, having overheard conversations of other fighters!' Stas berated himself inwardly, trying to figure out what to do next: 'Who knew it was that serious?! What the hell was he thinking, pushing me so high up?!'
"But I know you, Sly," Taichi continued. "If you didn't have a plan, you wouldn't have come to me. Why did you decide to ask for him? Another one of your schemes?"
"Absolutely not, master," Kansei quickly denied. "He just saved my life."
"Now that's interesting," the samurai raised an eyebrow. "But still not enough for a serving ashigaru."
"Moreover, he possesses the art of healing. I haven't seen it in action, but I tend to believe his stories," Kansei had spent quite some time extracting various actions from Stas in case of different injuries. And since there was no practical manual, he had to carefully explain. The only thing Ordyntsev tried to do was to reduce the number of unexpected knowledge, such as the necessity for disinfection, focusing on the practical side of the issue.
"That's much more interesting. Kansei, keep quiet for a moment. You're called Shiro, right? Where did you learn the sacred art of medicine? And what's with your skin? Are you using whitener?"
"Master," Stas bowed just in case, but then immediately ruined it by habitually looking into the samurai's eyes, after which he gave up and did not bother correcting himself. From the side, an irritated muttering was heard. "I've had such skin since birth. I do not use any whitener. As for medicine, a wandering sage once stopped by our village. He studied the mysteries of life and the very structure of our world," Stas was weaving a web of lies, trying not to slip up anywhere. "I was fortunate that he decided to take me as his apprentice. And while he was helping our villagers, he allowed me to absorb his knowledge."
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Stas sighed sadly, looking down.
"Sadly, my training did not come to an end. The sage was too old and died, not having imparted much. For example, he never told me about the use of herbs and medicines. So I can only stitch and treat wounds."
"Very useful and rare skill, especially in war," Taichi disagreed, now thoughtfully examining the earthling. "Leave the herbs to the foolish healers who treat illiterate peasants. Can you read and write?"
"I can only count in my head." Stas timely realized that Arabic numerals would likely not be understood by the locals.
"Unusual skill," Taichi chuckled. "So, Kansei, you say you are willing to vouch for him? Doesn't sound like you. Is saving a life and the ability to heal all it takes?"
Sly fell silent, then decisively nodded. Stas appreciated that he didn't mention Levi, apparently considering her an unnecessary fact.
On the other hand, in light of the revealed information, even Ordyntsev himself was not sure of Kansei's hidden motives.
"So, master, will you speak to Nobunoro-sama on his behalf?"
Taichi pondered, shifting his tired gaze from one man to the other. Stas tried to freeze completely, not attracting any attention.
All these servile antics of the local feudal society openly resisted becoming a habit, and Stas was plainly "busted" by someone who could kill him without even explaining the reasons.
Worse, Ordyntsev frankly did not want to get used to behaving in such a way, even though he understood the vital necessity of it.
"I suppose I will," the samurai finally agreed, and Kansei quietly exhaled. "Get out and wait for me outside; I had to report something to Lord Nobunoro anyway, so we'll combine one thing with another."
Stas and Sly wasted no time. After the darkness of the tent, the sun was unpleasantly scorching the eyes.
When Ordyntsev finally blinked away the glare, he froze, intrigued by what he saw.
However, he was immediately grabbed by the kimono sleeve by Kansei, prompting him to hastily retreat behind the tent.
"What's the matter?" Stas hissed, displeased by Sly's uninvited assertiveness.
"Quiet if you want to live!" Kansei whispered angrily. "Just look!"
And there was indeed something to look at.
At that moment, right in the center of the tent street, a conflict was unfolding between two disparate-looking groups.
Stas had heard the noise even during the conversation with Taichi, but didn't think much of it.
On the right side of the street, samurai stood in threatening poses. A couple of dozen warriors grimly held onto the sheaths of their katanas and glared menacingly at those positioned opposite them... children?
Stas blinked in confusion, but there was no mistake.
In front of nearly twenty armed and armored warriors stood three boys about fifteen or sixteen years old.
They, too, wore armor, but here the oddities began. First, theirs was much freer and lighter, not restricting movements as much, though it left more unprotected areas. Secondly, if the same samurai wore under-armor clothes of strict black and white colors, then these boys were dressed in bright colors. Two of them had vivid blue fabrics, and the third one wore yellow. Lastly, they each had only one sword, which, like a mockery, was something in between the two swords of regular samurai.
'These children are also warriors? Can they oppose adults in any way? Something is not right here; they are too calm.'
"Warmasters!" One of the wealthiest-dressed samurai stepped forward and looked down on the trio with disdain. "Who allowed such mercenary scum as you to wander among noble samurai?! Everyone knows you're all thieves with no honor! Who guarantees you haven't come here to steal something?"
One of the trio of children, dressed in yellow, mockingly turned to his tallest companion, completely ignoring the samurai reddened with humiliation.
"Brother, did I mishear, or did these samurai forget their place?"
"No, brother," the tall one thoughtfully rocked back and forth from toe to heel. "You heard right."
"So while we defended their backsides from the Stone Lords clan, and they trembled, afraid to show their faces, we were needed, but as soon as the threat disappeared, they immediately got bold?"
"How dare you?!" The ignored samurai sharply pulled his sword out of its sheath by a couple of inches, prompting the warmasters to instantly tense up. "Either you get out of here, or I will cut you into dozens of pieces for dishonoring a samurai!"
"If you draw your sword, you will die," the quiet voice of the third lad sounded absolutely serious. Somehow, it was immediately clear that he was the leader of the trio. "No one dares to threaten the Sansa clan with impunity."
"Katsu, allow me," the youngest of the youths stepped forward, cheerfully spreading his arms, and something began to bubble intensely on his palms. Stas watched in shock as a viscous semi-transparent liquid began to drip down from the lad's hands, hissing loudly and visibly burning its way into the ground as it touched it. "So, puny samurai, ready for a painful and horrible death? Trust me, our clan rarely grants a swift demise!"
Stas quickly looked around and noticed that a large crowd had gathered, tensely watching the conflict.
Nevertheless, no one seemed ready to get involved in the brewing fight.
Moreover, to Ordyntsev's surprise, the exposed part of the samurai's sword suddenly lit up with a ghostly green light.
The earthling froze, afraid to miss even a moment of such intriguing magic happening so close. One thing was to see it somewhere beyond the forest, another just a few dozen steps away.
It was inconceivable, but in this world, people were capable of directly manipulating energy without the intermediaries of machines, and Stas was ready to bet his hand that it was somehow connected to his newfound youth.
Therefore, the earthling's task was to fully study and investigate everything related to the local magic and ways to operate it. It was so intriguing that Ordyntsev forgot about literally everything else.
True, Stas was uncomfortable seeing that children were about to fight to the death, but the curiosity about what was happening was much stronger.
So when a crowd suddenly emerged from the side, led by a lavishly dressed noble, he felt genuine disappointment over the bloodshed that had not occurred.
"Stop! In the name of Nobunoro-sama, cease this disorder!"
"Tsk," one of the warmasters spat. "They always spoil the fun." The warmasters turned around and walked away, not even looking back at the hundreds of hateful gazes following them.
Stas's last concerns for the "children" died in agony. He could no longer perceive them as victims.
Everything that had happened was initiated by them, and, most likely, judging by how they fought that stone giant of the Stone Lords clan, the samurai were doomed to defeat from the start.
Stas involuntarily felt that this world once again exhaled something unpleasant at him, reminiscent of the stench of decaying children's bodies.
'If you think logically, the local warmasters are mages. And since even children go to battle, they are already capable of posing a serious threat to ordinary people, even at such a young age. I wonder if this is the lowest age of warmasters? Or can you see even younger children in armor? But what's the reason for such a savage policy? Too little information to judge definitively.'
"Do you understand now?" Kansei stood up from his knees, his expression grim. "Warmasters are veritable demons in human guise. You can never be sure what will come to their minds next. Stay away from them if you don't want to die."
"Ready?" Taichi emerged from the tent, fully armored. "Warmasters clashed with someone again?"
"Yes, master. They are becoming bolder every day."
"Bad, we could not do without them, but I regret every day they walk among us," the samurai shook his head. "Let's go."
They didn't have to walk far. A huge complex of several interconnected tents appeared on the horizon as soon as they made a few turns.
The guards let them through almost without questions. As Stas understood, Taichi belonged to the minor local nobility, which granted certain privileges.
However, another surprise awaited them inside.
In front of Lord Nobunoro, sitting on a low throne, two groups knelt. The first, judging by their colorful clothes and characteristic armor, belonged to warmasters. The second was harder to figure out. Long, rich robes, thick beads around their necks, and completely shaved heads.
Lord Nobunoro himself was a bored-looking young man about twenty-five with amusing curly mustaches under his nose. He was dressed in a costly, gold-threaded robe with red dragons swirling on it.
Besides these individuals, many others were present in the giant tent, sitting around the perimeter. Stas, Kansei, and Taichi headed for this group. While Taichi took a place almost at the front, Kansei and Stas had to drag themselves to the very far edge.
Only thanks to Ordyntsev being taller than most of those present was he able to see what was happening at all.
The group of warmasters was represented by a stern, already elderly man, whose neat wedge-shaped beard was touched by gray. His hair hung down from under a wide white headband. He was armed with a heavy axe attached to his back.
With him sat three more warmasters, two on the left and one behind. All four had a rhombus painted on their back, in the center of which was a cross. Stas involuntarily noted that these guards were already in their thirties.
Judging by the furrowed brows, the elder was clearly unhappy with the course of the discussion, and when the representative of the "baldies" group spoke, it became clear why.
"We will not treat a warmaster!" the lead monk declared angrily. "We monks have always stayed as far away from war and everything associated with it as possible. Warmasters are a filthy stain on the world's body, existing only due to a strange whim of the Kami!"
"But that doesn't stop you from treating samurai," the elder warmaster ground out. "This wounded warmaster is the son of the Stone Lords clan leader. If he dies, you will all follow him. The Sumada clan will learn who let their prince die and kill you all! Not to mention the efforts our warmasters had to make to break through his guard and capture him!" his voice noticeably rose at the end, causing Nobunoro's guards to tense up.
"We have spoken!" the monk turned red with anger. "If samurai are known for anything other than war, you, warmasters, are only known for it. Infamously known, I might add. You don't know how to sow, you don't know how to reap. You only know how to kill and sow death. Monks will never treat warmasters, period!"