"Nobunoro-san," the elder warmaster turned to the irritated noble who had been listening to their argument. "Besides these monks, no one else has sufficient healing skills. Allowing physicians who treat common ashigaru to attend to Prince Sumada is nothing but sheer madness. And if he is not helped promptly, he will undoubtedly perish. Believe me, every minute is precious."
Seeing the lack of interest, the elder took a different tack.
"You do understand that the prince's life is a legitimate reason to force the Sumada clan to stop supporting Daimyo Otomoto. They are a huge power currently fighting on three fronts. And what else is there to say? Just remember the legendary techniques that allow them to create stone titans..."
"I understand!" Nobunoro suddenly clutched his temples and rubbed them hard. "How tired I am of your arguments. Since morning, all you do is sit here and prevent me from enjoying our army's victory. I can't eat, I can't rest, and I can't even properly hear out the rest of my men. I can't take it anymore; I urgently need a distraction."
The noble's eyes scanned the room and suddenly landed on Taichi.
"Taichi!" Nobunoro smiled joyfully. "I saw you just come in. I bet you have important business with me. You're so meticulous, it can't be otherwise. Come on, stand up, approach, and tell me why you've come. I desperately need to distract myself!"
'So this Nobunoro is quite a character,' Stas thought in astonishment, 'I don't know if he's a complete idiot or just, as they say, eccentric. By the looks of the confused faces around, his behavior is far from the norm in this world.'
Taichi, unsure what to do, stood up. He was clearly uncomfortable under the scorching stares of the warmaster delegation, and even the monks didn't look too kindly upon him. After all, it was because of him that they were wasting their time.
Nevertheless, both groups obediently moved aside, clearing space.
Taichi habitually swung the lower parts of his armor and knelt down, then, untying the strings of his swords, placed them to his right, hilts facing backward. This simple action involuntarily made Stas ponder the reasons for such an arrangement.
'Probably to demonstrate safety to the interlocutor. In this position, it would be maximally difficult for a right-handed fighter to quickly draw a blade and attack. Quite thoughtful, if I understand the reasons correctly.'
"So, my dear Taichi. What brings you here on such a fine day, which I've been unable to enjoy for hours?"
"Ahem," Taichi cleared his throat and then bowed low. "My reasons are surprisingly trivial, my master, to distract you from such an important meeting..."
"Allow me to decide what's important and what's not," Nobunoro gently corrected him, prompting Taichi to bow again humbly.
"Please forgive my audacity. As for the reason, I wanted to report that during the battle, I captured Ishimura Ryosuke. I placed him in the general camp of prisoners of war, but I thought you would prefer to know this as soon as possible."
"Ishimura Ryosuke, how can I forget that accursed surname," the noble sneered maliciously. "After all, it was Ishimura who captured my cousin uncle, then cruelly tortured him, and finally, despite all attempts to ransom him, executed him by bamboo torture." He turned to a scribe standing to the right of the throne with a scroll. "Send him to my father. I'm sure he'll appreciate my gift."
"It shall be done, master," the scribe bowed and, dipping his pen into the inkwell hanging on his belt, wrote something in his scroll.
"Your valor, Taichi, will not be forgotten," Nobunoro nodded. "I knew that my father didn't give you control of that village for nothing. You work well for the good of our clan."
"It is an honor for me." Taichi relaxed his shoulders, relieved, thinking he would be dismissed now. He probably felt the displeasure of those sitting on either side of him physically.
But he clearly underestimated his master's nasty temper.
"Wait, Taichi," the noble smiled suspiciously. "You don't have anything else you want to tell me? If I remember correctly, you came here with two ashigaru. There they are, sitting in the farthest corner."
Nobunoro's gaze unerringly found Stas towering above the crowd, making the earthling deeply regret not having grown up a little shorter.
"You're right, master," Taichi barely suppressed a heavy sigh and then, turning to Kansei and Stas, waved them over.
They didn't keep him waiting, quickly scurrying to the samurai. Their place turned out to be just behind and to the side of Taichi. Stas became Kansei's literal shadow, trying to mimic all his actions.
"I wanted to bring one of them," Taichi indicated Stas with both hands folded. "To recommend him to you for the position of a serving ashigaru."
Kansei, obeying a commanding wave of the hand, quickly crawled back.
"You've impressed me," the noble raised his eyebrows in surprise. "What's so special about this ashigaru that you decided to come to me with such a proposal? Did he defeat a samurai in fair combat? Or perhaps several at once?"
Quiet whispers spread around.
"Not at all, master," the samurai hastened to refute that assumption.
"Moreover," Nobunoro leaned forward on his throne, scrutinizing Stas's face. "If you look closely, there's something odd about him. I want to say ugly, but not quite. Hey, ashigaru, why are you whitening your face? Do you realize that by trying to imitate the illustrious nobles, you're only shaming us all? Answer!" The command sounded like a crack of a whip.
Stas saw that Taichi didn't even try to say anything, attempting to distance himself completely from Ordyntsev, who felt a deep abyss slowly opening beneath his feet. The proud samurai bowed deeply, not even raising his head.
"Nobunoro-sama," Stas engaged all his acting skills to the maximum, as now was not the time for pride. "My skin has been this color since birth. I have no means for expensive rouge and whitener. Look!" Feeling the last seconds of the capricious noble's patience slipping away, Stas grabbed a sleeve of his kimono and vigorously rubbed it across his face, leaving red marks. "There's no whitener." He showed the grayish fabric, which would certainly have had marks.
"Hmm, indeed, no whitener," Nobunoro reclined disappointedly in his throne, and Stas seemingly felt in real-time how the bamboo sprouts receded from his buttocks.
There was such a "funny" Asian execution involving suspending the unfortunate above a planted bamboo shoot. As the latter grew incredibly fast, it literally pierced the victims through.
"So why did my loyal samurai decide to promote you? Did he take a liking to you?" The noble wiggled his eyebrows, and a wave of mocking laughter passed through his closest supporters. "Still, that's not enough to get into my personal guard. Other skills are required here."
Stas caught a glimpse of the samurai's bent back flinching from the insult, but he showed no more sign of his humiliation.
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Ordyntsev was not so stoic. The whole situation was literally breaking his nerves, and such a joke made the corner of his mouth twitch in spasm. Nevertheless, thanks to monstrous efforts, he managed to control his feelings.
"No, master," Stas bowed and clenched his fists. "Perhaps he did it because I know how to practice the great art of medicine."
The merry expression froze on the noble's face, and then he looked at Ordyntsev with much more interest.
"You said medicine? And what could an illiterate peasant like you know about this sacred art?"
Stas raised his head, however, trying to look at Nobunoro's chest.
"If I were to get by with the bare minimum, without special tools, I am able to conduct a visual examination of the patient. The color of the skin, the condition of the mucous membranes of the nose, throat, and eyes can tell a lot about a person's health. Breathing is also very important – wheezing, the depth of inhalation and exhalation, rattling – all this tells us about the condition of the lungs. I am also capable of palpation. By pressing on certain organs, one can understand their condition and the presence or absence of patho... Diseases. A significant part of this process is also..."
With each new word, the already quiet conversations around died down even more. By the end, there was a deathly silence in the tent, and only Stas's confident voice preached to the assembled about the proper order of patient examination.
Embarking on such a familiar topic, Ordyntsev unwittingly got carried away. He spoke about axioms with the fervor of a man standing on a scaffold and uttering his last words.
You can't find yourself in several life-threatening situations in one day and not get a hangover. Even if it's such an unusual one.
Nobunoro's face was also worth seeing. If initially, it expressed undisguised skepticism, the further Ordyntsev delved into the descriptions of various medical practices, the more it personified cognitive dissonance.
And he could be understood. The noble had sufficient education and experience to realize that the person standing before him indeed had some knowledge of medicine. However, the clothes and position of this person screamed that he could not possibly have such knowledge.
A hand gesture interrupted the earthling's speech, and Nobunoro inquired where Stanislav had gained such knowledge.
And again, the earthling had to weave his legend about the wandering old sage who found his last refuge near their village.
All this time, the delegation of monks was thoughtfully eyeing Stas. He didn't know what to expect from them, so he tried not to even breathe in their direction. Who knows whether they would shout: "Come to us, brother-healer," or "Burn this damned charlatan!"
"I see," the young noble reclined on his throne and tugged at one of his twirled mustaches. "So you're saying you know how to suture and treat wounds? Someone like that could indeed be useful in my guard. What's your name?"
"Shiro, master." Stas still didn't risk giving his real name, not knowing how the noble would react to unfamiliar sounds. The cost of a mistake was too great.
"How many did you say you killed in the battle?"
"Two, master." Stas didn't mention that he hadn't reported that.
"Two," Nobunoro drawled, and then suddenly froze, after which his lips stretched into a suspiciously wide grin. "I have a brilliant idea!"
At that moment, Stas, in turn, had a very bad feeling for some reason.
"The warmasters demand that I heal their captive prince, but the monks flatly refuse to do so," the noble began, waving his hands from an excess of emotion.
"Lord, listen..." the elderly warmaster tried to interject with concern, sensing that he would utterly dislike what was to be said next.
"Ordinary healers here won't do. If I understood correctly, the prince's wounds are very severe, and he's on the brink of death? That means someone knowledgeable and experienced is needed," the noble's gaze darted back and forth. "A learned sage would be best, but in the absence of one, even his disciple..."
Nobunoro's gaze sharply stopped on the earthling, who had frozen at such prospects. The noble's cheeks threatened to burst from the smile.
"Lord, wait!" the elder roared like a wounded beast, hitting the tatami mats on the floor with his fists. It seemed the blow was not that strong, but the clothes of those around involuntarily fluttered from a light airwave, and the straw covering acquired two circular holes, about four times wider than the old man's fists.
Straw fibers flew around cheerfully, but no one was amused. Nobunoro's guards grabbed the blades that, as Stas had seen earlier, glowed with a ghostly green light.
"Trusting the life of the prince of the Sumada clan, the legendary Stone Lords, to some rootless lying peasant is a mistake! I don't want to argue with you, lord, but just think of the consequences!"
"Jirobu-san, you forget yourself!" the old samurai standing next to the throne frowned menacingly and clapped his hand on his armor. The mustaches on his mask-helmet seemed to bristle even more.
"No, it's simply impossible!" Nonetheless, the old warmaster showed no signs of calming down. "To capture this little demon, I had to sacrifice two dozen experienced fighters! Two dozen warmasters, my clansmen, met their death in that terrible battle. Living stones crushed us into bloody pulp, hundreds of earthy spears tore our flesh, and thousands of boulders tried to break our bones, and you want to just throw all our efforts in the trash?!"
"Jirobu-san!" This time, Nobunoro himself raised his voice. Moreover, he even jumped off the throne. "If you haven't forgotten, you were hired by my father, Daimyo Takashi Kato! You accepted the contract and are obliged to follow it! If you have any problems with that, send couriers to my father or terminate the agreement, but until then, you must unconditionally obey my orders!"
An unpleasant silence fell. Meanwhile, Ordyntsev was neither alive nor dead. Frankly, he was afraid to even turn his head and look at the teeth-gritting elder.
'How "lucky" this country is with the daimyo's son. I wonder how long it can last when old Takashi kicks the bucket?'
"And to ease your worries," continued Nobunoro Kato, a bit calmer. "Let's ask those who know," the noble turned to the monks who had been silent all this time. "Venerable Naoki, in your opinion, does this Shiro have medical knowledge? Can he be sent to treat the wounded young warmaster?"
Stas dared to turn his head, only to regret it immediately.
An ironic smile appeared on the lips of the elderly abbot as he, too, turned his head and looked at the old warmaster.
"Of course, it's challenging to judge the expertise of this young man without any practical demonstration. But even based on his words, it's clear that he is quite knowledgeable in medicine and will be perfectly suited to treat the wounded prince..."
Time stood still.
Suddenly, the previously sitting Jirobu stands up, looks around, and his wild gaze stops on the horrified earthling. Stas didn't even notice how the ax ended up in the warmaster's hands.
Ordyntsev tries to rise, crawl away, or do something, but his body refuses to obey, remaining in place.
The heavy ax, with the inevitability of death itself, slowly and majestically approaches Stas's neck... To continue its movement, cutting through skin, muscles, blood vessels, and finally the spine without stopping.
The head, severed from the body and dripping blood, slowly falls onto the rapidly reddening tatami.
The terrified Levi, who doesn't understand what's happening, jumps out of her hiding place and falls right into her already dead master's blood. Leviathan, not having time to realize what the thick smell surrounding her is, feels the heavy foot of a warmaster descend upon her skull, crunching it as if it were a soap bubble.
Panic ensues around, and Stas's eyes, covered by the veil of death, memorize these last moments forever...
"Enough!"
...Only for Stas to find himself staggering the next second, gasping for air and taking convulsive gulps of the precious air.
Everyone around indeed got to their feet, but Stas was quite alive, and his head was still on his shoulders. The surrounding samurai had drawn their swords, and the old samurai who had stood next to Nobunoro seemed to emit strange, invisible, but tangible waves of force, erasing the terrible images from the earthling's mind.
'I bet my life that it was a thirst for killing,' Stas easily understood what had so profoundly affected him: 'He got so angry that his desire to kill was transmitted to everyone present here. Damn, how did my heart not burst from such a shock?'
Ordyntsev was not so wrong. Many of the samurai present were vomiting at their feet or had fainted, falling at their comrades' feet. Against their background, Stas was almost a paragon of self-control, although he stood closer to the warmaster than many.
The most unpleasant thing was that this bloodlust also passed through Levi, who was hiding in his bosom, causing her to wriggle furiously, trying to get out.
Stas quickly bent over, pretending to feel unwell, while trying to calm the panicking little snake.
"Quiet, darling, calm down. No one threatens you. Settle down," he whispered, stroking the trembling scaly body. And his attempts to calm her indeed, surprisingly, bore fruit, and Leviathan gradually quieted down, hiding as if she understood human speech, which was, if you think about it, impossible.
Stas did not attach any importance to this, although he would have been amazed by it on Earth. After all, snakes are far from the most understanding and obedient pets.
Meanwhile, the situation began to normalize little by little. The blades were sheathed, but there was no question of trusting relationships.
Four warmasters stood surrounded by dozens of samurai, but none of them flinched. Jirobu glared at the troubled Nobunoro. Apparently, the noble jerk finally realized that the situation had clearly gotten out of control.
"We expect this... So-called 'healer,' as early as today. If he fails..." It was said as if each word the elder forcefully spat out. In the end, he didn't even finish the phrase, just jerked his head, turned around, and walked straight through the samurai.
No one dared stop him or block his path.
Stas finally allowed himself to exhale and breathe in again. His chest hurt from the lack of oxygen, but that was the least of his worries right now.
'What has that damned Kansei gotten me into, the scoundrel? Oh, it's not for nothing that Taichi didn't trust him a bit!'