The conversation with Taichi and Kansei didn't happen. Stas didn't quite understand how, but he was quickly led out of the tent and simply left on the street. Needless to say, no one even bothered to escort him to the warmasters!
Ordyntsev was completely taken aback by such blatant disregard. He had the distinct feeling that the warmasters had such a rotten reputation that helping them was considered utterly shameful.
Moreover, many were not only unwilling to help but also keen to cause trouble wherever possible.
For a few minutes, Ordyntsev seriously considered the possibility of "flooring it" and trying to escape into the sunset, leaving the locals to solve their problems on their own.
What stopped Stas was his complete ignorance of the local mages-warmasters' abilities. What if one of the clans specialized in finding people?
From what the locals have let slip, it was clear that there were, at the very least, two clans in this world specializing in stone and acid.
Moreover, he had seen the might of the former with his own eyes.
'What did Jirobu call them? Stone titans? The name suits them well. From how many kilometers away did I see that gigantic figure? And now I have to heal one of these monsters capable of creating such horrors. Simply delightful.'
"Excuse me, esteemed samurai, could you tell me where the warmasters' camp of the Sansa clan is?" Stas politely asked two passing samurai. He deliberately chose the most poorly dressed warriors to reduce the level of disdain he would have to face.
After all, even considering the extreme class differences, as Ordyntsev remembered, the poor samurai were not much different from the peasants in terms of everyday life. What was there to talk about if they could even work in the fields just to feed themselves? Stas could only hope that his patchy knowledge was at least somewhat correct.
"Go to the Shinigami's maw, filthy peasant," he immediately received an indifferent response.
'Thank you very much,' Ordyntsev mentally wished these two all the best with growing anger: 'May you, bastards, meet a terrible and unpleasant death. For example, a spear to the belly and preferably twisted a couple of times, so you suffer.'
Ordyntsev angrily kicked the nearest pile of dust and cursed. The stupid sandals from someone else's feet were frankly uncomfortable.
'And the worst thing is that if I don't heal this damn prince, I'm done for. If the warmasters of the Sansa clan don't end me, the vengeful Sumada will. And with such a notable appearance as mine, there is no chance of blending in with the crowd. At least the samurai and nobles are almost the same height as me, unlike the ordinary ashigaru. This is not surprising, as the peasants probably eat terribly and little, while the higher layers of this society eat their fill, so they grow to normal sizes.'
With much difficulty, Stas still managed to find the way. Random patrols that stopped him with enviable regularity were of great help in this matter.
A poor ashigaru in the samurai camp - suspicious, no matter how you look at it.
The last patrol even took pity, learning that this was a personal order from Nobunoro himself, and led the desperate earthling to the warmasters' camp.
Ordyntsev was not at all surprised when he learned that they had been pushed to the very edge of all the assembled troops.
The warmasters' camp, upon inspection, turned out to be quite compact, which made sense. The local mages were clearly quite rare, plus they killed each other too often to have a large population.
Overall, the local world still pleased Stas in some ways. Ordyntsev loved to read books, including history, so he knew well about the hygiene problems of feudal Europe. The terrible stories that have reached modern times about the Black Death wiping out whole villages of people. Or the sewage that flowed along the medieval towns, which grateful residents would pour from their night pots directly onto the heads of unsuspecting passersby below.
It was scary to imagine the stench and unsanitary conditions in those places. For Stanislav, as a doctor, it was literally unsettling to imagine that bacteria-infested "broth" in which the inhabitants of those dark ages stewed.
The slightest scratch could lead to the worst consequences. And the scariest part was that even if you wanted to lead a clean lifestyle, the illustrious gentlemen from the Inquisition would immediately knock on your door.
For at that time, it was believed that body was just a sinful vessel made of contemptible flesh. Although it was supposed to be patiently worn, it was just a prelude before being sent to heaven or, much more likely, to the depths of hell.
Here, even the most ordinary spearmen tried to care for themselves - to wash their clothes and bathe. Needless to mention the upper class, which, even in campaign conditions, almost shone thanks to diligent servants.
As for the neat, aligned rows of tents, they involuntarily reminded one of Roman discipline.
And there was no question of the old medieval principle: "Relieve yourself where the need strikes." Latrines were dug out not just for any reason, and cleanliness was clearly being maintained.
Of course, as in any human society, not everything was perfect.
Thus, in the same ashigaru camp, Stas barely avoided stepping into thoughtfully laid piles a couple of times. Apparently, some just didn't want to go too far at night.
And a couple or two of poor samurai were flaunting dirty and torn clothes from the last battle. Either they didn't have a change of clothes, or they didn't have servants, or maybe both at once.
However, the overall picture still involuntarily gave a sense of some civilization.
But if the outward appearance was presentable, then the inner side of life, in the modest opinion of the earthling, had long rotted and collapsed straight into hell.
Take, for instance, the captives tied to dozens of poles, who were being used as target practice by the archers for fun?
And the samurai's skills were sufficient to aim for vulnerable body parts, from which the arrows did not immediately end the victims' lives.
And since no one even thought to cover their mouths, the air around such "games" literally vibrated with the screams and moans of the unfortunate.
It was especially horrific because of the animalistic roar when a particularly accurate samurai hit so-called "especially painful zones." Needless to say, what could that be for men?
The scariest part was not the ultra-cruelty but how the others reacted to it. If the samurai's behavior was more or less understandable, the grinning servants and ordinary ashigaru behind them caused incredible disgust.
Stas felt nauseated by their pleased faces.
After all, if the situation turned the other way, they would be the ones writhing at the poles while arrows were repeatedly stuck into them.
So why were they so pleased with the torture of peasants just like them, who were forcibly driven into this damned infantry?
'Human hierarchy pyramid at its finest - spit on the one below while you can, because no one above will stop spitting on you. Rejoice that someone else is howling in pain, and it's not you.'
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
So, unsurprisingly, Stas approached the warmasters' camp already charged with negativity. The situation wasn't helped by the fact that Ordyntsev doubted they were happy to see him.
Strangely enough, no one guarded the entrance to the camp. The ashigaru who brought Stas quickly took off, leaving the bewildered earthling in front of the "gates."
Taking a deep breath, Stas resolutely moved forward. As soon as he crossed some dividing line, a voice filled with strong suspicion rang out behind him.
"Who are you to barge so boldly into the allied camp of the Sansa and Kiatto clans?"
What saved Stas from jumping in fright, only God knows. Trying not to make any sudden movements, the man turned around, only to see, with surprise, that standing just a couple of steps from him was a young warmaster in yellow whom he had seen earlier.
It was he, along with two companions, who almost unleashed a bloody massacre for no reason.
"Have you never seen warmasters before?" the yellow-clad one chuckled, amused by the expression on the earthling's face. "From what backwater do they recruit the likes of you?"
There was a creaking sound from above, leaves scattered, and a second lad, this time dressed in blue, landed on the ground.
'So that's where they were hiding.' Ordyntsev looked up and froze. The nearest branches of the tree were about four meters high. Yet, remembering how the warmasters had landed, it was clear that they hardly even bent their legs.
'How incredibly durable and strong are they?' Stas couldn't help but wonder, looking over the young men opposite him, trying to spot any special features: 'Curious, are they built the same as regular homo sapiens, or is this already a separate branch of humanity? It would be interesting to see what they look like inside...'
The one dressed in yellow, as if sensing what Ordyntsev was thinking, frowned, shedding his dismissive tone. Something in the gaze of this ordinary ashigaru seemed... No, not dangerous, but rather unsettling.
As if something non-human, serpentine, flickered in the depths of his eyes.
"I repeat, by what right have you invaded the boundaries of the camp?"
"Want to bet he's a spy?" the blue one ran his fingertips over the sword hanging at his waist.
"I am Shiro, the healer sent by Nobunoro-sama to treat the captured prince of the Sumada clan," Stas replied clearly, watching as confusion and then recognition appeared on his interlocutors' faces.
"So it's you, the Shi-i-iro everyone's been talking about," the yellow one drawled uncertainly and scratched his head. Stas involuntarily noted that they both wore a white headband around their heads like the one Jirobu had. "I thought you'd look more impressive. Now it's a little clearer why the old man was throwing such a fit."
The young warmasters exchanged conspiratorial glances.
"My name is Taro Sansa," the yellow one introduced himself, draping an arm around Stas's shoulders, which made the latter tense up from such ostentatious friendliness. "And this is my brother, Naoki Sansa."
The young warmaster led Ordyntsev deeper into the camp.
"Why are you telling him our names?" Naoki objected. He was the shortest of the trio.
"What do you mean, 'why'?" Taro's eyes widened. "Have you ever seen old man Jirobu that furious? Remember, he almost had his leg cut off once. You straight up could see the bone. And his expression didn't even flinch when they were reattaching his leg. I think the person responsible for his rage deserves some kind of honor..."
'Posthumously,' Ordyntsev mentally finished the sentence and tried to slow down their pace, after which he unpleasantly noted that he might as well try to stop a dump truck with his bare hands.
The lad, shorter than him by a head, didn't even feel his efforts.
"ROARR-R-R!" The thunderous roar and the giant tiger that burst out from behind the tents were far from what Stas was prepared for. Not to mention that it was almost as tall at the withers as Ordyntsev himself. The man would not have been surprised if this behemoth could swallow an adult human whole, or at least half of one, in one go.
The giant beast flared its nostrils widely, sniffing the air, after which its blazing eyes settled on the frozen warmasters and the shocked earthling.
'It's good that I decided to go out to people, not travel through the forest,' Stas thought, stunned. 'Surviving an encounter with something like this is very difficult unless you have a machine gun with a full magazine in hand.'
Seeing that his companions had suspiciously frozen, Stas was about to tell them to start doing something before they were eaten, when the situation resolved itself.
From the same direction the tiger had appeared, a red-haired girl in her twenties suddenly emerged, who, upon seeing the tiger, immediately started shouting at it.
"Taiho, you insufferable cat! You were told you need to bathe, so you have to. You can't escape this, so don't you dare try to run away again!"
Under the earthling's stunned gaze, the gigantic tiger guiltily lowered its head, pressed its ears, and hissed loudly at its owner. The sight of the death machine the size of a car timidly backing away was a new experience in the man's life.
"I know you don't like washing in rivers and prefer lakes, but if we don't wash off all those guts and blood, by tomorrow you'll stink so bad even the scavenger crows will shun us!"
Stas managed to tear his gaze away from the tiger and focused on the girl, after which his eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets again.
"Am I asleep?" he even muttered, and his words were even heard.
"And you really are from some backwater," Taro Sansa laughed, while Naoki just snorted contemptuously. "Right now, you're looking at one of the most beautiful members of the Kiatto clan, Tayuri Kiatto, the formidable tamer of giant cats. People say Kiatto have become so akin to their pets that they've started to resemble them, in both character and their matchless appearance."
"Ah, it's you, Taro-san," the girl snorted, grabbing the tiger's collar, which was barely visible in the fur. "Your tongue is as loose as always. Who is this with you?"
"You're too harsh on me, Kiatto-san. And this is..."
Stas wasn't really listening, his eyes glued to the actual cat ears on the girl's head. Thankfully, they were positioned not on top, as cosplay enthusiasts wear them, but in the place of ordinary human ears.
Moreover, on closer inspection, Ordyntsev began to notice the tiniest details like the significantly more rounded inner corner of the eye, the different positioning of the brow ridges and nasal cartilage. Separately, these changes were not so noticeable, but together they created a strange image.
As if something was catching the eye, not allowing one to look away.
"Taro, Naoki, why did you leave your post without permission?" a stern voice made the lads snap to attention and the girl to quickly run off to wash the subdued and resigned tiger.
This huge representative of the feline family definitely possessed intelligence close to human.
The man who approached the frightened young warmasters, striding wide, was about thirty years old. Apart from a breastplate, he was almost without armor, but the way the youths behaved implied he was no less dangerous because of it. His brown curly hair was tied back in a thick tail. He was armed with two short blades that looked more like knives, hanging on his belt.
"We left Kaito at the gates," Taro hurried to justify, probably referring to their third, tall companion. Most likely, he didn't even bother to jump down from one of the trees. "This is the very Shiro that elder Jirobu spoke of. We wanted to take him to the elder, so nothing happened to him on the way..."
"Enough silly excuses," the man's voice could freeze water. "Immediately return to your post. And be grateful that I won't tell the clan head about your carelessness. Believe me, he would have been very displeased."
"We are grateful, Gokku-senpai." The youths quickly bowed and then dashed toward the gates so fast that Stas blinked, and they were gone.
Without a word, Gokku grabbed Stas by the waist with one hand and by the neck with the other.
"What... Da-a-amn!" The warmaster suddenly pushed off the ground, lifting them both into the air. Stas's chest was squeezed by the sudden load, and if not for the hand holding his neck, he might have broken it.
Their clothes fluttered madly under the crushing gusts of oncoming air.
When they reached the peak of the jump, Ordyntsev couldn't help but let out a loud scream as they began to fall from a height of several dozen meters.
It only took two jumps to reach the desired complex of tents. Despite suffering from motion sickness, Stas, nevertheless, managed to get a brief look at the camp.
There, he noticed several wooden enclosures, in which were the giant beasts of the Kiatto clan.
Also, after some thought already on the ground, Ordyntsev managed to recall that during the fall they were unnaturally shifting in the direction Gokku needed. Did this mean that he could somehow mystically control their descent?
The stern warmaster didn't even give Stas a couple of minutes to recover, immediately dragging him to his superior.
A large tent of the usual type, whose only difference was the familiar diamond with a cross on the walls and the clothes of all the warmasters encountered.
There were as many as six warmasters, exactly two at each passage.
Jirobu was found in a small flower-decorated side tent, kneeling beside a low table, next to which a teapot was quietly steaming. On the tray were a cup, an open box with tea, a wooden spoon, and a small whisk.
"Elder, I've brought the healer," Gokku bowed briefly and, covering the curtain, left the nervous Stas and the silent old man, thoughtfully contemplating his teacup, alone.
Ordyntsev froze, not knowing what to do.
'Should I start the conversation first? Or is it the host's duty? What should I do? What the hell is this old fart silent for, as if he swallowed his tongue?! While he's here playing tea ceremonies, my potential patient is dying. And if he dies, it would be easier for me to slit my own throat to suffer less.'
Having waited in vain for any action from the elder in the first couple of minutes, Stas decided to speak up.
"Ahem, greetings, Jirobu-sama. I arrived as quickly as I could. I don't want to seem rude, but right now, the prince of the Sumada clan is dying, and you..."
Stas choked on his prepared speech. It's generally difficult to speak when you're being lifted by the throat with a hand as hard as steel, and you're dangling in the air, desperately trying to inhale.
At the same time, although he was suffocating, Ordyntsev tried with all his might to keep himself under control and not to flail, understanding that this would only guarantee a death sentence.
The illusion that he could break free had long been abandoned by Ordyntsev.
"Who allowed you to speak, you scum?" Jirobu's face contorted in disgust, but at the same time, it clearly showed dark triumph. "And they offer me this to heal that cursed prince? What a foolish joke. The spirits see I've been patient, but this insult is washed away only by blood!"