Sleeping in a soft, warm bed again – isn't that a true pleasure? Waking up on clean sheets that smell of herbal soap, fluffing the pillow, and burying one's nose in it.
Warm rays of the sun tickle and caress your skin as they filter through the window.
And after waking up, silent servants are already patiently waiting to serve breakfast.
There was a certain charm to it, one that was very easy to get used to.
This might be exactly what those who fondly remember earthly aristocrats long for in their nostalgia. These boys and girls have no idea that they, like their ancestors, would most likely have been the ones serving breakfast to these very aristocrats.
Only now, Stas had a real opportunity to appreciate all of this, and he couldn't help but rejoice.
His life in this world was so full of various dangers that even a couple of days of tranquility felt like a divine gift. Despite all the threats, no one would kill them before they had a chance to speak with the clan leader.
Several days off-road, sleeping in dugouts on chopped branches - undoubtedly a premier experience, but one that quickly wore thin.
Nevertheless, Ordyntsev had a very active nature, so he just couldn't rest for long.
On the second day, not knowing what to do with himself, Stas even took writing lessons from Kensei. The latter was genuinely surprised to learn that the earthling could neither read nor write.
Ordyntsev didn't mention that he could write in a foreign language - it was irrelevant.
When Jishin heard Stes's request, who needed sheets for writing practice, he simply raised an eyebrow in surprise but handed over some of his supplies.
Watching Kensei begin to write a lengthy poetic story from the life of the gods, Stas became wary.
When Kensei said that he would have to memorize this story of several hundred characters, Stas was dismayed.
And when Kensei mentioned that in addition to this story, they would have to learn a couple of dozen similar "poems," Stas briefly contemplated suicide.
Looking at those ugly, damned by all gods and demons intricate scribbles, Ordyntsev felt an incredible desire to burn this world to the ground and then promote his own version of writing and speech.
But as much as he wanted to do that, he had no choice. Ordyntsev had to learn the local script if he wanted to achieve something more than the position of some servant.
And so, Stas gritted his teeth and studied. For all three days, he diligently and meticulously copied and recited the characters, occasionally receiving a bamboo stick to his shoulders and back.
Once Kensei was convinced that Stas was more than serious, he went to Jishin and also got a training sword, a bokken. Ordyntsev even caught that nasty smirk on the prince's face when he handed the "torture instrument" to the ronin.
As a result, Uramasa taught Stas exactly as he had been taught himself. This meant that for every three minor errors, there was a strike with the wooden sword to the back. For three serious mistakes, the blow was to the shoulders, which was even more painful. In particularly extreme cases, such as quiet curses aimed at the sensei's esteemed self, the blow was to the head.
Of course, the ronin did not try to cripple Stas, but every strike was painful.
Interestingly, Uramasa did not scold Ordyntsev if the earthling managed to infuse his back or shoulder muscles with prana to soften the blow. The ronin considered it an acceptable part of prana training.
Ordyntsev didn't even try to argue with such a "teaching approach." It was clear that Kensei was firmly convinced of the correctness of this method.
Moreover, as unbelievable as it was, Stas was indeed quite good at remembering those damned symbols with such "motivation."
Moreover, Uramasa, despite the earthling's suspicions, did not pretend to be an ancient sage, but explained unclear points quite normally.
And there were many of those. Words in the local language, as it turned out, carried many meanings, which were revealed depending on the presence of neighboring characters, accents, or even context.
In the end, being summoned to the clan council was a huge relief for Stas. There wasn't even any fear - after learning writing, death seemed not the worst way out.
Especially daunting was Kensei's auspicious promise to resume training post-council.
The hearing was scheduled for noon.
Ordyntsev decided to bring Leviathan with him. The man did not trust the Sumada, so he wanted to keep his most precious being as close to him as possible.
Levi, as if sensing Stas's thoughts, stubbornly tried to climb up to his face, tickling his nose with her tongue and causing Stas to curse and push her back under his clothes.
Overall, the snake's growth in length slowed down, and she began to gain mass. If previously she was very long but thin, now she was gradually getting wider. And that, in turn, meant an increase in her weight.
She already weighed more than ten kilograms, so if she grew to the width of those pythons, which at a length of six meters weigh up to seventy-five kilograms, Stas was decidedly not going to carry her!
However, Leviathan was not yet aware of her master's vile plans, so she sincerely enjoyed the ride.
Incidentally, they had no escorts, as there was no point.
They were surrounded by hundreds of the Sumada and a prana-fortified stone. Only the truly mightiest of warmasters could escape such a trap.
Another round of ascending and descending staircases and floors Stas accepted stoically. The man wondered why stairs were needed in a place like this at all. Moreover, if warmasters were able to build such a citadel, why then not make normal stairs?
After some reflection, Stas came to a few thoughts. Firstly, besides warmasters, ordinary people and servants also lived in this place. Not possessing prana, they had to somehow walk back and forth.
Secondly, prana was a vital resource - and its senseless waste was not welcomed. What if there was an attack, and you were out of strength? Plus, in the event of a defense, even the defenders' prana could be running out, and they would also need stairs.
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Thirdly, warmasters had children who did not immediately master the skills of walking on walls. And even if they did, they could make a mistake and fall.
And finally, fourthly, although the warmasters had powers to manipulate stone, it was simply foolish to overload the citadel's structure with unnecessary modifications too much. Magic is magic, but deliberately weakening the mountain's durability was shortsighted.
However, fate did not allow Stas to ponder for long, as it had other plans. It wasn't going to give them a chance to reach the council chamber peacefully.
"Brother, I see you've lost weight! I heard rumors that you were captured by the Sansa," a young lad approached them leisurely as if flaunting.
Izuna Sumada could certainly be called a handsome man, and his power went without saying. He was a bright representative of the main branch - strong and ruthless. The kind who would forge a path for their native clan in this dark world with techniques and overwhelming strength.
The great clans were still far from the degeneration of nobility as it happened on Earth. The constant war of extermination created monsters who felt at home in battle. The weak were culled and thrown onto the garbage heap of life.
Only the strong could live long enough to produce offspring and continue their lineage and family.
The system for being accepted into the main branch had proven itself well, allowing for new blood to be brought in.
It seemed that all doors were open for the Ishiro family. But at the same time, there was an "accident." The younger brother, born two years later, turned out to be much stronger and more promising than the older one, who was far from weak himself.
Unlike Jishin, Izuna wore his hair short, though one could notice that his black hair also stuck out in all directions, unwilling to bow to a comb.
A strong chin, fire in the eyes, and an obvious presence of intelligence - all this indicated that Izuna was far from bad as a future ruler.
There was just one small problem - he was the opponent, even worse, the enemy of Jishin, and the outcome of this family fight could be terribly sad.
Stas, on the other hand, was a friend of Jishin's, which imposed its own limitations.
The two young men who came with Izuna exchanged amused looks, and one even allowed himself an ironic snort.
"Brother," Jishin replied with a restrained nod, and it turned out to be not without reason.
"Brother, brother," Izuna shook his head sadly. "When will you learn to behave properly? After all, in the future, I will not be so much your brother as the head of the clan. It's time to start calling me appropriately."
"But you're not yet," Jishin snapped back, retreating into his shell.
Stas was uncomfortable seeing the brave and steadfast youth, ready to sacrifice his life just to avoid capture, turn into a hunted animal right before his eyes.
"Or is it because you've been in captivity?" the heir pondered demonstratively. "After all, such an experience cannot be without consequences. Who knows what you faced with those despicable poisoners. What you told them..."
"I didn't say anything!" Jishin snapped back immediately, stepping forward and glaring angrily into the relaxedly smirking Izuna's eyes.
Moreover, the heir also stepped forward, not caring in the least that he was weaker than Jishin.
He was anything but a coward.
"Don't get hot, brother," Izuna tilted his head to the side. "After all, if you can't trust your own brother, then who can you trust?"
The face of the second prince twitched, but he managed to hold himself in check. It was clear he had a lot he wanted to say to the heir, but he couldn't.
However, Izuna had already lost interest in Jishin, and his attention settled on Stas and Kensei.
"A samurai who decided to scorn his ideals for the sake of revenge, how... Mundane and boring," Izuna rolled his eyes in irritation. "Brother, you should choose the people you trust more carefully."
Stas glanced sideways at Uramasa, hoping to prevent the irreparable, but fortunately, it was unnecessary. The ronin stood with a stony face, as if he wasn't there at all.
Apparently, Kensei understood what kind of treatment awaited him here, so he was prepared in advance.
"But here, brother, you played even better than I expected from you," the curious gaze of the heir settled on Ordyntsev. "I'm pleased to welcome you to the lands of the Sumada clan, Healer Shiro. I've heard a lot about your role in saving Jishin-kun. I'm grateful for that."
"Think nothing of it, Prince," Stas bowed deeply. If Jishin could be forgiven for disrespect, for Stas it could end very badly. "Although I did indeed play some part..."
"Ah, don't be modest," Izuna's ironic voice interrupted Ordyntsev. The young man leaned in and added as if in secret, "If I want to find out something, I will. I'm aware that the entire rescue plan for my little brother was conceived and implemented thanks to you. I won't hide it; I'm genuinely impressed by that."
'Looks like the fellow shadows have already spilled everything to the right people. Well, that was to be expected.'
Izuna became serious.
"To do something like that with practically no ability to control prana? The fact that you've decided to serve the Sumada clan only confirms your unconventional intelligence," Izuna nodded to his thoughts. "As far as I know, even though you know very little about the art of controlling prana, you are still training hard?"
'Damn shadows, so they've noticed that too.'
"Yes, Prince," Stas nodded politely. "I'm irresistibly drawn to the mysteries of prana and its true nature. As you know, I possess the art of healing, albeit a rather unusual one. I hope to combine prana control techniques and medicine to save even more lives."
"Undoubtedly a worthy goal," the heir smiled. "The Sumada clan will be happy to help such a promising young man as you in his work. But I must warn you."
"What is it, Prince?" Stas correctly read the pause and promptly asked.
"The Sumada clan will certainly help you. However, our clan has a strong sense of family," Izuna said regretfully, and Stas suddenly understood that part of this regret was quite sincere. "Therefore, to achieve the best results faster, it's advisable to turn to those who can properly appreciate you and offer the best opportunities. Don't choose a side that can't help you much in the long run."
The heir casually shot a glance at Jishin, who was playing nervously with his cheekbones.
"Besides, you've lost your clan, haven't you, Healer Shiro?"
"Yes, Prince. But alas, I remember little about it."
"Alas, indeed. Your memory loss is regrettable, but the Kami are merciful, as they have left you with the most important things - your skills and your sharp mind." Izuna said this seriously, but there was a certain insinuation in his words.
"But I won't keep you any longer. I need to talk to my father in private before the meeting. I won't say goodbye; we'll meet again soon, little brother." With these words, the heir and his two companions leisurely continued on, leaving contemplative and gloomy companions standing in the corridor.
Jishin's eyes flashed with lightning, and his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Nevertheless, he said nothing.
'Even the ceiling has ears,' Stas recalled Sumada's words.
But they couldn't stand there forever, so they moved on, and the closer they got to the council location, the more guards appeared on their path.
'Funny, samurai and warmasters constantly talk about their differences. But when I look at their cultures from the outside, the contrast isn't that significant,' Stas thought as he saw warmasters seated on their knees along the long corridor opposite the council chamber. That's exactly how samurai would position themselves if someone important was passing by.
They were approached by an old man of a dignified appearance, who, however, gave them a severe look from his grey eyes.
"Prince and his companions, please don't move while I complete the check. I need to make sure you have no hidden items."
"We understand," Jishin nodded, stopping still. Stas and Kensei also froze. Too many warmasters along the walls were watching them.
The old man himself, stopping about five meters from them, took a huge scroll off his back, as tall as himself, placed his hand on it, and with a clap of air, two more rolled sheets appeared in front of him.
He deftly caught them, simultaneously managing to throw the original scroll back over his shoulder.
With a green flash, the scroll copies opened, hovering in front of the companions, and then began to circle around them as if they were a super-modern scanning frame. Stas managed to see that different groups of characters were flickering on and off on the sheets.
Once finished, they returned to the old man. He quickly looked at something on the scrolls and nodded.
"All clear. Except, what is this magical creature under your clothes?"
Stas demonstratively pulled out Leviathan's head.
"My pet, a magical snake. I try to carry her everywhere. She's rather delicate..."
"I know," the screener cut off the excuses. "Stand over there. You will be told when it's your turn." His gnarled finger pointed to a small open room to the side. There were no cushions, and everyone was expected to stand while waiting for an audience.
Besides their trio, there were two more groups of warmasters. No one even thought of starting a conversation, as the doors to the council chamber were of wood and paper, thus extremely thin.
The wait dragged on unpleasantly slowly.
"Prince Sumada, along with his companions!" As soon as these words rang out, the wooden door was ceremoniously opened by the warmasters standing near it, who then knelt again, bowing their heads.