Watching people hurry about their business, it became clear that the city carried on with its usual everyday life. This was all the more surprising when you consider that not so far away, the armies of this very country were locked in a deadly clash with an invader.
Ordyntsev wasn't a particularly impressionable person, but the whole situation reminded him of how the nails and hair of a corpse seemed to continue growing even after the body's death. Yes, in reality, the body simply dried out, creating an optical illusion, yet this did not prevent the eerie and, in its own way, captivating myth from living on.
To the man, this world seemed something similar. Everywhere, there were festering wounds of wars and battles, contrasting with a backdrop of ordinary, peaceful life.
Roku and Stas didn't attract much attention from the locals since everyone had their own affairs. Hundreds of porters and loaders carried boxes and sacks on their backs, while itinerant merchants or craftsmen occasionally passed by.
If the former had amusing bamboo structures on their backs, with the most attractive goods hanging from them, the latter carried bags with their tools displayed.
Not all professions required remaining in one place, so such itinerant craftsmen wandered through the cities and countries of this world, offering their work. This way of earning allowed them to often dodge taxes, which annoyed the treasury.
Here and there, cries of barkers advertising one shop or another could be heard. The shops themselves were located directly in the houses. Owners opened shutters early in the morning, put on display their goods, and began work.
Above each shop, there was a small board with beautifully drawn hieroglyphs, apparently indicating either the name or what was sold.
However, Roku confidently walked past all these establishments, moving in a direction known only to him.
Only when laughter began to ring around and festively dressed people started to appear did it become clear that the senior servant had led them to the "Merry Quarter."
Everywhere reigned a sense of celebration and a desire for people to let loose, no matter what.
There, the crowd gathered around an enclosed stage where two enormous fat men were engaged in the famous "sumo." Next to them, two youths with stern faces monotonously beat the drums, creating an atmosphere.
Both enormous men were puffing heavily, trying to bring each other down, while the surrounding spectators shouted, cheering on their champions.
Sly barkers and bet-takers weaved through the audience. Everyone waved some papers and shook coins. Slightly to the side hung two boards with the achievements of both fighters.
Besides sumo, there were other entertainments provided by actors and their pavilions. They had designated spots for performing magic tricks, breathing fire, playing masked performances about gods and demons, or simply playing musical instruments.
The actors did not hesitate to beckon or even lead away passers-by walking along the street. Some even made fun behind the back of this or that important merchant, causing smiles and laughter from the others.
Judging by the fact that the taunted often also began to laugh, this was considered an acceptable action.
However, what impressed Stas more was the locals' attitude toward prostitution.
After a quick survey, Stas identified several important points for himself.
First, ladies of easy virtue were graded. Their value could be assessed both by their clothing and by the place where they were located.
Expensive prostitutes sat or stood on the porches of the wealthiest and most decorated establishments. They often held small musical instruments or beautifully decorated fans in their hands.
A master who decided to retire with them was led inside the building, where some privacy was maintained.
Why was privacy so important?
The answer was outrageously simple: because the cheap prostitutes had none of it.
Poor establishments with worn-out girls had latticed walls. A servant wishing to indulge with a chosen female worker entered the house, and thanks to the latticed walls, everything they did there could be clearly seen and heard from the street.
This served as a kind of advertisement for the "goods." Around such walls, not particularly wealthy-looking fellows – servants or workers – constantly gathered. There were almost no peasants because of the war, but the city dwellers still had some money.
However, the owners of such establishments were not at all pleased if the "spectator"' just watched and did not pay for the pleasure. As a result, such crowds were dispersed by grim-faced thugs armed with clubs wrapped in ropes.
Needless to say, the screams and moans from such establishments were yet another advertisement for the offered goods.
Yet Roku looked indifferently at everything around, leading Stas further down the "street of pleasures."
And the further they went, the wealthier the surroundings became.
The senior servant's choice finally settled on a richly decorated building, around which stood beautifully dressed girls, their faces resembling lime-covered walls - so heavily they were whitened.
Roku moved inside, not even glancing at the girls. The latter, stepping up to them, quickly dispersed, realizing that the "masters" were not interested.
Inside, a lean manager immediately rushed to the guests, beginning to bow deeply.
"Master, what do you desire? We have one of the finest establishments! Besides the most exquisite 'tayu,' we even have geishas! They can entertain you with the best intellectual conversations and the most pleasant music," Stas understood that they were now presented with extra-class ladies of easy virtue, ending with geishas, artisans of entertainment, who, in fact, were no longer considered prostitutes.
"Not interested," Roku cut him off. "We are expected today. Is everything ready?"
Stas practically saw the manager's fright, which made him frown. Too crude a job. Why intimidate the manager, attracting attention? And what if he runs to complain or report to someone?
Ordyntsev hoped that his companions knew what they were doing.
"Of course, master!" The next bow was even deeper, and the manager lingered in it longer. "Follow me. I will lead you."
Shrinking, the man led his visitors to the second floor of his establishment.
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Near the door, the manager bowed again and hastily retreated.
Looking at the doorway, Roku coughed lightly, either clearing his throat or warning those inside of his arrival, and then stepped inside.
"Hello, Akiro-sama," Stas and Roku showed respect to the lieutenant of the guard sitting on a cushion. Besides him, there were two other men in the room.
No one offered them a seat, so they waited while standing.
"Were you followed?" Yori asked displeasedly, instinctively stroking the sheath of his katana.
"No, master," Roku shook his head. "I was careful. There was no snake's tail behind us."
"Acceptable," Akiro grimaced. "I don't want to give even a chance for us to be connected together."
Meanwhile, Stas was closely examining the two standing men, who, in turn, were doing the same.
The first, an inconspicuous lad about twenty-five years old, judging by his modest but good-quality clothing, was either a servant or some sort of craftsman. As Stas noted, he occasionally glanced at Akiro with apprehension, then quickly looked away. He hardly dared to even glance at the man standing next to him.
And Ordyntsev could understand him. The grim look of his one remaining eye betrayed his attitude towards both his own life and the lives of others. A black eye patch hung in place of the lost eye, reminiscent of pirates.
His good eye was also crossed by a cut that left an unpleasant scar, giving him a slightly unhinged appearance. His nose was clearly broken in the past and healed poorly. Standing at one hundred eighty centimeters, which was quite imposing by local standards, he had the build of an experienced fighter.
Two swords at his hip also pleased him with their quality. Stas even noticed the thoroughly worn carving. However, his gaze was more attracted by the enormous sheath with a two-handed sword - an odachi. To wield such a blade required not only skill but also considerable strength.
Because of its size, the warrior leaned it against the floor and rested on it like a staff.
Yet his clothing inspired more pity than respect. Even the servants at Nobunoro's palace dressed richer. The samurai's rags were badly frayed and bore multiple signs of patching.
'Curious, what happened to him?' Stas wondered, 'In any case, I'll find out soon.'
"Healer!" Akiro's angry voice pulled Stas out of his thoughts. "Stop floating like a dragon in the clouds. We're only here because of you."
"Please forgive me, master," the earthling's polite smile contrasted starkly with the coldness of his eyes.
"Never mind," the lieutenant waved off. He decided to take it upon himself to introduce the newcomers, so Roku respectfully kept silent. "This person was suggested by senior servant Roku. He will be responsible for ensuring you find and get to where you need to go," he pointed at the inconspicuous lad.
"My name is Igisaka, I repair doors..."
"Doesn't matter," Akiro cut him off. "I'm not interested in who you are, as I don't want to waste my precious time, and the healer will find out directly from you."
The craftsman could only humbly step back.
"Now, since we've sorted out the guide, I'll help with the guard. This man is called Uramasa Kensei. He's a ronin, a samurai who lost his master," Akiro said the last part with outright contempt, but the warrior did not show any anger, though Stas saw his eye widen for a second. "He will accompany you everywhere and protect you even at the cost of his own life. And I hope this time he won't let anyone down."
Apparently, Kensei's patience eventually found its limit, as he quietly ground his teeth. Judging by Akiro's pleased smirk, this was exactly what he was aiming for.
"The rest, healer, is up to you. There's no point in me wasting more time," the lieutenant was about to stand up, and Roku followed his suit, ready to leave as well, but Stas stopped them.
"Wait, master," the earthling spoke firmly but politely, drawing attention to himself.
"What now?" Akiro stopped, burning Stas with a displeased look.
"Akiro-sama. I must remind you that my mission is extremely important. If I need one of my escorts to jump, then he must. If I say we need to hide, then we'll run to hide. I don't need anything going wrong during negotiations and causing disagreements. Can I be sure that Kensei-san will execute my orders precisely and without question?"
At that moment, Kensei gave Stas such a look as if he intended to cut him down right there. But the earthling didn't flinch. He had learned the local customs too well, so he had no doubt that there would be problems with the ronin.
If he didn't assert his authority at once, Kensei might decide that some commands might offend his honor, and therefore, they were not mandatory to execute. Besides, even though he was a ronin, he was still socially above Stas, which also imposed its limitations.
Judging by the changing face of the lieutenant, he had thought the same thing.
"Kensei, look at me!" Akiro's sharp command caused the ronin to turn toward him. "After you lost your honor with your master's death, you begged me to take you in. You didn't want to serve despicable merchants, guarding their goods like a contemptible dog. I gave you the opportunity to occasionally help me. Now, I'm telling you that the words of this healer are my own. If he tells you to lie down, you'll lie down. Tells you to bark, and you'll bark like a dog. Do you understand?"
"Yes, master," the swordsman bowed humbly. "I will listen to him as I would you."
"Excellent. And if he dies, I hope that you will, this time, have the courage to do as a real samurai, which you once were," Akiro's gaze bore into the tanto on the ronin's belt, hinting at harakiri.
Akiro's glance moved to the craftsman, and he nodded obediently.
"I understand, master! I won't hide a single crumb of knowledge. I'll tell everything to the master healer."
"Don't let me down," Yori threw at Stas, rewarding him with a stern look, and left. A little later, Roku followed him.
The room was left with only the earthling and his two assistants, one of whom was still giving him a hateful look.
However, Ordyntsev understood that he couldn't act otherwise. Politeness or good treatment in this situation would only be seen as weakness.
"Master, Roku-san told me we need to find some people," Igisaka hesitantly voiced, deciding to start the discussion. "But I don't know the details."
Kensei remained silent but looked at Stas contemptuously, also waiting for details.
The man sighed. Telling them the purpose of their mission was risky, but they could find out on their own anyway.
Besides, knowing what Stas needed, they could help him much better.
So Ordyntsev had no choice but to trust Roku and Akiro's ability to choose people.
"Our goal is to find enemy warmasters illegally hiding in the city and establish contact with them. I have a rough direction and signs by which they can be found, but without your help, it will be impossible," Stas spoke clearly and with authority. He needed these people to trust that he was capable of making the right decisions.
Still, he decided to keep the part about the prince to himself.
"Unfortunately, these warmasters are located in quite dangerous and poor areas. So without a guide and a guard, I won't find them. Kensei-san, what can you do? Who can you handle?"
The ronin considered the question for a few moments, grimly examining Stas, but he spoke up.
"I am skilled in kendo with a two-handed sword, and I can infuse my body and weapon with prana, albeit briefly. My prana reserves are small."
Ordyntsev's eyes lit up, and he took back some of the curses he had mentally heaped on the lieutenant of the guard. Providing a ronin with prana knowledge was indeed a significant gesture.
Among samurai, even though they lived by war, not all mastered the use of prana even at the level of weak warmasters.
Stas gave the ronin an appreciative look. If he initially had concerns about having only one guard, they were significantly reduced.
And now, this killing machine was entirely at his disposal. Knowing this... was invigorating.
Life was getting better right before his eyes.
Kensei continued.
"I have fought warmasters, and I have killed them. I think I can handle a couple of low-ranking warmasters at the same time."
"That's a serious claim," Stas stretched dubiously. "I don't mean to offend you with my doubt, Kensei-san, but are you sure?"
"If my prana reserve were higher, even a dozen of these weaklings wouldn't be a problem for me," the ronin smirked predatorily, remembering something. "Warmasters always prefer to throw various techniques at you, afraid to engage in a fair fight. Just get within sword-strike distance, and it immediately becomes clear who the real warrior is."
"Excellent, Kensei-san," Stas nodded in satisfaction. Uramasa looked at the earthling with distrust. He hadn't forgotten the humiliation he had received because of the healer, and this sudden friendliness seemed suspicious.
"Kensei-san," Stas looked straight into the ronin's eye. "I'll say it right away so there are no misunderstandings between us. I have nothing against you or your status. I have no enmity towards you. My request to Akiro-sama was dictated solely by concern for the success of our mission. We have no right to fail; otherwise, too many people will suffer, so I ask you not to hold a grudge against me. Our lives and emotions in this situation do not play a significant role."
Kensei muttered something displeased and turned away entirely. However, Stas was pleased, as the face of his interlocutor softened slightly.
Of all things, Ordyncev least wanted to turn his new guard into an enemy.
"Igisaka-san, do you know the city well?" It was the craftsman's turn.
"Yes... Healer-san?" the lad clarified, not knowing Stas's name. The earthling didn't tell it for secrecy's sake. "I've had to visit almost all parts of the city and interact with very different people. Including those... on the other side of the law."
"Excellent. Then listen to what we need to find first..."