"Please take a seat, Hideo-sama," Stas politely indicated the seat of honor to the guest at their small table. Ordyntsev had gone to great lengths, even learning and memorizing all the local tea ceremony rules by heart.
Needless to say, there were plenty of subtleties in this matter.
As an earthling had feared, the locals had wrapped their lives around such a number of hidden requirements and conditions that it would give even a smart man a headache.
And trying to extract information from Kizashi was no simpler. It was necessary to simultaneously display ignorance but not come off as a complete country bumpkin.
For his "exam," Ordyntsev chose the evening tea ceremony. It was supposed to start around six in the evening and last until night. There should have been enough time to discuss all important matters without distracting such an influential person from his other concerns.
They decided to hold the ceremony at a special establishment located in the park area between the citadel's base and the city walls.
The tea house itself, architecturally resembling a mountain slope, was placed near a small, quiet pond and surrounded by lush coniferous trees that provided shade and coolness.
Inside the garden, a stone path led to the tea house. All the stones for it had a natural shape and were laid quite randomly, so as not to resemble a man-made pavement in any way. According to local traditions, the path should be as similar as possible to a mountain trail.
It was clear that the creators of this little wonder had really done their best. Obviously, such an establishment was not meant to host ordinary warmasters and city guests. However, while Kizashi was genuinely embarrassed to use his family connections, Stas did not suffer from such an affliction.
A couple of hints to the manager of the trio of tea houses about the third person at the meeting, and a pass miraculously appeared in the pocket of the kimono.
Moreover, the manager and the earthling parted completely satisfied with each other. As it turned out, the Sumada clan owned several tea companies, and Hideo's visit to the place belonging to one of them would earn the manager much-needed points in the eyes of the clan's high society.
The reason for such a fuss was that the clan hero rarely attended any establishments, preferring to stay at home or visit a few close friends.
"Thank you, Shiro. You know how to please the old man," Hideo chuckled into his gray mustache. Stas mentally thanked his luck, which sometimes worked as it should. Isn't it lucky to manage to establish a connection with someone of such stature? "See, you oaf, learn from a talented man how it should be done," these words were addressed to Kizashi.
"You're absolutely right, Hideo-sama," Ordyntsev's smile didn't leave his face. Kizashi gave Stas a suspicious glance. "Order is always necessary."
The young alchemist felt as if he were facing a completely different person who somehow had stretched Shiro's face over his own. Having granted Kizashi a certain degree of trust, Stanislav partially relaxed, shedding the image of the cheerful and kind man.
In ordinary life, he was much calmer and quieter.
That's why Kizashi now felt a strong sense of wrongness, comparing what he remembered and what he saw.
"Nevertheless," continued Ordyntsev. "I must note that your grandson impressed me with his success in mastering the knowledge I provided."
"Really?" the elder expressed pleasant surprise. However, he probably already knew about it. In local society, people were so accustomed to wearing masks that it was sometimes impossible to tell where the next mask ended and the true face began.
"Undoubtedly," Stas began to carefully prepare the tea as the water boiled. The conversation politely paused. The warmasters watched Stas's measured and calm movements.
Does one even need to mention that he had to allocate several hours from his extremely busy schedule to practice tea-making?
By the rules, the tea should be prepared by a special tea master responsible for the entire ceremony's progress. However, in case of important negotiations, it was possible to send him away, which Ordyntsev took advantage of.
Stas wasn't about to give the locals a chance to steal or interfere with his ideas and plans.
Finally, the tea was ready. Stas carefully sipped the monstrously astringent and bitter liquid before passing the bowl to Hideo, who sat at the head of the "table." Hideo, in turn, passed it to Kizashi, who then gave it back to Shiro.
This emphasized the trust and equality among all participants of the ceremony.
Similar to the tradition of clinking glasses, allowing the liquids to mix and eliminate the threat of poisoning, such traditions also emerged in this world.
Then Stas began preparing a second batch of green tea, this time much more watery, though still unsweet.
The irony was that on Earth, the man never liked green tea. Here, however, any tea presented was green. Dozens of variations of green bitterness, each with its own note of repulsiveness.
Stas even carefully tried to find out if there was any other kind of tea.
And to his surprise, he learned that, yes, there was some other kind far to the west. It's just not made in these lands.
"As I said, your grandson showed excellent learning ability. Both in theory and in practice..."
Dumping all of Earth's knowledge on Kizashi would be a mistake as his worldview would immediately collapse, raising questions no one needed.
So, Stas tried to mask some knowledge as guesses or influences of some higher powers.
For example, the existence of microbes or viruses inside and outside the human body Stas explained by the presence of small invisible evil spirits living in all objects.
This also applied to infections.
What a test it was to Stats, to seriously lecture that any foreign object in a living being's body causes a conflict between the person's spirit and the spirits living in the regular dirt.
Notably, the locals, although they did remove arrows from wounds, only removed the largest debris or pieces of tissue. They didn't consider it necessary to bother with complete cleaning of the wound channel.
In such a manner, any theoretical expositions had to be adapted to the local flavor.
By the end of such lectures, Stas began to feel like a complete charlatan and storyteller.
The only thing with which he justified himself was that all his advice was effective and exclusively beneficial, if not to local medicine, then to patients.
"Yes, grandfather, can you imagine, we conducted an experiment on hamsters. And the evil spirits indeed caused an infection!" Kizashi routinely pronounced the new word that Stas had given him. "It turns out that the devilish fire that burns wounded warriors after battles, sucking out their strength, comes precisely from these malevolent spirits!"
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"Interesting," Hideo nodded with satisfaction, touching the bowl. The elder clearly enjoyed the earthling's words, which deservedly praised his grandson. Gods know, Hideo didn't often get to hear something like that.
"Your grandson's practical skills also deserve mention. By the way, I cannot but express my gratitude again for the tools you provided."
"It's nothing," Hideo waved it off. It turned out he hadn't forgotten Stas's words about his healing technique and ordered a couple of sets of decent tools from the blacksmiths.
Of course, they looked quirky and were not as convenient as those from Earth, but, as they say, one mustn't look a gift horse in the mouth.
"Kizashi just needs to be shown a particular stitch a couple of times, and he already replicates it almost flawlessly. Last week, he performed surgery on a dog with a broken leg with minimal help from me. The dog is now doing well and recovering."
At the end of Stas's speech, Kizashi blushed with embarrassment. To break the awkward silence, he interjected into Ordyntsev's speech.
"Grandfather, Shiro-san has also achieved a lot," Kizashi hurried under his grandfather's displeased gaze. "Imagine, in just one week, he managed to activate Healing Palm for the first time. You know that just under a third of the candidates never manage to do it at all. And for the rest, it takes weeks for any result. Now Shiro-san can even heal animals!"
Two more weeks had passed since the alchemist and earthling had descended into the forest. The training still had a positive effect on the prana core.
Now, Stas felt it was twice as large as when he first began operating his prana.
However, by warmasters' standards, it was still very little.
As Kizashi awkwardly said, such a reserve would only be enough for an ordinary elemental technique or two or three weak ones.
In healing, though, this reserve was quite sufficient.
Feeding prana, Stas as if whispered to the green energy, what exactly and how should be healed. And it worked amazingly, reducing energy expenditure.
The man approached such healing differently. He imagined cell division, the destruction of pathogenic microorganisms, or the structure of the human body.
And the prana somehow read his memories, simplifying the work with itself.
He also tested his own invented healing method.
Thus, having sutured the damaged vessels on the leg of a secured pig, he spent much less effort, first healing the same vessels, then suturing and mending the skin layer by layer.
In the end, the energy savings turned out to be more than half, and Ordyntsev believed that this was far from the limit.
The only issue was that such an approach turned out to be almost five times longer, but there was nothing to be done about it.
"I had no doubt in you, Shiro-kun," Hideo nodded, though in the next second, he frowned, and deep wrinkles appeared under his eyes. "Unfortunately, your successes have not gone unnoticed."
"What do you mean, Hideo-sama?" Stas tensed up.
"I can't say much," the elder sighed. "But at the very top, they've noticed you, Shiro. And such attention for someone like you rarely ends well, believe me. Fools think that if you get noticed, it's a confirmation of your uniqueness. But such idiots don't live long."
"I believe you," Stas replied gloomily.
"So train with all your might. You may not have as much time as you thought," Hideo concluded, hinting with a glance at his grandson. "And you, Kizashi, add to Shiro's schedule training in close combat and weapon handling. You do have a spear, don't you, Shiro-kun?"
"Yes. Are you suggesting I change?" Stas asked, genuinely interested in the answer to this question.
"By no means," the elder shook his head. "Forgive my bluntness, Shiro, but even if you ever build up your prana core and match other warmasters, you will never be able to handle weapons and your body on par with clan members."
Hideo sipped his tea, enjoying its aroma before drinking.
"To achieve noticeable success in this matter, training needs to start from early childhood. To ingrain it in your body in such a way that it's impossible to eradicate. And a child's body is best suited for this approach. A spear, meanwhile, allows you to keep at a distance, even experienced swordsmen. And it's easier to learn than a good blade."
"So, there's no point in me training in close combat?" Stas raised an eyebrow ironically.
It's unpleasant to hear that you have no chance, even though there's truth in the other person's words.
"I didn't say that," the elder shook his head. "Yes, you'll never be a genius of spear or any other weapon, but you can make up for the lack of something by trying to achieve success in something else. You don't need to know close combat perfectly, just ordinary skills - to react in time and break the distance for using techniques." There was some hidden meaning in the old man's words, which he confirmed a little later.
"Once, Ishiro faced a supreme warmaster from the Sansa clan. By that time, we had already run out of prana, so we could only watch their fight. Ishiro always relied on close combat. Sometimes, it seemed that he was born with that two-handed hammer. A very strange choice for a warmaster, but he got attached to it from childhood. Eh, Ishiro, in this life, loved only three things – to drink, to fight, and to take any women who crossed his path. How we later struggled to find your bastards..."
Hideo shook his head with a wry smile.
"But that's not the point. Sansa, on the other hand, was weak in close combat but excelled in the art of elemental manipulation. In the end, that fight became a rare case when Ishiro couldn't kill his enemy. Sansa safely left with his men, almost unharmed. Ishiro did so, too, but he considered that fight his defeat until the end of his days. By the way, that Sansa was named Jirobu. A little later, he became an elder. Sound familiar?"
"Very much so." The calm expression on the earthling's face twitched for a second, revealing true feelings.
Hideo, who had been waiting and missed nothing, nodded knowingly.
"I heard that Jirobu's son, Gokku Sansa, though he escaped from Akaru, was seriously injured when he clashed with Nobunoro's samurai. Apparently, the injuries were so severe that he has not yet returned to the front."
"Excellent news." Stas took a satisfied sip of tea, washing away the phantom sensation of steel fingers on his throat.
'I would like to see the expression on old Jirobu's face when he learned about our escape.'
"But enough of my stories," Hideo chuckled. "In the end, you, Shiro-kun, wouldn't be pushing yourself so hard if you just wanted to brighten up the monotonous days of an old man."
"Hideo-sama..."
"Leave it," the elder waved his hand. "To be honest, I'm very curious about what you've come up with if you decided to invite me. And I don't want to waste time on denials."
Kizashi and Stas silently exchanged glances, after which the alchemist leaned back a bit, allowing Stas to speak for both of them.
"Hideo-sama, do you remember how Kizashi once tried to present prana recovery acceleration pills to the council?"
"How could I forget," the elder frowned. "I had so many problems after that, you can't count. But that's in the past. Or is it not? What problems has this boy thought up again for my gray head?"
"We reevaluated those pills with Kizashi. So to speak, reassessed their goals, after which your grandson conducted new calculations. The essence was to remove something so that other properties would improve significantly."
"And what did you calculate there?" the elder's voice was clearly skeptical.
"According to Kizashi's estimates, the strength of the pills will double compared to the analogs from other countries," Ordyntsev's voice lost any hint of a cheerful tone. "These pills should act almost instantly, launching the warmaster's prana core at a very high speed. But as a kickback, there will be a powerful blow to all the target's organs. You could even say it will shorten life. Roughly, one pill – one year of life. The calculations aren't finished, but we can already say they will work."
A heavy silence hung in the air. Hideo looked unseeingly at the people sitting in front of him.
He understood better than anyone how catastrophic this proposal could turn out. In the clans, the life of a single warmaster means nothing, as only the clan's gain is important.
It's easy to release a yokai from a jar, but how do you put it back?
What will the elders be ready to do for victory over all their enemies?
"Does anyone else know about your research?" Hideo's voice made the interlocutors tense.
Suddenly, the spacious tea house shrank and began to loom over the heads of the young men. As if the expanding figure of the warmaster took up all the free space.
"No." The companions shook their heads.
"Good. I permit you to continue the research. And I permit you to produce the first trial batch of pills. If I understand correctly, you need... Experimental material for further tests?"
"Yes," Stas calmly accepted the old warmaster's heavy tone. The earthling was pleased that the elder immediately understood what they needed for successful trial advancement. The topic was too problematic.
"And, I'm sure I won't be mistaken to assume that ordinary people won't be enough for you?" In response, Kizashi shamefully lowered his gaze. He wasn't prepared for this. But the main thing was that he didn't say anything against it.
Stas had taken care of that, convincing him in advance.
For the sake of achieving his goals, the earthling was ready to go a long way.
"I give my permission. Make the first batch. And Shiro," Stas even leaned forward to show the utmost attention. "Only under your responsibility. If you start... Deep research, there will be no way back. They won't let you quit. Only the way forward. Don't let me down, you both."
Having said this, Hideo somehow seemed to shrink, once again resembling a peaceful old man. Ordyntsev imperceptibly exhaled, catching his breath. Kizashi did the same.
"I'm too old for such things. It's time for me to retire..." The old man started his familiar tune again.
"Grandfather, what are you talking about!" His grandson became agitated.
"Quiet!" The elder jokingly roared. "How dare you, failure, order me around! Where are my great-grandchildren, huh?!"
"Grandfather..."
"What 'grandfather'?!"
Stas smiled, watching the family squabble.
But his mind was far away. The earthling couldn't let go of the old warmaster's words: 'What did he mean that the very top is interested in me? Something tells me he's not talking about Izuna and Jishin.'