"Shiro-san, I don't know," Kizashi hesitated, not knowing what to say. Ordyntsev patiently waited for him to continue. Finally, the lad gathered his courage. "How do you know these pills are worth it? Once we make them, there's no turning back. What about our honor? What if these pills do harm?"
The earthling mentally smirked with irony.
Kizashi longed for the clan's recognition, their love and respect, but he was also afraid to take even one step toward it.
But things don't always turn out exactly as you want them to.
Stas had been expecting this conversation, so he wasn't surprised when, four days later, the lad decided to talk to him.
"Tell me, Kizashi, are there many people in the citadel who are interested in your accomplishments?" Stas began patiently, looking attentively at his interlocutor. He placed his hands on his crossed knees, palms facing the lad.
"What does that have to do with anything..."
"And how many of them come to visit you here? Do they congratulate you on your birthday or ask about your health?" The earthling's words made the lad wince and turn away.
Shiro's words burned the alchemist's soul more fiercely than red-hot steel because they struck right at the heart of his insecurities.
"But that doesn't mean anything!" he suddenly shouted, looking at Ordyntsev with fanatically burning eyes. "Let them despise me and refuse to talk, but I am still part of the clan and ready to sacrifice my life for them! I may remain an alchemist no one cares about, but my brothers and sisters will not suffer because of my actions. Why should I put myself above my fellow clan members?"
'Ah, he's still such a child. Such passion, and for what?'
"Perhaps because you're not just an alchemist, Kizashi," Stas tilted his head, glancing at the activated amulet against eavesdropping. "Unlike ordinary, even strong warmasters, you're a scholar whose achievements can help many future generations of the Sumada warmasters. If there's a chance to sacrifice some warmasters for the development of your future, then it should be done immediately..."
Ordyntsev instantly fell silent, noticing the long-awaited anger on the face of Hideo's grandson.
'That wasn't difficult.'
"How dare you speak that way about my clan! You have no clan, so you can't even understand the responsibility I bear! How can I betray my fellow clan members for something so... so..." The lad gasped, unable to find the words, and, jumping up, began pacing the room nervously.
Finally, after a couple of steps, he sat back down. Stas said nothing. He just looked at Kizashi intently, as if urging him to continue. The offended lad only furrowed his brows, refusing to admit defeat.
Suddenly, understanding dawned on the alchemist's stubborn face, which slowly transformed into guilt.
Ordyntsev briefly closed his eyes with satisfaction.
Kizashi, as he had hoped, remembered that Shiro HAD a clan. And now his words were a real insult. In local society, the importance of a clan or any other social group was hard to overestimate.
An awkward silence hung between them.
"Shiro-san, forgive me," Hideo's grandson forced out the words. "I..."
"No need, Kizashi," Stas interrupted him softly, taking a deep breath as if shedding some unpleasant memories. "I understand. Previously, I wasn't talking about your fellow clan members but about our future test subjects."
Kizashi blushed with shame.
"It's a very difficult and responsible decision. Nevertheless, I ask you to listen to me to the end." Ordyntsev chuckled at his own thoughts. "Do you think the elders wish the clan exclusively harm? They are old and experienced people. These people will be able to manage the stimulants far better than you, me, or even your grandfather."
'As if.'
"But..."
"Wait," Stas raised his hand. "Perhaps these very pills will save someone's life in some difficult situation. For example, when the Sumada are caught in an ambush. Yes, the pills will undermine someone's health. But the people will survive and emerge victorious to return to their families."
Kizashi listened attentively, no longer trying to interrupt Ordyntsev's inspired speech.
Yet, whatever the message of his words, the man's soul was filled with absolute indifference.
Stanislav had no doubt that the elders would not use the stimulants for the good of the clan. Rather, they would immediately use them to someone's detriment, seizing any suitable and unsuitable moment.
Did Ordyntsev feel sorry for the Sumada?
Not at all.
It would be their choice and their decision.
The only thing he intended to take care of was the safety of a few people whose fate had become important to him.
Jishin Sumada, the first friend in this terrifying new world. Hideo Sumada, the ironic old man who believed in Stas and gave him a teacher. Uramasa Kensei, a samurai in whose soul remained a bit of humanity. And finally, Kizashi Sumada, the one who opened up the true mysteries of magic to Stas.
He would ensure that the lives of these people turned out for the best. The fate of the others was indifferent to Ordyntsev.
"Perhaps you're right," Kizashi pondered deeply. "But even if so. What kind of respect can we talk about when we start testing on prisoners? I still think we could have tried to do without it..."
"It's impossible," Ordyntsev cut him off, adding steel to his voice. "You yourself said that repeat calculations could take more than a year, and even then, there would be no guarantee of success. Your first pill is a real miracle, which you should not count on happening again. Miracles are called miracles because they happen rarely. Testing on living warmasters will allow us to shorten the time to just a few months and significantly increase the chances of success."
And not letting Kizashi speak, Stas continued.
"Respect... You know, if you do nothing, nothing will happen. Right now, to most of the clan, you are practically dead. Worse, they despise you and do not consider you their equal. Yes, the way you wrest authority might be somewhat dishonorable and underhanded. However, even so, you will rise higher in their eyes than you are at the moment. Take the Eiko family, for example. They gained weight only because they controlled the city they created near the citadel. They are not so much warmasters as traders. Yet no one would say they lack power and the respect that comes from it."
'Of course, the Eiko are despised by most of the Council. But knowing what money can do, I won't be surprised if, in the end, it's this cunning family that emerges victorious, simply outliving their competitors.'
Ordyntsev let the lad digest his words, then leaned forward and placed his hand on the shoulder of the startled Kizashi.
"Besides, I didn't want to say this, but... Think about your grandfather. He doesn't want to show it, but it's hard for him to see you like this. He hears about the accomplishments of his acquaintances' children every day. And it hurts him that your family can't show the same. You know it. If you manage to rise, he will be very glad."
"You're right," Kizashi concluded firmly, making his choice. "I've allowed the clan to spit on me for too long. I will make them respect me. Whether they like what I'm going to do or not. It doesn't matter. This is my life, and I act for the good of the clan."
"That's the spirit," Stas patted his shoulder approvingly. "Now, let's talk about how exactly we should pull this off. First, we need to discuss how we must act so that we're not pushed aside when we achieve success."
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"What do you mean?" the alchemist asked, puzzled, making Stas sigh heavily.
As he suspected, a little lecture was unavoidable.
"Kizashi, you must understand that although your actions are aimed at benefiting the clan, the clan itself will not care who exactly presents your achievements to the public. How would you like it if all your and my merits were taken by, say, the son of one of the elders? He will complete your research and receive all the thanks, while you remain a nobody."
"How could someone do that?" the lad protested.
"Believe me, there are plenty of ways. And that's what we're going to prepare for now," the earthling cooled his zeal. "First of all, I want you to remember one simple truth. No matter what they tell you, no matter what they promise, you must not tell anyone anything or make any promises in return without consulting with your grandfather or me. The secret of the pills will be considered the secret of your and Hideo's family. The secrets of warmasters, if you prefer it to be put that way, and no one else. Can you promise me that?"
"Alright," the young alchemist said uncertainly. "I promise."
"Excellent," Ordyntsev nodded. "I don't know exactly how they will try to influence you, but I can guess the most common ways. For example, one of your past acquaintances. A beauty hard to find will suddenly remember you exist, or you will be called to the office of one of the elders, and he will address you with all due respect..."
"And one more thing," Stas looked seriously at Kizashi. "I want you to start teaching me not only the art of poisons but also the art of alchemy so that I can help you with the calculations. I'm ready to take on the simplest calculations and experiments to ease your labor."
"That's great news!" the lad was inspired. "Then we can move on to the main tests even faster than the scheduled time!"
Ordyntsev nodded silently. If he was one of the few masters who knew how to produce such an exclusive product, it would be another reason to take his wishes into account.
Gradually, the conversation turned to various details.
But the beginning was made.
*****
Unfortunately, willingly or unwillingly, the healing training had to be cut back, focusing on learning to create the simplest poisons and antidotes to them. Now, lessons in alchemy had been added, which, although they had a lot in common with the production of poisons, also had their differences.
From these lessons, Stas learned several important things.
Firstly, thanks to the presence of many dangerous magical creatures, the natives possessed a great variety of ingredients, which, after processing and mixing, gave astonishing effects.
Thus, many of the poisons had, believe it or not, a gaseous form. For example, after breaking sealed flasks, the liquid instantly transformed into gas and covered a certain volume of air.
The mystical specifics also imposed their characteristics on the damaging factors of poisons. Here, you had access to the full spectrum, from neurotoxins to poisons that acted exclusively on a certain group of muscles.
Without the warmasters' natural defenses, Stas suspected that local alchemists among ordinary people had every chance to decimate the population of the so-called "demons of battle."
Involuntarily, it became clear why the Sansa clan, although one of the strong clans of this world, was not great. Although they could transform their prana into poisons and acids, they usually used only the latter, because the former were very poorly effective against their opponents. Moreover, the poisons they produced, although they could be created in large quantities, had weak toxic properties.
Around the same time, Stas celebrated half a year of life in this grim world. That day, surprising Kizashi, he took his first and only day off, spending it lying on his bed, reminiscing about Earth, friends, and family.
Leviathan lay beside him, trying to soothe her melancholic owner with a quiet hissing.
The hand that stroked her head showed that the great master appreciated her efforts.
But Stanislav was not used to being idle, so the next day, he set about absorbing knowledge about killing his own kind with renewed force and zeal.
The training in advanced alchemy was quite primitive. Stas was given the next batch of ingredients from one creature or another, told about its features and appearance, and then instructed on how to do the initial processing of these ingredients.
The secondary processing, mixing, and experiments were left to the alchemist himself.
Sometimes, Kizashi gave scrolls that, besides the text, had pictures of various magical animals. Some of the text Ordyntsev even managed to read independently, which he was justly proud of.
Considering that he met Kizashi only two and a half months ago, this could be regarded as an excellent result.
The close combat training and spear handling were not forgotten either. More precisely, attempts to make at least something out of Stas. Judging by Kizashi's face, it was going badly. But even so, there were some successes.
Ordyntsev learned to stab and break the distance while controlling the situation behind his back. The latter was especially important to avoid tripping and hitting a wall. And he did this under prana strengthening and acceleration.
Such a skill was supposed to give Stas a chance to survive until actual experienced fighters came to his aid.
On the seventh month after arriving in this world and the third after starting serious training, Ordyntsev was summoned to the head of the clan.
The local climate reminded Stas of some kind of tropics. This meant that winter here was characterized by an incredible amount of rain, which simply flooded the sinful earth. Such downpours also occurred in part during autumn and spring.
Water, flowing from the upper floors of the citadel, roared into special drains that carried foaming streams towards the city along massive aqueducts.
At such times, at the very bottom, near such waterfalls, it was practically impossible to hear anything because of the noise of the falling water.
However, at the very top of the man-made mountain, where the head's chambers were located, there was silence, broken only by the quiet sound of droplets.
Stas had to pass through three guard posts, each of which thoroughly checked him for various surprises.
During these procedures, he was accompanied by two warmasters with white headbands. Their inscrutable faces gave nothing away, making Ordyntsev noticeably nervous.
The earthling had no idea what he had done to deserve such "honor."
None of Ordyntsev's plans were ready yet. He had almost nothing to offer Goro Sumada, so Stas was at a loss as to the reason for the call. And he himself was too insignificant to attract the attention of such a person.
Hideo's words from two months ago did not add to his peace of mind.
The clan head was found in his personal small garden, open to the sky. In some ways, this scene reminded Stas of Earth, where the rich could afford to build pools, restaurants, or minigolf courses on skyscrapers.
At the moment, Goro was busy with his pet falcon, which was greedily devouring pieces of meat.
Stas bowed deeply and then stood at attention, blending seamlessly into the background.
'Maybe he'll forget about me altogether, and I'll go back.' Ordyntsev thought sarcastically.
"You know, Shiro. I've been watching your progress closely," the calm voice of the head made Stas flinch in surprise, but he immediately collected himself.
"For me, this is..."
"Be silent," a light, almost imperceptible wave of bloodlust killed the earthling's words on his lips.
Stas had made no error in etiquette; it just turned out that the head wanted to talk to himself.
"You have not been with us for long, but even in such a short time, you have begun to make great progress. Your speed of mastering the healing technique cannot fail to amaze and not... provoke envy."
Stas had a bad feeling.
"It may seem," Goro continued, playing with the falcon and letting it grab his fingers. "That talent is a blessing from the gods. But in our world, it's not so simple. If a fish is born with the talent of a dragon, will it bring it happiness, or will it incur the wrath of other dragons?"
Goro shook his head regretfully.
"You, having lost your memory and your clan, will have the opportunity to answer this question. The Council of Elders has decided that, given the difficult situation at the front, all unoccupied healers must start taking missions. But since they are mostly unable to defend themselves, each of these healers will be attached to a combat team. You have been included in one of these teams."
Stas was speechless.
Involuntarily, he opened his mouth to object, but fortunately, he couldn't find the right words.
"You probably want to ask why?" Goro clarified with a hint of apology, though it was more a hint of a hint made out of politeness. "The thing is, the heads of families are very angry with you for being an adult clanless man who learns on par and sometimes even better than their children. As I said, the talent of a dragon is not always a blessing. If you have any questions, this is your last chance to ask them. Speak."
"What will happen to Kizashi?" Judging by the satisfied nod of the clan head, Stas asked exactly what was needed.
Obviously, attempts to explain their success in producing pills were worth nothing. Actually, as were pleas not to send him to his death.
No one was interested in either his life or his pleas.
Pity, as well as humanity, was not honored here.
As for the pills, Goro probably already knew about them.
"Apparently, old Hideo was not wrong about you. You've become a good friend to his grandson. Kizashi-kun is not in danger. I will be able to, as before, protect him from the long tongues of the Council. And although Hideo asked for you too, I don't see the point in worsening the situation for the sake of an unknown, albeit talented, healer."
Ordyntsev closed his eyes and took a deep breath to avoid doing something foolish. The words of the clan head were too unpleasant for his composure.
"But even though I won't be covering for you," Goro's words made Stas look at him in surprise. "You have piqued my interest, plus Hideo's request... So I'll give you a chance. Believe me, in your circumstances, that's a lot. I'll send you to a team whose commander is at odds with the Council, so he won't care about their dissatisfaction."
'And he won't bury you under the first bush on their orders.'
"Moreover, this commander will be strong enough to teach you something useful if you survive. And finally, his subordinates are promising, so it's in your interest to try to build relationships with them."
"Thank you, Goro-sama," Stas bowed deeply. And this time, he did it with sincere gratitude. "I will never forget your kindness."
Because the man sitting before him had indeed just saved his life. Had Ordyntsev been assigned to a regular team, he likely wouldn't have survived a day at the front. There were too many ready to follow any order from the Council.
"It's too early to thank me, Shiro-kun," Goro chuckled with a shadow of a smile, showing something other than composure for the first time. "First, survive the war, then we can talk. Believe me, even so, your chances are slim. Go now, and I hope you can still surprise me."
Ordyntsev bowed and quickly left the garden.
With his shoulder blades, he felt the intense gaze of one of the most powerful men in this world.
Ahead lay blood, death, and despair, but the serpentine eyes looked on with icy indifference.
Stanislav Ordyntsev would survive despite everything, walking over the corpses of anyone who stood in his way, and then he would return for those who sent him into this hell.