As soon as the news of the war between Hogoro and the Chinetsu reached the city where Stas and his resting fighters were located, all leisure was immediately canceled.
The preparations took place in a frenzied hurry. The young warmasters were bursting with emotions, barely containing their impatience.
And if one were to ask them what they were so eagerly expecting, they wouldn't be able to answer.
Their more experienced comrades were a bit more cautious, but they, too, radiated anticipation.
The only one among them who was gloomy was Ordyntsev himself.
His fighters kept throwing at him puzzled looks but said nothing. They simply attributed this behavior to yet another one of the Serpent's quirks.
After all, how many had there been, and how many more would there be? The main thing was that he fought brilliantly, was an excellent commander, and also a healer.
What he felt inside didn't particularly interest anyone.
Once everyone had packed up, a column of sixty warmasters hurriedly rushed toward the Citadel.
Some of the running warmasters, their nerves shaken, would occasionally break the formation, moving slightly ahead.
Their commanders had to call out to the fighters, restoring their sanity. However, they understood the reasons.
War, of all things!
The last global slaughter in this world had erupted almost a hundred years ago. Too long ago, in the opinion of both warmasters and samurai.
Yes, about thirty-five years ago, the world almost fell into this abyss. Three great clans had a dispute, but somehow after a couple of years of war, the countries managed to come to an agreement, and the warmasters calmed down soon after.
It was then that stars such as Fierce Ishiro, Jirobu Sansa, and Hideo the Ruthless rose to prominence, although the latter, nevertheless, was not proud of his nickname in the future and eventually retired from affairs, dedicating his life entirely to healing.
But now it was crystal clear to everyone that the time for talks had definitively passed. No more diplomats, no agreements, or treaties.
Everything would only end when the wooden soles of the ashigaru's boots crushed the skulls of their enemies, having their unsightly wives and children burned in the flames of their own homes. The fate of the beautiful wives was quite predictable.
And the closer they got to the lands of the Citadel, the more warmasters heading in the same direction they encountered.
For Stas, it was a revelation at some point to learn that, actually, not all Sumada lived in the Citadel or the nearby city.
Of course, for the allied Sumada clans, which were, in fact, practically all the other clans living in Rashta, this was only natural.
But the fact that full-fledged Sumada could live elsewhere turned out to be quite surprising.
And all the more interesting were the reasons for this.
It's easy to understand that the stronger the warmaster, the more valuable they are in the eyes of the clan, and the less the clan is able to exert pressure on them.
Even though Goro Sumada himself could handle any other supreme warmaster one-on-one, and most likely even several, the Citadel itself would sustain significant damage after their battle. And that's not to mention the nearby city and the surrounding lands.
As a result, some of the supreme, not wanting to fulfill all sorts of whims of the Council, expressed a desire to take under their protection some part of Rashta or even a neighboring small country.
There, they established their own clan branches, trained young clan members, and accepted orders, meanwhile spreading the name of Sumada among the populace and paying taxes to the Citadel.
Such "guilds" with "immortal masters" were scattered throughout all the cities of any significant size.
Sometimes the supreme warmasters even illegally recruited random children from villages, paying for them or simply taking them by force.
Why illegally? Simply because the Sumada, like any other clan, are very careful about sharing their knowledge. And they jealously monitor who and when this knowledge will be passed on.
Moreover, a supreme warmaster who decides to take a couple of dozen apprentices is a big headache for the central leadership.
What if they plan something nefarious? For example, overthrowing the main family.
Therefore, any such master and their apprentices are under relentless surveillance.
Besides, if there was some urgent matter, the Council could summon any of these supreme warmasters "for a chat," and they would be forced to come, though without a significant reason, such a trick would not be well-received.
Supreme warmasters had a habit of maintaining close ties and correspondence with each other, forming a cohesive community that even the very top had to reckon with. In this regard, even Goro Sumada was just the most equal among equals.
However, the fat times were over, and now all these monsters, along with their personal and even unofficial apprentices, servants, and subordinate clans, were confidently converging on the Citadel.
And since supreme warmasters preferred to live their lives with war rather than culture, having received a lot of money, they did not bother to acquire any semblance of good taste.
The caravan of each supreme could be recognized from afar, as no noble or samurai in a terrible dream would think of painting their processions so tastelessly and provocatively.
In a way, each of the supreme thus boasted to their counterparts.
Some of the supreme were carried in palanquins, not in the slightest bothered by the fact that these warmasters themselves could carry dozens of people on their shoulders at once.
Their carts were covered with so many blankets, carpets, fabrics, and whatever else you could think of that they looked like they belonged to genuine gypsies.
The supreme had no shame in dressing up their servants, making them at times resemble a human version of an onion.
Someone might laugh at the foolish and simple-minded supreme warmasters, who, like magpies, dragged anything that simply shone brightly. But knowing what these monsters were capable of and the vast graveyards that stretched behind them, any mockery would die on your lips once you faced them.
They seemed to invite those around to challenge and mock them.
The tasteless luxury, screaming with the mouths of countless victims and stained with the metaphysical blood dripping from the fabrics, was what the supreme and their corteges represented.
From this perspective, the disdain of the samurai and monks for the warmasters became quite understandable.
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Reading about barbarians in books is fun, but in personal interaction, it's hard to find anything pleasant in them.
And now they all filled the Sumada city, which with apparent difficulty was digesting such a number of odious personalities.
For each of them demanded special attention, was touchy, and held grudges.
If all this happened in another city, everything around would have flared up long ago or, considering the Sumada specificity, would have sunk deep into hell.
As for Stas, having released his fighters and given the final orders to the commanders, he hurriedly went to meet with Jishin.
It was time to clarify what to do next.
*****
"What do you mean I won't be serving in your troops?" Stas's voice wasn't loud, but it conveyed his meaning clearly.
Judging by how the younger prince flushed with anger, he got the message.
"Just like that!" Jishin snapped back. "In case you forgot, it's my dearest brother who's in charge of the troops, not me. My business is the treasury." Jishin was clearly on edge, which didn't help to defuse the situation.
"Stop trying to pull the wool over my eyes," Ordyntsev didn't accept the explanation. "Your rank and achievements also allow you to become a commander and report only directly to your father. So why didn't you take me with you? Or did you just forget?!" The thought that came to him at the end infuriated even the usually calm Ordyntsev.
To end up at the mercy of Jishin's brother, who harbored ill will against him, due to someone's forgetfulness, would be the most foolish thing possible.
"Don't talk nonsense!" Jishin, who had just calmed down a bit, snapped back. Apparently, he needed someone to vent to. "As soon as I heard about the start of the war, I immediately sent a couple of people to the officials to have you listed under my command in the forming divisions."
"And what happened?" Stas also lowered his tone and listened attentively.
"Idiocy happened. Those two idiots managed to screw up and cede to my brother's people. And they didn't have the courage to tell me right away. If I had found out immediately, there might have been a chance. But no, those two dolts tried to solve the problem on their own without informing me. And while I thought everything had been settled, they did nothing useful. When it finally occurred to their feeble brains to tell me everything, it was already too late.
"I see," sighed Ordyntsev heavily. The problem of stupid executors was all too familiar to him.
"And I was overwhelmed with a demon's cloud of work. You wouldn't believe how unprepared we are for this war!" Jishin continued to lament. "It seems we were preparing, knew it would happen, but as soon as it came down to the main thing, a whole bunch of problems surfaced!"
But Jishin quickly caught himself, seeing Stas's suspiciously thoughtful face.
"Don't worry about those two. I've sent them to the headquarters on the very front line. If they survive, good. If not, then that's their fate. I don't need idiots in my inner circle. And as for your assignment, I'll try to transfer you to me as soon as I can, but, as you understand, it takes time.
"Well, whatever," chuckled Stas. He didn't see the point in playing the "offended" any longer. There was nothing that could be done now. "But you owe me one, Jishin.
"I knew it," the prince rolled his eyes, smiling weakly. "By the way, I casually inquired where you were shoved, and it seems like there's nothing unusual. But you better double-check."
At that moment, someone pounded on the door, causing Jishin to grimace.
"Something's happened again. I'd like to talk to you more, but you understand..."
"Enjoy." Ordyntsev smiled, leaving the prince to face a heap of tasks that no one but him could solve.
'That's why I never wanted to become something like a chief physician. A damn cloud of responsibility, problems, and the need to knock some sense into everyone, handing out therapeutic slaps to prevent others from getting cocky. That's definitely not my pipe dream.'
The way to the administration went quickly, and the only thing that pleased him at that moment was Leviathan, who was beaming with satisfaction, absolutely reveling in swimming through the stone of the Citadel.
When asked about the difference between the earth outside and the stone here, she couldn't give a clear answer, but she thought there was a vague shade in the aftertaste of the natural energy, something Ordyntsev made a note to someday verify.
Did the natural energy change when it was near a large amount of prana generated by humans?
There were many of the latter around, all hurrying somewhere, constantly bumping into and cursing each other.
One had to dodge warmasters who suddenly appeared from the side time and again.
Closer to the desired floor, Stas even ran along the outer wall, buffeted by all the winds, so great was the crush on the stairs.
The funniest thing was that even the walls were crowded. As for the queues, they were kilometers long.
Fortunately, there was one window recommended by Io for use in such cases.
Climbing through the intended window, he immediately got a reprimand from a strict elderly clerk. The office was small, and she occupied it alone. On the wall hung a couple of expensive blades and some verses in a golden frame.
"Stop climbing through this damned window already. Who were doors invented for, I ask?" she pointed with a wrinkled hand at the door frame. "They just keep crawling and crawling; how much is enough?"
A single message from Leviathan about the prana level of this old lady was enough for Stas to bow deeply and shower her with apologies.
"Did you finally recognize me?" the old lady chuckled, appraising Ordyntsev through the narrow slits of her eyes. "Although no, what am I saying, you are too young. But you have some notable eyes; are you a student of Hideo?"
"Not quite, lady," Stas corrected with all due respect. "A student of his grandson. Excuse me, lady, may I ask...
"Lady Nariyaka," the old woman nodded. "Alright, what brings you? And how did you find out about me?"
"Master Io told me. I want to find out which division I'm assigned to," Stas reported crisply.
"Little Io wouldn't send just anyone to me," the old lady was surprised. "But let's help you with your problem." She took a bell from the desk and rang it a couple of times.
The doors opened immediately, and a young man and woman stepped in, bowing at once.
"Tell this young man where he's assigned. And you," she turned to Stas. "If you survive this war, come by for a chat. Io hasn't sent anyone to me in a long time. I'm quite curious about what made you so interesting to him."
"Thank you, lady." After that, all three of them left the office of the eerie old woman. Ordyntsev swore to himself to stay as far away from this office as possible.
The principle "Stay away from all old warmasters" was supplemented with a new sub-item "... especially stay away if they have as much prana as a head of some not-so-shabby clan."
As it turned out from Nariyaka's assistants, Stas's battalion was located between the city and the Citadel on the southern fields.
The journey there took twenty minutes, and even then, it was only because Stas wasn't in a hurry.
But there he unexpectedly encountered acquaintances who, however, were not particularly happy to see him.
"Oh, look who showed up," Mei shot Stas a maximally disdainful look and turned away.
Ordyntsev narrowed his eyes. He couldn't understand why he had earned such treatment, so he didn't like what was happening.
Eiji, standing nearby, was not so uncompromising. Although he gave Stas a complex look, he still bowed in greeting.
"Why is Mei angry with me?" Stas decided to get straight to the point, so he demonstratively addressed Eiji. "Did she get up on the wrong side of the bed?"
"Ah, it's complicated," the young man sighed. "I heard you've made it big. Always disappearing on secret missions, so you can't be found, and if one starts asking questions about you, they are immediately directed to the prince."
He hesitated.
"And now your fame has backfired on all of us." He finally finished, clearly uncomfortable that he seemed to be supporting Mei.
"What do you mean..." Stas frowned.
Mei turned sharply, glaring at Shiro with an angry look.
"My father was supposed to send me to a completely different unit! Everything was already planned when we were demonstratively denied. And do you know where the order to cancel came from? From the very top, from Master Izuna!" She took a deep breath. "If it weren't for your dealings with the younger prince, we wouldn't even be here! You've dragged us into trouble. And because of you, we risk dying!"
"Listen, Mei," Stas was polite but cold. "You may be right about some things, but that doesn't give you the right to speak to me in that tone. Yes, what happened is regrettable, but we are all warmasters and should be prepared for something like this..."
"Don't get ahead of yourself!" Mei cut him off, defiantly thrusting forward her chest, noticeably enlarged over the past time. "Just because you've been formally accepted into the clan doesn't make you equal to me, so watch your words and remember who and what you're saying!"
"I do that," Stas replied, receiving Leviathan's mental suggestion to nip her leg. Considering the snake's teeth, it was guaranteed amputation. "You, on the other hand, clearly..."
"Kids, kids, don't fight! Why kill each other when you can soon kill as many enemies as you want."
"Master Jun!" Eiji exclaimed joyfully, turning around.
The approaching sensei had hardly changed. Still the same savage appearance, black hair scattered all over the skin, and bristles as stiff as a brush on his face. His favorite club hung from his belt.
"In my own magnificent person," Jun agreed, stopping near them.
"Did you come to see us off?" Mei asked tiredly, her anger transitioning to depression.
"Nope," the man replied cheerfully. "I'm assigned to your same battalion. So let's go, just like in the good old days, all together. It'll be a chance to show your old teacher what you've learned."
"Master Izuna ordered you to go with us?" Stas asked, surprised. The sensei's appearance did not fit into the plan of the elder prince he had mentally outlined.
"As if I'm going to ask him," the master snorted. "I came and told them straight: I want to fight alongside my students. If you don't want trouble, then quickly write it down. They didn't dare object, as they already had enough problems with my colleagues."
"That's great news!" Mei smiled, too, having stopped burying herself prematurely.
"Well, that's one way to put it, my dear students," Jun smirked, causing the trio to pale. "I'm not too fond of sitting on my arse in defense, so we're in for a lot of fun."
"But we're ordered to escort a thousand samurai, who are only supposed to occupy a fortress on the border..." Mei squeaked.
"I'm sure the one who will command there won't mind if we occasionally get some fresh air."
Now, the appearance of the sensei didn't seem so positive anymore.