"Ahem-ahem," Jun loudly and lengthily began to cough, making the nerves of the surrounding warmasters literally buzz with tension.
"Fy-y-yr!" Finally, he blew his nose robustly, pressing one nostril closed, and then meticulously wiped his finger on the back of some not particularly important warmaster sitting in front of him. Judging by how the latter froze, he was clearly in a state between blinding rage and losing consciousness from anger.
"Ah, that's better," Stas's sensei straightened up and proudly surveyed the gathered crowd. "As I said earlier, I have something to say. First and foremost, I would like to discuss the history of our clan. To thoroughly remember all that has made us who we are..."
Stas, like the elders, judging by their narrowed eyes, began to develop vague suspicions.
"Since ancient times, our clan has been one of the strongest in our world. Mastering earth techniques, we have participated in the construction of fortresses and defenses during many wars and battles. We destroyed mountains and created them anew. And everywhere we carried the proud name of Sumada..."
Jun passionately began to preach about how great and powerful the earth clan was. The elders, who had been tense at first, gradually started to calm down, nodding along with the words of the rambunctious warmaster.
Knowing the habits of this rebel, they expected something much worse from him. And a little bit of demagoguery could be tolerated.
But Ordyntsev just silently closed his eyes. He knew his sensei too well not to see the sarcastic bottom behind this facade.
And soon, the elders saw it, too.
If they listened to the first five minutes of preaching about the clan's greatness with some approval, then when Jun smoothly transitioned to listing all the victories and defeats of Sumada over hundreds of years of their existence, suspicions began to arise in their minds.
By the fifteenth minute of his fiery speech, even the dimmest among them realized that this "son of a dog" was blatantly mocking them, senselessly wasting everyone's time.
Considering that the previous voters spent no more than two or three minutes on their speeches, one could only marvel at the patience of the warmasters.
The staff in the hands of the elder conducting the ceremony struck the stone floor thunderously.
"Jun-san," Kubo tried to appease the supreme warmaster and remind him of his barely breathing conscience. "Your speech is very interesting and important, but everyone here is eager to hear who you will choose..."
"What?!" Jun's loud exclamation of righteous indignation made the nearest warmasters visibly jump. "You think you can just interrupt me like that? Maybe you also think it's acceptable to interfere with my own choice? Or perhaps our history is just dirt and rubbish, not worthy to be mentioned?"
"No, no, of course not," the old man even recoiled from the supreme warmaster's directed anger. Jun could be frightening when he wanted to be. "But you've been... going on for quite a while..."
"It's an integral part of my speech," Jun snorted with a sense of offended dignity. "Please don't interrupt me again. Now, where was I? Oh Kami, I forgot. Looks like I'll have to start from the beginning..."
A real wave of anger swept through the ranks of the warmasters, and a revolt was not far off.
"Oh no, I remember now," Jun corrected himself nonchalantly, causing the warmasters, who had almost gotten to their feet, to slowly sit back down. The angry glares they tried to burn him with he masterfully ignored.
"As I was saying, the victory over Avasaki two hundred years ago opened up excellent prospects for our clan. It was then that we pledged our loyalty to the country that now bears the proud name of Rashta..."
With each passing minute, the hall seemed to darken, so much bloodthirst swirled in the air.
The problem, however, lay in the fact that now everyone present, save for the neutral Kubo, was aligned in some manner with one of the two active candidates.
This meant that anyone who dared to object to the mocking Jun risked spoiling the chances of their candidate's victory.
In the end, no one dared to take such a risk, which the supreme shamelessly exploited.
But fifteen minutes smoothly turned into twenty, then approached twenty-five, and Jun's speech, to the displeasure of the surrounding warmasters, showed no signs of ending!
If, at first, the elders hoped that "Pain-in-someone's-ass Jun" would run out of steam due to lack of historical knowledge, now it became clear that they greatly underestimated him.
The supreme spouted historical facts and dates as if he had studied at some local historical faculty.
Yes, during Stas's training, Jun sometimes cited various historical examples, but the earthling had no idea that his teacher took his hobby so seriously.
The situation was sliding into a blatant farce, and no one knew how to solve it.
However, desperate times call for desperate measures.
Carefully observing the hall, Stas managed to notice in time how the elder from the Chiyo family, who supported Izuna, secretly used prana to grow a small stone tablet right in front of the elder from the Oro family, who supported Jishin.
Having read the message, Mitsuo visibly grimaced but fell into thought. After a moment, casting a probing glance at his adversary, he nodded ever so slightly.
After the secret signal, both elders stood up from their places, immediately hurling accusations at the supreme, who had lost all restraint.
"Jun! You've always been known for your frivolity, but today, you've outdone yourself!"
"That's right! You talk more than anyone else. Stop dragging this out and just say who you're giving your damned vote to!"
Elders Gyujin and Mitsuo jointly criticized Jun, continuing to drill him with angry stares. They didn't sit back down, as they intended to get the answer they needed in any case.
"Ah? I got carried away. My apologies." Jun's eyes popped in feigned surprise, as if he hadn't been shouting like a madman just ten minutes ago.
The elders, bracing for a lengthy argument, suddenly choked on air, unprepared for such easy acquiescence from the well-known for his obstinance Jun.
"So, you want to hear my decision. Well, alright. I'll say it." The supreme nodded seriously.
The surrounding warmasters even leaned forward to hear his words better.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Finally, Jun decided to get serious and end his charade.
"And I choose," the supreme paused. "Izuna Sumada!"
For a moment, there was silence, and then all the nearby rows were engulfed in a collective "ah" from the assembled. In the eyes of Izuna's supporters, insane joy began to bloom, while in the ranks of Jishin's people, there was horror.
"Oh, my mistake," Jun corrected himself nonchalantly, smiling radiantly. "I meant to say, I vote for Jishin Sumada. You understand, the tense situation, I get names mixed up."
"Yes!" Jishin's people began to leap to their feet. The same did Izuna's supporters, shouting insults and protests.
They were incredibly outraged by Jun's going back on his first words and demanded that they be recognized as valid.
They insisted that a voter cannot take back his first choice, even if he "made a mistake."
All this caused wild confusion, shouts, and swears.
Some of the warmasters tried to calm the raging arguers, but to no avail.
Stas rolled his eyes. As he expected, his teacher had managed to display his true colors, starting a disgraceful quarrel out of nowhere.
But as it became known a little later, that wasn't all Jun had prepared for the gathering.
"A disgusting spectacle," the loud, prana-boosted words forced the warmasters to stop and pay attention to the speaker. And it was still the same Jun.
Right now, he was looking at the arguing crowd with disdain, arms folded across his chest.
"How dare you?" someone from Izuna's supporters, apparently one of the elders, couldn't bear such an attitude. "Who gave you the right to talk like that and use prana?!"
"You did," the supreme's words were laced with indifference. "Look around." He gestured around the hall. "Take a good look, then tell yourself, is this what made us a great clan?"
The chatter gradually began to die down as people listened to Stas's sensei.
"What do you mean?" Naturally, someone eventually asked Jun this question.
"It's simple," he snickered. "Look at me. Who do you see? When I look in the mirror, I see an alcoholic, an irresponsible and rude person. So, should someone like me be making decisions about the future of the clan? How can you entrust someone like me with such a crucial matter? Don't you see the incredible folly and mockery in this?"
Jun's words made the voters wait with interest to hear what else he would say. And the warmaster did not disappoint.
"Has any of you thought about what will happen when one of the candidates wins? If anyone has forgotten, we're at war. And choosing a clan head won't help us resolve the existing conflicts. Sooner or later, confrontations will start, and then it's not far to a split. Is that what you want for our clan?"
Silence was his only answer.
"That's why I see all this," Jun waved his hands. "As nothing but a damned farce. There's only one way that will allow us all to live on and eliminate further disputes."
Jun paused, no longer smiling.
"A duel." It wasn't to say that this word exploded in the hall, but it certainly caught attention.
"Only a duel can determine who is worthy of this place, and nothing else. The right of strength is sacred, and it's one of our fundamental traditions. This will solve all the problems." Jun's gaze locked unerringly on both princes.
Stas finally realized what Jun wanted to do.
Even if Jishin won the election, the tension in the clan would have persisted. The younger prince would not have been able to do anything about his brother, as it would have raised an incredible wave of outrage.
But the sacred duel opened several doors for Jishin.
And even if he didn't kill his brother, the latter's reputation would have suffered greatly, depriving him of much of his political influence.
And refusing the duel would lead to the same defeat. Warmasters will not follow a weak leader.
The assembled looked at the frozen princes with much greater attention.
No one said a word, but the message was clear.
A decision had to be made, and Jishin made his choice.
Slowly, like a poorly lubricated mechanism, he turned to Izuna. The elder prince also looked at his brother. But if Jishin's eyes only held tension, then Izuna's easily betrayed hatred and, most importantly, fear.
The elder prince was afraid, for he knew all too well that in terms of strength, he was no match for his brother.
"Izuna Sumada," Jishin parted his lips, fused from prolonged silence. "I, Jishin Sumada, challenge you for the right to be the head of the Sumada clan. Do you accept the challenge?"
The answer was a strangling rage.
"I, Izuna Sumada, accept your challenge," the elder prince's reply squeaked like rusty hinges.
"I suggest we hold the duel in the wasteland behind the Citadel," Jun intervened again, clearly pleased. "Since there's no need to delay, it would be better to gather in two hours. Does anyone object?"
Stas mentally chuckled. His sensei, with the grace of a loaded dump truck, cut off any opportunity for Izuna to back out of the upcoming duel.
"No," Jishin immediately responded, carefully watching his brother. "I have no objections."
The latter clearly felt out of his element. He cast a quick glance at the rows of the amphitheater as if hoping to get help from someone.
But even his own people were silent.
At that very moment, only the prince himself could help himself.
"I don't have any either," he managed to say with difficulty.
"Excellent," Jun clapped his hands joyfully. "Now, we should head to the wasteland to pick the best spots. The show promises to be unforgettable, you can believe me! Kubo-san, you don't mind, do you?" Jun mockingly asked the official, causing him to irritably jerk his head.
Nodding, Jun cheerfully whistled as he headed for the exit. After exchanging glances, the other warmasters followed him.
Jishin, without looking back, made his way towards the nearest doors. Stas and Gash dutifully followed right behind him.
It was hard to say what was on the younger prince's mind, but clearly nothing good.
*****
"Hello, sensei," Stas sat down next to Jun, who had sprawled out on a little stone "tower."
The wasteland mentioned by his teacher was a vast bald patch where hardly anything grew taller than modest tufts of thin grass.
This place might have interested Ordyntsev if he hadn't had other topics for research.
As a guess, Stas might have said that once there was a particularly fierce battle between the ancestors of Sumada and the Deathbringers here. And the afflicted earth still bore the scars of that terrible fight.
"And hello to you, student. Decided to watch the upcoming brawl?"
"What kind of brawl will it be? More like a beating."
"You're right. But I'm still going to enjoy watching it." Jun shrugged, not taking his eyes off the field stretching out before them.
At the moment, around the edges of this giant empty space, dozens of small stone towers and simply mounds were rising, from which members of the Council and the main families were going to watch the unfolding duel.
As it soon became clear, despite the modest preparation time, many other warmasters who were not present at the ceremony also arrived at this place.
Rumors spread very quickly.
Moreover, in some places, even ordinary people could be seen, though they were under the protection of strong warmasters.
Techniques can sometimes fly not where they should, so most weak warmasters and ordinary people tended to concentrate around the Sumada supremes.
"You still haven't forgiven him for that setup, have you?" Stas casually clarified.
"Of course not," Jun snorted. Stas had expected something like this. Although his master had not shown his attitude to what happened in Gaibatsu, it didn't mean he had forgotten. "I'm the only one with the right to kill my students. And the fact that he tried to do it with someone else's hands doesn't excuse him!"
"By your behavior, sensei, one wouldn't guess you care about us that much," Stas teased slyly, egging on the master. "Have we managed to find a place in your stony heart?"
"Keep it up, and I'll throw you off here," Jun jokingly threatened, opening a bottle he pulled from a scroll. "Want some?"
"I don't like sake."
"This isn't sake," Stas looked at his grinning teacher in surprise.
"A new batch of your swill was just brewed."
"Then I won't refuse." Stas took the bottle of mead and took a small sip. The sweet taste immediately spread through his throat, evoking a familiar sense of home, while a distinct aftertaste indicated that this mead was made specifically for warmasters.
In such cases, special herbal tinctures were added, slightly weakening the protective functions of the bodies of these human-like death machines.
Judging by the sensations of the earthling, this particular bottle weakened them only slightly, so as not to spoil the taste of the mead itself.
"Aren't you afraid of revenge from all those you mocked for almost half an hour?" Although Stas asked this question as if jokingly, he was indeed interested in the answer.
Warmasters were not people you could laugh at without consequences.
"Of course not," Jun dismissed the Seprent's concern. "All these self-important bigwigs know my character and what a 'piece of shit' I am. Believe me, they've tried to do something so many times in the past that now they just try to ignore me. It's less costly for them that way."
"Glad nothing will happen to you."
"Besides," the sensei suddenly slapped Stas hard on the shoulder, nearly sending him tumbling down. If it weren't for his adherence to the stone, Jun might have succeeded. And judging by the teacher's mischievous smirk, he was hoping for something like that. "Won't you speak to the future clan head on behalf of your good ol sensei?"
"Are you so sure Jishin will win this fight?" Stas grunted, rubbing his shoulder, which was burning with pain. His teacher's strength was immense.
"Ask something less obvious. The real question is how he will use his victory." A dark promise sounded in Jun's voice.
Teacher and student finally focused entirely on the wasteland, for there, from opposite sides, two approaching figures of the princes appeared.
The duel began.