CHAPTER 9: A LEAP IN PLACE (1/3)

"To bathe or not to bathe? That is the question," I pondered as I stood in front of the dam formed by a once-fallen boulder in a small river or a large stream. Just like the previous one, this caravan stop was located near a water source. A village was also a couple of kilometers away.

Fortunately, the potentially suicidal experiment of synchronizing with the teigu had ended not as badly as it could have, and by evening, I was feeling noticeably better. After resting, taking a stroll on patrol, sipping hot tea, and consuming some healing "dark side cookies," I had managed to regain some semblance of normality. That's why I found myself at the shore of the dam.

The rustic houses and peasants worn down by life didn't interest me, and I didn't want to indulge in idleness. Despite some weakness, I decided to dedicate my free time to training. Without calling any of the others, I summoned my sentient minion and extracted some information from it under the guise of casual conversation. As a warrior of the spirit, Kenta is not my rival, but I found that there are interesting nuances in his fighting techniques.

Listening to the life story of a humble noble, officer, and then a rebel proved to be quite intriguing, and many things took on unexpected dimensions.

It turned out that the revolutionary movement didn't possess even a fraction of the unity I had imagined when hearing the term "Revolutionary Army." Logically, it made sense, but I hadn't previously considered the various types of rebels.

Among them, there were numerous factions with different, sometimes conflicting, positions. There were radicals seeking to completely destroy the existing world order, separatists, and outright bandits who looted and burned estates under revolutionary slogans. On the other end of the spectrum, there were fairly reasonable parties with constructive reform plans. These included liberals, who were only loosely associated with the revolutionary movement, republicans, and finally, the loyalists to which my minion belonged.

Kenta wasn't particularly well-versed in politics, so he could only describe the platform of his own faction. He knew that liberals were primarily supported by intellectuals and the bourgeoisie. Republicans had the backing of the aristocracy and advocated for expanding the powers of the House of Lords.

However, when it came to loyalists, Kenta spoke with fervor and conviction.

They weren't revolutionaries at all; they were true patriots aiming to overthrow the criminal regime of Onest and save the Emperor. Naturally, once the young ruler was removed from power, the "benefactors of the nation" would step in as the new advisors and ministers to guide the young monarch to rule in the best interests of the country.

However, despite my low opinion of the goals of the loyalist leaders, their declared program looked... not bad. Yeah. A regulated twelve-hour workday, a fixed rental rate for cultivated land for peasants, a ban on corporal punishment, and equal taxation of all estates, unlike the current system where the nobles, being the richest class, practically paid no taxes.

According to Kent, almost all of the provisions of the loyalists' program were copied from the planned but never implemented reforms of the previous Emperor.

Well, this made it clearer why the sudden "incurable illness" of the monarch and the "heavy melancholy" that led to the Empress's grave occurred. Against this backdrop, it was almost surprising that Prime Minister Chouri didn't suffer from an overdose of poison in his system or drown in his bathtub; he just received a dismissal.

Oh my, what audacity! To challenge your own ruling class?! Suicidal, those people were suicidal.

Kenta spoke less willingly about himself, still harboring suspicions about me. But once he realized that I wasn't trying to extract names and affiliations from him, he relaxed and became more talkative.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Born in the western part of the country, Kenta was the offspring of a not-so-wealthy family of hereditary military officers. He had always possessed a heightened sense of justice and straightforwardness, which often got him into trouble. Initially, due to a conflict with local "golden children," he was nearly expelled from military school. Then, after being assigned (not without the help of his "new friends") to one of the worst units specializing in monster extermination, he couldn't rise above the rank of captain.

For comparison, even an Adept "from the streets" could be promoted to the rank of lieutenant if they wanted to join the army. It had its quirks, but that was the general practice. A captain who had reached the lower echelons of Warrior rank was not even remotely amusing.

The secret to such a "successful" career lay in Kenta's character. Not only did he not understand how to save ammunition by flooding monsters with the bodies of soldiers, but he also actively defended his position, fighting theft and injustice. It can't be said that he had nothing to fight with; the Army was indeed going through tough times, and with the arrival of the new Minister of Defense, it had become downright catastrophic. However, Kent's superiors and quartermasters didn't appreciate his input.

And how could they appreciate someone who didn't understand that bugs and larvae were also meat, and therefore, soldier's food was only improved by them? Or the fact that out of a hundred cartridges per year for a rifle, ninety five are virtual, existing only on paper, and to demand them from suppliers is an act of stupidity and bad manners? It was no wonder that with the arrival of the new military minister, who initiated a series of reassignments and layoffs, the inconvenient officer was sent into retirement with the diplomatic wording of "incomplete service compliance."

But then, a friend from his youth came to Kenta's rescue, opening his eyes to the lawlessness around him and the necessity to combat it. This transformed Kenta into a confidant of one of the leaders of the rebels, an officer of the Revolutionary Army, and an instructor to "warriors of justice."

With time, as the organization expanded and grew wealthier, and as more and more rose-haired Westerners began to appear among the revolutionaries, Kenta began to realize that something was amiss. Several actions aimed at eliminating the most competent military commanders and officials of the border regions, as well as increasingly loud slogans like "the criminal government is the deadliest enemy of our people, and in our sacred struggle against it, even external foes unwittingly become our allies!" didn't align with his ideals of "warriors of justice."

In the end, after falling out even with former friends, Kenta moved to the central part of the country and joined another group of loyalists, which our group eventually uncovered. The man only regretted two things: his family, with whom he had hardly communicated in recent years, limiting himself to sending money, and the fact that he hadn't had the chance to eliminate one of the hubs of the slave trade targeted by his combat group.

That's the kind of minion I had: a straightforward, unwavering idealist who couldn't pretend or be hypocritical. Live with honor, die without fear— that's how Kenta's position could be characterized. As a person, I couldn't help but feel some sympathy for him. Individuals like these "knights" became either honorable enemies or loyal friends, depending on the circumstances. Among the base's officers, I would have been happy to see someone like him.

But as subordinates, they were quite a headache.

It wasn't just Kenta's annoying attempts to push his religious and revolutionary ideology onto me; it was that he would only work for conscience, not out of fear, as long as the tasks aligned with his beliefs. Even though I felt that after his agreement to cooperate and formal recognition of my authority, the link between the puppet and me had strengthened, giving me a bit more control, he was still far from compliant.

Overall, reasonable puppets turned out to be quite willful tools.

Thinking this way, I couldn't help but smirk. Probably, officers at the Base had similar thoughts when they used narcotics and hypno-inductors on us. Regardless, it might be worth experimenting on someone useless later, attempting to leave their mind intact but suppress their will. Although the thought of having to become like them to defeat those I hated filled me with grim amusement and an unsettling feeling deep down.

Actually, despite the annoying weakness that hadn't completely left me, the recent training didn't tire me much and certainly didn't make me break a sweat. Instead, I just wanted to refresh my mind after dealing with the minion. Warriors of spirit didn't sweat much, it seemed. Perhaps, spiritual strength somehow affected heat exchange, which is why we suffered less from temperature fluctuations, illnesses, poisons, and even insects. I looked at the small bloodsuckers buzzing nearby. Even without consciously reinforcing it, my skin remained an impenetrable barrier to mosquitoes. Amused, I drew my katana and swiftly dispatched several offenders. One lost the right wing, and the second — the left. Smiling with satisfaction, I returned the blade to its sheath.

In general, the stronger you were, the more comfortable life was. That's probably why many affluent individuals tried to awaken at least minimal spiritual abilities in themselves. After pondering for a while, I made up my mind.

"Ah, to hell with it, I'll take a dive," I muttered to myself and began undressing. After all, the unpleasant cold in my chest had nothing to do with the pleasant coolness of the flowing water.

A few minutes later, somewhat refreshed, I emerged from the water, snorting with satisfaction. I decided not to dive, so as not to wet my hair. Nevertheless, the clean cold water had a beneficial effect, lifting my mood. In the end, it was worth a swim! I dried myself with a towel taken from my shoulder bag and got dressed.

Finishing up, I noticed muffled voices about a hundred and fifty meters downstream. One female and two male voices. The female voice sounded frightened, while the two intoxicated males seemed to be in a jolly mood, occasionally interrupted by laughter. One of them struck me as familiar.

"It seems someone else decided to take a bath and encountered some unexpected admirers. Let's satisfy our curiosity."