Chapter 51: Ruckus

Chapter 51: Ruckus

There was a brief moment of tension as both groups stood still. Then the leader of the visiting nomads laughed.

“I like your attitude northman!” He bellowed. “Nowhere does hospitality like beyond the pass! It’s a damn travesty!”

Sieg grinned. “You’ll have to forgive them, their culture is far too advanced for such things.”

Both men clasped forearms as if they were long time friends. Johan spluttered in the background, he muttered dark words and stalked off.

With that the tension broke. The nomads, all on the younger side of adulthood, some with more prominent horns and some lacking them entirely, began to pull out skins filled with fragrant liquid. Drink, as it turned out, was a fantastic icebreaker.Ne/w novel chapters are published at novelhall.com

Leif watched, an observer rather than a participant. He watched the golden trail of time follow each gesture, he saw different groups as they moved around. With each moment they intermixed, their trails weaving together like a complex web.

With so many people it was difficult to accurately read their emotions and intent, Leif suspected it was because of his lack of experience with [Amber Sympathy].

Actually. He thought. Couldn’t my aura be of use? Leif focused, utilising his recently improved [Charisma] attribute. Control was never something he had really tried, other than expanding and retracting of course.

As the gathering morphed into a party Leif practised. At first he retracted his presence, pulling it around him much like the heavy cloak he was wearing. Then he tried to shape it, a tendril snaked out but he quickly lost control as he moved it too far away, the connection fraying.

He pushed and pulled, reshaping his [Aura of Nobility] like wet clay. Leif withdrew into himself, the activity letting him forget his loneliness. As the minutes ticked by his control slowly became more deft, the complexity of forms he could shape his aura into improving.

Leif jerked in surprise when his focus was interrupted by a system notification.

Congratulations! Your [Noble] skill [Aura of Nobility] has met an upgrade threshold!

Would you like to upgrade [Aura of Nobility] from rank I to rank II? Y/N

He accepted the prompt, somewhat surprised at how easy the upgrade had been to obtain. His aura seemed to tremble, then condense, like early morning mist pooling in valleys.

If before his aura had been blurry and insubstantial, now it had sharpened into focus. The difference was subtle but immediate. Or at least Leif thought it was subtle. Several intents locked onto him from the party goers who were nearest.

All but one belonged to members of the expedition, but none he knew beyond the vaguest of details. One by one their focus slid away and back to the increasingly rowdy impromptu festivities.

I guess they felt the change in my aura? Leif thought. He patiently waited for the attention to slip off of him. Now that his aura skill had upgraded he could sense the auras of those nearby with a brand new clarity.

But it wasn’t just that. All of his esoteric senses became slightly clearer, growing in fidelity with every passing moment. The lifeforce surrounding him, mostly blurry and diffuse due to the sheer quantity of people, became far more defined. It wasn’t to the point he could pinpoint individuals, he would need more practice.

Then he noticed one of the intents hadn’t left him. He glanced up and met the gaze of a nomad woman. Her long cloud-like hair billowed down her back and her similarly bushy eyebrows were cocked in amusement. Small horns barely poked out from beneath the layer of fluff.

She looked him up and down, then smirked. Leif grumbled internally as he refocused on his aura. Is she mocking me? Does she find my isolation funny? Did she-

“Greetings.” A voice said, a jovial lilt to its accented tone. Leif looked up and saw the nomad approach. She held two wooden mugs and continued with a song-like tone. “I’m Liv, nice-ta-meet-ya.”

Leif froze. She doesn’t know what I am. What if she finds out and it ruins the party? What if a fight breaks out? What if-

“Enough!” Johan spat, his face filled with indignant rage as he stumbled to his feet from the sidelines. “This is why I didn’t want them here. Nothing ends well when monster blooded are involved!”

Everything went quiet. The man’s anger faltered briefly before returning with a renewed fervour. But before he could say anything else a new figure stood. It was a nomad who was sitting next to their well built leader.

His frame was lean, his hair shimmering an iridescent purple, its shoulder length restrained by woven bands. No horns, in fact he seemed to barely belong among the mostly homogeneous nomads as only his clothing matched. He stepped forward with quick confidence and placed a hand on the two younger nomad's shoulders.

“Sorry, sorry. Things got a little heated, how about we all take a step back and not ruin the night. I suspect we’ve all been told not to cause trouble. Forgive my little brothers.” He said with a placating, but friendly tone. Followed by a short bow.

One of Johan’s eyes twitched.

Leif winced. As did several other expedition members, Marcus and Sieg included. This won’t be good.

“You should be grateful to be in our presence at all. You should be honoured that we would give trash like yourself the privilege.” The coordinator hissed with a slurred voice, he pointed an accusing finger at the purple haired man as he got up in the man’s face. “Trash.”

The nomad’s expression flattened. All friendliness vanished to be replaced by calculating intensity. “Interesting words. You wouldn’t happen to be from the southern empire would you?”

“So what if I am?”

“You wouldn’t happen to have no hair at all?”

“What of it?”

“And you have an almost metallic gleam to your skin. In my experience people with those traits tend to have some dragon blood in them, a little hypocritical for someone who hates ‘monster blooded’, wouldn’t you say?”

The coordinator froze, his entire body tensing. The nomad smiled. Then Johan punched him.

Right in the face.

The observing crowd all ‘ooed’.

The nomad’s head rocked back, the coordinator’s expression one of barely fulfilled vengeance. Then a mirror sheen flashed over where the blow had landed and Johan’s head snapped backwards.

Unlike his own punch, which other than being surprising hadn’t seemed to do much damage, the sudden and unexpected counter crunched bone and sent blood flying.

The crowd ‘ahhhed’.

The coordinator fell on his ass and raised his hand, three orbs, each a different colour spun into existence. They raced forward, each heading for a separate part of the nomad’s body. The man, standing but still off balance from being sucker punched, didn't have time to react. Whatever the damage reflect skill had been was apparently activated automatically.

A golden shield snapped up around him, it thrummed with protective power. It blocked all three orbs with ease, each dissipating into motes of elementally charged light.

Leif stepped forward, amber arms crossed over his chest. Several people all looked to him before older members of both encampments rushed in to break up the fight.