Tristan did not have to push forward into the gathering crowd. There was a great deal of yelling and cursing coming from the epicenter, and he feared he knew what was happening.
Mozenrath felt a hard punch land in his eye, sending sparks through his vision. He staggered back wards but caught himself before falling, swinging round to catch Aladdin with a hard right in the stomach. He wasn't fully aware of the pain in his sides where he'd been kicked but he was aware of the street rat before him.
Another part of him, the last ration piece of his mind begged him to stop. What was the point in this? Why was he fighting this man? What point did it serve? In the crowd he saw a face, glimpsed a few strands of honey gold and bronze red hair, accompanied by hazel eyes lidded in sadness. "Iaine…" he muttered out and watched as she turned from him, disappearing into the forest surroundings.
Aladdin's fist brought him back to the current situation. Mozenrath felt a burning, horrible anger consume his insides. "You…!" he rounded and brought his own knuckles to Aladdin's cheek bone.
The hero turned back to him, ready to continue the fight. His mind didn't quite grasp why the sorcerer had not yet used his gauntlet. But he did register the pupils of Mozenrath's eyes dilating further and further, consuming even the whites. "What in the…" heat emanated from Mozenrath's body just as the wizard began to surge forward.
The sound of a staff striking the ground echoed in the area. Without warning the ground began to shake, the trees moaning as they swayed too and fro. The sun itself seemed to cower behind the clouds as wind whipped through the village, ripping dust and rocks in it's wake. The fighting between the two men paused as they searched for the cause.
It stopped as suddenly as it began. There was a swift, sudden swish behind him and Mozenrath felt the end of Tristan's staff knock squarely on the back of his head. Mozenrath spun, ready to fight back and was stopped dead in his tracks by Tristan's furious gaze. Druid…Tristan…" he searched for the words to explain himself.
The Chief Druid silenced his platitudes and grit his teeth angrily. "You…will go to my lodge." He stressed every last word as though barely restraining temperament. "You have shamed me." He whispered as Mozenrath slowly made to move past him, face growing redder every moment. Tristan turned to Aladdin, eyes cold as stone. "You…are currently excused for your lack of manners. No doubt being foreign you did not know that Druids are immune…forbidden harm by all."
Aladdin nearly argued, but his political training saved him at the last moment. He was being given a way out from public embarrassment. Sure enough, as he looked at the faces of the gathered crowd, many of them were turned up in distaste or shock at his actions. He could see others dressed in the pure white cloth he had seen in other villages and vaguely remembered another local chieftain warning him about the power Druids held both in spiritual matters and the hierarchy of a government. "I…apologies…for any disruption…but sir…the man I fought with…you should know there are things in his past…"
"Which are better left for a private discussion." Tristan finished shortly. His temper frayed. "We will discuss this to it's fullest extent. However until that time you are our guest young trader Aladdin." He did not bother to explain how the bloody hell he knew the young foreigners name with out being told. No body would ask. He was a Druid, Druids just know these things. Tristan looked to Luchtain and the leader nodded, accepting the judgment for now.
Luchtain was a warrior of many years, and a leader to his people for all of them. He knew a feud when he saw one. But what bothered him was not the lack of respect for a Druids station, but what would drive a man to ignore it. He did not interfere with Druid work, though as lord here he had more reason and right to ask question than most others. He had always taken it for granted that he was out of his depth and left spirituality to those who knew it best. But the foreigner Mozenrath…accepted as he was by the Druids, had caused him some distress.
The lord of the tribe held his own council for now and extended his hand to the trader. At least in these matters he knew what to do.
At the edge of the crowd, standing with his arms crossed and a smirk on his handsome features, was Essus, looking at the young Arab and thinking to himself.