Chapter 130 Meeting The Frontliners [part 1]
"So, North. It's okay calling you North, right?"
"Yeah..." Northern nodded as he followed Braham.
They had entered the castle and were currently walking amongst the throng, having to endure the wicked odors from different people.
Some very wicked odors indeed.
"Which country are you from?" Braham asked as he skillfully navigated their way.
One could tell he was used to this atmosphere.
'Getting used to a place like this... I don't know which is more wicked, this or the Kingdom of Red Mine.'
He exhaled sharply before responding to Braham.
"Verulania."
Braham's eyes circled. "Wow... pretty cool, you're from the impregnable Kingdom of Verulania. Interesting, interesting..."
"Yeah... but I lived in the countryside though, the capital border to be precise."
Northern caught a glimpse of a disdainful look, but Braham was wearing a warm smile before he could confirm.
'Did I imagine it?'
"Interesting, a countryside boy. You must have had an incredibly high-class talent to be accepted into the academy."
"Not really," Northern replied, his eyes swaying from Braham, his voice devoid of energy.
'This conversation is beginning to get on my nerves.'
More like he could tell what Braham was getting at as their conversation continued.
Even though Braham had a warm and welcoming smile, something about him made Northern feel uncomfortable.
And he couldn't pinpoint it, but at least he could tell... he could smell the pretense, the facade in Braham's voice as he tried to sound sincere despite being displeased and disgusted by Northern.
What Northern didn't understand, however, was why Braham was going through the trouble of doing so.
'If you're disgusted with someone, just say it. What's with all this nonsense bootlicking?'
Perhaps Braham was afraid.
Or maybe he was just cautious.
Northern had gauged him in their first few seconds of meeting, and he could tell that Braham was impressive in his own way.
Although he couldn't exactly discern what rank Braham was or even gauge how strong he was, he could sense how Braham was brimming with soul essence.
This was something Northern could vividly sense because of the passive effect of the Vestige of Chaos and Void.
Everything had a flow of chaos in it.
And automatically sensing that flow allowed him to sense the amount of soul essence one possessed.
It was also why he could gauge a being's capability to a degree, whether monsters or humans.
Sensing the loose energy in his tone, Braham faced forward and led Northern across the stairs that led to the castle gate.
However, a dark frown crumpled his face for a moment.
Then, as he reached the guards, who crossed their swords and said to him, "The wolf can't go."
Braham looked back at Northern, who already understood.
He had even forgotten for a moment that Mr. Fluffy was still following them.
He turned to the wolf and commanded it to stay. With a low growl, Mr. Fluffy returned to the base of the stairs, his spirit fallen.
Northern and Braham then proceeded into the castle, where Braham constantly responded to greetings.
'I'd have been so tired if I was the one.'
Northern watched the drifter as he struggled to wear a warm smile every time he was greeted.
From the way people regarded him, he could tell Braham was well-respected around here.
However, Braham was looking like the people disgusted him. And yet he was smiling at them.
'I can't understand the way he's thinking.'
Soon they entered a hallway to their left and went up the stairs that led to another open hallway.
At the end was a large ornate door.
Braham stopped in front of it and knocked, smiling at Northern, who looked at him indifferently.
Half a second after knocking, the door creaked inward, inviting both of them in.
They were received by an enormous hall, but it was nowhere near the main hall where people had turned to sheltering.
However, it was grand in its own way too... but most of what adorned it were just antiques that had lost their value.
In the center of the hall was a long table with chairs on both sides and one chair at the end, towards the throne seat.
The door was pushed open by guards in different armors that looked quite dignified, unlike Braham's subordinate from before.
Three individuals were currently occupying seats at the table, with ladies here and there cleaning around.
'I'm impressed.'
Somehow, Gilbert had managed to hold this place together or, better still, put it together in six months.
The way the guards operated, the way people acted around... of course, there were bound to be discrepancies, but at the very core of this haven, Northern could find order.
Even in how people respected Braham and the guards.
Now, a long table of some sort... and a meeting room?
'Looks like someone has been busy playing kingdom while I was dying.'
Immediately they entered, the attention of the three individuals sitting at the table turned to them.
All of them could see a white-haired boy in brown armor that overflowed with a white tunic.
They cast scrutinizing gazes on him, but Northern didn't mind.
He didn't care if any of them had an ability that could burrow into his soul and tell that he had no soul essence.
'Wait... I do care. I mean, I'd love to copy it.'
Yeah... except that.
"Hmph! This must be the survivor of the rift," a guy in a blue, sumptuous armor that left his broad chest and abs exposed sneered and stood up as Northern made it closer to the table.
Braham's eyes crinkled, strained lines forming beneath them.
"Watch your manners, Arlem. This guy is our esteemed guest..."
"Or what? You're gonna beat me, Daddy Long Legs?"
Braham glared silently at the brawny guy opposite him, the atmosphere between both of them crackling with tension.
Northern rolled his eyes.
'Of course, of course, I'm with humans... there'll be beefs.' He looked at both of them and smiled. It was a good sight.
However, it was short-lived.
The door slowly crept open, revealing a lithe young lady with crimson eyes and black hair that swayed gently in the wind as she strode forward.
Immediately she and a white-haired girl entered, the entire atmosphere suddenly became tamed.
Braham looked away, quickly strangling the tension that hung around.
The same could be observed with the guy named Arlem. He clicked his tongue and walked away, returning to his seat.