The Fist King smiled. To everyone it looked like a literal dragon had just descended and is demanding tribute, and no one can say no.
Silence settled over the clearing. The old man spread his hands, apparently astonished that he needed to explain something so obvious.
"Guests come to visit, they bring gifts. Basic courtesy. You arrived in the middle of the night, woke me up, threatened the people staying here, and now you want to leave without offering anything?"
His smile disappeared. Lucas glanced toward the corpse, then opened his inventory without waiting for the explanation to continue.
A heavy pouch appeared in his hand. He placed it carefully on the ground, its contents clinking as it settled, then stepped away from the offering.
"A small token of our apology."
The Fist King glanced at the Soul Cores before turning toward the rest of the Clan. His expectant look proved enough to open inventories throughout the clearing.
