The hush in the Hutt was thick and oppressive, the leaders frozen in their seats, their gazes darting between Geowulf and Klarik. The air crackled with tension, the shattered remains of the table lying as a silent witness to what was about to unfold.
Klarik finally broke the silence, the scrape of his chair against the stone floor loud in the stillness. Rising to his full height, he reached for the axe strapped to his back, his movements fast and sharp, his expression a twisted mask of defiance and fury. He held his weapon high, its battered blade glinting in the firelight as he pointed it at Geowulf.
"Enough of this!" Klarik bellowed, his voice filled with venom. "We're done following the lead of an old wolf whose fangs are dull! It's time someone else took charge—a man with the strength to lead us into real battles! Your time is over, Geowulf!"
For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath.
