When they opened the door to the meeting room, half a dozen eyes turned toward them, each one harder than the other and filled with irritation and anger.
The room was filled with clashing tension that made the very air heavy and warm.
The very source of the tension was a barbarian woman and a man... that... Galthor could only describe as an angel, as the man had wings that were folded around him.
The barbarian woman, Karathra, sat at the head of the table and the winged man sat at the other end. Their eyes were flashing with glowing light that was subtly covering their bodies and rising from them like smoke.
Brakthar froze, blinking hard at the scene. And when the two people having a stare down turned toward him, he stiffened as if their eyes were blades.
They studied Brakthar and then looked away. They did not dismiss him with their eyes, more like trying to see how strong he was and what would happen if they clashed.
Then those eyes settled on Galthor and they indeed felt like blades hanging around his neck. It took everything in him not to freeze.
But then they looked away, and this time it was absolutely a dismissal as he was not worthy to be in the room.
Karathra, dressed in animal fur that left most of her chest exposed, turned back to Brakthar. Her voice flat and impeccable. "You are back. And judging from the way you are... I take it that the chief is gone and we are on our own."
The barbarians in the room stiffened, their eyes shining with acceptance and despair.
Brakthar took a deep breath, suddenly he was not so sure of anything. He felt small and clumsy in front of her stare. "No!... I mean, no? The Stronghide... a Stronghide...."
Galthor raised his hand and patted Brakthar on the shoulder.
It would not do at all if in his first impression, he was ignored. It was the beginning and what was going to be the foundation, so he had to take charge.
He was going to be the leader of the barbarians after all, and he had better start acting like one. Galthor stepped forward, and as he did, he unleashed his Divine aura in all its splendid glory.
Instantly the space around him grew heavy and filled with silver-red energy glow that wavered like smoke.
Brakthar gasped and flinched away, his shoulder bent slightly as if a heavy weight had been placed on him. The other barbarians in the room reacted just the same, their eyes widening with astonishment.
But Galthor did not have eyes for any of them. His eyes settled on the most powerful master essence user in the room, Karathra.
She matched his stare, eyes to eyes, without looking away, but it was not casual. Her hands were clenched into fists and her body tightened as if she was ready for a fight. The red essence around her was now much thicker, boiling the space around her and almost suffocating those beside her with her pressure.
Galthor felt the pressure she was exerting. It slammed into him with a weight that should crush, but he calmly took a step forward and smiled a cold smile. "It has been a while, Karathra."
Her jaws gritted together with the sound of metal against metal, and yet she did not say anything.
But that would not do.
Right now, Karathra remained as the last authority of the former chief, and if she threw her weight behind Galthor, things would become much easier. She was also strong as a master essence user.
So Galthor tilted his head, his voice still calm. "How was the work the chief gave you? Are you trying your best?"
She finally opened her mouth, her teeth flashing in a wolfish smile. She stood slowly. "Trying my best? I have been doing a lot since some bastard betrayed my tribe. Why are you here, Galthor?"
She hid nothing as her voice dripped with hate and anger.
'...this will not be easy...'
But Galthor did not let any of that show on his face. "Why am I here? I am the new Chief of the Stronghide."
Karathra's face hardened and it seemed she might actually explode into violent fighting soon. "You...."
But then the winged man stood up, his eyes flashing with amusement. "The chief? Why, Karathra, you did not tell us that there is still a Chief in Stronghide! I am sure all your former tribespeople would be happy to hear this.
"And since you now have a representative, he will be the one to answer for the crimes, right?"
Everyone turned to the winged man.
His words were like a sword that cleaved the tension in the room as if it was never there. All the auras and pressure vanished.
Galthor frowned slightly. "What are you talking about?"
But the winged man was already going toward the door, laughing. "This is too good! I'll tell my lord, and I am sure you will want your criminals back, right? You should make it tonight!"
And then he was gone, his laughter still trailing behind him.
Galthor felt something cold settle in his stomach. For some reason he felt as if someone had just pulled a fast one on him.
What in the barbarian hell had just happened?
When he turned to Karathra, the look on her face said it all.
"You...!! Why did you have to come at such a time? Of all the people that should remain alive, why should it be you? You? Brakthar, why did you bring him here!" Karathra raged.
Brakthar flinched but at the same time he gave a tired sigh. "Well... technically he is the chief now, at least he had the first right."
Karathra looked at the battered barbarian for a long time and then turned to Galthor. "And you, what exactly is the meaning of this?"
He knew his host's reputation was bad, but was it actually that bad? It was as if he was something horrible stuck at the bottom of their shoes.
There were different ways to deal with the situation, but to be honest, he was getting tired of it. He was hungry, thirsty, and he stank.
So naturally he chose the fastest and easiest way to deal with it.
Galthor raised his brows. "You should learn how not to raise your voice when you talk to me. It is unbecoming for a warrior that wishes to serve me."