Renji stood before the chief and said nothing for a long moment.
The old man waited. The room waited. Even Vaelric, still nursing the side of his face, had gone quiet in the way people go quiet when they're watching something interesting unfold.
Renji's mind was moving fast beneath the stillness.
Attack the chief. He considered it the way you consider a door that might be unlocked — quickly, practically, without sentiment. One decisive move, seize control of the situation before it could get worse. Except the moment the thought formed, the chief's aura pressed back against it like a wall. Not aggressive. Just present. The weight of a man who had spent decades becoming very difficult to kill, and who no longer needed to prove it to anyone. And even if Renji somehow managed it, there were guards, and villagers, and absolutely no reason to assume anyone in this building would simply accept a change in leadership because a strange young man had made his case with his fists.
