In full view of the assembled council, Arar sat with unwavering authority in the chief's chair, his posture regal, his eyes sharp as they swept across the gathered leaders. Each movement was deliberate, meant to remind everyone present who held power in this moment.
He surveyed the room, letting his gaze linger on each of the eight chiefs, who had come with great expectations. Their faces were lined with concern, desperation hidden beneath expressions of forced patience. They were not here for pleasantries: this was a matter of survival.
Finally, Arar's lips curled into a measured smile, and his voice, calm but commanding, broke the tense silence. "My esteemed chiefs, when it comes to the food crisis you face, I regret to inform you that the Adik tribe can offer no assistance."