It was Like being back at the proving grounds again, except this time he couldn't just smack Wren over the head with his bat.

When those who had voiced their agreement to Wren's sentiment finally settled down, Gregory stepped into the Great Hall. Just behind him, his pack made their presence known with their own loud “huah!" that signalled their march along the avenue toward the high table. All eyes settled upon them, and a number of other cloaked figures followed them inside. They settled out of the way up against the walls as inconspicuously as possible.

“I have come to speak for myself in this matter," he called out loud enough for everyone to hear, though his gaze soon came to focus on

Wren.

The elder had clearly not expected the human to show up so quickly, and he was unprepared to face the one he was accusing of betrayal. Though, to his credit, Gregory saw no sign of fear in the elder orc. Instead, there was only a quiet and deep-seated loathing in his eyes as he focused on the human.

“Gregory Fireheart," Grolfir turned and nodded toward the approaching alpha.

“You will be heard."

“Warchief." He bowed his head respectfully, but kept the gesture brief.

He didn't want it to seem as if he was unduly sucking up to the management. "I will speak on the matter of the infiltration of this encampment, and the role of my trade caravan."

“The caravan in which the infiltrators hid themselves to mercilessly kill our guards and open the gates to our hated enemies!” Wren spoke out to put his spin on it before anyone else.

“I believe the caravan to have been ambushed on its route. The last I heard of it, the orc known as Bolut was taking it north into the human lands to trade with-"

“How could an organized party of black orc scum get so far south?" Wren interrupted.

“And how would they possibly know to target your caravan?

Unless you are a spy! Think on it brothers and sisters! We have no knowledge of where this human actually comes from. Why do we insist on trusting a creature of a race so infamous for their treachery, when it has so little to offer in its defence?"

Another murmur of agreement rang out through the hall at Wren's words.

Gregory found himself gritting his teeth and balling his hands into fists in an effort not to pick up the nearest sharp object and lunge for the old shit.

"I believe that Wren is right." He quickly interjected before Grolfir could call for order. He didn't want the warchief to Look too much in his favour. The words had the desired effect in creating an unexpected silence amongst the surrounding orcs.

“I do believe that this camp has been infiltrated by agents of the enemy; though I am certainly not counted amongst their number. I have found evidence to suggest who the true traitor might be."

“Then show it," Ulag had taken his own place on the high table, and grunted his order in a coldly indifferent tone that suggested he thought he had better places to be.

The simple order took the air out of Wren's sails, as the elder had clearly been building up to another long condemnation.