Marshal Ashford raised a hand for silence. "Enough. Fighting amongst ourselves helps no one." He turned to a figure who'd been sitting quietly in the corner, observing the debate without participating.
"Master Lysander," the Marshal said. "You've been silent. As our chief military strategist, what's your assessment?"
Master Lysander stood slowly. He was an older man, perhaps seventy, with silver hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes were sharp despite his age, missing nothing. He wore simple robes rather than military uniform, his position as strategist being civilian rather than military, though his word carried as much weight as any general's.
"I've been listening to this debate with great interest," Lysander said, his voice cultured and precise. "And I must say, you're all missing the forest for the trees."
