Sol let out a short breath, clearing the cold fog of the Zharun mystery from his mind. He saw the entire council of elders, along with Veylara and Thauren, staring at him with heavy, expectant looks.
He coughed slightly, his face recovering its usual mechanical detachment. "I was just going over the plan one final time," Sol lied smoothly, his rough voice casual. "I was calculating the coalition's possible response.?
"Hmmm." Warchief Veylara nodded heavily, her eyes flashing with a rare intense, proud light as she stepped up to his side.
She reached out and slammed her hand against his black Rockhorn shoulder plate with a resounding THUD.
"Don't overwork your mind before the clubs start swinging, Sol. This plan of yours is already perfect. I haven't seen an ingenious strategy like this in my entire life. It has more twists and hidden turns than an ancient ironwood root.
