Trafalgar stood at the front of the formation, facing the three hundred soldiers under his command. They were already in position, armor secured, weapons checked, posture straight and eyes forward, every one of them silent in a way that spoke of experience rather than fear. These were not fresh faces or untested recruits, but men who had trained, bled, and survived long enough to still be standing here.
Arthur stepped out from the front line and approached him, stopping a few paces away. His expression was firm, professional, carrying the weight of responsibility without hesitation.
"My lord," he said, inclining his head slightly. "I left all the new blood behind. I only brought the Morgain core squad, the ones who have already seen real combat."
Trafalgar looked past Arthur for a moment, his gaze moving across the formation again, taking in the steady hands, the controlled breathing, the absence of nervous movement.
