Lucas watched the usurpers' front ranks begin their advance, shields lifting, cavalry shifting into formation behind them like a gathering storm. Dust rose beneath their boots and hooves, thickening the air of the valley. The sound alone carried weight, a low rolling tremor that would have unsettled most men.
He turned sharply.
"Bartho."
Bartho stepped forward at once, his eyes steady despite the scale of what stood before them.
"You take the squad," Lucas said, his voice firm but calm. "Follow the signals. Do not break discipline no matter what you see."
Bartho's jaw tightened.
"And you?" he asked quietly.
Lucas' gaze shifted toward the approaching wall of enemy steel.
"I will break them first."
There was no dramatics in his tone. Only certainty.
Bartho bowed his head once. "Understood."
