Lothair would never admit it loudly to the shivering Frankish infantry forming up behind him, but the deep fear was chewing on his bones.
He had fought countless wars for Emperor Louis. He had slaughtered rebellions and crushed rival lords.
But this was different... Fighting the Iron Kingdom felt like trying to stop an avalanche with a wooden shield.
However, fear wouldn't win the war.
Lothair pushed the dark thoughts to the back of his mind.
He was a commander of thirty thousand men, and he had a job to do.
"Get the men moving," Lothair ordered sharply, clapping his hands together. "I want the vanguard pushing into the tree line right now. Keep the bronze cannons strictly in the center of the column. Do not let the carts sink into the mud, or I will personally whip the engineers."
"Right away, Lord Lothair!" Gauzlin saluted quickly, eager to escape the conversation.
The Frankish Marshal ran down the beach, screaming loud orders at the infantry captains.
