"Fire!"
Another synchronized volley exploded across the grounds, producing a rolling wave of sound and thick smoke that momentarily obscured the field. The smell of burned powder hung heavily in the air, carried by the wind.
Arthur narrowed his eyes as he studied their movements.
The formations were far from perfect—some still flinched slightly at the recoil, others struggled with the rhythm of reloading under pressure. A few misfires popped irregularly, triggering brief moments of hesitation. But compared to where they had started mere days ago, it was progress. Rapid progress.
Klein, standing beside him, watched quietly. "They're adapting quicker than expected, Your Majesty."
Arthur nodded, "The discipline from their previous training helps. Even knights and mages who struggled with sword or spell still understand formation discipline. That's why I chose them."
As Arthur spoke, his gaze shifted slightly.
