Frederick had built his legacy on being the ultimate chess master of warfare. Known for his razor-sharp caution and meticulous planning, he was the reason the Alliance had survived the chaos thus far. Nothing about his leadership was left to chance.
But as Chuck stood before him now, facing his cousin's cool, calculating stare, he couldn't shake that familiar knot in his gut. That gaze could unnerve the bravest of souls. Still, Chuck was a battlefield commander, and this was no time for hesitation.
"Sir," Chuck began, choosing his words with care. "I'd like to propose a tweak to our formation. If we spread the defensive line during the march, it'll give us the space to hit the enemy with our full force."
Frederick's face was unreadable, the silence heavy.
Before Chuck could press further, another voice cut through. "Sir," said Cohen, "I need to speak."
Frederick gave a measured nod. "Go ahead, Captain."
