Chapter 843: In Good Hands

Snow covered most of the gardens by the time Trafalgar found Arthur.

The two of them walked toward the military grounds at the edge of the estate, where the noise of training already carried through the cold air. Trafalgar hadn't properly inspected Euclid's troops in a while, and with another trip about to take him away, this was as good a time as any to see how far they'd come.

The difference was obvious before they even reached the main grounds.

Years ago, they'd started separating the soldiers into proper squadrons, but Trafalgar hadn't taken them into the war in Thal'zar territory. They'd had numbers back then, and plenty of willing people, but willingness wasn't experience. Throwing them into that kind of war would've been a fine way to get half of them killed.

Two years had changed that.

Several squadrons were spread across the enormous training field, each working under its own captain. One practised formations with shields and spears while another moved through coordinated attacks farther down. Mages trained separately near reinforced targets, and beyond them stood the soldiers who hadn't yet been assigned to a squadron.

There were thousands altogether.

Most were human, as Trafalgar would've expected in Euclid, but there were members of other races scattered throughout the formations as well. Every one of them had been identified and checked before being allowed into the military structure. Caelum had helped build that process specifically to make sure another family couldn't quietly place spies among Trafalgar's forces.

Arthur watched the training beside him before speaking.

"So, what does Lord Trafalgar think?"

Trafalgar gave him a sideways look. "I told you already. When we're alone, you can call me Trafalgar."

Arthur's expression barely changed. "You have told me that several times."

"And somehow we're still having this conversation."

"Old habits."

Trafalgar let it go and looked back over the field. "You've done a damn good job, Arthur. I'm serious."

The formations weren't perfect, and Trafalgar wasn't going to pretend they were comparable to the First Squadron of House Morgain. Very few forces in the world could honestly make that comparison without embarrassing themselves.

But these soldiers were good.

More importantly, they moved like people who had trained together long enough to trust the person standing beside them.

Trafalgar pointed toward several officers positioned between the squadrons. "Those are the captains?"

"Most of them. A few are elsewhere in the city today."

"You trust them?"

Arthur answered immediately. "I'd put my own hand on the line for them. If any of them ever turned against you or deliberately ignored your orders, I'd be more surprised than anyone here."

He nodded toward the wider field. "They'll be ready whenever you need them. The numbers have grown a great deal too. People keep coming to Euclid asking to serve under you."

Trafalgar could see that much for himself.

Arthur continued, "A lot of them remember what this place used to be. Others came because of what they heard you did for the city, or because their families settled here and they want to defend it. Whatever their reason, recruitment hasn't slowed."

"Yeah. I can see that."

A group passed nearby at a run, boots striking packed snow in rhythm. Several soldiers noticed Trafalgar, but none broke formation or turned their heads for longer than a moment.

That pleased him more than a salute would've.

Years ago, Trafalgar had owned almost nothing.

Now he had a city, thousands of soldiers, officers under his command, families who had built their lives inside his walls, and enough military ground to train and house a force that would've sounded ridiculous when Euclid was first placed in his hands.

The scale of it still caught him off guard sometimes.

A good number of the soldiers lived inside the military quarters, while many others had homes elsewhere in Euclid and families waiting for them after training. The grounds themselves had expanded with the army: barracks, storage buildings, healing rooms, armouries, stables, training yards, and everything needed to keep thousands of people functioning.

Trafalgar watched another squadron change formation before turning to Arthur.

"I'm going away again."

Arthur looked at him. "For long?"

"A few weeks, most likely. Something important came up, so Euclid is yours while I'm gone, same as usual."

Arthur nodded once, already accepting the responsibility.

"Cynthia will be here, and Aubrelle too whenever she's in the city. Leave the civil administration, infrastructure, public works, and the usual city matters to them as much as possible. You focus on the troops, the captains, and security."

"Understood." Arthur glanced toward him. "Should I be worried about where you're going?"

"If you mean whether I'm expecting to get myself killed, probably not."

"That wasn't especially reassuring."

Trafalgar gave him a faint smile. "I'm going to Myrrhvale territory."

That got a reaction.

Arthur turned properly this time. "Myrrhvale? Aren't they in the middle of choosing their next family head?"

"Exactly. That's why I'm going."

Arthur waited for the rest.

"I've been formally invited as an observer," Trafalgar explained. "It's part of their succession tradition. Outsiders can be invited to witness the process and make sure another Great Family isn't interfering. I'm there to watch and make sure the rules are being followed."

Arthur stared at him for a moment.

"Sometimes I think I'd be happier knowing less about what you get involved in."

Trafalgar laughed quietly. "Probably. But I'm telling you because I trust you."

That wiped the humour from Arthur's face.

"You've been beside me for years. If I'm leaving Euclid in your hands again, I want you to know I'm doing it because I trust you to hold it."

Arthur looked back toward the training fields.

"You can leave without worrying about this place. I'll handle it."

"I know you will."

Trafalgar gave the field one last look before turning away. "Then I'm leaving it to you, Arthur. Same as always."

Arthur inclined his head. "Go do what you need to do."

Trafalgar left him there with the soldiers.

The snow was still falling when he crossed back through the grounds, light flakes catching in his dark hair and melting against his coat. The temperature had dropped since morning, and Euclid had taken on that muffled quiet snow brought with it between the busier streets.

Rhosyn was waiting near the path ahead.

She wore black as usual, from her clothes to her hair, the snow settling across her shoulders almost aggressively bright against all of it. Trafalgar could've spotted her from halfway across the garden.

"You know you could've waited inside, right?"

Rhosyn looked at him as he approached. "I was told you had something important to tell me."

"Told?" Trafalgar slowed. "You've been talking to them?"

"Yes." She brushed a little snow from one sleeve. "From what I gathered, we're going somewhere again."

Trafalgar noticed the word immediately.

We.

She'd already decided before he'd asked.

Rhosyn studied his face. "Are you sure about this?"

"I am. Come on, I'll explain on the way."

They started toward Euclid's Gate together, the road ahead leading first to Velkaris and, after that, much farther south.

Trafalgar glanced once toward the city behind them before facing forward again.

"Myrrhvale has a succession problem as you know," he began. "And apparently I've been invited to stand in the middle of it."