Richart stepped off the ship onto the creaking planks of the Roscoff dock, his boots echoing against the wood. He turned to his men, his voice firm yet steady.

"Men, this is it. Roscoff lies ahead, and so does our duty. Stay sharp—there’s no telling what awaits us beyond the town gates. Keep formation and remember, we carry the lives of our diplomats on our shoulders. Forward!"

With a purposeful stride, he adjusted his coat and led the way, his gaze fixed on the mist-covered horizon.