There was a moment of stunned silence.
One of the commanders opened his mouth slightly but didn't speak. The shock was clear in their eyes. Sending home sixty percent of the recruits? Just like that?
"But Your Grace…" the youngest commander finally said, "that would mean discarding over two hundred soldiers. Some of them might still—"
Julian turned to look at him, his expression serious.
"If they can't rise now, they're wasting our time," he said coldly. "I have no use for mediocrity."
The commander stiffened and bowed his head.
"In their place," Julian continued, "recruit mages. Archers. Spearmen. Healers. Anyone with a skill set that complements the battlefield. Diversity is strength. Not just numbers swinging blades."
He walked forward slowly, his voice low but commanding. "Every recruit who joins us from now on must compete. Build separate arenas for each group. Let them earn their place. No more easy paths. I want warriors, not bodies."
The commanders bowed deeply.
