"Colonel Osric Hale." A broad, rawboned man with a grey-streaked beard saluted sharply. "Commander of the infantry corps. He has trained every rifle regiment aboard. He has also never lost a skirmish, which is a rare quality in a man who admits he's not clever."
Hale grunted. "I follow the drill, Sire. The drill doesn't lose."
"Master Gunner Wulfgar Thane." A wiry man with burn scars up both forearms bowed. "He commands the artillery. He fired the first rifled shell in the history of this world, and he has been trying to top it ever since."
"Sire," Wulfgar said with a grin that showed several missing teeth. "The Irish forts made nice targets. I'd like something bigger next time."
"There may be. Captain Sigurd Halvorsen." A silver-haired Norseman with a face like weathered oak stepped forward. "Master of the *Fenrir* and senior sea captain of the fleet. Sigurd has crossed the northern sea in open longships. He thinks ironclads are cheating."
