Baron Loghlan stood in the center of the chaos that had consumed his camp, watching as servants rushed to and fro while his knights barked orders and tried to impose some semblance of order on the panic.
His son, Liam, had done well to take control of the situation, directing people to productive tasks rather than letting them scatter in fear, but there was still an undercurrent of terror running through everyone present.
The watchman's cry of 'demons and dark witchcraft' had done its work, and now half the camp was convinced they were under attack while the other half didn't know what to think.
"My lord," Sir Brennus said, approaching with his sword already belted at his waist, and his mail shirt hastily donned over his tunic. "We should establish a defensive perimeter. If there's witchcraft involved, we need to be prepared for anything."
