Thus, the room quickly became crowded.
The door flew inward, bouncing against the wall. The three marshals burst inside, their faces pale with panic. Commander Sigurd was right behind them, his frame blocking the doorway.
"What the happened to him?!" Domnall roared. The Scotsman pushed past a servant, his hand resting on the hilt of his claymore.
"Keep your voice down!" King Erik hissed from the corner, his furs stained with mead. "He just collapsed..."
The three marshals froze, exchanging glances.
The Iron King, the man who handed them repeating rifles and commanded iron fleets, brought down by an invisible strike?
Standing near the bed were Helgi and two healers who had traveled from the Iron Kingdom on Ragnar's flagship.
They had brought vials and kits filled with bandages and medicines. They were working frantically, placing cloths over Ragnar's forehead and checking his pulse.
