"Alright, men, gather up!"
The camp quieted almost immediately.
Knights left half-finished tasks and moved toward the clearing where Aamon stood. Armor clinked softly as they gathered in a wide arc in front of him.
Behind Aamon stood the three princes and the captains, their gazes fixed toward the darkened horizon.
Beyond the treeline, the sky had grown nearly black.
'The Dark Ones are close.' Ezra thought grimly, his lips pressing into a thin line.
Aamon rested one hand on the pommel of his sword and looked over the gathered knights.
"Listen carefully," he said, his voice carrying easily across the clearing. "The squads you fought with yesterday remain your squads today. Nothing changes."
The knights shifted slightly, glancing at the teammates beside them.
"You fight with the same men. You trust the same men. You are not different orders right now. You are not competing with each other."
His eyes swept over them.
