Inor moved briskly through the sprawling chaos that was his camp, his eyes scanning the disarray around him. It was not a sight that inspired confidence. Tents and crude shelters fashioned from scavenged fabric and wood dotted the area without any sense of order. Families huddled together around meager fires, clutching what little they had left. Children played aimlessly, their laughter rare and subdued, while others simply sat, staring hollow-eyed at the dirt. There were no barricades, no sentries posted, and no discernible structure to the camp.
A sigh escaped him as his boots kicked up dust on the uneven ground. It wasn't just disorganized—it was indefensible. Anyone with even the faintest military experience could see that this was an easy target for a raid or ambush. Inor's mind wandered briefly to the camps of the Herculeian army, where he'd served during the war.
