While the negotiation continued, fort Bluehaven became the sanctuary for the weary survivors of the brutal battle. The remnants of the Alanorian army, their spirits battered but unbroken, moved through the fort with the slowness of exhaustion. The wounded were carefully settled in the barracks, where local herbalists, hastily tended to their injuries with mixtures of herbs and salves.
Below the fort's main level, in the cool, damp confines of the underground dungeons, the captured Galdorian soldiers were secured. The heavy iron doors clanged shut, and the sound reverberated through the dimly lit corridors. Knights, normally reserved for battle, found themselves performing these mundane tasks due to the sheer lack of manpower. The lines between soldier and servant blurred as everyone did what was necessary to secure the fort and provide some semblance of order in the aftermath of chaos.
After the final prisoner was locked away, Kellan, his body trembling with fatigue, collapsed against the dark, rough-hewn walls of the cell block. His sword, still sheathed, rested by his side as he leaned back, letting out a long breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His armor, once gleaming, was now caked with dried blood and dirt, the scars of the day etched into the metal just as deeply as they were into his flesh. Every muscle ached, and every breath seemed an effort.
The quiet of the dungeon was broken by the sound of footsteps echoing off the stone walls. Loras appeared, his figure barely visible in the dim light. He moved slowly, each step a testament to the toll the day had taken on him. Like Kellan, his armor was battered, and his face was marked with dirt and blood, but there was a sense of shared relief in his eyes as he approached.
Without a word, Loras sat down beside Kellan, the two men sharing a moment of silent camaraderie. They were both alive, and in that moment, it was enough. The dungeon's oppressive darkness felt almost comforting, a retreat from the horrors of the battlefield.
Kellan turned his head slightly, his voice hoarse with exhaustion and uncertainty. "Are we safe here?"
Loras raised an eyebrow, the question pulling him from his thoughts. Kellan's concern was understandable, given the sheer devastation they had witnessed. But Loras managed a faint, reassuring smile.
Kellan continued, his voice tinged with anxiety. "I mean, some Galdor mages and their king escaped, right? They could just teleport in and free these soldiers. We're in no shape to defend ourselves if that happens. We barely have any defenses left."
Loras chuckled softly, the sound almost foreign in the grim surroundings. "You don't have to worry about that. We're in an anti-magic field. And besides, teleportation isn't as simple as snapping your fingers and appearing somewhere else."
Kellan's brow furrowed in confusion. Loras, noticing his friend's perplexed expression, pulled out his pocket knife and drew two points on the dusty ground between them.
"Teleportation magic," Loras began, "is all about manipulating space. Imagine the space where you are is compressed into a form of data. That data is then transmitted to the destination, where it's decompressed and you're reconstructed."
Kellan nodded slowly, trying to grasp the concept.
"But," Loras continued, "this kind of magic requires a huge amount of energy. It's not something you can do over and over without draining yourself. More importantly, the destination needs to be marked beforehand. If you don't have a mark, you risk being lost in the void, never reaching your destination."
Kellan's eyes widened slightly at the implications. "But Galdor had occupied this fort for almost a year now. They could have left a few marks to teleport back here, right?"
Loras nodded. "That's why the fort has been placed under an anti-magic barrier. You see, when a mage tries to decompress their body and reconstruct it within an anti-magic area, where the energy is unstable and can't be channeled properly, the results are... let's just say, unpleasant."
He paused, allowing the gravity of his words to sink in. "Their body wouldn't reconstruct correctly. They'd end up distorted, more like a corpse than a person. And a distorted body... well, at least a human body can't survive."
Kellan finally understood the full extent of their situation. The barrier around the fort wasn't just a precaution; it was a lifeline. Knowing this, a wave of relief washed over him, easing the tension that had gripped his heart since the battle's end.
"Thanks, my friend," Kellan murmured, his voice thick with gratitude. He had been thrust into a world of war and magic far beyond his understanding, but Loras's calm explanations helped ground him. The fear that had gnawed at him began to fade, replaced by a deep, bone-weary exhaustion.
Loras simply nodded, acknowledging Kellan's words without needing to speak. He, too, was at the end of his strength. As the silence of the dungeon wrapped around them, the two men, comrades in arms and now friends, closed their eyes. The cold stone of the fort's walls pressed against their backs, but it felt almost comforting in its solidity, a stark contrast to the uncertainty they had faced on the battlefield.
Kellan's breathing soon slowed as sleep overtook him, his exhaustion too great to resist. Loras, his own eyelids growing heavy, allowed himself to drift off.