As the first light of dawn broke through the misty morning, Fort Bluehaven stirred back to life. The previous day's battle had taken a toll on everyone, but there was little time to mourn or rest. The survivors, having grasped what little sleep they could, were called upon once more. Those who had kept vigil through the night, eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of renewed assault, were finally relieved. Weary soldiers exchanged nods as they shuffled off to their barracks, their minds and bodies craving the rest they had earned.
Kellan, Loras, Cadric, and other knights gathered in the fort's courtyard. Each had been assigned a group of local civilians to lead out to the battlefield. These men and women, summoned from nearby villages, had arrived to assist with the grim task that lay ahead.
Under the knights' guidance, a thousand civilians departed from the fort, moving in a long, somber line towards the battlefield. As they neared the site, the full horror of the previous day's carnage became painfully evident. The ground was soaked with blood, and the remains of over tens of thousands of soldiers lay scattered across the landscape, a grotesque mosaic of death. Flies buzzed incessantly, and the stench of decay filled the air, heavy and suffocating.
Carrion birds like crows circled overhead, their sharp cries echoing in the still morning air, while scavenging vultures and wolves prowled the battlefield, feasting on the bodies of the fallen. The sight was enough to turn even the strongest stomach. The civilians hesitated, their hands trembling as they clutched the tools they had brought with them, shovels, picks, and canteens of oil to burn the dead.
The knights, their faces showing no emotions, chased away the animals, driving them back with shouts and the swing of their swords. The birds scattered, reluctant to leave their feast, but eventually fled as the knights asserted their presence. With the scavengers gone, the civilians began their work, gathering the bodies into piles.
The task was grueling, both physically and emotionally. Each body was a reminder of the brutal cost of war. The ground, churned up by the previous day's combat, made the work even harder. Blood had dried into the soil, and the bodies, some horribly mutilated, were tangled in a macabre embrace of flesh and metal. The civilians, under the watchful eyes of the knights, worked in silence, their expressions somber as they collected wood to build the massive funeral pyres.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, its harsh light revealing every gruesome detail of the battlefield, Commander Marcus led a group of knights to survey the excavation site. The excavation had made significant progress than the report he had received. From their vantage point, they could see that nearly the entire ancient city was now visible, its stone structures towering over the surrounding landscape. The buildings, some reaching as deep as 50 feet underground, were monumental in scale. Roads, paved with ancient stone, snaked through the city, their paths partially obscured by centuries of earth and debris.
The sheer size of the city was breathtaking, dwarfing even the capital city of Elmsworth in its grandeur. Kellan and Loras, who had been the old witnesses, exchanged looks of awe. They instinctively moved closer to the ruins, drawn by the scale and mystery of the ancient city. But before they could venture further, Commander Marcus called them back.
"Remember your orders," Marcus said sternly, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "We're not to enter the ruins. There's still much we don't know about this place, and it's not safe."
Reluctantly, Kellan and Loras turned away from the ancient city of Ashvathaa, their curiosity tempered by the reminder of their duty. The knights conducted a thorough search of the area, looking for any survivors or intruders, but found none. Satisfied that the site was secure, they began their journey back.
By the time they returned, the sun was well past its zenith, casting long shadows across the battlefield. The civilians had made significant progress in their grim task, and the pyres were nearly ready. The bodies of the fallen, both friend and foe, had been gathered and laid out with as much care as could be managed.
As the last of the wood was placed on the pyres, the knights and civilians gathered around. A heavy silence descended over the field as they prepared to bid farewell to the lost. The knights, standing at attention, raised their swords in a final salute to their fallen comrades. The civilians, overwhelmed by their emotions, stood with heads bowed, tears streaming down their faces.
The pyres were lit, and the flames quickly took hold, crackling and roaring as they consumed the bodies. The fire's heat was intense, forcing those closest to step back. The smoke, thick and acrid, rose into the sky, carrying with it the souls of the departed.
As the pyres burned, a deep sense of sorrow and loss settled over the assembled crowd. The battle had been won, but the cost had been immense. The knights paid their respects not only to their comrades but also to the enemy soldiers who had fought bravely. The war had pitted them against each other, but in death, they were all the same, victims of a conflict that had claimed too many lives.
Kellan stood among his fellow knights, watching the flames with a heavy heart. The fires had burned relentlessly until only cold, charred remains were left. Only after the pyres extinguished and the ashes settled, the knights moved, guiding the weary civilians back to the fort. The air, thick with lingering smoke and the acrid scent of decay, held a solemn silence, as if mourning the losses that could not be undone.