The group of knights rode slowly as the weary civilians trudged back to the fort, their boots heavy with mud and exhaustion. The flickering lights of the command quarters cast long, wavering shadows across the courtyard, where the sound of ongoing negotiations still echoed. Kellan glanced at his captain, Loras, his brow furrowed with concern.
"How long have they been at it?" Kellan asked, his voice hoarse from the day's exertions. "They've been discussing since yesterday, haven't they?"
Before Loras could respond, General Marcus Draven, who had been quietly observing their conversation, stepped in. "The spoils of war are divided not by the sword but by the pen," he said, his gaze shifting to the command quarters. "It's a tough fight, one that can be just as grueling as the battlefield."
Kellan nodded, understanding the weight of Draven's words. The group continued their walk, the fatigue settling deeper into their bones as they reached the canteen. The knights quickly grabbed their meals, their minds too tired for conversation. They ate in silence, each lost in their thoughts.
Once their plates were cleared, they made their way to the barracks where they would spend the night. Normally, knights of their rank would be afforded private quarters, a place to rest and recover in solitude. However, the chaos of war had forced even the highest-ranking knights to share rooms, a necessity driven by the need for quick coordination and safety in the event of another attack.
Kellan found himself sharing a small room with four other knights, including Loras. The space was cramped, with simple wooden bunks lined against the walls, their mattresses thin but adequate for a night's rest. The flickering light of a single candle cast shadows across the room as the knights settled into their bunks, the silence only broken by the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards.
Meanwhile, in another part of the fort, General Draven reported to Lord Lehard Arlyn. Draven stood in front of his lord in a dimly lit chamber, the air thick with the lingering tension of battle.
"Good job, Draven," Lord Arlyn said, his voice solemn. "May our brothers' souls find peace."
Draven nodded.
"Any news on the reinforcements?" Arlyn asked, his tone now more focused on the immediate future.
"They've crossed the Blotic Mountains," Draven replied. "If they continue at this pace, they should be here by tomorrow."
"Alright then," Arlyn said, his voice carrying the weight of command. "Take some rest. It's going to be a long day tomorrow."
As dawn broke, the much-awaited reinforcements arrived. The massive army of 21,000 strong marched into Bluehaven, their presence a balm to the weary defenders. The sight of fresh troops bolstered the morale of the soldiers. King Thorian, who had somehow managed to maintain the status quo despite the odds, shied in relief. He watched from the battlements as his main force finally arrived, the worst had been averted.
Soon after, the protracted negotiations finally concluded. The terms were agreed upon, and King Thorian adeptly shaped the outcome to his advantage. With the main army now present, he granted the survivors of the last battle a much-needed respite.
The surviving knights and soldiers were relieved from duty, and set to return to Arkhaven with Lord Arlyn, who would oversee the distribution of the promised rewards to the brave men.
With the fort secured, the Alanor army took a brief respite in Bluehaven. They left behind a garrison of 1,000 soldiers in the fort, while the rest of the main force prepared to embark on a new mission. Their next objective was to completely unearth the ancient city of Ashvatha, its secrets buried deep within the earth, waiting to be discovered. The promise of new challenges loomed on the horizon, but for now, the soldiers of Alanor could savor their hard-won victory.