At the officer's reminder, Arthas and Jaina also noticed the carriage at the back of the convoy, its wheels covered in mud and vegetation, looking as if it had hurried through a swamp.
As they approached the convoy, Arthas heard faint breathing and groans. Jaina looked at the sergeant and asked, "Did some of you get injured?"
The sergeant shook his head, "Our company is all well... These... are 'people' our scouts rescued from Ashenvale..."
While Jaina was still confused, Arthas seemed to have guessed something. He opened the carriage door and looked inside, his expression immediately turning serious.
The sergeant continued to explain, "We gave them basic treatment at the camp, but some with more severe injuries didn't make it. King Varian told me to take them back to Theramore, where there's a better medical environment."
"Take them to the physicians at the barracks first; I'll be there shortly," Arthas nodded, giving the sergeant his orders.
The sergeant saluted Arthas and quickly directed the convoy towards the Theramore barracks, the best place currently available for physicians and treatment.
Jaina looked at the departing convoy and asked in a low voice, "Who exactly are the injured in the carriage...?"
"They are Elves—they don't all seem to be soldiers; a considerable number are civilians." Arthas looked in the direction the convoy had left, deep in thought.
"Elves?" Jaina's expression was quite surprised. "What could have attacked them? Didn't you say that in the forest, it's virtually impossible for anyone to defeat them?"
She had seen the magical images sent by Varian and did not have a good impression of the rude, cold-faced Night Elves, but this was generally consistent with Arthas's description.
If they didn't have strong power to back them up, Jaina felt the Night Elves wouldn't be so arrogant.
"If it were an ordinary army, no one would indeed be a match for the Night Elves, but I'm afraid they are now facing a rather tricky problem."
The surviving Night Elves in the carriage had clearly experienced a devastating defeat unlike any in thousands of years; their defenses were broken, even allowing their own civilians to suffer misfortune.
Arthas observed their injuries; most were rough lacerations or blunt force trauma. A race that fights with heavy weapons like axes and great hammers easily brings orcs to mind.
Ordinary orcs would not be a match for Elves, let alone breaking through an Elven town defended by the Sentinel Force...
Indeed, Arthas's worst fears had come true. It seemed that while he was mobilizing troops and preparing supplies, Tichondrius had already achieved results.
But all this was merely Arthas's speculation; the best way was to ask these Elves who had attacked them.
Upon arriving at the barracks right after the guard, a strong smell of blood emanated from the treatment room. Even the Elves with so-called "minor" injuries were in a grim state, otherwise Varian would not have ordered the soldiers to protect them and quickly withdraw to Theramore.
When Arthas and Jaina entered the ward, several physicians and priests were busily treating the Elven casualties, but since they had never treated Elves before, progress was not very smooth.
"Damn it—Lena, we need more bandages and hemostatic cotton here!" A physician put down his hemostatic forceps and surgical scissors, asking his nurse assistant for help.
"Just a moment, Doctor Mike, this person has lost too much blood, I'm helping him!" Lena's forehead was covered in sweat. The Elven body structure was different from humans, and she seemed a bit flustered.
Doctor Mike saw that almost all his colleagues were preoccupied and was about to compress a blood vessel and fetch medical supplies himself when a box of medical hemostatic cotton and bandages was placed before him.
The doctor was stunned and looked up, about to say thank you, only to find that the person who brought him the items was the prince of Lordaeron. He instinctively wanted to bow to the esteemed Prince Arthas, but Arthas stopped him.
"No need for formalities," Arthas said, looking at the pale, unconscious Elf. A faint ball of Holy Light condensed in his hand and slowly infused into the Elf's body.
Due to the Elf's severe blood loss, the effect of Holy Light healing alone was not good. Forcibly prolonging life with Holy Light would only overdraw the Elf's own life force.
Even though the Elf's physique was much stronger than a human's, it couldn't withstand such an overdraw. Therefore, maintaining vital signs with a small amount of Holy Light and then proceeding with conventional treatment was the most ideal solution.
Only on the battlefield would instant healing of injuries with Holy Light spells be considered, but ultimately, that was merely an emergency measure. If ordinary soldiers received too much treatment, they would suffer more or less sequelae, even losing their combat ability for life.
This was also what the priests were doing; they were reciting prayers, guiding the power of Holy Light to sustain the lives of some of the more severely injured Elves.
Of course, certain powerful individuals and beings whose physiques were extraordinary could engage in prolonged combat through healing or self-recovery without any sequelae.
Among the many injured Elves, Arthas noticed an Elf lying in the corner. Her injuries were not severe, just some minor cuts and abrasions that were not life-threatening at all.
Arthas found a priest and asked him about the situation, "What's going on with that Elf over there?"
"I'm sorry, we don't know either, Prince Arthas. The physician examined her, but found nothing abnormal. Her minor injuries shouldn't cause unconsciousness. We also tried treating her with Holy Light, but to little avail."
After listening, Arthas exchanged glances with Jaina. Jaina understood and walked over to the Night Elf, placing her hand gently above her forehead.
A faint blue Arcane glow emanated from Jaina's palm. After a moment, Jaina said to Arthas, "There's no curse or soul damage, but..."
"But what?"
"All her vital signs, including the feedback from her soul, indicate that this Elf has no problems whatsoever. I feel like she's not unconscious, but rather—asleep?" Jaina pondered her words, speaking with uncertainty.
Asleep?
Arthas had a certain guess, but couldn't be sure yet. He walked over to the Night Elf and gently touched her forehead.
The sleeping Elf seemed to be stimulated, suddenly tensing her muscles and sitting up from the sickbed, her forehead covered in cold sweat, even soaking a part of the bandages wrapped around her.
The awakened Elf stared at Arthas with hostility, speaking in a language Jaina had never heard before, leaving the Archmage utterly bewildered.
"Arthas, should I use Arcane to connect with her soul to communicate?"
To Jaina's surprise, Arthas waved his hand, indicating it wasn't necessary, and then spoke in an accent similar to the Elf's. After hearing Arthas's words, the Night Elf's face filled with confusion and uncertainty.
Jaina's red lips parted slightly. She looked at her boyfriend with some astonishment; the Elf's reaction clearly showed she understood Arthas's words. "You also know the Night Elf language?! Who taught you?"
"Just a bit of serendipity," Arthas explained casually. "Connect with me using your spell, and you should be able to understand what this Druid is saying."