"Raziel?" Soleia echoed, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. "I don't understand. I thought these people were under the employ of the King―"
"They are mainly prisoners of war," Rafael explained. He pursed his lips, swallowing before he continued. "Whoever's left alive is brought back here after each battle."
"How?" Soleia asked, her eyes wide with incredulity. Her lips gaped open and closed a couple of times before she finally squeezed out her next words. "Most magic practitioners are nobility, at the very least. How is it that there are so many here?"
There had to be at least fifty people crammed into five small cells. Even the dungeons in Vramid where Orion and his men were kept before their sentence were much better than this, and that was a low bar to meet.