“Captain! Look over here!”

The commander galloped his horse over to the mangled, deformed corpse of General Martha von Schopenhauer.

The soldier who had found it was pinching his nose and swatting away flies. “By the spirits. The stench. What happened?”

Captain Adrian scowled.

“You’d do well to show your respects to a fallen knight.”

“Sir- you mean this was the general?”

“Yes. Put two and two together, dummkopf. You heard the roaring, you heard what the raven said to our witches. You saw the storm. The camp was razed. By a new enemy. And a nasty one at that.”

He pressed his hands against his forehead and shook it left to right.

“You know. If we weren’t so caught up during the sack, we might have been able to respond in time. A lot of this was our fault. Complacency is a soldier’s worst enemy. And now, we’ve paid for it dearly.”

The soldier examining the corpse shuddered. “What kind of monster could do this to her? She was the strongest knight I’ve ever met. Even more, it would take almost inhuman strength to even scratch someone who’s warp spasmed.”

Then the soldier frowned, and turned towards the captain. “By the spirits… what do we tell her husband back in Heiligesmarch? What do we tell her son?”

“You tell them she died a knight’s death. It’s obvious. She died for her country, and there’s not a more honorable way to pass on.”

Then he gazed wistfully up at the sky.

“You know, we talked about building a mead hall somewhere near the city. Drink to the success of our campaign.” Then he sighed. “Let’s warn the other generals. Make sure this news reaches the Kaiser himself. Looks like this campaign’s going to be a lot more difficult than we thought.”