Lieutenant General Valerie Cassia Thornblood stared furiously down at the blank sheet of parchment on her desk. Her crimson hair clung to her cheeks and draped down her back. It had long since come undone but she paid it no attention. In her left hand she grasped a quill, in her right, she flipped her family crest, the Midnight Rose, over and over again.

The scar on her face burned angrily as she held the quill above the page with a trembling hand.

Laying on her bed behind her in two crumpled pieces was the letter her younger brother, Barnaby Temple Thornblood, had sent her. It was him happily informing Valerie that he had been promoted to General and was to take the family retainers and three veteran platoons into the Carrigan Campaign.

Valerie crushed the quill. For her foolish brother to follow her footsteps and join the military was one thing. But for him to squirm his way up the chain of command whilst she decayed out here in the wastelands was indefensible.

Royal Command was her birthright. Her father served, his father before him, and his father before him all died in service of Palir. From a young age Valerie was told again and again by her father, her mentor, and even by the King himself that one day she would inherit this role. But no, first she had to take charge here, in godforsaken Carrigan’s Blight.

Everyday people died to cursed spirits, monsters and aberrations. And it took every hour of every day to maintain some semblance of order and control over the wretches stationed at Illyrith's Final Bastion.

Her garrison consisted of unwanted mercenaries and conscripts: prisoners and the exiled. A group of untrained, underfed, resourced deprived murderers, thieves, deserters and debt-slaves. Valerie’s only salvation were the few loyal Thornblood family guards and servants her father sent along to keep her company.

It wasn’t just her dithering brother that incensed her. Last month the Lord High Marshal had written to Valerie, informing her that she was ‘burning through resources too quickly’. That from henceforth she was to receive only condemned and exiled prisoners; that if she still required additional personnel, she was free to recruit from the neighbouring province.

The letter still sat on her desk somewhere, buried beneath today’s paperwork. Scratched over its fine, looping handwriting was a long list. Valerie had marked each individual’s death over the top of the Marshal’s letter. For each of the dead, she listed their name, age, contribution and time spent at Illyrith's Final Bastion. The ink stained dark and thick over Blanewick’s hollow words.

The sheer gall of it boiled Valerie’s blood. They both knew damn well that no one would willingly enrol to serve here at Carrigan’s blight. Lord High Marshal Blanewick had always favoured her brother Barnaby. The entire blithering royal court had it out for her since she first enrolled in the academy. And they didn’t give a damn about Carrigan’s Blight. No one did, so long as the nasty bits didn’t trek too far outside the exclusion zone, they were perfectly happy to let it rot. And rot it will.

In the last month nineteen people died under her watch. That left Valerie with seventy nine individuals. And six people had died just today. A few were long-time survivors, those who’d survived under a half dozen different Lieutenant Generals and a few dozen sieges. They were valuable men, and there wouldn’t be any more replacements for another two months. Replacements, of whom so far consisted of a corrupt, third-rate, baron’s son, and a blood-splicing serial killer.

It was insulting that they were even sending the blood-splicer. No reasonable general would stand for having such a loose cannon work within their team. Of course, Valerie would find some use for him, be it bait or cannon fodder, but the sentiment was demeaning enough!

Valerie’s candle snuffed out and left her in darkness. The wax had completely melted away and the wick burnt down to the base. Valerie cursed, she’d been hunched over this damned parchment for hours, wasting precious time for sleep.

She was obligated to give some kind of response to Barnaby, some token mark of congratulation, but it physically hurt to do so. The most she had managed to write in rigid blocky letters was ‘Dear Brother Barnaby’.

Valerie cursed her frivolity and searched for her algae lantern. As she probed for the lamp beneath her desk, a deep rumbling drone echoed across the plains. The sound stilled her heart, and cooled her head. A Greybone Stalker was here.

Valerie ditched her search for the lantern and drew open the curtains. Amber light filtered through the barred window. She stared into the desolate landscape for any signs of the beast, but there was nothing. Valerie paused to pray for a quiet night without incident.

Better to be safe than sorry however. She pulled over a tunic, slid into some breeches, tied her hair back into a loose ponytail, slipped into her leather boots and marched outside.

Moonlight was all that illuminated the corridor outside her bedroom in the Inner Quarters. Algae lanterns were few and far between, and she didn’t anticipate another shipment for another six months. Valerie walked down the corridor toward the Head Nightwatchemen’s office. Her feet made scarcely a sound as a little yellow rune glowed imperceptibly at the base of her soles.

Valerie eased open the door, but it groaned loudly in response. Sir Christopher Eldergrun lay dozing at his wide mahogany desk. The man charged with the Majorial position of Head Nightwatchman was a slovenly aristocrat sentenced to a similar backwater fate to Valerie. The difference between the pair however, was that Sir Christopher had given up years ago.

Valerie rapped her knuckles atop the wood and Christopher jolted up with a start, blinking rapidly as his mouth hung wide open. A little drool ran down his chin.

His jet black hair, frighteningly pale skin and the deep rings set beneath his warm brown eyes gave him the appearance of a starving vampire. His wardrobe of sharp, tall collared shirts, frilly cuffs and huge draping coats didn’t help his image either.

He began to stammer out something but Valerie cut him off. “I do not want to hear it right now Christopher. We will address this later.”

He stared grumpily back at Valerie and curled his lip in displeasure, but his arrogance was very much undercut by the dribble hanging off his face and the red mark on his forehead where he’d slumped against the desk.

Valerie tossed a handkerchief at him. “Clean yourself up, and head outside. We have a Stalker prowling around out there somewhere.”

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Christopher straightened up and wiped his face. He cleared his throat before replying. “Yes, of course Lady- “ Valerie stiffened and Christopher corrected himself. “Lieutenant General Valerie. I’ll put the men on it right away. Any approximate distance?”

“It is far, but nowhere is far enough. Now get out of here. And if I’m not there when you first see it, get Tolvin or whoever’s on duty to report to me the moment you do, understood?”

“Yes Lieutenant. Right away.”

Sir Christopher clambered out of the room, in his full guards’ attire.

Valerie exhaled deeply and exited after him, pacing back down the corridor to the West Wing of the stronghold. She passed her bedroom again, and continued on to the mage’s barracks. It was a much smaller building than the Eastern Wing’s barracks, which housed the mercenaries and the conscripts. The mage’s tower only housed three mages after all. Or more accurately, one and two apprentices.

Valerie stopped at Captain Thalia’s room. The mages were lucky (few) enough to have their own rooms.

Valerie knocked on the door.

“Come in”, lilted a soft, steady voice.

Valerie couldn’t help smiling upon seeing Thalia’s dainty figure sitting upright on her bed in full uniform. Her long, cerulean hair was plaited in two neat braids. She even wore her heavy leather hat.

“Thalia, thank you. There’s been a-” The Greybone Stalker’s drone echoed throughout the stronghold and took the words from Valerie’s throat.

“Yes, I’ve heard it too, General Valerie.” Thalia said sweetly, her rosy cheeks lit up her heart shaped face. “I am ready.”

Valerie’s heart sighed. “Very good Thalia. Could you please gather Olindar and Elora as well. Meet Sir Christopher on the parapet, I’ll join you shortly. And take a lantern with you.”

Thalia nodded in acknowledgement, her large droopy hat bowing along with her. Valerie’s cheeks tinged red and she quickly marched out of the room.

The Stalker’s droning continued as Valerie headed back through the Inner Quarters, intent on supervising the wall outside. But the sight of three neatly uniformed Royal Academy fourth year students standing outside her bedroom brought Valerie to a stop.

The trio turned to face her. Their faces lit up and they began prattling over the top of each other.

“Lieutenant General Valerie we were just wondering where you were, you see-”

“We were hoping to be of some service to you in-”

“We heard that horrible sound, do you know-”

“We’re all deeply versed in fifth level projectile arts, could we-”

“I am sorry for their rudeness Lieutenant General, it's just that we-”

“You know my Uncle Baron Farrow saw my incandescence spell and-”

“We’re sorry, but we didn’t know where else to go and there were no-”

“Please,” Valerie not so gently snapped, “could you all hold on for one moment.”

The students shut up. Valerie’s tone did not permit any more noise.

“Thank you all for being so considerate in this time of… activity. I understand you all seek to help, and that you are all capable in many different ways. But this is not a classroom environment, this is a military operation.”

Erik Willowcrest, the tall, blond, dashing young man of the group lunged forward and began, “Lieutenant Valerie we fought many battles against all sorts of beasts on our journey here, if you talk to-”

Lyra Frost, the least clueless member of the group, elbowed Erik and smacked her hand over his mouth. Lyra was taller than Erik, but very thin. Although her pointy elbow appeared to have sunk deep into Erik’s side.

Seraphina Thindred, the third member, glared at Lyra. A proud, distinguished young woman with long straight blonde hair, she rather unpleasantly resembled Erik. It was as if she were his younger sister. This was rather discomforting given the flagrant flirtations and physical affection they had demonstrated in the short time Valerie had known them.

She was about to pipe up herself when she caught a glimpse of Valerie. The Lieutenant General was hanging onto her grace by a thread. Her left eye was twitching involuntarily and her stance had become rather square.

The group snapped upright and clamped their mouths shut. Lyra met Valerie’s gaze reproachfully, whilst the others’ eyes wandered around anywhere but Valerie’s direction.

“As I was saying. I am sure you are competent mages with strong potential who will do Palir proud. But you are not equipped to tackle creatures that roam Carrigan’s Blight. No one is. Which is why, I will not risk our nation's young, promising new talents in a fight with a Greybone Stalker.” Valerie even managed to squeeze out a smile at the end.

Erik shot up at the mention of the Stalker, but Lyra stepped forward and took over. “Thank you very much for your understanding and thoughtfulness Lieutenant General. We have great respect for everything you do here, and we deeply appreciate the time you and your staff have already taken earlier today to show us around.” She glanced back at Erik and Seraphina and motioned towards Valerie, mumbling something to them.

They both stepped forward and bowed their heads politely. “Thank you Lieutenant General Valerie,” they chimed. It creeped Valerie out a little, but she nodded back respectfully, then made to leave, before stopping in her tracks.

“Hold on, how did you three manage to get here outside my door? There should have been guards stationed by the entrance to the Inner Quarters.”

The trio looked blankly at Valerie. Seraphina stated, “There were no guards when we came by Lieutenant, honestly.”

Valerie frowned. Perhaps Sir Christopher had pulled them off guard duty to patrol the wall. Were we so undermanned that leaving the Inner Quarters unguarded was necessary? Or had Christopher just grabbed the nearest guards on duty out of laziness?

As Valerie stood silently in thought Erik and Seraphina nudged Lyra from either side.

Lyra swept her chestnut hair from her face, cleared her throat and hesitantly spoke up. “Um. Sorry Lieutenant General, I don’t want to impose on you, but could we possibly just come outside to look? This is after all a practical assignment for school, and we’d love to have an opportunity to learn from someone as esteemed as yourself.”

Valerie sighed, just when she’d begun to like one of them. She mulled over the consequences in her mind. Whilst they were from noble houses, their families weren’t particularly esteemed or noteworthy, and the girl did have a point. Besides, if the Stalker breached the wall, it wouldn’t make much difference if they were atop it or behind it.

“Very well,” Valerie began, “so long as you keep out of my soldiers’ way, and retreat at any sign of danger. I will not be held accountable if one of you loses a limb. Or your life.”

The trio cheered and assured Valerie they would be on their best behaviour and would keep out of trouble. Doubtful, but tired, Valerie moved on.

“Come on then, get to the wall, I need to head to the armoury. We’re done here.”

The trio gleefully rushed down the corridor off to the wall. Outside, the Stalker roared loudly and Seraphina let out a short sharp scream as she ran.

“Shit.” Mumbled Valerie.

The beast was well and truly on its way. Combat would be inevitable. It was time to fetch her armour and greatbow.