The weary paladin steps into the watchtower, and is greeted by her lieutenant.

"It's been a long time, Ma'am," the lieutenant says, ushering her in to rest.

"How long?" she asks, absently patting the tall back of her loyal dog.

"Two months. We were worried, but we knew you were successful when the
nightwalkers slowed."

Kaetla nods silently.

"Casualties?"

Kaetla's face becomes stern, and the lieutenant changes the subject.

"The dwarves?"

"They hold the western front."

"And the Whitecloaks?"

Kaetla is silent for a moment, then whispers softly, "They fought valiantly,
always a day's battle ahead of us. When we finally caught up, it was deep
within the defiled stone of the mountain."

She pauses briefly, and then continues, "It is worse than we thought, but we
have slowed the tide. For now."

The lieutenant looks at his superior curiously.

Kaetla shakes her head solemnly.

"It's better that you not know."