"Silent Night~ Where the dead rise~

Clean white bones~ Shall arise~

They march onwards, weapons in hand~

Brave and fearless, they forever stand~

O, the Bone Lord has come~

Our liege the Bone Lord has come~

Silent Night~ Time for slaughter~

Our troops went~ With laughter~

While they butcher our foes in twain~

All their futile resistance in vain~

For the Bone Lord is here~

Our liege the Bone Lord is here~" - Hymn sung by Ptolodeccan soldiers, when the Bone Lord personally takes to the field.

Vitalica/Junora border, fourth day of the second week of the seventh month, year 37 VA.

Aoife Mac Lir peered closely at the small, unfurled scroll of parchment in her hand for the fourth time that morning, and furrowed her brows in consternation.

As she finally came to a decision, she picked out a small strip of blank parchment - just like the one she had in her hand - and her quill. After a quick dip in ink she carefully jotted down tiny letters on the parchment, and blew on it until it dried properly.

The task finished, she carefully rolled up the strip of parchment tightly until it formed a small cylinder, and fastened it within the small metal loop in the center of the undead raven's ribcage. The raven was an eerie sight, nothing but bones, yet with feathers still attached to it somehow, and could have been mistaken for a normal raven from afar.

As she walked out of her tent with the raven perched atop her left shoulder, she saw the morning activity that went on. Soldiers were preparing breakfast, while others stood on guard, and yet others sparred in the name of training. She smiled as she saw her daughter cooking by one of the fires, while her two sons sparred with each other not far away.

Their encampments were practically next to the Vitalican ones, as both armies had chosen to take a rest after they spent most of yesterday cleaning up the thousands of corpses on the battlefield. A mass pyre was the best they could offer the Junoran thralls, and that was what they did. The pyre burned through the night and only died out early in the morning hours, and the acrid scent of burnt corpses was still heavy in the air.

With a flap of its black wings, the undead raven lifted off Aoife's shoulder, and she went through the encampment, in the direction of the Vitalican encampment. Aideen saw her as she went past, and passed on the pot of stew she was tending to a nearby soldier. Faerghus and Diarmuid also noticed, and soon all four of them walked together when Aoife told them that there were important matters she had to discuss with their father.

While they walked, Aoife spotted a pigeon descend into the camp, around where Ciarran's tent should be. She knew that her husband likely got the first half of the news as well then, as the undead ravens Ptolodecca used were much faster than the messenger pigeons used by Vitalica.

Faerghus waved them through the checkpoints, and soon the family gathered within Ciarran's tent. There Aoife found her husband of more than three decades, seated on a stool with a hand supporting his forehead and a small scroll on his other hand.

The way he had turned pale made it obvious that he had just received bad news.

"You've gotten the news too, I see?" Asked Aoife as she rubbed her husband's back gently.

"Aoife?" Said Ciarran as he looked up. From where she stood, Aideen clearly saw her father's face wrinkled and etched with worry, and she exchanged concerned glances with her siblings. "You have more news regarding this I assume?"

"Oh yes, I definitely do," replied Aoife with a sigh. "Master's courier arrived early this morning."

"Uhh, mother, father? Pardon the interruption," interjected Faerghus as his curiosity ate at him. "But what happened?"

"An Junoran assassin snuck into our home at La Fiachna," said Ciarran with a grave tone, as if he dreaded the words he would say next. "Little Mimia was… injured."

Mimia was Drietven's half-human granddaughter, child of his daughter Yvgenia and a human man, and also earned the distinction to be inducted as one of the bone lord's personal disciples early on in life. Her father was also another disciple of the bone lord, and reports they had gotten during the years stated that apparently she had awakened the Mortality affinity as well recently.

The child had been a prodigy with magic, and the Bone Lord had greatly doted on her. He does treat his personal disciples like they were his own children, true, but he especially doted on Mimia, partly due to her young age. The ancient lich acted little different to a kindly, doting grandfather when confronted with his youngest disciple.

She was also the one who played the part of a "hostage" in the exchange that saw Aideen and Diarmuid come to Ptolodecca, and Ciarran had sworn that he would keep her safe. That she had been injured by an assassin meant for his family… was beyond shameful, and worrisome.

"Brenegan got the assassin before it was too late, and she will recover fine, though it could have been bad if she hadn't awakened the new affinity already," said Aoife as she continued the news. This part, her husband had likely not received yet, so he too listened carefully. "That said… Master is very angry at what happened."

"How bad are we talking?" Asked Ciarran as he gulped nervously. Despite the man's relative docility in the recent decades, he had heard all too many stories of the Bone Lord's wrath, and the man's anger truly worried him.

Stories had been abound of nascent nations massacred by merciless, pitiless hordes of skeletons. Of enemies that infuriated him, receiving fates far worse than death. Tales of genocide and slaughter aplenty, to the point that Aideen had a hard time reconciling all the horrid stories with the image of her adorable grandpa Aarin.

Yet the tales were more likely than not true, and the hymn held in highest honor by the Ptolodeccan army, known to everyone by heart, and sung only when the Bone Lord personally took to the field, had no qualms about attesting to the accusations either.

"Another army detachment is slated to arrive here in two days," stated Aoife bluntly, and even Aideen could feel that she had some trepidation as she said her next words. "And the letter I received said… Master will be leading them personally."