"We march on without fear~

Victory or death are both just fine for us~

All our lives are for our lord's will, his demands, we will strive to, fullfill~

That is why we marched, we shall put our lives at stake~

Thus we swear, to fight on till our last breath, on our souls~!

For we are but his tools, to strive for his ideals~

We exist for him to use as he should please~

We have not a regret, to serve him with our lives~

For we have trust, in his wisdom~

In his hands we feel safe, for our deaths would be worthy~

For the Bone Lord shall not waste lives~

His every stride is filled, with bright purpose aglint~

And in his vision lay our trust~

To the last breath~

Think of us not as cruel~

For should we take lives, it would be given purpose~

Our greater goal still lies ahead, more deaths are, just a part, of it~

And we shall never stop, till we have our task fulfilled~

Thus we swear, to fight on till our last breath, on our souls~!

We fear no damnation, for our cause will be just~

For the greater good, much blood shall yet be spilled~

In this we hold our faith, right next to our hearts lay~

Let our faith guide our beliefs true~

In his hands we feel safe, for our deaths would be worthy~

For the Bone Lord shall not waste lives~

His every stride is filled, with bright purpose aglint~

And in his vision lay our trust~

To the last breath~

We charge fearlessly on, to embrace our enemies~

With cold steel and bare hands, we shall but end their lives~

Death is but a repose, for the fight carries on~

Until our lord allows us rest~

In his hands we feel safe, for our deaths would be worthy~

For the Bone Lord shall not waste lives~

His every stride is filled, with bright purpose aglint~

And in his vision lay our trust~

To the last breath~" - Hymn to the Bone Lord, widespread song among the Ptolodeccan population.

City of Ogleis, northern tip of southern Junora, fifth day of the first week of the eight month, year 37 VA.

"They resist us still?" Asked the Bone Lord from atop his throne of bones. Aideen exchanged looks with her family, and other than her mother, who found nothing out of the ordinary with the question, they all exchanged nervous glances.

In a mere three weeks, the Bone Lord's army had swept through southern Junora much like how locusts swept a field of grains. Any thrall or necromancer seen, were put down with extreme prejudice, though no harm was visited upon the serfs who were not made into thralls.

Most of them were women, the old, or the young, as the majority of healthy adult males were turned into thralls shortly after they produced their quota of five children for their necromancer masters.

Aideen felt sick to the stomach when she saw the ugly truth behind Junora's massive population first hand. Serf males were treated only as breeding stock, with only the finest allowed to escape thralldom to serve as a stud for the rest of their lives.

As for the women, they were as her mother had all too bluntly put it, used as baby factories, valued only for their ability to give birth, and often discarded should they fall ill once they went past childbearing age.

The few serfs who made it into old age in Junora were usually males with physical defects, which made them undesirable as either breeding stock or as thralls, but not too defective to be put to work. Among the females, only robust, hard-eyed, jaded women with no expectation left in life made it to their old age at all.

These old survivors were often so jaded, they had no reaction when the Bone Lord's armies marched through their villages. Many even bared their throats and closed their eyes, as they wished for release from their pitiful existence, but lacked the courage to end themselves.

Aideen winced and wondered if these men and women would ever be able to regain a semblance of normalcy in their lives, and yet her hopes were buoyed by the sight of the children. The children in Junora were far quieter and much less rambunctious than normal, but they at least still have that shine of innocence within their eyes.

Whereas at first she felt sick at grandpa Aarin's command to utterly genocide everyone not a serf in Junora, after the fifth village she passed through, she was wholly behind his decision. The way Junorans treated their people, as if they were livestock, had also ignited her indignation.

A feeling shared wholeheartedly by her father and siblings.

Ironically, it was the rebellion and independence of Vitalica that had pushed Junora to adopt these more drastic measures, as they had lost a good chunk of their land and populace, and scrambled to make up for the deficit in any way.

All of it was done in a bid to not look weak before their neighbors, like a wounded animal in fear of a predator catching the scent of their blood in the air.

In the three weeks that had passed, the main army had rolled over seventeen villages, as well as three cities as they marched northwards towards Danna, the capital of Junora.

Cities in Junora were more a congregation of farms around a necromancer's citadel, and most of them weren't really prepared to repel a siege, as Junora always favored offensive strategies.

When the Bone Lord beset them with thousands of elite undead, the citadels just crumbled. His impatience with the city of Ogleis was because it had already been the third hour of the siege, and the city - the largest in southern Junora - still stood. All the other cities had fallen within two.

"Pardon our incompetence, your holiness," apologized Adalbert from atop his mount. Out of the three cities they had taken so far, one's lord had attempted to flee while he sent his thralls and subordinates in a suicidal holding action, another evacuated with all haste the instant he received news of the Bone Lord's advance, while the third had turtled up, but that city was smaller and had far fewer thralls. "If we wish to take the citadel with minimal casualties a little more time would be needed."

"No need," said the Bone Lord with a sigh. Adalbert was competent, but the otter therian was also young, and had never fought alongside his lordship before. "Have the living troops retreat. This has taken too long."

"Pardon, my liege?"

"You heard what I said," answered the Bone Lord. "I do not like to repeat myself."

"B-by your will. It shall be done!"

------------------------------------

Not ten minutes later all of Ptolodecca's living soldiers had been withdrawn from the frontlines, while the undead kept their charge.

At first the defenders in Ogleis looked smug as they thought they had repelled the attack. Their smug smiles were aborted prematurely and replaced with screams of fear and panic when the gigantic undead behemoth strode towards the city with slow, but certain steps.

As the senior necromancer in charge of the citadel looked at with panic, the four heads of the monstrosity aligned themselves with the tops of the walls, and their jaws opened wide.

The Bone Lord used his undead mount as a conduit to his magic, and to onlookers it appeared as if the gigantic monstrosity had breathed out streams of pure death magic, which took the form of dark fog that enveloped much of the city.

Those still alive within the city - thralls included - were soon reduced to shriveled corpses, with only the senior necromancers who barely survived the onslaught.

In mere moments Ogleis turned into a city of the dead, and even as the surviving Junoran necromancers contemplated how to make their escape, they discovered that they were already surrounded, and had nowhere to escape to.

The Bone Lord's death magic left his own undead troops untouched, and soon the few remaining Junoran necromancers found themselves dying, butchered cruelly by the Bone Lord's undead troops, yet in such a clever way that they would have expired slowly, and in great agony.

Even the courtesy of a mercy kill was denied them as after the Bone Lord had the surrounding farms settled, he marched on to the next city without looking back.