Aiden lowered his hand slowly, letting the last traces of Bone Armor fade from his body as the battlefield finally began to quiet.
The kind of quiet that ca after everything important had already been decided.
Screams had faded.
Clashing steel had turned into scattered resistance.
What remained...
Was his.
He looked out across the ruined town, his eyes moving from one end of the battlefield to the other.
Bodies are verywhere.
Broken weapons, collapsed walls, blood soaking into the ground.
And between all of it...
His undead.
Still moving, standing around, and waiting.
Aiden took a slow breath, then spoke.
"Collect them."
The command spread instantly.
Across the field, skeletons began to move with purpose, no longer fighting, but gathering. They bent down, lifting corpses one by one, dragging them, carrying them, piling them into open spaces where Aiden’s sight could reach.
Graveknit stepped forward slightly, watching the process with hollow stillness.
"...Around three thousand, my lord." he said after a mont, his voice low.
Aiden’s gaze moved slowly across the field as the count settled in his mind.
"...Three thousand," he repeated quietly.
His army didn’t just win battles.
It grew from them.
Across the ruined town, the undead worked without pause. Skeletons dragged bodies from collapsed streets, from broken gates, from beneath piles of debris. So carried them over their shoulders, others pulled them across the blood-soaked ground, leaving long streaks behind.
Until the center of the ruined town was filled with rows of bodies laid out in a grim, orderly fashion.
The sll of blood hung thick in the air, heavy enough to taste, but Aiden didn’t react to it. His attention shifted instead to a smaller group being brought forward.
Five bodies.
Different from the rest. Body tempering practitioners.
Aiden turned slightly, looking toward the distant horizon, far beyond the ruined town, far beyond the battlefield.
Toward his real base.
The place where all of this would beco sothing more.
"...Prepare transport," he said.
The command spread, and the undead began adjusting again. Larger carts were brought forward, fras built for carrying weight.
Thousands of corpses, gathered and prepared to be moved.
All of them destined for the sa place.
The Flesh Reclamation Pit.
Where flesh would be stripped.
Where bone would be refined.
Where death would be turned into an army.
Aiden watched as the last of the preparations fell into place.
Carrion arrived.
He moved through the field without slowing, his presence cutting through the remaining motion like a blade. When he reached Aiden, he stopped and lowered his head slightly.
"My lord," he said, his voice steady, "I will take the undead army back to the base."
Aiden glanced at him briefly.
Behind Carrion, the army had already begun to form up again. Not in battle formation this ti, but in transport lines, escorting the collected bodies, protecting the cargo as if it were more valuable than anything else.
Because it was.
Aiden gave a small nod.
"Alright," he said. "You can go."
Carrion didn’t hesitate.
He turned imdiately, raising one hand slightly.
The entire army responded.
Like a single organism.
The massive line of undead began to move, slow at first, then steady, marching away from the ruined town, carrying with them the result of the battle.
Three thousand bodies.
Five stronger ones are left behind.
The long procession stretched across the ruined road, fading slowly into the distance as Carrion led the army away.
The sound of marching bones grew quieter with every passing second.
Until only a few remained.
Aiden stood still for a mont, his gaze shifting toward the five bodies that had been set aside.
They lay where they were placed, untouched, separated from the rest. Even in death, there was a difference in them. Their fras were sturdier, their presence heavier, as if sothing still lingered beneath the surface.
Aiden stepped closer.
Graveknit followed behind him without a word, the faint scraping of bone against bone the only sound he made.
Aiden stopped a few steps away from the bodies.
Then he raised his hand.
"Lord of the Dead."
---
In the end, the five bodies sat up.
Not as they once were.
Their eyes were hollow, but there was strength in them. More than the others. More than ordinary undead.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"Oh... luck is on my side this ti."
Graveknit lowered his head slightly.
"Congratulations, my lord," he said, his tone steady, but carrying a hint of approval.
Aiden glanced at the five newly risen undead once more, then unsummon them.
He then began walking.
Graveknit moved beside him as they left the center of the battlefield, stepping over broken stone and dried blood as they made their way toward the inner part of the town.
The city lord’s manor stood in the distance, still intact compared to the rest of the ruined surroundings.
After a few monts, Aiden spoke again.
"So," he said casually, as if discussing sothing minor, "how many did we lose this ti?"
Graveknit didn’t need to think long.
"...Around five hundred," he replied.
Aiden nodded slowly.
"Five hundred..."
He repeated it once, then let out a quiet breath.
"That’s not bad."
His gaze shifted slightly, as if calculating.
"Compared to the three thousand bodies we gained... we’re still ahead."
They continued walking.
The ruined streets slowly gave way to wider paths, less damaged structures, until the city lord’s manor stood clearly in front of them.
Tall gates.
Heavy doors.
Now broken open.
Signs of struggle were everywhere, but no resistance remained.
Aiden stepped through the entrance without slowing.
The interior was quiet.
Too quiet.
Bodies lay scattered across the floor, maids who didn’t have enough ti to flee.
Aiden didn’t even glance at them.
His attention was already elsewhere.
"Let’s see," he said, his voice calm, almost casual.
"How much gold we can get from this place."
Graveknit followed behind him as they moved deeper into the manor, their footsteps echoing faintly through the empty halls.
The halls of the manor stretched long and silent, their once polished floors now marked with dirt, footprints, and dried blood. Torn curtains hung from tall windows, swaying slightly as the wind slipped in through cracks in the walls.
Aiden walked at a steady pace, his boots echoing softly with each step. His eyes moved from one corner to another, not missing anything. Broken furniture. Scattered valuables. Signs of a hurried evacuation.
"They didn’t have ti to take everything," he said quietly.
Graveknit followed a step behind, his hollow gaze sweeping across the surroundings.
"They fled in panic, my lord," he replied. "Most likely when the outer defense collapsed."
Aiden pushed open a large door at the end of the hall.
The treasury.
Inside, chests were stacked along the walls, so already broken open, others still intact. Gold coins spilled across the floor, mixed with jewels, ornants, and small artifacts.
For a mont, even Aiden paused.
Then a faint smile appeared on his face.
"...Now this," he murmured, stepping inside, "is worth the trouble."
Aiden stepped deeper into the treasury, the faint echo of his footsteps mixing with the soft clink of coins shifting under his boots. The room slled of old wood, tal, and sothing faintly stale, like it had been sealed for years before being forced open in a hurry.
He crouched slightly and picked up a handful of gold coins, letting them slip through his fingers one by one. The sound was crisp, clean, and satisfying.
Ti passed quietly.
The only sounds in the room were the soft clatter of gold and the occasional creak of wood.
Aiden didn’t help much. He simply walked around, checking the contents himself, occasionally picking sothing up, examining it briefly before tossing it aside if it didn’t interest him.
Jewels.
Silverware.
Decorations.
All valuable, but not as direct as gold.
Eventually, Graveknit stopped.
"My lord," he said.
Aiden glanced over.
"Total?"
Graveknit straightened slightly.
"From the manor alone... around five thousand gold coins."
Aiden nodded once.
"That matches what I expected."
He took a few steps forward, looking at the piles spread across the floor, then added calmly,
"Add the ones we collected earlier from the battlefield."
Graveknit answered imdiately.
"Another five thousand, my lord."
That made Aiden pause for a brief second.
Then a faint smile ford.
"...Ten thousand."
He repeated it quietly, as if weighing the number in his mind.
Aiden let out a small breath, not tired this ti, but satisfied.
"Good haul," he said.
He looked down at the gold again, his eyes sharper now, more focused.
"I can do a lot with this."
After a mont, he turned away from the piles, losing interest just as quickly as he gained it.
"Pack the valuable items," he said, though his tone made it clear the decision was already made.
Graveknit inclined his head.
"It will be done."
Aiden walked toward the doorway, stopping just before stepping out. For a brief mont, he looked back at the room, at the scattered wealth, at the remains of a power that had already fallen.
Then he spoke again.
"Graveknit."
"Yes, my lord."
Aiden’s voice was calm, but carried a quiet weight.
"You go back to the base alone."
Graveknit’s hollow gaze lifted slightly.
"And manage everything while I’m gone."
No question, Graveknit said.
"Understood, my lord."
Aiden nodded once.
That was enough.
Graveknit didn’t ask where he was going, or how long he would be gone. He simply turned, already preparing to leave, his movents steady and silent as always.
Aiden stepped out of the treasury and into the quiet hallway once more.
This ti, he was alone.
The manor felt even more empty now, the silence deeper, heavier.
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