As the Risen chieftain fell to the ground with a gurgling death rattle, Chrom wiped his sweaty brow and grinned.
"That's the last of the Risen, milord," Frederick said, approaching from behind. "Hopefully this area will be clear for a while."
"I certainly hope so, for the sake of the Feroxi," Chrom replied, trying to sound concerned and largely failing. Frederick leveled a steady gaze at the prince, who shrunk under it. "Not to say that the plight of the Feroxi doesn't worry me, it's just…" Chrom glanced back at the rest of their merry party, who had finished looting the corpses and were gathering around the pair. "Someone back me up here?"
"I see where you're coming from, Chrom," Ricken piped up from the back, eager to please. "Ever since the Risen have been appearing around the Longfort, we've gotten a lot of practice in fighting them. Why, I feel stronger after just this battle alone!"
Frederick turned to blast the full force of his glare at Ricken, but Stahl, who couldn't see the knight's expression from where he stood, threw in his own two cents. "Yeah, I agree! It's way better than beating up a practice dummy. And the Risen around the Longfort haven't been too strong, so we've hardly been in any danger while honing our own skills."
Frederick's glare wavered, but Ricken didn't seem to have the strength to look away.
"It's not like you haven't benefited from the practice, either," Tharja muttered from behind her knightly husband.
The glare broke, and Frederick sighed. "Very well, I see your point. But let us count ourselves fortunate that no Feroxi blood has been spilled, and hope that the Longfort remain safe in the days to come.
A chorus of assent rose to greet him and the party disassembled. No one noticed the army's tactician trailing behind the rest of the group, a curious glint in her eyes.
"Milord!" Frederick burst into Chrom's tent as quickly and unheralded as the grand finish of Lucina's conception. Olivia sprang off Chrom's lap with a screech and pulled the bedroll up around her chest, leaving no extra fabric for her husband's modesty. Chrom scrambled to find his clothing and tossed it about to cover the important bits.
"Gods, Frederick; would it be too much to ask for a little privacy?"
"My apologies, milord," Frederick said, no apology evident in his tone, "but Risen have been spotted nearby?"
"What?"
"By the Longfort, sire."
The interrupted lovers stared at him, embarrassment forgotten. "That's impossible," Chrom said hollowly. "We just cleared them out not an hour ago."
"I saw them for myself. Archers, it looks like."
Chrom swore and began getting dressed. "Rally the troops. Tell the fliers they're staying behind, and get everyone else who didn't fight the last skirmish—"
"No, get everyone who fought last time," a new voice said. Robin peeked through the tent-flap, a serious expression on her face. "Their muscles are warmed up and ready to go."
Chrom paused in the middle of lacing up his trousers. Olivia turned bright red and pulled the bedroll higher. "Are you sure, Robin? Everyone's exhausted from the last fight."
"They're still running on adrenaline, whereas everyone else has been lying around all day stiffening their muscles."
The prince sighed. "Fine, then. Round up the last party, and let's be ready to march within the half-hour."
Donnel's new silver lance was baptized in the blood of the Risen archer leader as it pierced the walking corpse's throat. While on any other day Donnel might have celebrated with a cheery "Yeehaw!" he was too exhausted from the previous skirmish to say anything other than, "Whew, I'm pooped. Glad that's over."
Stahl offered a weak grin as he slapped Donnel on the shoulder. Donnel's muscles screamed at the contact, and he nearly fell over. "Well, still sort of invigorating, right? This last fight made me realize how great I am at fighting in the open air."
"This fight made me aware how suited I am to fighting indoors for some reason," Kellam said behind the pair. No one heard or acknowledged him.
"I s'pose," Donnel groaned, "but I still feel like I took a whoopin'. I can't wait to get to the bathin' tent!"
Stahl laughed. "I hear you, buddy. Let's head back to camp." They descended the fort stairs and made their way back, the rest of the troops following with Kellam trailing unnoticed behind them all.
"Milord!"
Chrom didn't bother to open his eyes from where he was resting with his wife in his tent, but he could feel Olivia's body heat rise to feverish levels as she blushed, as though Frederick had caught them in yet another compromising position. "Don't tell me," he sighed, "more Risen?"
"More Risen."
"What kind?"
"Pegasus riders, milord."
"Okay," Chrom said with another sigh, opening his eyes and beginning to rise. He stretched his aching legs and fetched Falchion. "I guess we'll need an archer with us, right? Tell one of the Ylisseans to—"
"Same party," Robin's voice whispered from outside the tent flap.
"Um, okay, never mind. Same men and women."
When the same men and women heard the news, Frederick briefly entertained the idea that a riot might form. But they calmed down soon enough and were marching the well-worn path back to the Longfort.
"D'you think the Feroxi're gonna wonder what we're doing spending so long in their territory?" Sully muttered, not really quietly and to herself, during the walk. "Feels like we're occupying their lands, huh?"
"I hope not," Ricken said earnestly. "I mean, clearly we're helping defend their lands. It's not as if we're the ones summoning the Risen—we're clearing them out!"
"True enough," Sully replied, and the rest of the walk was spent in exhausted silence.
The fliers were disposed of easily enough, but the Ylissean army's foul mood was not. Donnel had sustained some minor burns from the lone mage of the pack, and Nowi was busy cooing and fretting over him. Chrom supposed being reminded of her husband's mortality was frightening for her, which he could understand, but either way, her high-pitched squeals and sympathetic exclamations were grating on his already-frayed nerves. It had been a long day.
Before he made the same mistake of assuming this long day was over, like he had before, he decided to pay Robin a visit. Maybe she could gain some insight as to why Risen were suddenly spawning so frequently in the same location in the same day.
Chrom tossed aside the flap to her and Gaius's tent and nearly tripped on something by his feet. He leaned over to put it in its proper place. His joke about her messiness fell dead from his lips as he realized what the item was.
A Reeking Box.
He peered over at Robin in the corner of the tent, and only now did he realize that she was surrounded by dozens and dozens of the boxes, and was staring at him with a manic gleam in her eyes. One of the boxes was in her hand, her fingers on the lid.
"Don't you do it, Robin," he warned her. "Do it and I will not forgive you."
"We need the experience, Chrom," she said quietly, his name punctuated with a giggle that was less than sane.
"Don't—"
She opened the box and laughed maniacally, three short but disturbing "Ha! Ha! Ha!"s. A few agonizing seconds later, Chrom heard Frederick running around camp, frantically shouting a desperate call for "milord!"
Chrom glared at his tactician, who smiled beatifically back. "This isn't over," he spat, jabbing a finger in her direction. "You're coming with this time, and we're taking a different party." The smile dropped from her face. "No! The troops need their rest. You're coming, and you're coming with me." He grabbed her by the arm, surprised as she didn't struggle.
She did, however, mumble some nonsense about "experience points" and "toughen up the weak" as he pulled her along to the Longfort. Maybe he should have gone with Frederick's judgment when they first found her in that field so long ago, but it was too late now.
Chrom made a mental note to tell Miriel to burn all the Reeking Boxes once they got back, and maybe lock Robin up somewhere for a while.