Shards of Shallot
By Orel Duano
The battle had been more like a quick skirmish for three of the Gundam pilots. Pilots 03,04, and 05 had been assigned to take out a well-hidden ammunitions plant in Northwest England; Oz had been relying heavily on that plant after several others had been taken out. They had arrived at the rendezvous area roughly two miles off the coast and swarmed the building. Only a meager amount of mobile suits were protecting this plant, as the other two pilots were wreaking havoc harrying semi-important headquarters.
While there was little opposition, Sandrock had taken damage to its hydraulic line of the left leg, making movement only possible through the vernier engines. Heavyarms and Shenlong had sustained minimal damage, but their pilots decided to make repairs at the designated safe house as well. Neither one wanted pilot 04 to stay there alone, the most vocal arguments on their minds was the fact that this safe house was haunted, and with pilot 04's high empathy level he would be prone to its fondness for mischief.
Indeed there were rumors that the castle was haunted, and everyone left well enough alone, except for the pilots that is. The last tenant had been a solitary figure, considered by some to have been a witch as when she died, the castle burst into flames for only a moment before the flames put themselves out. Left in the place of a once grand castle was a burnt out shell of former glory. Walls were falling with decay and neglect, weeds now overran once perfect gardens, and any wood in the structure not burned had rotted away. Once great wheat field could have been seen out its turrets, but the farmers had abandoned even that as the castle threw stone, and fire, and caused earthquakes, pestilence, and volatile soil to remover their presence. The wheat fields were now swampy bogs and piles of rubble perfectly situated for the hiding of large mobile suits.
Almost too perfectly all three of the pilots thought as they left the safely of their gundams and entered the castle door. The inside of the castle was in as much disarray as the courtyard and surrounding fields. Tapestries were partially burnt, and partially rotted, their once majestic scenes barely discernable. Nothing but dust had disturbed the castle after the farmers had been scared away, not even a tiny spider dared to weave its web in the dusty corridors.
The three pilots carefully made their way up the decrepit stairwell, hoping to find a suitable room to sleep in. The stairs led to a single wooden door that had been rusted shut several decades ago. At least, it seemed like it had been rusted shut for none could open the door, but when they started to return down the stairs the door silently swung in and a rush of fetid and stale air flowed past them. In unison they drew their guns and made their way into the room.
Close inspection revealed little. On one wall, near the window was a loom with a partially finished weaving. In front of the loom was a broken mirror. Some of the glass remained in the golden oval frame, but most had been scattered across the floor. Pilot 04 picked up one of the larger pieces of glass and glanced in it. Behind him, in the middle of the room was the decaying figure of the mirror's owner. Ashen skin had sunken into the hollows of her bones, brittle hair was pulled back into knot fashionable in medieval times, though it was her rotted dress that told him it was the era of King Arthur Pendragon. This realization caused his hand to clutch compulsively on the glass shard, slicing his finger open just enough for a few drops of blood to well up. Instinct made him raise his hand sharply to suck on the wound; it also caused a drop of blood to fall onto the unfinished tapestry. This set to motion an ancient curse once more.