A/N: Sooooo... hi. Uh. Remember that "written yourself into a corner" feeling I told you about?
...Turns out that was just gas.
But let's be serious here. I honestly didn't think I'd come back to this, for reasons I had stated in the discontinuation notice (which will more than likely be gone by the time you read this). But... well, I got caught up with the Fates hype train. I got caught up in it real hard.
That combined with me getting RPG Maker MV, as well as starting something else (tangentially related) on another forum, I found myself coming back to this, and I'm seriously considering writing more chapters now.
So here's how it's likely going to go from now on. No more discontinuation notices. Barring major real-life emergencies, I'm going to try my damnedest to finish this. There may be unannounced hiatuses between updates, but I'm not going to throw this away in the future. If my motivation tanks, I'll be taking a break. I don't know how long these breaks might be, but I'll always come back to this. Eventually.
Anyways, that's why there's an author's note at the beginning (actually, that's why this chapter's here at all). With that out of the way, enjoy the chapter.
"Hmm... the Six of Clubs."
Her hand hovers over the chess pieces for a few seconds, before she picks one out.
A rook, this time.
A full day had passed before they received word of another one.
That day of intermission was spent trying to formulate a strategy to deal with these things when and wherever they popped up. Well, a strategy that went beyond "Find a thing, possibly get absorbed by the thing, and fight an endless horde of Simulacra summoned by the thing". However, there wasn't really anything they could come up with. And, Robin added, there was no reason to expect that the other... things would behave any differently than that black crystal did. They could probably bring more firepower this time, to deal with the emerging Simulacra, now that they knew what to expect.
The rest of the day, then, was spent training. After the war had ended, there was not much of a purpose to retaining a rigorous training schedule, and the absence of anything major happening during the Shepherds' disappearance didn't help either. Training only started up again when the Simulacra appeared, and with the revelation of these things...
They'd need to come up with a name for these things.
The next... thing... was found in a field just outside of a farming village to the north. The report that Lucina received stated that the object came up from the ground, rather than falling from the sky, and described the object as a large stone coffin.
Well, that's a bit more concrete than a black crystal, but I'm not exactly sure that's a good thing, Robin thought as Lucina relayed the message. Coffins meant death.
Not that Robin or any of the Shepherds were inexperienced with death, mind.
The next day, everyone was ready to head north, and were waiting at the convoy.
"Alright, everything's ready, Robin," Lucina said, as they walked toward the front of the wagons, "We're well supplied and rationed, and we have a small troop of soldiers with us to secure the objective. If the same thing happens as last time, we'll have Morgan direct the battle. I've sent the Pegasus Knights to patrol between the major cities of Ylisse, Ferox and Plegia. If they see anything, or receive any reports from anyone, they'll find us."
"Understood," Robin replied. He was about to ask about how Lucina was going to have the political situation handled in her absence, but then he remembered... this was kind of the norm for Chrom... It wouldn't really change now that Lucina took over, would it?
"We're all ready to go, right?" Robin said, turning toward the wagons where everyone had assembled.
"Well... almost," Severa replied, huffing.
"Almost? What are we... wait," Robin started, before realizing there were two people missing, "where are... oh, for-"
Robin sighed exasperatedly, before turning back into the castle.
He loudly knocked on the door three times, before stepping backward and waiting.
"Ah'm comiiiiiin~" he heard from behind to door.
The door opened up a sliver, and Cynthia's head poked out.
"Robiiiiin... what's going on...?" she slurred, very clearly still half asleep.
"Well, first of all, you realize we're supposed to be heading up north right now, right?"
"Ah... dun worrrrry 'bout it... I'll be riiiight theeeeere..." Cynthia mumbled.
"Good to hear. Second of all, this is Inigo's room," Robin finished flatly.
"Hweh...? Huh? Eeeek!" Cynthia cried, now fully awake, slamming the door and no doubt scrambling to wake Inigo and get ready and escape from this embarrassing situation.
Robin decided to spare them the awkwardness and made a hasty retreat. He wouldn't say a word of this to anyone else.
The convoy totaled eight wagons; two for the Shepherds, four for the soldiers they brought with them, and two more dedicated to supplies. Encircling the convoy were Severa, Cynthia, Gerome, and Nah in her manakete form. Riding with them were Owain, Inigo (who had stashed his weapons and armor in Robin's wagon to make Cynthia's pegasus's life easier), Kjelle (who had done the same for Minerva), and Yarne in his human form, respectively. Riding in the front two wagons were the Shepherds. Robin, Morgan, Libra and Laurent were in one wagon, trying to see if they could figure out anything more based on what Libra experienced. Brady, Noire, and Lucina were in another. Behind them were the supply wagons, and bringing up the rear were the soldiers' wagons. They kept a steady pace up the Northroad, and arrived at the village just as the sun touched the horizon.
Cynthia, being in the lead and thus the first to sight it, began to lower her pegasus. That was the signal for them to get ready to stop and disembark. As the convoy reached the village, the citizens of the village came forward to meet them.
"Robin, Exalt, Shepherds... we're honored," a balding middle aged man (presumably the village elder) said, bowing, "the coffin is over that way. It emerged from right in the middle of Darrien's field."
"It scared the tarnation outta me, it did," another man from the back spoke up. That must have been Darrien, then.
"Alright, thank you. We'll see to it that that gets resolved," Robin said, before the entire troupe approached the field.
To be fair, it was hard to miss. It was about as large as the crystal was, but it was... well... a giant stone coffin.
As they got close to it, the lid of the coffin shifted a little, and a dark mist seeped from the cracks.
The headache started.
Here we... go... again... Robin thought as fell forward onto his knees.
The Shepherds at least expected it to happen now. This time, though, they were forced to cover their ears.
Minerva's cries of pain would have been loud even if she wasn't standing right them.
Once again, one moment they were right there, and the next they were gone. Robin, Gerome... and Minerva. As that happened, the coffin lid slowly slid open, revealing an unpenetrable darkness from the inside of the coffin.
"I think they're coming," Morgan mumbled, then began to shout orders, "Soldiers! Formation! Get ready for a long battle!"
And as if on cue, a bunch of Simulacra began to shamble out of the coffin.
She sits, unmoving, in a puddle of her own vomit. Her eyes are empty, and stare forward, where a large fetid mass sits in front of her.
A fly buzzes across her vision, and her eyes track it for an instant, before staring back at the rotten flesh pile.
She feels the bile rising in her throat again, and she tilts barely her head forward, before she vomits again. Her clothes are covered in sick, but she doesn't even seem to realize at this point.
"The worst thing about that? The smell, I'd think. And wyverns can take quite a while to decompose."
A/N: So yeah. I'm back.
I'm still getting back into the swing of things, so this chapter might not quite be up to the standard of the previous chapters. I'll get back into my previous rhythm though. Soon I hope.
Also wow, I sure do love to torture my favorite characters, huh?
y i do dis
Reviews, as always, are welcome. Thanks for reading, and stay tuned for the next chapter (which definitely will not take 11 months to write).
What time is it anyway...
*looks at clock*
...Oh for fu-