"Listen Walhart, it's been two weeks since you joined the ranks and you're still skulking here on your own. Remember what I said about fostering the bonds between soldiers?" Robin went on, "It's time for you to come out of your shell… or armor, whatever."
In an attempt to show him he was serious, the tactician glanced up and tried to directly stare into Walhart's eyes, but he literally fell short.
"Why would I waste my time on such trivial matters? Every waking moment should be dedicated on getting stronger, not on fooling around and drinking tea while baking pies. This is why you're weak. You're all weak, always depending on those bonds." Walhart clicked his tongue.
After flashing him a look of disapproval, Robin gave the giant a push towards the barracks. This took quite a bit of his strength.
"I bested you in battle, so that means you're weaker than me." Robin retorted, "Who was it that said that power is everything? I'm stronger so you have to abide by my rules and orders!"
The tactician stuck his thumb out and pointed at his chest with a smug look on his face. There was an overwhelming urge to smack his face, but Walhart suppressed this impulse. After all, he lost to this little brat and that meant he was his superior. He had no choice but to listen to the tactician's orders.
"Just go spend some time in the barracks. You have to let those curly locks of yours down every once in a while."
A frown appeared on Walhart's face for a second. He had no need for friends and the likes. The usefulness of such a room still eluded him. Robin gave him another push.
"Hmph, I shall go if you insist on it."
Walhart walked with steps that wasted neither time nor energy. During his walk to the barracks, he questioned the exalt's brain for appointing that man as the tactician.
The barracks, a place where Chrom's goons would often go to for a breather and to socialize with each other. The Shepherds were a group of misfits to him. Unfortunately, he had joined the ranks only a few weeks ago.
The thought of befriending them never even crossed his mind. He once stood on top of the world all by himself and now, he was alone again, but this time he was in a room filled with seemingly random things. Dragonstones, pieces of armor, wooden crates and worthless trinkets lay across the cluttered room. He felt the need to straighten the room. A peaceful room equalled a peaceful mind.
There wasn't even anyone else in the barracks.
Walhart looked at the window and there, something caught his eye. A candy tree stood proud in the corner of the room in full glory. It was different from everything else.
He approached the tree to inspect it. Lollipops were attached to its branches with threads. The leaves were of a verdant green color. Upon closer look, he noticed that the leaves were made of fondant. Someone had carefully carved very detailed veins into the fondant. Also, the branches were actually made of liquorice.
A tree made of candy, it was crazy and yet genius. Whoever made this must've been very talented. He appreciated the effort put into this, even though it was an utter waste of time. However, its maker must've put his or her soul into it. To do or make something while you put your soul in it was admirable. Walhart could relate to such passion, he nodded his head to the tree. The tree got his seal of approval.
Walhart turned around and glanced at the room once again. It lacked chairs or pieces of furniture designed to accommodate oneself.
"This room is a disappointment," he muttered to himself.
When he was about to leave the room, something hit his metal boot.
"What's this?"
It was a Tree Branch devoid of leaves. The twig was obviously way weaker than Walhart himself since it was in such a sad state. The urge to dominate this pathetic object suddenly arose and he just couldn't contain himself. A grin appeared on his face.
'HA HA, an item!' he cackled, "KNEEL BEFORE YOUR NEW MASTER!"
It was under his dominion in one fast swipe. He had always enjoyed dominating over people and things. To finally be someone or something's master again filled him with great pleasure. He swung it a couple times as if handling a sword before laughing again. Walhart's confidence was renewed. When was the last time something made him feel this alive again? Maybe he finally realized the barracks' worth. Although there were no chairs or anything like that, it was peaceful and formed some kind of sanctuary to its visitors. Perhaps he would return here tomorrow, he thought to himself.
Satisfied, Walhart walked towards the exit again with his newly acquired weapon. The door was half-open and a figure stood there with a smirk on his face. It was the tactician. His joy was quickly killed off upon seeing his face.
'Oh, Walhart. I hope you enjoyed your stay at the barracks.' The man said with a straight face before bursting out in laughter.
The conqueror never returned to the barracks after that.
This is a story I wrote a while ago and ended up forgetting about. Just like Robin, I also burst out in laughter after seeing that in the barracks.
Constructive criticism is always welcome. Thank you for reading this short story!