Author's Note: Welcome to another chapter of Visits to Walhart! This is a much longer one then my last one so that is a thing. The music system I have now is a bit different. I will recommend the songs for the story so you can have them on the ready, and within the story itself are the cues to play the song at that time. Once again, you can ignore this completely if you don't want to be hassled with it. Enjoy. Also, still do not own Fire Emblem.
Songs to have on hand: "Agh! Won goph in mah mouph! Blech! Ptooey!" and "And what if I can't? What if I'm not worthy of her ideals?"
Chapter 2: An Unexpected Mouse
It was the crack of dawn and the red glow of the sun had just begun to warm the land. A stiff breeze washed over the camp of the Shepherds, whom most of which had not awoken yet.
One man however, was wide-awake.
Walhart had just finished his morning ritual of mediating for an hour, and had emerged from his lowly tent in time to face the beaming sun. He spent a time basking in the warm heat of the rising sun, making the red of his armor burn with its light. This was a small habit of his: to behold the morning boldly and to enjoy the scenery of the world around.
A world he had once swore to make his own.
It was often at this time, after he threw off the shackles of sleep and before the morning prater of the awaking Shepherds, that he thought back to battles fought and wars long past – most of which he instigated in the name of his conquest. He had faced many a worthy foe and won many a blood-filled battle over numerous years. He had been victorious in all of them, and so memories of glory and success were plentiful. But foremost in his mind right now however, were the battles that lead up to his downfall and the end of his conquest over the world.
The battle that consumed his mind now was the first time when the then-Emperor Walhart and Prince Chrom first matched blades. He could still remember the roaring of the armies as his elite forces clashed with the rag-tag Ylissean militia. The sound of clashing steel and power. The Prince proved his might that day as he led the charge. He slew foe after foe like a hurricane of steel ripping across the battlefield. Walhart recalled being both impressed with his determination and irritated that the Prince dared to resist him.
It was not before long that Chrom stood before Walhart, facing him as though they were equals. He still remembered the words they exchanged, keen as swords, before they traded steel like great men, free of any rules but their own…
"Liiisaaaaa!"
(Cue "Agh! Won goph in mah mouph! Blech! Ptooey!")
Walhart's lungs filled to the brim, and then released with a great heaving sigh. It appeared that his moment of solitude was over. Now he had to face another day of mingling with the loud and disorganized masses that was the Shepherds.
"Truly, this so-called militia is more akin to yelping puppies then any self-respecting army," he commented dryly to the sun. It, of course, did not answer back.
"Liiissssa, get back here!"
Once more a shout reached his ears, coming from off in the distance. The voice had become closer, and Walhart could now identify it as belonging to the tactician of the Shepherds, Robin.
He could not help but ponder briefly whatever it could be that made the tactician this upset. Within his knowledge, few things could force out the tactician's rage. In the end however, Walhart dismissed it as unimportant to him and turned to leave. The tactician's ruckus would wake the rest of the Shepherds in little time. He would obtain his morning substance with haste, and then to training would be his plan for the day. He wondered if the taguel woman would be making any of the day's meals. He was rather fond of her carrot stew…
*Thud*
Walhart felt something hit hard and bounce off the back of his armor. Along with it, a squeaked "ow!" could be heard by his ears.
Annoyed, he turned to see what bumped into him. There was nothing there. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to ascertain what or who would dare collide into the Conqueror. It wasn't until he heard a low moan that he thought to look down at his feet. There laid the culprit.
It was a little mouse of a girl in a very lacy yellow dress, sitting on the dusty ground with dainty hands holding her nose, her eyes shut tightly from pain.
"Hey! What kind of person put a wall he-re…?" The blonde-haired girl ceased speaking as soon as she opened her eyes to behold his boots. They slowly moved upward to fully take in her so-called 'wall.'
Walhart had to admit to himself that there was some enjoyment to be had from the way the color was leeched from her face and the way her green eyes became glossed over from raw fear. She looked as if death had befallen her already, and in another time that would have been very true. Few laid a hand on the Conqueror without his permission and still retained all their limbs.
As it was now –with him playing "comrade" to the Shepherds- he merely said, "And where is this little mouse scampering off to in such a hurry?"
The girl's only response was to stare dumbly at him with her mouth open slightly ajar.
"LIIIIISSSSSAAA!"
The latest shout drew the gaze of both him and the girl's to a mass of tents leading off to some distant area of the camp. The tactician was closing in.
"Oh man, Robin sounds REALLY mad this time," the girl moaned, her shoulders slumping in despair.
Walhart quickly pieced together the situation in his mind.
The tactician was notable furious (a rarity in of itself) and was shouting for a Lissa. The girl before him was clearly cowering in terror, and she had said of how the tactician was "really mad this time." If she was indeed the cause of the tactician's wrath then the girl must be this Lissa. There was also the matter of that name. Lissa… It was familiar to his mind, a name he had heard -before his war against the Shepherds- of this he was sure. However, it lied just out of his grasp… Ah yes.
The pieces all clicked into place.
So this is the second sister of Prince Chrom, he concluded in his mind. He knew that the prince had two sisters – a great deal of his information on Prince Chrom and his sisters having been gained from the Grimleaf fanatic, Excellus, and his spies in Ylisse. He knew a considerable amount of the past exalt, Emmeryn, and her history. However, he had heard little of this one. He reexamined the girl.
He was not impressed with what he saw.
The girl was a small, frail-looking thing, and appeared so pitifully weak that he doubted that she could lift an axe, let alone swing it. She lacked also the aura that radiated from her brother – the aura of leadership and strength that could command armies and forewarn his foes that death had come at the end of a sword. Nor did she have any of the rumored legendary grace of the former exalt, Emmeryn. In fact, he realized, she had no presence like that of a ruler whatsoever, seemly to the entire world like a common serving wench! She had absolutely nothing to suggest of her royal blood! Why, she was even wearing an apron of all things!
"Soooo, um, W-Walhart?" the girl stuttered out, intruding on his thoughts of how unworthy she was. "Could you please – um wait. Could you PRETTY please with a candy fig on top, maybe…help me?"
"…What?" Walhart stared in disbelief at her.
The girl looked up with pleading eyes. "Pleeeease, can you hide me from Robin?" she repeated, now clasping her hands together in a disgraceful begging pose.
…This was supposed to be the princess of Yilsse? If Chrom was to fall, THIS was to be the Exalt-to-be?! Walhart could feel a slight headache pulsing at the forefront of his head at that point from the sheer idiocy of it!
He was going to refuse the girl's plea of course. He did not cuddle the weak nor protect them. He conquered them!
Then he looked into her eyes and saw something that gave him pause. Though she had a sickeningly hopeful gaze in her eyes, there was undoubtedly an underlying fear in them – not of the tactician, but of The Conqueror before her.
So she would suppress her fears to beg assistance from the former enemy that crossed blades with her brother, he thought with the tiniest amount of grudging regard. Such bravery is indeed worthy of note, and perhaps even worthy enough for me to reconsider giving aid.
But then an even more motiving thought came to his great mind: Robin was after this girl, and to thwart the very tactician that toppled his empire would be immensely pleasing to him. Petty perhaps, but he was no longer an emperor, now was he?
Walhart smiled, and it was terrifying.
"LIIISSSSA, LAST WARNING!"
The girl winced at the now very close yell, her eyes franticly scanning for the tactician's appearance. Walhart decided to take swift action.
He hefted up the girl with one arm effortlessly like she was a bag of feathers. "H-hey! What are yo- Ack!" And he tossed her inside his tent unceremoniously.
It was only a moment later that Robin appeared from between a mass of tents. With black cloak flowing behind and the red of dawn illuminating one side like blood, the tactician gave the look of a demon that could make any man run in terror. But Walhart was no mere man. So he waited with arms crossed.
Robin stomped with each steps strong enough to crush bone and a dark mutter under every other breath. Only when the tactician was near did Walhart spoke up. "And where are we charging off to with such malice and shouts loud enough to bring down mountains, tactician?"
Robin creased abruptly and blinked in surprise at the conqueror. "Oh, hello, Walhart. I didn't see you there. I'm sorry if I woke you with my shouting. I was just looking for someone." Those last words were said with bitter venom.
"No, you did not. I always rise before the sun in order to allow myself a period of mediation in which to fortify my mind and prepare for the day's events."
"Ah, that sounds similar to what Yen'fay does, I see…" Robin nodded thoughtfully. "Well, um, like I said before, I'm kind of looking for someone. Did you see anyone come by here? A girl. Blond, kind of small. Wears buttons on her head."
"So you have misplaced a subordinate and now ask me for aid? Hmph. You might as well ask me to take notice of every insect that strays across my path," Walhart scoffed. "I care not for such annoyances. You will be much better served asking such inquiries to another who would."
Robin sighed tiredly. "Okay, fine. I suppose I should've expected as much. But Walhart, you shouldn't look down on the others as you do. Remember: we're all equals in this army," Robin told him then left, winning the last word.
"…Bah." He dismissed the tactician's words with a toss of his head as he watched said tactician hurry off to continue the hunt.
"Is the coast clear now?" the lamblike voice peeped out after a few minutes passage.
He sighed in annoyance. "Yes, you can crawl out into the open, little mouse."
"Hey!" the girl's head poked out from the tent with a look of injured indignation, "I'm not THAT little, you know!"
"…" He merely stared down at the girl to make her rethink upon the foolishness of her words.
"…Well, okay, maybe to YOU I'm little…" The girl grumbled some more as she stood up, brushing dust off her dress.
"How quick you are to gain courage when others look down on you," Walhart commented dryly with another shake of his head. Then, with a small smile, he added, "But, of course, with you such a thing is not so difficult to achieve."
"Okay, now you're being mean – picking on girls like that! So I'm a tiny bit sensible about my height. What if I was to say, 'hey, how's the weather up there?' How would YOU react?"
"I would destroy you utterly," he answered gravely, and with a straight face.
That silenced the noisy girl, and Walhart had to admit to himself that it was humorous to see the girl pale so. It took perhaps 2.4 seconds, he would say. Fast. However, not fast enough to beat his current record. Excellus paled to bone white (at least the areas that the ridiculous make-up didn't cover) in less than one when Walhart had to threaten him to stand and face the Shepherds unlike the sniveling snake he normally was.
"Um, Walhart?" The girl cut into his thought once more with her unassuming voice.
"What is it that you want now, little mouse?" he asked with a note of impatience now. "Do you require more saving, perhaps?"
"I DO NOT! AND I AM NOT L-" She caught herself and quickly reverted to a calmer state, clearing her throat loudly. "ANYWAY, that is to say, I just want to say that I, um… Well, to say that… Thankyouverymuch," she ended in a rushed mumble.
"Mmm, how strange." The former emperor raised a red gauntlet behind his ear. "It sounded like the mouse wishes to speak, but it was so hard to hear, me being so high up in the clouds. Try speaking louder."
"Oh, har har. Now you're cracking jokes…" the girl muttered quietly to herself before loudly saying, "I said: thank you very much for saving me, Walhart. It was surprisingly really nice of you. Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Lissa, Chrom's younger sister..." she trailed off. No doubt because she had remembered Walhart's history with the Prince.
"I am well aware of who you are, girl," the former emperor stated. "And you need not be fearful of retribution by my hand. I no longer hold any resentment towards the Prince. He defeated me in fair combat, something few can do."
"Whew, that's a relief. My brother really is a nice guy…when he's not the guy you're fighting, that is. Then he's scary. Like Henry-after-a-bath-and-not-the-one-people-normally-take kind of scary. Though I don't think even he could save me if Robin got ahold of my pretty neck." She sighed pitifully, a hand massaging her neck subconsciously at the thought.
Walhart decided that now was the ideal time to satisfy his curiosity as to why Robin was after the girl in the first place. "Hmph. And what, pray tell, would cause the tactician to come after you with such fury?"
"Oh that? Well, I kiiiind of destroyed a bunch of Robin's books. Heh heh…" she admitted sheepishly, and then waved her hands defensively. "But it was a total accident, I swear! I mean, who knew that a bucket of frogs could do that much damage? I sure didn't. I mean, they went EVERWHERE. It was really-"
Walhart drowned out the rest of the girl's ramble. The news of Robin's loss amused him to the point of smiling. Everyone in the camp was well aware of the tactician's love of books, and he thought it humorous that the destruction of mere books could bring about such wrath. He himself had no real need for books; he already knew all there was about conquering.
"So I guess I own you one, huh?" Those words entered the former emperor's ears, causing him to raise an eyebrow in inquiry and prompting the girl to continue. "I mean, you really saved my neck back there so I owe you a big one, and a princess always settles her debts!"
Walhart narrowed her eyes down at the girl. "A debt owned by you, a cowardly girl who seeks refuge behind her brother's former enemies for safety? Who hides from the consequences wrought by her actions? I desire no such thing. Leave and forget this occurrence," Walhart stated bluntly.
The girl's face colored in anger, and she snapped. "Hey, don't you dare say I'm a coward! Because I am most certainly NOT! I mean, yeah, I'm not Chrom, but I'm not a helpless little girl either! I've been in the Shepherds for years, AND I've been through TWO wars now. And guess what, I'm still kicking butt and healing allies! So if I say I owe you a debt then you should be shouting for joy saying 'yippee!' or something, buster. So stop. Acting. Like. A. Jerk. Face. To. Me!" she finished with a huff, her breath utterly exhausted.
Walhart glared down at the panting girl's finger that was pointed directly at his visage. He then turned the full extent of his menacing white eyes at the eyes behind them. However, to the girl's credit, she didn't break eye-contact or back down; if anything she stared back with the same intensity with her green eyes and it quickly turned into a battle of wills - the Conqueror versus the Princess.
This staring-contest of wills went on a few long minutes before finally Walhart relaxed by the smallest margin and broke the silence. "Very well. Then you shall assist me in the next battle. Do not squander the opportunity."
The princess only blinked in surprise and confusion as the former emperor walked away, leaving her behind. Shaking away her shock, she ran after Walhart.
"Hey, wait! Stop!"
Walhart breath came out in a mighty sigh, but he did turn. He looked coolly at the girl as she ran up to him.
"What do you mean by 'assist' you in battle?" she asked, panting from the short run.
"Was I not clear, girl? You clamored for the chance to repay your debt to me, and so you shall. There are still many battles to be fought in the future and Risen to crush under our heels. You shall aid me in this."
"Me?!"
Walhart sighed once more (the princess had the uncanny ability to make him do so, it appeared). "Yes, girl, you. You are a cleric, no? While I am rarely in need of healing, I face foes with greater strength then I ever have before. I will not cast away this second life that your brother saw fit to allow me to keep. And I have a slight interest in seeing how you fare on the battlefield, princess."
"Well, if that's all you want, I guess- Wait, did you just call me princess?!" she asked in shock, her jaw hanging low.
"Do not allow your ego to become inflated by mine calling you princess," he rebuked her, in order to dampen her excitement. "I merely deemed you somewhat worthy of being called by your title."
"Heeey. I'm starting to think I'm getting through to that tough-and-all-mighty act. Hmm?" The girl edged closer to him with a sly grin. "I bet you're actually warming up to this sweet and wonderful girl of a princess, huh? Huh?"
Walhart crossed his arms at the girl. "You are a fool if you can delude yourself so. I said-"
"Yeah yeah yeah, you're mister tall-red-and-terrible. But you know, Lucina was right about you not being so bad. You may act like an old grump with no manners, but you're secretly really the heroic type, saving princesses from evil tacticians…though you still have no manners. You kinda like a bigger, more lobster-y version of Lon'qu. Though you also remind me a bit of Frederick. He's ALWAYS trying to-"
Walhart fought back the urge to sigh once again as the girl followed him to the mess tent (drawing stares from the awaking Shepherds), yammering all the while. This was one of the few times the Conqueror really wished he had chosen death in the stead of becoming part of the Shepherds. If he had he wouldn't be having this problem in the first place. Life as an emperor and conqueror was also much simpler when he could merely destroy every pesky annoyance that bothered him.
(Cue "And what if I can't? What if I'm not worthy of her ideals?")
It wasn't until they were halfway to the mess tent that he realized he was actually of better temperament this morning than usual. He was overcome with a feeling of ease and contentment. He even scoffed in laughter at the princess's tale of teaching the unrelenting lieutenant of the Shepherds how to learn to relax. It was a strange event indeed. Nothing –save for perhaps the tactician's misfortune- in recent memory gave him a reason to feel so…cheerful, for lack of a better word.
He looked back at the princess (who was now happily chatting about "cloud watching" of all things) and considered the possibility that she was the cause. He couldn't believe that, in their brief interaction, she had somehow raised his spirits. Perhaps her conviviality was contagious. He was about to dismiss the whole thing until he considered who's blood she shared.
There were none who could call normal the siblings that made up the royal family of Ylisse: the late Exalt Emmeryn who was a symbol of peace – not only for her own people, but for all; the Exalt-to-be, Chrom, the man whose resolve and determination could stoke the hearts of any who followed him. And then there was Lissa, the easily overlooked princess.
While all endured the loss of their parents, the trials they encountered were not the same. Emmeryn was the one to succeed the throne of a kingdom brought to near ruin due to war. It was not a difficult thing to assume that she would desire an end to all wars as a result. She had even sacrificed her own life for the pursuit of that goal. Chrom was the second child and the only male hair. Judging from what Walhart knew of him now, the Prince no doubt felt a certain responsibility to defend his land no matter what and to ease the burden of his sister – creating a militia to reach that end.
And so that left the last sister with two older siblings – one encumbered with the rule of Ylisse and another leading what few forces it had. So what then was there left for her to do? From her lack of courtesy and childish actions, it was clear that she never trained for the role of Exalt. And for what reason did she have, with two siblings before her for secession of the throne? Additionally, her brother led what small military forces Ylisse had, leaving her with no need to train for any position of leadership. This left her with free rein to carry out childish antics like pranks and be free of responsibility.
Perhaps this was why she had such an attitude: she had not faced the crushing burden of rule, and thus she "matured" in a different direction than her siblings. Chrom made solid the resolute of his followers and Emmeryn held the power to make weak the wills of her enemies. It was conceivably that Lissa was able to do what few men or women could do: to strengthen the moral, to induce amenity, and bring merriment to those who face the woes of war.
The world had found itself in peril from a menace of ancient reckoning with the power to lay waste to all of its inhabitants. The foul dead walked under service to this so-called god, bolstering their ranks with that of the living. The sky grew ever blacker. The earth continued to lose its vitality. To any mere human, the end of the world was within the plainest of sights.
Yet the Shepherds saw none of this. They forged ahead undaunted...no, more than that, they went on with grins. The men and women of the Shepherds never failed to celebrate each small victory with each other, their spirits undiminished. No night was spent in silence, born from dread of the next morning. When he first joined the Shepherds, Walhart was confounded by the oddity. Since then, he had attributed it to the leadership of the Prince. But perhaps he was mistaken. Perhaps it was due to an overseen element: the Prince's younger sister.
The conqueror fought the powerful urge to massage his brow. Perhaps he was overthinking on this. Yet the royal family of Ylisse had time and time again managed to exploit his underestimations of them. One would have thought Walhart could learn to avoid doing such a thing. It appeared not.
I am certain of one thing however, Walhart thought as the princess waved a cheerful good-bye at him to go her own way when they arrived at the mess tent, this girl, Lissa, is no simple mouse.
Ending Note: Whew, this took a while to make. I will first admit that I do not feel satisfied with this piece. It had felt…meh to me. But I hope you all found enjoyment from this, despite how long it is. I would like to give thanks and a shout-out to Renascence-A, Lace Kyoko, Gunlord500, and Leonel Yuki for their reviews. You have no idea how reassured I felt in my writing after reading them. Made me giddy beyond reason. So! Once again as we come to the end of the second chapter, I ask that you give feedback, tell me of my mistakes, and give suggestions for what characters you want to visit Walhart next. Have a great morning/evening/night!
Edited as of 10/8/15.
