Chapter Text
“Watch your blind spot, Nailmaster!” The Sage scolded. “That’s a free hit if you don’t block it,” he continued, in full teaching mode.
Nailmaster Sly cursed and fixed his form. He had been trying to break that particular habit.
The Sage, Nethanial, was giving Sly extra lessons in the training hall. Sly had no idea why, but he was fine with it.
After a few minutes of warm up, Nethanial and his student moved in to harder things, including the usage of the Greatnail, which would make it much easier for Sly to fight. He was also teaching about the usage of SOUL in the Nailmaster’s arts. The Sage explained the usage of SOUL in the body, and how it could be focused into something more powerful.
SOUL was used in the nail arts, as well as other tricks that only the Sage knew, which were taught by the king himself after each new Nailsage was chosen.
A few hours later, Nethanial and Sly took a break for lunch. As they walked back into the training hall, they heard footsteps approaching. Fast.
Both bugs turned toward the noise, putting their claws on their nails. The bug turned out to be a messenger bug, and he was winded by his run to find the Sage and his student.
”The East Wing is under attack,” he started, still breathing heavily. “Your presence is requested immediately.”
Nethanial swore, running toward the wing, Sly hot on his heels.
By the time the two made it to the wing, they were both winded, despite their excellent physical shape. They quickly ran into the Great Knight Ogrim, who was heading to the battle himself, and he filled them in on the finer details.
As the trio made it to the battleground, Sly felt a pang of nerves hit him. This was his first true battle, and he wasn’t entirely sure if we would be able to do it. He was barely twenty, and he knew his life hung in the balance of his skill.
He fought well, however, only receiving a few small cuts and bruises.
Sly looked around the battlefield, unable to see his master. The two had been separated early on in the fight, and Sly didn’t know where he had gone. He was probably helping round up the left over attackers, but Sly wasn’t certain.
”Master?” Sly called, walking around. He asked a few other guards and knights, hoping his size just made it hard to see him. No one had seen the Sage. “Master!” Sly called again, louder this time. He was getting worried.
He was certain the Sage had been through far worse fights, but anything could catch a bug off guard if they weren’t careful.
Sly had gotten desperate enough to start looking at the dead and dying on the ground, though he prayed his master wasn’t there. He couldn’t see his master’s blue and yellow wings anywhere, and he was very worried.
He saw motion to his left. He turned toward it, and his stomach dropped. The Sage’s bright wings were fluttering weakly, but his body was lying prone on the hemolymph-soaked ground.
“MASTER! No, no, no, please no, please don’t be dead,” Sly muttered to himself as he knelt by his master’s side. “Isma!” he called, hoping she was nearby. He wanted to cry. He had lifted the Sage’s head onto his lap, praying that he would be alright.
”Oh, Wyrm.” Isma’s voice came from next to the small fly as she knelt down next to him. She moved the Sage’s cloak to access the wound, and Sly had to cover his mouth with his claw, tears welling up in his eyes.
Nethanial had been stabbed, and by a decently sized nail. That much was clear. His golden blood soaked the ground around him.
Isma was quick to bandage the wound, calling for a stretcher at the same time. Sly knelt next to where the Sage had fallen, staring forward numbly. Isma and Ogrim had taken the Sage to a medic already, leaving Sly’s mind reeling in disbelief.
Nethanial had fallen. He was possibly dying, Sly had no idea. He didn’t know what to do. The Sage was like a father to Sly, someone he had grown to love and trust.
A large claw landed on Sly’s shoulder, knocking him out of his thoughts. “Hegimol,” Sly exclaimed, surprised. He thought the knights had left already.
“He’s going to be alright, you know? Nethanial is a tough bug, even for a butterfly,” Hegimol consoled, kneeling next to the stricken Nailmaster.
”I hope so,” Sly responded, leaning against Hegimol for support. He was tired. He just wanted to sleep.
”Get some rest. We’ll have more information on the Sage in the morning, so don’t worry, okay?”
Sly nodded, slowly trudging back to his room, where he cleaned up, laid down, and promptly went to sleep.
Nethanial was dead by morning. Sly was told as he walked to training. He quickly donned his black and white cloak, the traditional mourning clothing, and went to meet with the knights.
The funeral was held the next day. The Pale King stood next to the grave, giving a speech about the Sage’s service. Sly and the other three Nailmasters stood next to him.
Sly was using all of his willpower to hold back his tears. He couldn’t believe Nethanial was dead.
After the funeral service, Sly walked back to his room in a daze, numb with grief. The traditional time of mourning for a comrade was a week, so that was all the time Sly had to process what had happened before going back to train with the new Nailsage.
No one knew who the new Sage was going to be, as the name was placed in the Sage’s will, which would be announced after the week of mourning was over.
Sly hoped it wasn’t him. He didn’t expect it to be, as he was the youngest and smallest of the current Nailmasters, but the worry persisted.
For the first few hours after the funeral, Sly finally let his emotions out, sobbing quietly in his nest. He was curled up, shaking with every breath he took.
After a while, he ran out of tears, instead just lying in his nest, letting out a small whimper every few seconds.
Sly didn’t know how long he was in his room, but after a while, there was a gentle knock on his door. He wiped the leftover tears off of his face, put a smile on, and opened the door.
”Hegimol! How nice to see you! What can I do for you?” Sly gestured the large knight into the room, allowing him to sit by the fireplace.
”Be honest with me, Sly. How are you doing?” Hegimol asked, making Sly hesitate.
”I.. I’m alright,” Sly lied, hoping the knight wouldn’t notice.
Hegimol noticed. “Sly, please. Please be honest. You look terrible.”
Sly hadn’t even thought about how much of a mess he looked like. “Alright, fine. I’m.. I’m not doing well. I don’t know what to do. It feels like I’ve lost my father, not my master, and I can’t accept it.” Sly started choking up near the end of his sentence, and he looked at the floor to hide his tears.
”I’m so sorry, Sly. I really am, but please keep going for us, alright? We’ll all help you, we’ll get through this.”
”I know. It’s just hard.”
Hegimol nodded, rubbing the top of Sly’s head affectionately. “Let me know if you need anything, alright?”
”I will.”
Hegimol left, allowing Sly space to settle his worried thoughts. Meditating helped, as did journaling, but Sly wanted to train. He wanted to fight his grief away, but doing so would be seen as disrespectful, so he held off.
The end of the week came. The Nailmasters stood in a line above the city square, the king ready to announce the new Sage. Almost the entirety of Hallownest had come.
Sly was nervous. He hoped beyond hope that Nethanial wasn’t crazy enough to think that a twenty year old fly would be a good Nailsage.
The Pale King started his speech praising the Nailmasters, saying how grateful they all must be to continue the late Nailsage’s work.
After about an hour, the king read the name. “The new Great Nailsage of Hallownest will be.. Sly Calliphora Vomitoria!”
Sly choked on his spit. No no no no no. His master was insane. There was no way he could do this. He was barely twenty, and small, even for a member of his species.
The Nailmaster next to him nudged him forward gently, giving him an encouraging smile.
Sly walked hesitantly up to the king, bowing before him. “I thank thee for this- this great honor, Your Majesty,” Sly said, trying hard not to panic.
The king wrapped a pink cloak around his shoulders, clipping it at the front. He then gave the new Sage a pair of pink ribbons, worn to show his new rank. And finally, he gave Sly a charm. Nailmaster’s Glory, held only by the Great Nailsage of Hallownest.
”Th-thank you, Your Majesty,” Sly said again, carefully not fidgeting with the ribbons.
Sly left the meeting walking next to the king, but as soon as they parted ways, Sly ran to his room.
He slammed his door closed, going into his bathroom. He replaced the old ribbons on his wrists with shaky hands, trying hard to control his breathing.
”Don’t panic, don’t panic, it’s fine, you’re fine,” he muttered to himself over and over again.
He wasn’t prepared. Everything was moving too quickly. He wanted to ask so many questions, but didn’t know who to ask them to. Then it hit him: Hegimol had been a knight when Nethanial was called to be the Nailsage. He would know what to do.
Sly sprinted to Hegimol’s room, hoping he was back from the ceremony. He knocked rapidly on the door, praying that he would answer.
“Nailsage! Welcome, and congratulations!” What can I do for you?” Hegimol greeted cheerfully.
“Hegimol, please drop the formalities. I want to speak as friends, not as Great Knight and Nailmaster,” Sly said as Hegimol waved him into the room.
“You don’t feel yourself worthy to be the Nailsage,” he guessed, noting Sly’s omission of his proper title.
”My master was insane, thinking I could do this,” Sly exclaimed suddenly, his anxiety finally spilling over. “I’m barely twenty, with almost no experience, and have no idea what in Hallownest’s name I’m supposed to be doing!” Sly paced back and forth across the room, Hegimol watching.
”You know, your master had a very similar reaction to being called to be Nailsage,” Hegimol noted quietly, causing Sly to stop pacing for a few seconds. “He also thought his master was insane, but in reality, most Nailsages go for their youngest Master to succeed them.”
”Why? Isn’t that just setting the kingdom up for failure?” Sly asked, genuinely curious.
”No, actually. The younger the Sage, the quicker the reflexes, and the faster they adapt to new situations. It’s a genius system.”
”But I don’t have the experience I need,” Sly protested.
”That will come. You will learn. You’ve just finished training with all of the nail arts, and you’ve trained enough with the Great Nail to have it as your preferred weapon. You’re the perfect candidate.”
”I see. Thank you, for everything, Hegimol.”
”Alyways a pleasure. I’ll always be here if you need help. Good luck!”
“Thank you again,” Sly said as he walked into the door. “Ack!” Sly felt his face turn red as Hegimol laughed. Most doors had a handle lower down on the door for Sly to reach, but the bedrooms didn’t. “Can you-“
”Yes, Sage. Goodnight.”
”Goodnight. Thank you again.” Sly walked to his room, much more confident in his abilities than he was before.
He still worried his master had been wrong, but that worry had been pushed to the back of his mind.
He could do this.