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It was a normal Tuesday. A totally normal Tuesday. Woke up in the morning, ate some breakfast (which consisted of the Lightkeepers’ ration and a glass of water because he simply didn’t feel like eating anything else), a quick hour spent filing reports and an afternoon patrol. Just the one he signed up for. Just the one he liked doing the most. Around the middle of Lempo Isle, then back through Flins’s (he longed to spend some time with the older Lightkeeper) and finally to Piramida.
What Illuga didn’t account for, however, was that he’d find sir Flins on Lempo Isle himself. Sitting with some other two individuals and chatting idly. There was this one guy who looked like he was made from clay, pale face with bright cyan eyes, blonde hair braided in places and tied in the smallest of ponytails, leaving the rest of it to fall right above his shoulders; he was wearing a white jacket and black shorts, sitting upright and calmly, matching Flins’s manner just a little, hands folded neatly on his lap. He had this… Flins vibe, as the boy could describe it; at least he sat there with refined confidence.
There was also this other guy, who was dressed a lot more vividly than the first one. Lilac hair, that distantly reminded him of sir Flins’s pale ends (just a little though), some weirdly shaped black accessories on the top of his head and a black coat with some red and purple and orange and yellow accents. His face he could not see, the man was turned away from him. Illuga already came up with the names for the two: the blonde would be Mr. Prince, and the other one would be Mr. Successful Color Mishmash. The young Ratnik was kinda proud of that last one, in his mind it conveyed the nature of the second’s one outfit perfectly. Besides he already didn’t like the guy, because he was questioning Flins, and in a rather demanding way at that, judging from how he was leaning forward and gesturing with his hands. Was that information he wanted, or perhaps something else?
Knowing better than to just stand and do nothing, the young Captain decided to sneak behind a bush. The best hiding spot. Not too far, not too near. Just right. Listening in wasn’t exactly a Ratnik thing to do, but he justified himself because technically he was ensuring Flins was alright. That’s what mattered to him most.
“…from what I know about you, you’re not so cold and ruthless as they say. How are you able to talk about these events so calmly?”
Yeah. Sir Flins is a kind man! No doubt about that. What events are they talking about though?
Flins cleared his throat, seemingly frustrated, and cast his gaze aside. The other two were eyeing him, Mr. Prince in a composed way and Mr. Successful Mishmash of Colors with unhidden curiosity. Finally Flins sighed and spoke wistfully.
“Alas, I am forced to show my age. I must be six or seven hundred years old by human measure. That is why, I’m already used to the events of… such nature. You needn’t worry.”
A rustle of leaves could be heard. Illuga shot upright, eyes as wide as saucers. Any good thought had left his body, let alone his mind. He forgot he had to hide. Silvery hair disheveled, it now carried a couple of green leaves, giving him a funny appearance. He didn’t even notice.
“Intrusion!” Mr. Successful Mishmash of Colors jumped from his seat and turned towards Illuga, his sword at the ready, revealing his truly childish face. ‘He looks like he just turned 16,’ a single thought escaped Illuga’s mind. He couldn’t think properly anymore.
Mr. Prince stayed where he was, hands still folded on his lap, his head turned slightly to the supposed intruder. His brows raised in a polite manner, not surprised, just asking: ‘Why are you here?’
The worst reaction of all (or the best, technically?) came from Flins. He turned his head and simply smiled, acting like he just didn’t say one of the most stunning things-
“Young Master? Fancy meeting you here. Might I ask, are you on afternoon patrol?”
The boy started trembling. He didn’t know why. Knees threatened to buckle under the sudden weight. Remember, Illugi, you’re a Ratnik! A Ratnik can’t just-
He kneeled on the grass.
“S-s-sir F-Flins…”
His breath came out in short rasps, as if he was trying not to sob…
“S-s-sir Flins I- I…”
Mr. Prince eyed both of them. Mr. Mishmash just stood there, confused.
And then… Illuga laughed. Laughed hard, falling on the grass and not even trying to contend the emotion. The three looked at him, bewildered. Once he stopped laughing, he stood up and wiped away his tears.
“I-I’m so sorry, sir Flins, Mr. Prince, Mr. Successful Color Mishmash, it’s just…”
“What?” Mr. Prince prompted, looking rather intrigued. Mr. Successful Mishmash of Colors was VERY confused, apparently he didn’t notice it was even him the young Captain was addressing. Illuga didn’t keep the answer for two long.
“Sir Flins just said six seven! How cool is that?”
Mr. Prince immediately facepalmed, hard, Mr. Mishmash tilted his head, still not very much understanding the conversation, and Flins triumphantly smiled, looking up at the young Ratnik.
“Thought I’d keep up with you youngsters, eh? Now I’m finally getting praised.”
“B-but!” Illuga pouted, “sir Flins, you’re not supposed to be saying these things! These are stupid things and you… You’re not exactly the person I’d call someone who says such things.”
“Hm? Young Master’s word is my law. I’ll heed your advice, I won’t say six seven anymore. However,” he sighed, “that is how old exactly I am. Aren’t you… surprised?”
Illuga shook his head, leaves falling down from it. One got stuck, however.
“I’m not. Your behavior isn’t that of a normal Ratnik, I already know. Besides for as long as I remember, you didn’t age even a bit since we met, and my old pops is already starting to go gray. However, it was just my observation, I’m surprised that it got confirmed.”
“Mr. Flins is a fae,” Mr. Mishmash commented, looking rather unimpressed but still curious. “Don’t you know that?”
Now it was finally Illuga’s time to be surprised, really and for real. Fr fr.
“Sir you are a FAE? That can’t be-“
Flins stood up and walked up to the boy.
“Actually, Young Master, I’m afraid I’ll have to take that back. My apologies.”
With a snap of his fingers, Illuga went slack and collapsed right into the fae’s arms. Flins caught him and plucked the remaining leaf out of the young Ratnik’s hair.
“Mr. Albedo, Mr. Durin, my apologies. This is Young Master Illuga, the Ratnik I’ve told you about,” he said, then chuckled. “As you can see, he’s quite the determined young man. Observant and ever curious.”
Mr. Prince, no, Albedo let out a short sigh.
“Why did you immobilize him? What did you do?”
“I simply erased this memory of his,” Flins hesitated a little, “it’s best he doesn’t know. Not yet, at least.”
“What will happen if he does?” Albedo asked, and Durin returned back to his seat, looking at sleeping Illuga with interest.
“The consequences will be… let’s say… not what I’d like them to be. We’ll wait until he’s more mature. Now if you’d excuse me, I’ll escort him to my lighthouse.”
He turned around, unhurriedly, holding Illuga bridal style (which made a rather funny picture), and started down along the pathway northward, seemingly unfazed.
“He’s protective of his superior, huh.”
“Mr. Flins is very kind,” Durin mindlessly commented, staring along way the tall figure had disappeared in the already accumulating fog. “Perhaps if this… Young Master, or Mr. Flins calls him so is… too important to know that Mr. Flins is a… ah. But he already knew? Kind of? So much to learn, I guess. I don’t understand.”
“Don’t worry,” Albedo craned his neck to the sky, “Mr. Flins probably knows more than we do. Besides, uh, he really did say six seven. I myself don’t understand whether Mr. Flins didn’t want Mr. Illuga to know his age, or what he had just said.”
Durin stared at his brother, “Albedo, what does six seven mean?”
“We can have some food if you want. I reckon Mr. Flins will be gone for an hour or so.”
“Oh.”
~~~
The makeshift bed at the lighthouse. So familiar… How many times has he woken up over here? Sometimes the number rivaled with the number of times he woke up in his own bed back at Piramida. Assuming he didn’t stay up late writing reports and drifted off right there at that writing table of his. Which would be embarrassing if his father would find him in that position. But no, this time it’s the lighthouse, and he can see Flins’s lantern in the corner of the room. Surely, the older Ratnik will come in and ask him how he was feeling and stuff like that, but… He will never answer the question of how the boy ended up here. That was his whimsy. He never told the truth, never lied, and Illuga was paranoid about it.
What had actually happened after his normal Tuesday afternoon patrol?