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Flins stares up at the lighthouse in Cliffwatch Camp with a serene smile. He rarely travels this far from the cemetery; Piramida is too crowded for him, and Illuga keeps a stable grip on the north of Nod-Krai. “Things are coming along nicely,” he says to Illuga’s back as Illuga surveys the camp.
Illuga shudders, a sharp, full-body flinch. He whips around before Flins can go on and cries out, voice firm but harried, “Please announce yourself, Sir Flins!”
Flins’ smile remains unchanged. He bows his head. “Have I frightened you, Master Illuga? My apologies.”
“I don’t have time for this,” Illuga sighs, not unkindly. Since their conversation in Nasha Town, Illuga’s patience for Flins’ prevarication has dwindled, along with the shreds of the reverence he once held for him. Now only curiosity remains, and sometimes irritation.
“I think that you do,” Flins replies, placing a cold hand on Illuga’s shoulder. “Aren’t you curious why I ventured so far north?”
Illuga steps back, away from Flins, and pulls his jacket closed, searching for something to do with his hands. “I have you to thank for Janusz’s safe return, I assume?”
“I thought it best to escort him myself,” Flins explains. “His apprentice was very worried, you see, because Janusz was injured. The boy, so anxious he was, stumbled straight into the Wild Hunt… It’s a good thing I was near. Oskari mentioned to me that he didn’t want to send for help because of how busy Master Illuga has been. How curious. So I thought: why don’t Master Illuga and I take a walk? Clearly he is in need of a break.”
Illuga crosses his arms. “I truly appreciate your help with Janusz, Sir Flins, but I am needed elsewhere. And please stop calling me ‘master’.”
Mirroring Illuga’s movements, Flins crosses his arms too, staring down at him. “Perhaps, if you stop calling me ‘sir’. After all, I have done nothing to earn it, as I am perfectly ordinary.”
A long pause follows. Flins stares. Illuga glares. “Fine,” Illuga mutters. “Just give me a moment.”
Illuga jogs over to the other side of the camp and disappears behind a heavy metal door. Bothering him is one of Flins’ favourite things to do; Flins likes the earnest ones. Illuga is so serious, but charmingly vulnerable. Frankly, Sir Flins, he had said in Nasha Town, I am furious. His shoulders were drawn up to his ears and his voice was taut, but he did not dare shout, or even snap. Was it filial piety, or was Illuga afraid of him? Or could it be something else?
Five minutes pass, then ten, then thirty before Illuga reappears. His expression sours when he sees Flins, like he was hoping Flins would disappear in his absence. But he composes himself and waves Flins over. “Sorry for making you wait. There’s been a lot to take care of recently. Was there anywhere in particular you wanted to see?” Genuine remorse colours his words.
“Hmm. It’s been a long time since I visited the Pillar of Embla. I look forward to a tour from a Ratnik as talented as yourself.”
Again, Illuga sighs. “I’m sure you know the Pillar of Embla better than I do. Better than anyone here, really. But alright. Let’s go.”
Flins shortens his strides to keep pace with Illuga. “It is always a pleasure to see Nod-Krai from a different perspective.”
Glancing over his shoulder to ensure none of his comrades are in earshot, Illuga asks, ears red, “A human perspective, you mean?”
“I’m not sure what you mean, Master Illuga. I simply enjoy spending time with the new generation of Lightkeepers. There is much to learn.”
Illuga shakes his head. “I should know better than to expect a straight answer of you by now. Still… Speaking hypothetically, of course, if you think there’s a lot to learn from us, can’t you understand that there’s a lot I’d like to learn from the older generation, too?”
Flins stops short for a moment before catching up with Illuga, who frowns at him. “‘Older generation’?” He places a hand delicately over his heart. “Why, Master Illuga, how old do you think I am?”
“I give up.” Illuga looks at Flins—looks up at Flins, and sets his shoulders like he’s preparing for battle. Flins raises an eyebrow. “I shouldn’t pry into your business,” Illuga says gravely. “I only asked because I was thinking about something you said in Nasha Town. You said your friends don’t understand your habits.”
“I detect an unasked question. Would you like to know if I consider us friends? Or perhaps what kind of strange habits I was talking about? Frankly, young master, my private affairs are none of—”
“I am not asking about your private affairs,” Illuga interrupts, looking at the ground. “And I wasn’t asking if you consider us friends, either. I suppose I wanted to know if that was why you spend all your time at the Final Night Cemetery, instead of with the rest of the Lightkeepers.”
Flins stares at the side of Illuga’s head. Illuga looks everywhere but at Flins. His cheeks are pink. “I suspect that this was not the question you wanted to ask either. But I will answer anyway.” Flins gestures east. “Look, over there, past the Favonius Keep. Do you see that slothsheep?”
“I see it,” Illuga answers uneasily.
“Why don’t you live with the slothsheep, instead of in Piramida? Not as a shepherd, but among them.”
Illuga blinks at the unexpected question. “Because I’m not a slothsheep? They’re aggressive. They wouldn’t tolerate me.”
“Nonsense. I’m sure the slothsheep would appreciate your unique charm, Master Illuga.” Flins pats his shoulder, and thinks about patting his head. “If you lived with the slothsheep long enough, you could learn their body language, and they yours. Eventually, you’d be able to understand each other well enough. You’d know when they were hungry, and they’d know to keep you warm as you slept… It would be a different life than you’re used to, certainly, but would it be terrible?”
To his credit, Illuga thinks for a long while about his answer despite his exasperation as they walk. Flins smiles to himself: serious, vulnerable, earnest. “I guess it’s a step above being alone,” Illuga says, “but some things would still be missing. It’s not like we could share food, and they don’t sleep for very long, so I don’t think they’d keep me warm at all. I think it would be almost as lonely as living with no one at all. You wouldn’t have anyone to talk to.”
Flins dips his head. “Being fully accepted by the slothsheep wouldn’t make you one. Sometimes, being alone in a crowd is more painful than being truly alone.”
Illuga ponders for a moment. “Forgive me for speaking plainly, Sir Flins, but you’ve never struck me as a lonely person. Perhaps only solitary.”
The urge to laugh bubbles up in Flins’ chest—a foreign sensation. He allows it to spill over. “What made you think I was talking about myself? If you’ll forgive me for speaking plainly, Master Illuga, that is quite presumptuous.”
Again, Illuga pauses to think. Flins wishes badly to crack open his skull and look inside. His tongue sticks out a little as he concentrates and he unconsciously adjusts his jacket. It’s endearingly human. He even slows his footsteps as they descend the slope to the cold, stony beaches at the Pillar of Embla, and finally, Illuga says, “I think you just like to keep to yourself, and all of that was to mislead me. To create an image of yourself I can project onto.” He shrugs. “Or maybe you are a lonely old man. You did ask me all the way out here, after all.”
“Do you find it so hard to believe that I enjoy spending time with you?” Flins asks. “I find you interesting, and your presence soothing, Master Illuga. Among all the Ratniki, you show the most promise.”
“I do find it hard to believe,” Illuga answers, and his face looks raw and ragged just like it did when he demanded: You mean you’re completely unmoved by my anger? Usually, the Lightkeepers keep their distance from Flins—his imposing figure invites a kind of self-consciousness, but Illuga has barrelled past self-consciousness and landed somewhere near unflinching, unabashed sincerity. “You can’t flatter me to avoid saying anything of substance. I’ve caught onto the trick.”
Illuga stops short well away from the bank, but Flins forges on until the sea laps at the tips of his boots. After a hesitant pause, Illuga follows him, rubbing his arms to stay warm.
“A Ratnik should always be prepared for the weather,” Flins admonishes.
“It’s only this cold because you’ve brought us right to the water,” Illuga huffs. “I run warm anyway.”
“Is that why you wear that shirt with no sleeves?”
Illuga coughs.
“Anyway,” Flins goes on, “I don’t intend to flatter you. I’ve been completely honest. It’s not often that I have to put so much thought into my, ah, tricks.”
“You and I must have a different definition of honesty,” Illuga murmurs. “Soothing?” His voice is so low when he says it that Flins suspects he was not meant to hear.
“Yes, soothing,” Flins echoes. “Much like the ghosts of Final Night Cemetery. Did you think that I journeyed all the way to Cliffwatch Camp for Janusz? Oskari is a perfectly capable boy.”
But Illuga refuses to be cowed. Instead of smiling or looking away bashfully, he glares. “So you were lying before. You haven’t been honest.”
“My, my. Everything is so literal with you.” Flins looks out into the sea. The cold wind bites his cheeks. “If you truly want my honesty, then I must admit that I find such a forthright way of speaking… rather inelegant.”
Illuga does not only smile; he laughs, though only for a short moment before he gathers himself. “So that’s what you think of us. Everyone always wonders.”
“Not so, Master Illuga. I wouldn’t call you inelegant.” He frowns. “And I wonder why anyone would care about my opinion of them… I’ve been told I am ‘solitary’ by a dear friend of mine.”
A gust of wind blows Illuga’s hair into his face. “A dear friend?” he asks.
Flins pushes Illuga’s hair out of his face. “Yes… if I must be as literal as you prefer. A dear friend.” And then he presses a chaste kiss to Illuga’s lips, lingering for a moment before he pulls away. “I suppose you must return to camp soon.”
Inelegantly, Illuga wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He stares up at Flins, and then his gaze returns to his hand, which must be covered in more of his own saliva than Flins’. “And you’re returning to the cemetery, then?” he asks blankly.
“Yes. I do not like to be away from home for long, after all.”
All at once, Illuga sighs. “Why did you… What’s even the point of asking? I’ll come visit you there soon. Is that elegant enough for you?”
“It is satisfactory,” Flins permits. “I hope to see you soon. I will show you my bone puzzles.”
Illuga glares. “I am not going to ask. In any case, I hope the ghosts will keep you company.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that was a wish for my death. Farewell, Illuga.”
“Farewell… Flins.”