Chapter Text
Sergeant Sousi was dead.
A tragedy to be certain, but even a Sergeant Major was not safe from falling in battle.
Except he had not.
The rumors were swirling around Piramida. Tales of the Wild Hunt learning to take on the form of people, even one of their own. Someone able to slip into their houses and camps, kill quickly and quietly before vanishing into the night. Comrades, merchants, friends, a perfect imitation of form and voice. The Lightkeepers knew not to put too much stock into whatever story on the Wild Hunt drifts that their way, but they also knew the Wild Hunt to be a strange and adaptable foe. So, while people went about their duties, they whispered among each other in low voices, and snuck glances over their shoulders with worried expressions.
Such was the atmosphere that Flins stepped into, coming off the lift and into the city. He strode with purpose, lantern in one hand, scanning the surroundings as he walked.
"Oh, Flins?" Marushkin looked up from where he was checking over some training equipment. "What brings you all the way over here?"
"Greetings, Sergeant." Flins offered a wan smile and a nod. "And I'm afraid it's rather urgent business that brings me here. Is the Starshyna available?"
"The old man?" Marushkin jerked his head back over his shoulder. "Should be in his office last I checked. Everything alright? I heard about Sousi-"
"An unsettling tragedy, indeed," Flins answered quickly. "Would that I could, I would speak with you on it longer, but I'm afraid I must carry on."
"Oh, well-" Marushkin looked a bit taken aback, but he nodded. "Alright, another time-" He led off with a bewildered expression, as Flins was already walking away.
He arrived at the town square. Morning muster had just ended, so it was buzzing with people going to and fro on their tasks for the day. Flins offered a smile and a nod in greeting as he weaved his way through the crowd.
Then, he stopped.
Nikita was standing there on the other side of the square. In one hand he held his staff.
It had been a long time since anyone had seen Nikita with his weapon: A metal staff with a curling swirl at the end, upon which a lantern hung.
"Well then," Flins spoke softly to himself, "what's this?"
Nikita walked forward. Flins stayed where he was, watching him approach. Several passing Lightkeepers paused to look over.
Nikita stopped, barely two meters away. He scowled, then spoke.
"You aren't Flins."
"Oh?" Flins stared back at him, his expression eerily calm. "What gives you that impression?"
"I know Flins." Nikita took a step forward, both hands on his staff. A crowd was forming quickly, as baffled Lightkeepers stopped in their business to stare and murmur among each other. In one swift motion Nikita leveled the staff at Flins, the tip mere inches from his chest. The town square went dead silent. "I know you aren't him."
Ripples of whispers ran through the crowd, gaining in volume and panic with each pass.
"Not him?"
"Is he-?"
"The Starshyna…"
Flins was silent, regarding Nikita with an unreadable expression. In his hand, his lantern glowed a deep red.
He spoke.
"…I am Flins." He inclined his head towards Nikita, then quirked an eyebrow. "And who are you, to wear the Starshyna's visage like a cheap thespian mask?"
There was a beat of silence, then Nikita gave a harsh laugh.
"That's your defense? Throw my own accusation back at me?" He jerked his chin up. "I've been here in Piramida, surrounded by other Lightkeepers. You, 'Flins,' waltz in here unannounced from your post out in the wilderness." He leveled a steely glare at him. "The Flins I know wouldn't just drop in for no reason."
Flins answered, his voice clipped and even.
"I am here because the Starshyna called for me."
"I didn't call for you."
The crowds were buzzing with voices now. Some of the upper ranks were trying to keep order, but they barely seemed less panicked, constantly shooting glances from Flins to Nikita.
Flins' gaze flickered to the other Lightkeepers, then back to Nikita. Briefly, he closed his eyes and gave a soft sigh, then hung his lantern at his belt.
"…Very well, I will play along for the moment."
Flins drew himself up. Nikita narrowed his eyes. All around them, Lightkeepers watched in silence, but no one dared step forward. The tension in the air was suffocating.
Flins broke into a light smile and he tilted his head just so to the side.
"Dearest Starshyna," he began, "Tell me, whenever did you become right-handed?"
Nikita started, then his eyes narrowed. "…What the devil are you talking about?" He hissed. Flins looked pointedly down at his grip on the staff.
"I'm sure you do not need me to remind you of a Lightkeeper's uniform?" He swept his gaze around the crowd, speaking loud enough for everyone around to hear. "Specifically, our gloves. Many wear them on both hands, but a good amount will wear one on their dominant hand but leave the other uncovered." He nodded to one ratnik in the crowd, who was looking at her own uncovered hand. "Typically, this would mean the right hand is covered, and the left is bare. Now-"
He looked back to Nikita. His left hand, the one presently gripping lower on the staff, was covered with a glove. His right was bare.
"Have you forgotten, Dear Starshyna?" He asked. "Those countless days instructing the new recruits?" He held one hand out towards the training grounds. "You would tell them, 'Don't match me, mirror me. Copy my movements as if in a mirror.'"
"He's right," Vlaicu muttered. "I remember him saying that."
"…That's it?" Nikita growled. "You're accusing me based on that? In the heat of battle such things hardly matter, 'you' should know I can fight with my right just as well as my left."
"Indeed," Flins agreed, "and I have watched the Starshyna swing quite wildly when the situation demanded, with either arm, and his foes would fall all the same. Things such as a dominant hand can mean little, with the right training, speaking of-"
In the blink of the eye Flins' spear appeared on his hand, but rather than strike, he jammed the butt of it down on Nikita's front foot. He shouted and jerked back, then quickly brought his staff up again towards Flins. The other had already dismissed his spear. He raised both hands in a show of non-aggression, watching Nikita with a placid expression, except he wasn't smiling anymore.
"Just like that," Flins said. "That was exactly how you corrected the stances of the new recruits. Those too eager to leap forward, planting their feet too far in front. You warned them again and again to take a more defensive posture. This method helped to ensure the lesson stuck."
"Oof…" Lauri rubbed at the back of his head and grimaced. "Yeah, I remember that."
"Enough trickery!" Nikita barked. "Enough of your mind games!"
He lunged, swinging his staff in a vicious arc towards Flins' head. Flins arm was the only thing that moved, snapping up to catch the staff right under the head. Nikita lurched to a stop.
Slowly, deliberately, Flins took a single step forward, his hand still gripping the weapon even as Nikita tried to yank it free. Flins leaned in closer, and while he spoke in a low tone, through his teeth, everyone was somehow still able to hear his words clearly.
"You are holding his weapon wrong."
With a twist of his wrist Flins wrenched the staff around about a quarter clockwise. "The lantern is meant to hang down like so," he continued in that same quiet tone, but there was a murmur of something underneath, something dark that was rushing to come to the surface. "It is not some bauble or decoration. It both lights the way for his allies and blinds his foes. Can you not even take care to keep that in mind?"
Nikita's lip curled back to snarl at him. Flins straightened up, his expression cold.
"Furthermore-"
Electro flared up around Flins' form, flowing down the metal staff and finding Nikita. He howled in pain, releasing the staff to stagger backwards. Flins spun the spear over his hand before letting it settle in his grip.
"-The Starshyna would never be so foolish as to let someone grab his weapon."
Nikita answered with a garbled, inhuman sound. Cracks were appearing along his body, reddish-violet light bleeding through. His face, rapidly deforming, was still clearly twisted into an animalistic snarl, his eyes burning red.
Several shouts of alarm rang out from the crowds. Some started forwards, reaching for their lanterns or weapons, but Flins simply grasped his quarry by the neck and slammed him into the ground with an explosion of electro and blue fire. He leaned in close.
"Where is the Starshyna?" He hissed. His hair fell forward, hiding from the others the way his eyes burned with blue fire. The Wild Hunt monster spat and cursed at him, clawing at his arm that remained firm as stone.
"Where is he?" Flins repeated. "You think you can escape me by perishing? I know the exact limits of your kind. You will not know rest until I have my answer." Those blazing eyes narrowed to slits, the fire focusing to create something akin to a blast furnace. "And if he is dead I will reacquaint you to the concept of agony."
The monster answered with some simulacrum of a grin. Flins' face flickered with ghostly blue flame and he snarled as his words slipped into the Fae tongue.
"Despicable abomination, where is Nikita-"
"Flins!"
Flins head snapped up, his face human again. There, the crowds split around them, Nikita was leaning heavily on Illuga's shoulder. He was clutching at a dark red stain on his side, and breathing heavily, his face pale.
Flins straightened, at the same time snapping his fingers to obliterate the monster in a storm of electro. Before it had fully dissolved he was striding towards the two of them.
"Flins-" Nikita began before Flins cut him off.
"Don't speak. Illuga." Flins held the staff out to him. Thrown by the abrupt motion and demand, Illuga automatically reached to take it. As soon as it touched his hand Flins was then lifting Nikita from his support. He turned away, holding the broader man as if he weighed no more than a child.
"Where are Radoslaw and Ivar?" He called out, already striding towards the hospital.
"S'fine," Nikita grunted. "I'm fine-"
"Don't speak," Flins repeated, harsher. Radoslaw and Ivar met him at the hospital entrance, and he ducked inside, heading for the closest room without their guidance.
He lay Nikita down on the bed. Radoslaw came in, bag of supplies in hand.
"Get his coat off, we-"
Flins crossed the room, seized Radoslaw by the shoulder and forced him around to face him. Radoslaw, stunned into silence, could only stare back wide-eyed as Flins' gaze pierced through him, eyes narrowed. A few seconds passed, then Flins released him, turning to instead fix Ivar with the same scrutinization.
"Wh-Wha…?" Radoslaw managed to stammer out, but Flins was already stepping aside to let Ivar through.
"Please see to our Starshyna," he said, heading towards the door. Ivar blinked rapidly, than managed to find his words.
"Flins, wait!"
Flins stopped, then swiveled around. His face, usually so serene and open, was cold and hard as a grave.
"Do you doubt my identity?"
Ivar shook his head.
"No, I mean, your arm…"
Flins looked down at the arm that had been pinning the monster. The sleeve was shredded, and several deep slashes and gouges were still bleeding freely. Abyssal energy pulsed around the wounds.
"That needs treatment immediately." Ivar started towards him but Flins raised his other hand to stop him. He regarded his injured arm for a second longer, then clenched his fist. Blue fire exploded along his arm, burned for half a second, then vanished again, revealing the skin to be clean and whole. Flins turned back to Ivar, who seemed to have dropped his chin somewhere on the floor.
"Please resume your attention to the Starshyna."
Ivar closed his mouth, swallowed, then nodded and shifted back around again. Silent as a shadow, Flins slipped out of the room.
He nearly ran into Illuga outside. The other yelped and stepped back, still clutching Nikita's staff in his hands.
"Sir Flins! How is-"
"The injury looked severe, but not hopeless," Flins answered. "Radoslaw and Ivar are who they appear to be. They will care for the Starshyna."
"O-Oh…" Illuga swallowed, then nodded. "What-"
"That should be cleaned," Flins pointed at the staff in his hands. "Purified. I still sense that monster's taint on it."
"I…I'll take care of it," Illuga shot a glance over at the hospital. "Where are you going?"
"That the Wild Hunt was so bold as to strike at our Starshyna-" Flins kept his gaze straight ahead as he walked off. "I must ensure there are no others of its ilk creeping about."
With that, he was gone, striding off into the city.
000
He returned, late at night. The hospital room door had been locked, given the events earlier, but it meant little to a lantern that could slip through the crack in the window. Flins' feet touched down on the floor, and he regarded Nikita in silence. The other was asleep, a blanket over his injuries, but from his breathing and the color of his face Flins could tell he was no longer in immediate danger.
Minutely, his shoulders eased.
He had spent the entire day trickling between shadows, examining every person in the city, down to the visitors, children, and animals. Nowhere was the taint of the Wild Hunt within them. Good.
He looked back to Nikita, then closed his eyes. There was, something unpleasant roiling up in his chest. This was…no, this wouldn't do.
He slipped back into his lantern to meet his anguish more comfortably. A fire did not cry, but it could writhe and twist and sputter and flare, silently rattling the lantern as it hovered in the air, throwing strange shadows across the wall that flashed into the form of monsters well known to any ratnik.
"…Flins," Nikita mumbled. "Easy."
The fire immediately stilled. After a few long seconds, Flins reappeared.
"I'm sorry to wake you," he said softly. "I'll stand guard outside."
He began to dissolve again, but Nikita’s rasping voice stopped him.
"Stay."
Flins paused, hovering halfway between man and flame, then hesitantly coalesced back into his human form.
"You shouldn't speak, you need to rest."
"I'm not that enfeebled." Nikita dragged the blanket down, revealing the bandages around his side. "You want to see, don't you?"
Flins hesitated, then nodded and reached out. A tiny flicker of magic, and the bandages were cut. He pulled them away, touch light as gossamer.
It was a wide, crooked wound, the kind Flins knew well from all his time fighting the Wild Hunt. Even now stitched up, it was a sickening sight. Flins had seen smaller wounds kill ratniki in seconds.
"I'm surprised you didn't lose more blood." It was a roundabout way of saying what he truly thought. Nikita grimaced.
"Used an old trick."
Flins' eyes narrowed as he examined the area around the wound. It was red and raw.
"You froze your wound shut?"
"Yep," Nikita nodded over to his coat nearby. Within it, they both knew a Cryo Vision rested. "I don't think they even knew I had one. Didn't last long but gave me a few extra seconds."
"The Hunt is not usually so careless in their kills."
"Well, even with that I wasn't going to be sticking around much longer." Nikita gave a short huff of a laugh. "I was just trying to drag myself far enough that someone would find my body sooner."
"Do not speak in such a way." Flins' tone cut hard as iron. Nikita's face fell into a somber expression.
"I'm sorry. Ivar filled me in, you must have been worried."
Flins turned his head away.
"My feelings at the present are of little priority."
Nikita grimaced.
"Flins…"
"There is no one else here who is an imposter, though I sensed traces that indicated the perpetrator had been here for some time." Flins looked back to him. "Judging by the freshness of your injury, I assume the attack and disguise was recent."
"You're right," Nikita grimaced. "It must have been hiding as one of the fresh recruits. That's how it appeared to me, and I let my guard down. Hard to spot inaccuracies to someone you don't know."
Flins dipped his chin as his eyelids lowered halfway.
"We will have to find out if its persona was fabricated, or some poor soul that was replaced."
"Indeed."
"Mm…" Nikita rested one hand over the injury. "It was sloppy, it was in a rush, or it would have made sure to finish the job."
"Desperate seems more fitting," Flins began to redress the wound. "They had been biding their time up until now. Something spurred them into action."
"The news of Sousi, perhaps," Nikita remarked, "but even then, its actions indicated it was about to be found immediately, and that it needed to act…"
He led off, seeing the look on Flins face. The other was studying the bandages with a clinical intensity, gears turning behind his eyes.
They both came to the conclusion at the same time.
"Flins-"
"It was my presence here," Flins stated, tying off the last bandage. His tone was utterly flat. "I was its target, and it rushed to find someone of authority that it could strike at me as." He raised his gaze to meet Nikita's own. "My appearance here triggered it to attack you."
"It wasn't your fault," Nikita told him sternly. "If anything, you forced its hand where before it might have waited for a better opportunity."
"I should not have shown myself so rashly, knowing that I was a target."
"You acted within reason," Nikita told him firmly, in a tone indicating he had said it many times before, to many people, including perhaps himself. "We know the Wild Hunt to be unpredictable. We can only adapt and move forward."
Flins mouth twisted in dissatisfaction, but he gave a stiff nod.
A silence fell between them. The light of Flins' lantern, mixed with the the moonlight outside, cast the room in a ghostly blue and silver glow.
"…Sergeant Major Sousi has passed," Flims said softly.
"I heard." Nikita briefly closed his eyes. "He was a good man. I spoke with his wife earlier."
Flins didn't say anything more, simply staring down at his lap.
"…He was a good man," Flins agreed, "an honorable Lightkeeper. For him to meet his end in such a way, assassinated in his own office, and his likeness used to aid the enemy, I feel true rage and anguish." His hands clenched. "And yet, that alone is not what I find plagues my thoughts."
"What else, then?"
"By the time his body was found, an imposter had been acting as him for some time."
"Yes. It took your form as well, didn't it?"
Flins shook his head, not to disagree, but to indicate that wasn't important.
"I came here to report what I knew, and found that monster in your form."
"And it accused you."
"Yes, a pathetic attempt to sow discord. I should have just struck first and revealed its ruse immediately, but…"
His mouth twisted into a sour expression.
"…I'm not sure why I even tried to reason with it." He looked down at his hand, thinking back to when he had held the monster down, demanding answers he knew he would not receive. "Looking back, I didn't want to think…"
He led off. Nikita watched him, waiting. Flins' gaze was still fixed on his hand, but unseeing. The silence stretched on, and slowly, Flins began to shake. He swallowed, then his hand came to cover his mouth, and tears started to stream down his eyes.
"…Flins," Nikita said softly.
Flins knees hit the floor and he collapsed onto Nikita's uninjured side. He gripped the blanket like a lifeline as harsh, sobbing gasps shook his frame. Nikita grimaced and gripped Flins' arm, squeezing it tightly.
"Flins, Flins I'm here."
"I-I wasn't ready," Flins whispered. "I wasn't…I'm not…I'm not ready to face you p-passing…"
Nikita's face softened and he rested a hand on Flins' head, ruffling it gently.
"None of us are ever ready," he murmured. "As Lightkeepers, we see so much of it, you more than most."
"I know I will face it some day," Flins croaked. "I will…likely face it, should I not fall in battle." He closed his eyes and took in a shuddering breath. "I know, and I will accept it, but I'm not ready, I'm not ready, not yet…"
"Not yet," Nikita agreed. He squeezed Flins' hand. "Not yet. I'm here, Flins."
"Not yet," Flins repeated. Nikita nodded.
"Not yet."
Gradually, Flins settled down. He sat up, taking a few slow breaths to steady himself. The fire in his lantern expanded and shrunk with each inhale and exhale.
Flins wiped at his face, then frowned down at his hand.
"…Human forms of grief are so troublesome."
"Crying's good for you."
"I do not like it." He grabbed a towel from the nearby table and scrubbed at his face, seeming to care little about what it could have been used for before. He tossed the towel aside, then reached over and took Nikita's wrist, his thumb curling around to press up between the two tendons. For a while he sat there, observing the beat of Nikita's pulse against his fingertip. It seemed to calm him, bit by bit.
"…You used to do this a lot," Nikita commented. "I'd wake up after a fight, even miles away from Paha Island, and you'd be sitting there, hand on my pulse, watching it for who knows how long."
"It is a convenient way to monitor whether a human remains among the living." He drew his hand back. Nikita pursed his lips, some thought turning over behind his eyes.
"I have a request," he said.
Flins' mouth twitched downward.
"You know well you can make any demand of me, as Starshyna, or as Nikita."
"This is a request."
"Which gives me the impression it is going to be something rather troublesome."
"Stay here."
"Is that not what I am presently doing?"
"Stay here in Piramida," Nikita clarified. "The people here just witnessed their Starshyna revealed to be a fake, and the true one to be seriously injured. The rumors of an imposter proved true. They'll be terrified."
"Earlier in Nasha Town I was suspected of being such an imposter," Flins pointed out. "You think my presence here would put people at ease?"
"Yes, because you knew. People saw, you knew immediately."
"The fake was a rather poor imitation."
"That wasn't the only reason."
There was a beat of silence.
"…You would ask me to reveal myself?" Flins asked.
"No. Just, talk to people, use that silver tongue, put them at ease," His eyes flickered downward. "-while I cannot."
Flins scrutinized him through glowing golden eyes. Nikita met the gaze evenly.
"…I will ask one question," Flins said.
"What is it?"
"Is that the only reason you have asked me to stay?"
"…No," Nikita sighed, then winced. "You…By the Torchforger, Flins. First I hear you're suspected of murder and no one can find you, then I find out the murderer is an imposter hunting you, then I hear you almost got attacked in Nasha Town, not to mention getting targeted by some new Abyss phenomenon that's been coming at you for ages now??"
"You are worried about me."
"Yes. Gods, yes."
"You needn't. One would think you to have realized by now."
"I always will," Nikita answered without missing a heartbeat. "You're inhuman, Flins, not invincible. You know the fear of losing a friend."
Flins' mouth made a thin line. He looked out the window, perhaps to scan for unusual movement, or perhaps to avoid facing Nikita's expression.
"…I cannot stay long," Flins said. "The threat from before persists, and soon I must return to face it." Nikita's face scrunched up in anxiety.
"Alone?"
"No." Flins reached out and rested a hand over his to assure him. "I have allies, and of course the other Lightkeepers in the area."
"…Good." Nikita relaxed back into the bed again. "Then, until then…?"
"I will remain in Piramida for a time, at least until you have recovered some."
Nikita exhaled, seeming to deflate out of relief.
"Thank you."
"Rest, Starshyna." Flins stood. "I will remain close by; no harm will be able to approach you."
"I will," Nikita promised. "Thank you, Flins."
"I have done nothing to warrant your gratitude."
Nikita gave a wry smile at that.
"Then, how about using the door so you don't frighten some night guard?"
"Very well." He rested a hand on the door handle. "Should anything be amiss, call for me. I will hear."
"Very well."
Flins paused, then turned his head just enough that Nikita could see a sliver of one eye, watching him in the darkness.
Then, Flins faced forward again, opened the door, and stepped out.
Within the hospital, Flins paused at a huddled form in the hallway. It was Illuga, sitting curled up against the wall, cheek smushed into his shoulder as he slept.
Ah, so that was why Nikita had insisted he use the door.
Flins' expression softened. He knew any attempt to get him to go sleep in his own home would be futile. Instead, he simply found a blanket among the supplies and draped it over his shoulders.
"Rest easy, Young Master," he murmured. "Your father is safe under my watch."
He passed him by, footsteps as silent as a ghost's.