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Major Valeriy is a strong and skilled warrior. He's equally good with a claymore and an elemental rifle.
People like him were once called bogatyrs, handsome and tall as great oaks, broad in shoulders, their gaze unwavering and their presence solid and steady. They struck down monsters with a righteous hand and were fair and just to those in need. Be it another time and age, Valeriy Pavlovich would probably be remembered in local folklore as a noble hero and protector of the villagers, who swung his mighty sword to bring down his foes at the distant outposts. And who knows, he might’ve even found a loyal companion among the clan of wise wolves, as per the legends of numerous tsarevichs.
Alas, the reality is nothing like the fae fairytales.
Valeriy comes into the woods with a full squadron of armed Fatui soldiers, and his sword turns against the secluded village of Volkodlak shamans as a part of the Project Stuzha expansion program. And the young grey wolf has no other choice but to pull the pointy-eared hood over his head and bare his teeth right in the deadly bear’s face.
The major’s bogatyr build may pass him off as somewhat bulky and slow, but that is a rookie mistake. Even when wielding a heavy claymore, Valeriy’s moves are deft and agile and he never lets his guard down. His undefeated blade fends off the most rapid attacks. He has neither blind spots nor weak points. The Royal Academy cadets can come at him from behind, above or below, face him in pairs or in threes, yet his defence remains impeccable — and then comes the brutal offence.
The first blow knocks away the sword from the weak hands. The second comes flat, sending the failed recruit flying across the training ground. With the third one Valeriy drives the claymore palm-deep into the snow next to his thick leather boot. The major is utterly disappointed with today’s pitiful show.
Taking a deep breath and wrapping himself tighter in his fuzzy wool cloak, the little wolf begins the hunt.
His fighting style is very different from the other hotheads. Unlike the boys from the capital, who are far too arrogant and cocky to properly assess their opponent, he’s not blinded by the foolish whim of showing off. Instead he dives into the shadows, probing the surrounding snow with the seasoned paws of a forest predator.
A wolf lurking in the trees is the most patient of beasts. A lone wolf even more so. He leaves the whining foxes and the fat boars to fuss around the bear’s den, while his glowing yellow eyes are watching, observing, evaluating. The wolf knows that the bear is stronger than them all, and he doesn’t count on the weaklings to wear down the giant body. He lets the wind hide his scent, he finds the hard crust of ice where the sun melted the tops of the snowdrifts, and he focuses on how the hard muscles move under the thick bear skin.
Then, he makes one swift, calculated jump.
His soft boots spring against a big snowdrift, easily lifting his lithe body high up in the air. He pulls a sharp hunting hook from under the cloak — a trusted weapon that he made sure to hide in advance before they left the barracks. Its curved end aims straight at the thin patch of exposed skin between the fur collar of the Fatui coat and the bottom edge of the metal helmet. He would use that move to subdue a violent Leshy who crossed the village borders or to break down the icy armor of a Snegovik. The shamans of the cold northern taiga are trained to be silent and unseen.
“Not bad, Alexey. But you’re still slow.”
The deceptively defenceless neck he was aiming for vanishes from his sight in an instant, and all he sees now is just the dark fabric of the coat. With a deafening screech and sparks flying, the hunting hook meets the sturdy plate of shoulder armor, carving a long jagged scratch before there’s a tight fist gripping on his frosted glove. The hook then finally falls to the ground.
“Attention, comrades!” Valeriy announces, bold and loud, throwing Alyosha’s hand in the air. “Here you’ve had a great example on how important it is to use both your strength and wits when in battle. Cadet Alexey completed the task with the highest score. The only one of you. Make sure to take note.”
There’s not a single congratulation heard. A bunch of young men in grey and blue uniforms are booing and mocking the poor village boy, acting like he knows no other tricks but to grovel and crawl on his belly.
Valeriy’s reproving shout barely reins them in. Grumbling and cussing, the cadets reluctantly leave for the barracks until dinnertime. The name of the major’s little pet, however, can still be heard in every other scoff they share on their way. All of the Royal Military Academy are jealous of this peasant nobody, who alone gets more praise from the stern and ruthless officer than all the noble offsprings.
“Major Valeriy, let me go.” the little wolf asks quietly when there are only two of them left in the training grounds.
Valeriy, as if only now coming to his senses, releases his thin wrist from his bear-like grip. He smiles and pats him on the head.
“Sorry, Alyosha. You’ve done well. Next time don’t lie in wait for so long. Your tracking and navigating skills are excellent, but if you stall too much, the hunter may become the hunted.”
Is that why the Fatui came to their village? The Volkodlaks remained neutral for too long, choosing to not interfere in the Tsaritsa’s conquests, and as such turned from guarding wolves to hunted rabbits?
Alyosha recoils from the touch and his hood flies off. The twirling snowflakes dance in the air and cling to the mint-coloured locks.
It was snowing on that day, too. The blizzard stormed over the village hidden deep in the dark forest. Thick wet snow fell from the sky, silently burying away the motionless bodies in patterned cloaks, sprawled everywhere on the ground along the trails of rough military boots. In the only izba with a light still on, the squadron’s major slumped heavily on a narrow wooden bench, wrapping a handkerchief over the bitten palm. His subordinate skirmisher held the loaded Pyro gun at the ready, watching as the wolf-masked old man signed the royal papers with а shaking hand. While two more soldiers at the door struggled to tie up a violently trashing, growling young boy.
Alyosha despises the bandits who invaded their little village. He’s disgusted by their offerings, be it a new fancy uniform or a warm bed and hot meals provided to all of the Academy’s students. Major Valeriy may have taken a liking to him, so that he’s not sent to the frontlines (as they do with all the villagers from the surrounding lands recruited per the new amendment to the Project Stuzha), but him being enrolled in the Royal Military Academy feels more like a humiliation ritual than a display of affection. The one person that turned himself into his sworn enemy makes sure to hold weekly training sessions with his ward, as if telling him directly that a wolfling is not yet mature enough to carry out the bloody vengeance.
The kind words he receives from Valeriy makes his hair stand on end. The teachings — clench his fists until the claws are digging into the skin.
“Since you’ve scored well during the training, I have a special mission for you. You’ll be joining my troops tomorrow. We’re guarding the Grand Theatre during Lady Vodyanitsa’s performance. Here, can you handle one of these?”
Valeriy takes the elemental rifle off his shoulder and hands it over. It’s the real deal, fully charged and everything. He can even feel the traces of leftover Electro inside its crystal core drive.
Alyosha’s white knuckles wrap around the gunstock in confusion.
“Why are you doing this?” he asks, keeping his head low.
To entrust him with a working elemental rifle… Is it another one of his tests, just to mock him for his puppyish feebleness, like the other cadets do? Or does he truly not understand that a wild wolf will stubbornly bite the hand that feeds him again and again, while he still remembers how that hand once brought ruin to his home?
“You’re a very capable warrior, Alyosha,” Valeriy replies, sincere. “Snezhnaya needs soldiers like you.”
Thin pale lips break down, desperate, revealing the tiny trembling fangs.
“One day I won’t miss, major Valeriy.”
“I expect nothing less, cadet Alexey.”