Chapter Text
Humans are sinful and foolish. Fyodor had known this truth since he was just a young boy.
He had observed as those around him repeatedly engaged in foolish and wicked actions. He had watched as those same people paid lip service to repentance, only to carry on as they had been without a shred of true remorse. It disgusted him, the way these people spat in the face of God.
Becoming a man of the cloth was the obvious path for one as devout as he. Fyodor so detested sin. He sought to guide people away from wickedness and toward righteousness. He also happened to be exceedingly good at doing so.
He had always had a very persuasive way about him. From the time he learned to talk, he had been adept at determining the right words to say to convince a person to see things his way. Once he had convinced people of his point of view, it was all too easy to persuade them to act in accordance with his own values and goals. It was a gift from the Lord, and he put it to good use in his duties as a priest.
Fyodor’s efforts to bring sinners to true salvation had been very fruitful. His congregation was overflowing with devout followers of the Lord, sincere in their efforts to repent of their sins and lead the holiest lives possible in their fallen world. It delighted him to see his flock living their lives for the glory of God.
Not all approved of how he put this gift to use, however.
“There is no doubt that Father Dostoevsky is a very gifted priest. But, I worry that his methods may be a bit manipulative.”
“I have never met a priest who was so skilled at getting into peoples’ heads. It is a bit frightening how relentlessly persuasive he is.”
“I have heard he will go so far as to tell people lies if he believes it will set them on a righteous path. It feels as though he is conning people into accepting salvation. Though, I suppose we should be grateful he is not using his talents to worse ends.”
He had overheard all of that, and more, from some of his more wayward parishioners when they thought him out of earshot. It disappointed him to hear them speak of him that way. But, he chose not to let it be of any bother to him. Let them say what they would. He believed that setting sinners on a righteous path was always just and right, regardless of the method. He was simply using his gifts to bring glory to God. The ends justified the means. So many souls had been saved by what those fools called manipulation.
He was pleased to have made such a difference in the lives of so many. Yet, there were still an untold number of souls who were so entrenched in wickedness that they would never repent before the Lord. So devoted to their wretchedness were they that even Fyodor could not reach them. They rejected God’s gift of salvation in favor of giving themselves over to sin. It was disgraceful.
For a time, Fyodor had been content to let such people do as they would. He chose to focus his energy on those whose souls could be saved. But, it seemed the wickedness of the world grew every day. People were abandoning the word of God and indulging in their sinful desires as they saw fit. It was vile, disgusting. More souls than ever were being led astray.
Something had to be done.
Fyodor could feel the Lord guiding him to act. He heard the voice of God calling upon him to cleanse the filth of this world and deliver His righteous judgment upon the wicked. The Lord had great plans for him, and Fyodor, ever the faithful servant, would dutifully follow God's chosen path for him.
By day, he would continue his duties as a humble and devout priest. By night, he would carry out the Lord’s will by eliminating the most wretched of unrepentant sinners from the Earth. He had been chosen by God to fulfill this role, and he would not fail.
…
Pyotr Berdenev begged for his life like a pathetic coward as Fyodor’s knife pressed against his throat.
They were in the forest a little ways out of town, where no one could hear the man's screams. His limbs were expertly bound with secure knots, so there was no risk he would escape. It enabled Fyodor to take his time administering God’s punishment. He had been toying with the man for a while now.
Pyotr’s arms, legs, and torso were covered in cuts and gashes, some shallow, others deep. Fyodor had ensured that the damage was brutal enough to be excruciatingly painful, but not enough to kill. The wicked must suffer for their sins, after all.
But, now he was growing bored, and Pyotr's sniveling was getting on his nerves. It was time to finish this.
“Please, Father, I swear I will repent! God is forgiving and merciful, is he not? I beg of you, give me another chance.” Pyotr pleaded, eyes filled with tears.
The words had no effect on Fyodor. It had been over 2 years since he had taken up the calling of cleansing the world of the unrepentant sinful. Without fail, every single one of the wicked he had purged begged for their lives in their final moments. Many, like Pyotr, swore they would repent. He knew all of them were lying. It was as if they couldn’t resist committing one final sin before they died. It only served to disgust him further.
“Why the change of heart now, Pyotr? You’ve never shown the slightest interest in repentance before. You have spent years taking advantage of vulnerable women. Luring them in with promises of food and shelter, only to manipulate them into repaying you for your kindness by sullying their virtue working as whores at your brothel. Then, you have the gall to prevent them from listening to the missionaries who come by seeking to save their souls. Do you think the Lord looks kindly upon a man who leads the hearts of maidens astray in their time of need, Pyotr Berdenev?” Fyodor said with a sadistic smile.
“N-no Father.” Pyotr whimpered.
“Right you are. You must understand, then? The unrepentant sinful must be punished, and God has chosen me to carry out this punishment. I am to enact His righteous judgment by eliminating the truly wicked from the Earth. To allow you to live would be to defy His orders. The Lord has determined that you are to die, and His will shall be done.”
With that, Fyodor slashed the knife across Pyotr's throat. The man collapsed from his position on his knees, falling to the ground with a thud. Blood gushed out from the wound across his neck, the perfect image of a sacrifice before the Lord.
“Farewell, Pyotr Berdenev. I am sorry you never accepted God's gift of salvation. I shall pray for the fate of your soul.” Fyodor said coldly as Pyotr choked out his final breaths.
Once he was quite sure the man was dead, he took his leave. It had been a while since he had carried out one of his judgements in the forest, so it would likely be days before the body was found. He was always careful not to use one location too much, lest that place be put under observation.
He could not risk being caught. No one else would understand his righteous calling. If he were to be apprehended he would surely be sent to the gallows. However, it was unlikely that would ever happen. He was a highly skilled strategist and planned for every possible contingency.
…
The next night, just as Fyodor was preparing to take his leave, an unfamiliar man walked through the doors of the church. Fyodor was quite certain he had not seen the man before. His appearance was striking in a way one would not easily forget.
The stranger had long white hair that cascaded down his back in a neat braid. His eyes were two different shades of blue and a vertical scar ran down one of them, standing in stark contrast to the man's delicate features. He was rather handsome, despite his oddities, Fyodor noted. He surely had many young maidens about town infatuated with him.
The man’s attire suited him in its eccentricity. He wore a white ruffled blouse, a black and white waistcoat, a long white overcoat with small black hearts embroidered along the bottom, and black trousers with small white diamonds embroidered along the hem. Fyodor could scarcely tell whether the man was a noble or a circus performer.
“Good evening, sir. What brings you to our humble church at such an hour?” Fyodor inquired, projecting an insincere warmth.
The man smiled and walked until he was standing right in front of Fyodor. The boldness of the move startled him a bit. People typically maintained a respectful distance from priests. But, this man stood as close to him as one would a dear friend. It was a bit unnerving, to say the least.
"Good evening, Father. I have come to you because I witnessed something very shocking the other night, and I find it is weighing on me. You may say it was a rather sinful display." The stranger said, not at all sounding like a man burdened by what he had witnessed.
"There is someone in need of repentance, then?" Fyodor asked.
"I should think so. Murder is one of the gravest sins of all, yes?" The man replied. Once again, his tone did not match the gravity of his words.
"It is indeed. But, the Lord is merciful. There is hope for their soul yet. We have saved the souls of many a prisoner, even those destined for the gallows, by leading them to repentance."
"The one I speak of is no prisoner, Father."
"I see. Have you not reported what you witnessed to the police?"
"No, I have not."
Fyodor frowned.
"I must advise you to do so, sir. You risk your salvation by doing otherwise. The Lord is a God of justice. As men of faith, it is our duty to see that His will is done."
The man’s expression turned a bit sheepish as Fyodor spoke.
"I must confess, I am not a man of faith, Father."
The confession struck Fyodor as odd. If he wasn't a believer, why had he come here? Perhaps he knew the killer to be a believer and was simply honoring that? He decided it best not to press the man too much on the subject. He did not wish to drive this non-believer away and risk missing the opportunity to save a soul.
"That is very unfortunate. I will pray for your salvation, sir."
A wicked smirk crossed the man’s lips at that, making the sense of unease Fyodor had been feeling grow.
"Quite the contrary, I should say it is very fortunate that I am not a holy man. For you see, Father, the man I witnessed sullying his hands with another's blood was none other than yourself."
Fyodor’s eyes widened. It couldn’t be so. Surely, the man was lying. This non-believer, this heretic, was merely trying to besmirch his good name, and the good name of the church.
“You are speaking nonsense. How dare you come here and falsely accuse me of such a thing! I am a man of God, sir.” Fyodor said indignantly.
The man looked unaffected by Fyodor’s accusation.
“I speak only the truth, Father. Do you not trust my word?”
“I do not.” Fyodor spat.
The man smiled at that.
“Fair enough. I suppose it wouldn't do for you to incriminate yourself so easily, when all you have is my word that I saw you. Perhaps this will serve to convince you that I speak the truth. After you slit Pyotr Berdenev's throat, you bid him farewell, said you were sorry he had rejected God's gift of salvation, and vowed to pray for the fate of his soul. Does that sound right, Father?”
Fyodor's blood ran cold.
The words he had said to Pyotr could have been a lucky guess on the stranger's part. He was a priest, after all. It wouldn’t be a stretch to assume he would say such things about prayer and salvation in that situation. It was less likely, however, that he had correctly guessed exactly when Fyodor had uttered those words.
Then, there was the fact that this man knew Pyotr was dead at all, as well as how he had died. Fyodor had yet to receive word that Pyotr Berdenev's body had been discovered. The public was never told of these things before the clergy. The most likely explanation as to how the man knew all of this was that he had indeed seen the murder play out.
“How?” Fyodor managed to choke out in his shock.
“I was simply enjoying a late night walk in the forest when I heard footsteps, so I hid and silently watched you. All of the townsfolk think me insane for walking around the woods alone at night. But, look at what a wonderful opportunity it has brought me.” The man replied excitedly.
Fyodor gaped at him.
That was it? He was to be thwarted by a madman who just happened to stop on his walk to quietly observe a murder?
How could this have happened? How had he failed to notice that there was a witness? He had always been meticulously cautious. He planned every detail of his kills and prepared for every contingency.
Not to mention, he had the favor of the Lord on his side. He was acting as God's humble servant, carrying out His righteous judgments on Earth. The Lord would not be mocked. He would not allow this man, this non-believer, to stand in the way of God’s will.
Fyodor's expression hardened and he glared daggers at the strange man.
“Why have you come to tell me this? Do you mean to blackmail me, sir?” He snarled.
The man’s smile did not falter.
“Not at all, Father. I mean to join you.”
The declaration took Fyodor by surprise. Join him?
“I beg your pardon?” He asked incredulously.
“I wish to work alongside you. It must be tiring, carrying out the will of God on your own.”
“Why would a non-believer such as yourself seek to carry out the judgment of the Lord? Could it be that you simply wish to kill?” Fyodor replied, unimpressed with the man's offer.
The man shook his head.
“I do not seek to deliver righteous judgment, nor do I seek to kill. What I seek is freedom.”
Fyodor scoffed.
“Only a fool would seek freedom by committing acts that would see him locked away, then hanged in the town square, if he were caught.”
“You misunderstand, Father. I do not seek freedom in a physical sense. Rather, I seek freedom from those unseen forces which bind all human behavior. Emotions, attachments, desires, rationality, morality, and even self-preservation all serve to impede our free will. It is only by doing away with these things that one can become truly free.” The man said, his expression becoming more and more elated as he spoke of the freedom he sought.
Fyodor found himself pleasantly surprised by the stranger’s explanation. The man before him was absolutely fascinating. He had never heard such an interesting motivation for sin before. After years of being a priest, he had come to learn that the motives behind even the gravest of sins were often boring and predictable. The thirst for money, status, power, and revenge drove much of humanity's wicked behavior.
But, this man sought to free himself from all of those things and more. He sought to abandon his humanity and become a being of uninhibited free will. Such a man could certainly be useful to Fyodor's cause. Besides, it would be rather entertaining to observe as he tried and failed to defy both God and the very nature of humanity.
“Splendid. In opposition to God, you are fighting to lose yourself.” Fyodor said with a wicked grin.
The man's eyes widened.
“Yes. Yes! You understand!” He cried out breathlessly, reaching out to grasp Fyodor's hands.
Fyodor politely pulled away, then spoke.
“I do, indeed. What a fascinating approach to life you have. I believe you would be a worthy partner. A welcome asset to my mission. I'd be pleased to have you join me, Mr…”
Fyodor trailed off. He had never gotten the strange man's name.
“Gogol. Nikolai Gogol.” The man said with a dramatic bow. “You may simply call me Nikolai, though.” He insisted as he stood back up.
“Very well. I would be pleased to have you join me, Nikolai.”