Chapter Text
“He doesn’t have much more in him now. I suppose soon enough that will be it then.” He should not have listened. Their conversation was not meant for him. Still, Darians’ ears inadvertently perked up when he caught a sliver of the obvious exasperation Gideon tended to use whenever talking about Rogier.
“I know. I had hoped I could ease his suffering, buy him at least a modicum of time, but it seems it was for naught.”
Their words made him freeze in his tracks on his way past Gideons library. He had known that Rogier was ill. Darian had known the moment he had seen him limp past a few weeks ago. Known intimately what it was that plagued him. Known that there was no escaping it and that only Rogier’s own foolishness could have been the cause for him being inflicted with it in the first place. Still. For weeks he had listened in on conversations between Rogier and the tarnished just as he was doing now. He had overheard how slowly but surely a unfamiliar resignation had settled in his voice.
For hours on end Darian had sat there, perched on his stool. Staring out into space, ignoring everything around him just at a chance to catch slivers of life on that balcony. His skin itching with the urge to get up, to just cross through that archway, to sit down on one of the chairs there and talk to him. Just one last time.
But whether it was pride, fear or hurt, he remained stationary on his stool. Waiting for a sign that would never come.
His past inaction didn’t matter now. Darian swallowed dryly. Hollowly he turned on his heel, the reason he had sought out the twin maidens already forgotten, and stormed off into the bowels of the hold. Gideon half heartedly commenting on the tarnished’s efforts long drowned out by his own racing thoughts and heartbeat.
Darian had known something like this would happen. That Rogiers’ curiosity would get the better of him and quite literally get him killed. Or set him on his now inevitable path to decay. It had been the exact reason why he had pleaded with Rogier time and time again to stop in his pursuits. To stifle his morbid fascination and turn it towards less blighted topics.
In hindsight he could now say that their end had long been coming. Devin had even warned him off it. Nothing could quell Rogiers’ spirit of inquiry and the determination he carried to achieve what he had set himself on. They had always been alike in that regard.
So when they had reached their breaking point, he had almost been relieved. Stupidly hoping that the anger in his heart would burn out all he felt for the sorcerer.
If only it had been that easy.
For months - no, years - Rogier had continued to haunt his thoughts and dreams. Visions of their time together, traveling side by side eternal. Heated memories of wanton nights spent by the campfire. And each time he was torn from his slumber, that well known emptiness would be there waiting for him.
Still he had never once sought out Rogier or attempted to begin contact through their mutual acquaintance from the hold.
With a heavy sigh Darian let himself fall into one of the chairs located within the abandoned storage chamber. Hardly any soul wandered down there these days, with the holds kitchens having all but died down in the absence of most tarnished.
And so the damp, cool air and faint smell of pickled vegetables were his only companions.
A deep breath. Then another. Slowly his heart stopped thundering in his ears. He was over thinking again and missing the details of the situation because of it.
He had not been totally inactive. There had been a time, a few weeks ago by now, where he had offered the sorcerer a silent olive branch. Certainly he had veiled his actions as a coincidence towards the Tarnished, but Rogier with all of his wit must have seen through it. He must have known why Darian had been there to aid the Tarnished on the quest he had sent them on.
Even so, he had not reached out.
First off came the gauntlets. It was awkward to fiddle with the clasps while still fully armored, but he made do. Next followed his helmet then the leather cap underneath. Having air actually touch his skin, after hours of sitting in it, felt close to a small blessing in itself.
Perhaps Rogier was haunted by the same uncertainty that had him rooted to his perch. They had not spoken since their less than amicable parting of ways. Or maybe he just didn’t want to see him again. Darian could not blame him for that.
Still. If at all to mend some of the wounds Darian now regretted having inflicted, he needed to speak to Rogier. To know if he had found what he was looking for. If he was content with what he would leave behind.
Darian paused. Those were all things he needed. What Rogier might desire had never occurred to him. How selfish. To take a dying mans time for granted entirely because he was still hung up on what they had but briefly a long time ago.
The long suffering sigh slipped past his lips before he could reel it back in. Metal ground against metal in protest as Darian leaned against a table. It was no doubt getting late. Spending so much time in the hold was beginning to mess with his time perception. He needed to go outside more. Pick up his search to find wherever Devin had gotten himself cornered.
Do anything but stare through that archway and think ceaselessly about how the person on the other side was rotting away at that very moment. Not that he could bring himself to do anything really.
He had tried, of course. Picked up the trail of deathroot, only to cut corners to make it back to the hold as quickly as possible. The maidens had been displeased about his unusually sloppy work and chided him for being inattentive. And since then he had been all but nailed to that chair. Ever staring out through the gateway, letting time slip by. Perhaps he too, was rotting.
They both needed to get out. He would take Rogier somewhere. Somewhere better. A better place… to die. He didn’t want to finish the thought, but it carved its way into his heart before he could stop himself.
Just where should he take him? Anywhere would be better than the balcony in Darians’ mind. But where would Rogier want to go? There was no way he could ask the sorcerer in person, he would probably just laugh at the question and respond with something less than helpful. Plus it would be distasteful to ask a dying man something like that after they had not spoken for over a year.
Perhaps he needed to approach it from a different angle. Think less of death and more of the time before. Darian had to chuckle to himself at that. Thinking less of death in his order was nigh impossible. Regardless. If not a place to die, perhaps there was a place Rogier would want to see before passing on. Though that again raised the question what kind of mystical and most likely heretical place that would be.
On their travels he had expressed an interest in the underground cities, though they had already explored those plenty before in the past.
Of course he had also spoken of Raya Lucaria and its vast vault of knowledge. But the academy remained as hostile towards tarnished as ever. And while Darian would have loved to treat Rogier to its endless libraries, he was in no position to garner them safe entry and stay among the sorcerers.
He cursed under his breath and ran a hand through his hair until halting mid motion. There had been one place Rogier had spoken off. Way back when, he had marveled about the snow covered mountain tops of the giants. Origin to the stargazers and most sorcerers alike. While in a drunken stupor he had long ago jokingly promised Darian that he would take him there once he had completed his holy duty.
As if that could ever be achieved. Even in his grandest most overconfident dreams did he know that neither he nor any other mortal possessed power close enough to properly lay to rest all of those who lived in death. All he could hope to do was mitigate the damage they caused.
Still. The mountaintops remained a mystery to Rogier and him alike. Somewhere where either of them had yet to tread.
Even so… it would be heresy. To even consider traveling to such a forbidden land for a small thing such as- such as what? Love? That was beyond him now. It had been long since he’d loved Rogier. He had buried that with their companionship at the fire of their last camp. Nostalgia it was then. Of a better time. But was that enough to excuse committing such a primordial sin?
Queen Marika forgive him, it would have to be.
Resolutely he stood again. He would need to plan their journey. Even if Rogier told him to fuck off and die in a ditch at the proposal of traveling together once more. Especially now that Rogier was seemingly chair bound, he would need means of transportation. While his strength was one of the few things Darian sometimes prided himself on, it was by no means enough to carry Rogier all the way to the mountains. Or even through Liurnia.
When Rogier had arrived at the hold he had still been mobile. Though Darian heavily doubted, that this was still the case. It had been long since he had noticed the sorcerer make the short track from his balcony to the small side chamber Fia resided in. The thought of the two of them together, limbs intertwined, made his stomach twist.
But it was of no matter now. Perhaps he was still in possession of that spirit steed he had found when they had first traveled together? Deep in thought Darian had gotten up and was half way up the stairs before remembering to re-gear once more.
Everything up to the Altus Plateau would be rather easy in comparison. He knew the planes and lakes of Limgrave and Liurnia close to the back of his hand by now. Not that that knowledge made the lands any less dangerous. Still. The prospect of climbing the mountain path up leading to the Plateau gave him a migraine to even think about. Not to speak of however cursed way they were going to reach the mountaintops without the Golden Orders’ sanction.
Darian paused on the top step. The smith was hammering away at his anvil a few meters away from him. How was he even going to get there? The Golden Order had sealed the mountains off and forbidden anyone from entering. There were no paths indicated anywhere on his map either.
Another step forwards. Hewg was throwing him a side glance as he stalked past him and Roderika. Even if he didn’t have a map or an inkling of how he could reach the mountains, perhaps Ofnir would. At least he would have the beginning of an approach, even if he would have to pay a price for the favor.
— — — — —
He found Gideon where he was always found, hunched at a concerning angle over his desk. Darian tried not to think about how long he had paused in front of the balcony entrance. Blankly staring into space, thinking whether or not he should just talk to Rogier before even daring to humiliate himself by seeking knowledge from Ofnir.
Surely Rogier must have had noticed his presence by the time that he had finally gathered himself to turn. If he had noticed, he had been too polite to speak up about it.
“What do you want, hunter? Done spying on my personal conversations?”, Gideon barely looked up from whatever text he was studying at the moment when Darian entered.
“I need information on how to reach the mountain tops of the giants.” For once, Gideon seemed to fully stop scanning the text beneath him and partially raised his head to look at him.
“Now why would you want that?”, before Darian could respond the old man raised a hand to shush him, “I don’t think that I have to tell you that wandering there is beyond your jurisdiction and deeply sacrilegious.” As if he wasn’t acutely aware of that. As if that wasn’t eating away at his insides as they spoke. More so than Gideons sandpaper voice could ever eat away at his nerves.
“I am aware.” Something in him warned him that if Darian gave Gideon more than he needed to know from the get go he would be less willing to assist.
Gideon stared at him for a moment longer. Neither of them was able to read each others expression through their helmets and Darian wondered if Gideon was truly looking at him at all.
“Fine. Though I have two conditions for you.” Of course he had. “First. Take that miserable wretch of a sorcerer with you. I can’t stand the bickering this is causing among you people.” Before Darian could say anything Gideon had already straightened up enough to grab his cane and turn towards one of the bookshelves behind him.
“Though knowing you two, he is the reason you want to go in the first place, isn’t he? Pity for you.” Whether the flush that came to Darians’ cheeks was out of embarrassment or anger he was unsure, “Secondly. And much more importantly. I have somewhat of an errand I need you to run while you are up there.” Satisfied with his search, Gideon returned to his desk with a heavy looking bound tome and a map. Both of which he reverently placed on the table.
“While I doubt you will be as helpful as Ensha, you two, or well mostly you, will be of use to me.”, He muttered mostly to himself while unfolding the map of what Darian could only assume to be the mountain tops of the giants. With the golden walls of Leyndell being partially drawn in. Uncharacteristically gentle Gideon tapped the dark outlines of a castle or hold, drawn in the north.
“This is castle Sol. Back in the day the nobility housed there was rumored to have been close with Miquella. You are to seek them out and see what you can find out about the half of a medallion. They will hold it in great value.” The question of what kind of medallion Gideon was looking for was practically burning on his tongue, but Darian had the bitter feeling that if he were to ask he would be met with a simple ‘that is beyond your jurisdiction to care’
“Very well. Castle Sol it shall be then.” Perhaps he should have consulted Rogier before speaking to Ofnir. He had always known how to talk circles around the man and get out of most demands he made of him.
The man in question let out a satisfied hum and opened the tome with the same gentleness he had granted the map. Perhaps the only love Gideon possesses was for paper and the ink on it.
“Then to the technicalities of it. I am assuming you are neither in possession of a medallion to operate the Grand Lift of Dectus, nor Rold?” Darian nodded solemnly, having one of those would make the journey a lot easier for the both of them.
Gideon let out a long suffering sigh in response and hunched down lower over the map. “Then I wish Marikas’ personal blessings upon you both. Otherwise that is gonna be a rich tumble you lot will take.”
As if searching Gideon let his finger hover over the map before placing it down on a thin gray line across the mountain ridge leading to Leyndell. “I can provide you with the key to the Dectus lift. The mountains you will have to climb by yourself."