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Darius rose early. It was a habit he’d cultivated long before he ever joined the ranks of Noxus, and he wasn’t alone in this right. The other two of the Trifarix both rose early, long lives of battle had tempered them to regard mornings as the one time the world was quiet. The one time Noxus could be called peaceful was that moment just before dawn, when the sky was gray and only working men were awake. The hours when the forges were just lit. Darius found that time stifling, but it was habit by this point, he couldn’t end it.
Today, he had every reason to rise early. It was always good to think, especially after a day like the one he’d just had.
Darius stepped out of his tent and looked at the still smoldering pyre in the center of camp, a lone figure standing vigil at its head. Darius approached slowly, recognizing the clips, wrought from steel, that held his black hair out of his face, and the trappings of a warmason, sensible black clothes, minimally armored and made for travel, not battle. The man had hardly travelled, more like flown. It was easy to get places when your blood granted you gifts some might find monstrous.
“How long have you been out here?” Darius asked. The man didn’t respond, his eyes, dull and gray like the sky, were fixed on the smoldering ashes. Darius stood by him, wondering how long he was going to be left in silence, left wondering what had upset the fickle anger of the fallen Boram Darkwill this time.
“I thought you’d never do it,” Darkwill finally said.
“I didn’t.”
“I know.”
Darius cast a glance at Darkwill, noticing a certain glare to his gaze.
“You know I don’t like lying to Swain,” Darkwill began.
“Considering you do so regularly, I doubt that,” Darius pointed out.
“But,” Darkwill raised his voice sharply, “considering the person that ended this rebellion wasn’t you, and you burned a traitor like a fallen soldier, I have to. Have you done the same for your own men?”
Darius glared at Darkwill, “I don’t need lessons in duty from the man that nearly toppled the empire because of selfish ambition.”
“And yet you’re getting one,” Darkwill turned to Darius, the sheer force of his voice and manner in which he stood made Darius take a reflexive step back, “don’t think, for a moment, I consider my actions good examples, but you need to learn that you are not allowed to let your heart interfere with your loyalty.”
“Like you did?” Darius asked. Darkwill flinched and stepped back, then pushed his hair away from his shoulders, revealing the scars that crossed the pale flesh like vines; scars made from hot steel brands.
“I paid my price for letting passion interfere with my loyalties,” Darkwill snarled, “your choices don’t just hurt you anymore. I know you want everything to be the same as it was, but it can’t. You lead an empire; alone or not you need to consider what your choices do to the people who live there. You can’t be selfish.”
Darius’s gaze turned to the smoldering pyre, suddenly aware of how much weight was resting on his shoulders. He hadn’t paid it much mind, but this was the weight Swain and Darkwill lived with. The politics that ran Noxus’s upper rings, they were deeply personal for these two men; they’d been born to it. Engaging with people they cared about was not a choice.
Quiletta was right, it wasn’t as simple as Darius had once believed, but she was wrong about one thing. The choices weren’t any less obvious than before. In some respect, they were more obvious.
“How long are you here?” Darius asked.
“A few more hours,” Darkwill replied, covering the brands on his shoulders, “why?”
Darius grabbed Darkwill’s hair and yanked it away from the shoulder, “Stop doing this.”
Darkwill furrowed his brow.
“You want to talk to me with a level of authority, stop setting yourself on fire each time you make a mistake. It’s just as dangerous.”
Darkwill pulled his hair free, smoothing it out and averting his eyes.
“Sometimes I wonder how Swain does it,” Darkwill admitted, “detaches from everything. You’d never think anything’s personal with him.”
“Maybe it helps to have nothing.”
Darkwill watched the last of the smoke rise into the sky.
“Did you love her?” he asked softly, a gentle smile creeping onto his face.
“Yes.”
“Good.”