Chapter 8: Rogier, My Friend

Clatter.

Across the ruins, Gandalf was so stunned by what he had just witnessed that his pipe slipped from his grasp and fell to the stone floor. He flinched, not from the sound, but from the waste. The pipe had been full of the finest Longbottom Leaf.

The wizard's carefully maintained composure had shattered. Moments ago, he had been a detached observer, a scholar studying a celestial phenomenon. Now, Tarnes had performed what looked like a creation from nothing, conjuring a living, breathing warrior from motes of golden light. Gandalf's mind raced. This was no illusion, no necromantic puppet. He could feel the vibrant soul burning within the woman and see the keen intelligence in her eyes. The sheer impossibility of it was a puzzle that defied all his knowledge of the world's workings.

Tarnes, however, was oblivious to the wizard's inner turmoil. He was focused entirely on the woman before him. He took the stormhawk-emblazoned battle-axe from her hands and gently pulled her to her feet.

"Nepheli," he said, his voice softer than Gandalf had yet heard it. "I am glad to fight alongside you again. But tell me… what do you remember? Do you recall… everything?"

He had to know. If she remembered the cycles, it meant any others he summoned would as well.

A wry, weary smile touched Nepheli Loux's lips. She raised a hand to her temple. "If you mean our first meeting in Stormveil Castle… your help with the truth of my adoptive father… and our final stand together against Godfrey, the First Elden Lord… then yes. I remember it all." She lowered her hand, her crimson eyes locking with his, filled with a new, profound respect. "It seems I have eight lifetimes of such memories now."

Her gaze was unwavering. "And with that knowledge, my admiration for you has only deepened, my lord. If I had been in your place, I think I would have gone mad by the fourth cycle… no, the third. The powerlessness of it, the feeling that nothing you do can ever truly change fate… It is enough to break anyone."

Tarnes shifted, a little embarrassed by her fervent praise. "That's an exaggeration. In the sixth cycle, I gave in. I chose the path of the Lord of Frenzied Flame. My mind was nearly gone by then."

But Nepheli shook her head, her conviction absolute. "The memories tell me otherwise. In the seventh and eighth cycles, you chose to seal that flame away. You sought the Rune of Perfect Order with Goldmask. You would not have done that if you did not love the Lands Between with all your heart."

No, Tarnes thought, a familiar ache tightening in his chest. It was not the land I loved, but a girl who chose to sacrifice herself for it. Because of her, I came to love that shattered world.

He pushed the memory away. He was terrified to even look for her name on the list of summonable souls. What if it wasn't there? What if her soul was truly gone forever?

He forced a small smile. "In any case, we have left that world behind. Let us allow those memories to rest."

Nepheli nodded in understanding. Her gaze lifted to the young, glowing Erdtree behind him. "Is this it? The Erdtree? It is… so much smaller than I remember."

"I only just planted it," Tarnes explained, standing beside her. "I summoned you because I need help. I need warriors to guard it as it grows. And you are not the last."

Nepheli asked no more questions. She simply took her axe back from him, her grip firm and sure, and moved to stand guard. "A pity my stormhawk did not come with me," she said, a hint of her old fire in her voice. "He would have made an excellent scout."

"I have not forgotten him," Tarnes promised with a smile.

As Nepheli began to patrol the perimeter, her sharp eyes immediately caught the flicker of a distant fire and the silhouette of the old man sitting beside it. She frowned, turning back to Tarnes. "My lord, is that old man a friend?"

"A friend of a friend," Tarnes replied. "He can be trusted, for now. I gave him my word we would speak when I was finished."

"I understand." Nepheli turned back, her gaze meeting Gandalf's across the moonlit ruins. She offered the wizard a slight, formal nod—a warrior's greeting, acknowledging his presence without lowering her guard.

Gandalf, still wrestling with a thousand questions, returned the nod.

Tarnes closed his eyes, focusing once more on the power of the Elden Ring. He knew the Roundtable Hold knights could be summoned, but Nepheli's intact memories confirmed his fears. He was glad he had not rashly called upon them. If they remembered being slain by his hand, it would not be a pleasant reunion. Vyke and Bernahl, in particular, would be formidable and resentful enemies.

He needed an ally, not a rival. His thoughts turned to a different kind of strength—not of raw power, but of gentle kindness and steadfast loyalty. He remembered the first friendly face he had seen in the Lands Between, the one who had offered him aid without asking for anything in return.

Rogier, he called out in his mind. The gentle sorcerer who died seeking the truth of the Black-Knife plot.

Golden light gathered once more. The particles swirled, coalescing into the familiar, slender figure of a man in a deep blue, pointed hat. He lifted the brim, revealing clear blue eyes and a warm, witty smile.

"I feel as if I have woken from an eternal slumber," Rogier said, his voice as calm and pleasant as Tarnes remembered. He glanced at the formidable warrior standing nearby. "And it seems I am not the first to answer the call." He then gave Nepheli a polite, charming bow. "An honor to meet you, Child of the Storm."

A wave of relief washed over Tarnes, so powerful it almost staggered him. Hearing his old friend's voice again was like a balm to his weary soul. He reached into his pack and drew out a finely crafted rapier, its hilt inlaid with a brilliant oval ruby. He offered it to the sorcerer.

"It's best you have this back," Tarnes said. "It never felt right in my hands."

Rogier took the rapier with a practiced grace, giving it an expert twirl. "My, my," he said with a smile. "It feels much sharper than I remember."

Tarnes allowed himself a small, proud smirk. "The weapon art was invaluable. I had Hewg reinforce it a few times."

Rogier could feel the perfect balance, the near-limitless potential locked within the steel. He let the matter drop and extended his other hand to Tarnes, his expression turning serious. "I am back."

Tarnes took a deep breath, his gauntlet closing around his friend's hand in a firm, powerful grip. "Welcome back."

As their hands clasped, Tarnes felt a final message from the Elden Ring. Its power was spent. He could summon no one else for now.

But it was enough. With Nepheli's unyielding strength and Rogier's gentle wisdom by his side, he was no longer alone. He had friends. He had allies. And for the first time since falling to this world, he had enough confidence and patience to wait for the Erdtree to grow.

***

(End of Chapter)

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