SPRING 1438 AD/CE

Rome had fallen and the world had moved on. Latin had remained while the legions and centurions of old had faded into memory and then myth.

Infrastructure had changed and Methos had gone right along with it, following the natural progression of time even while he himself was removed from it's effects.

Religions came and went, gods rose and fell with cities and their peoples. Kings and emperors and saints and tyrants alike all passed one after the next but he had long since come to accept the impermanence of life that contrasted so strongly with his own immortality. The two were not so at odds.

He still fought the occasional immortal but he had not gone out of his way to find one in a very long time. The Game continued but he had less and less interest in it.

Instead he'd gone to Heidelberg and enrolled in the University there. Very quickly he had found the life of a student to be something he enjoyed and Heidelberg was an epicenter of learning and study.

The school had already undergone a lot of change this century and he found it exactly the kind of place he wanted to be. Among the many other students he could blend in and only occasionally draw attention to himself with his intelligence and knowledge.

To his great fortune the only other immortals he had encountered this century had been like minded and once it had been established that they wouldn't be fighting, had gone on their way and minded their own business.

Methos like that a lot.

One day however he was walking after class and thinking about joining some of the other students at a tavern when he felt the pull of another immortal near by.

Instantly he stopped and looked around, eyes scanning the darkening street for any sign of threat or movement.

He could feel the other immortal's prescence and since he hadn't been expecting it he was more than a little rattled.

"Who's there?" He called out.

He had his sword, a rapier this century. He was majoring in dueling and it was very common for students to wear their swords around. Most liked to show off, he liked to be ready.

"I'm unarmed and only two steps from holy ground." A voice called out to him, directing his attention towards a cloaked figure standing near a gate.

The man had something in his hands, at first making him ready to draw but he saw a moment later that it was a broom.

He stopped himself and cleared his throat, heart slowing slightly. "Who are you?" He asked.

The man he saw now was a priest, he wore the brown of a Franciscan and for a second seemed strikingly familiar. "My name is Darius." The man said, holding out his hand placatingly.

Methos paused.

He had met a Darius once and now that he thought back, the man did resemble the one he'd met. Youthful face, unimposing frame and yet to see a priest where a warrior had once stood was almost strange. A broom instead of a sword in his hand.

"I am armed." He whispered, letting the man known that he would not go without a fight.

He had a brief image of what it would look like if a student were to behead a priest here and knew it wouldn't go well for himself.

The other man leaned his broom against the fence and took two steps backwards, retreating onto the protection of holy ground. "I'm not here to fight and I wish you no harm." He said in a surprisingly gentle voice.

Methos narrowed his eyes, old memories returning as he worked to feverishly dig them up.

He'd had to throw himself into a river to survive. Not the first and probably not the last time he would have to do something like that but just the same. . . he had a brief, long forgotten memory of bloody earth and mud and death and water all around.

The priest looked at him sadly. "Perhaps we met at a very different point in my life." He said. "If we did, I apologize."

Methos surveyed him, hand on his hilt. With the priest hiding on holy ground there was nothing he could do and just the same. . . he didn't want to fight him, not if it could be avoided.

He'd learned of Darius afterwards. From rumors in villages and the chronicles of the Watchers. . . the man had been a Goth warlord and violent conqueror. He'd killed with impunity and ruthless aggression. Then one day something had changed. The chronicles had been undecided about it but most of what he could find hinted at a light quickening and if that were the case then it was one of only a handful Methos had ever even heard about.

The immortal who's quickening had caused the change was somewhat known to him. The man had been far older than even he was, older definitely than Kronos or any of the other Horsemen had been. To take the head of someone so ancient couldn't have come without consequences.

He studied the man who stood behind the gate looking sad. "It was a long time ago." He heard himself say, removing his hand from his sword.

The priest inclined his head. "Just the same, you have my apologies for whatever wrong was committed."

Methos felt a kind of debate form inside of himself. On one hand he did not want to reveal himself but on the other, if this man had truly experienced a light quickening then he was the only immortal he had ever personally encountered to do so and that was saying quite a bit.

"You strike a very different picture than you did last time." He said, speaking carefully.

Darius gave him a sad smile. "I hope that's a good thing." He said, turning slightly. "Would you come in?"

Methos hesitated.

Holy ground was safe yes and he did want to know more.

He glanced down at his sword and then nodded, stepping past the priest and through the stone gate.

Darius smiled again and lead the way into a small sacristy where he poured them wine and took bread from underneath a low counter.

"Forgive me, I don't have much else here. I'm only staying until the new rector arrives."

"Consecrated?" Methos asked, peering into his goblet and making the other man laugh.

"Not yet. Not for this purpose Please, eat and drink. Were you on your way somewhere?"

"I was thinking about stopping by a tavern." He admitted, eyes travelling stone walls and stopping on a fraying tapestry.

Darius got comfortable. "Well I won't hold you up. May I ask your name?"

"Adam." He lied. It had become a favorite although he tired to use it sparingly and was going by a different name at the university.

Darius smiled again. "For the first man?"

"Among them."

If the other immortal suspected something was off he didn't say anything and instead sipped at his own wine. "I too have had more than one name."

A test or an observation and Methos felt curiosity over take his suspicion.

"If you live long enough I've heard it's quite common." He said, giving nothing away of his age though he was sure the man could guess he was older. It had been over a thousand years since they'd last met.

"I need, I've heard that too."

Methos felt his curiosity grow and he relaxed some. This man was not threatening though he knew he could be.

"How did we meet?" Darius asked him, taking some bread and tearing off a piece.

He leaned forward and did the same. "I was passing through Dacia with a caravan of travelers. We were attacked by a group of raiders."

Something sad but understanding crossed the priest's face. "I see. I once attacked a man that threw himself into the river. He was also with a group of travelers. Could it be that that was you?"

Methos hesitated and then smiled slightly. "Most likely. I floated down river for a while and then swam to the far shore."

Darius sat back and sighed. "I take no pride in my past actions. I hope you can believe me."

"I've heard of you since then." Methos said, the orange glow of the candles flickering made the room warm. "I heard that you took a light quickening."

Darius didn't look shocked and inclined his head. "I can think of no other explanation for it. I killed a holy man and was changed because of it. HIs quickening changed who I was, how I thought. . . even what I dreamed. The change was almost instantaneous. I no longer wished to fight or to take as I had from the world. My hatred seemed shameful and small to me afterwards. My actions foolish and barbaric."

Methos digested this. He had once killed with impunity as Darius had or in some similar way and yet his change had not been so sudden. He couldn't pin point when he had lost the lust for blood. It had been accumulative. "He must have been very old." He said.

Darius nodded. "He was. I doubt I will ever meet a man so old again. I took something from the world I can't give back."

That was uncomfortable somehow to hear. Methos had done wrong but the idea of playing a penetrant priest was unappealing. Life times and generations had passed since he had ridden as Death. Far longer than since this man had pillaged.

"Is that why you're a priest?" He asked.

Darius smiled and to his surprise chuckled. "Perhaps. It's how I feel I can do the most good."

"And it keeps you alive."

The man laughed again. "You're not wrong there. I do not participate in The Game unless I can't help it and so far I have managed to help it. Staying on holy ground is an easy way to stay out of things."

Methos was quiet and sipped at his wine. "So what good do you think you can do as a priest?"

Darius shrugged, folding his hands over his stomach and tucking them inside his sleeves. "Peace? I've made war but I've found making peace to be a great deal more difficult. If I can bring peace to one man's soul then perhaps he can go on to do the same for someone else."

That was a grand idea and Methos had to keep from laughing. "But what about his son? Or his son's son? Would you do it for each generation?"

Darius looked at him curiously again and he sensed a mutual respect forming. "Perhaps, if that's what it takes. I have eternity to do it."

"Unless someone takes your head."

A laugh. "Unless someone takes my head. I'm not deluded but I believe in humanity. I think people- mortals and immortals have it within themselves to do better."

Do better.

Methos wasn't entirely sure he utilized that concept. People did as they had always done, for better or for worse. Believing they could achieve some higher state was probably wishful thinking and yet Darius seemed sure in his beliefs.

He'd met men sure of themselves before.

Each their own.

The other man refilled his wine cup and then his own. "You're a student here at the university?"

He nodded. "Medicine." He said, not mentioning the dueling as it was probably obvious from the sword strapped to his side. It sat now against the table, visibly within arms reach.

"Do you believe you can achieve something with that?" Darius asked, making him smile slightly.

A good question.

"Maybe something physical." He said.

They both laughed and he found he liked the man. He had not expected that but he could choose to hold onto the past or ignore it and he chose to ignore it. Bygone years hardly mattered when they'd become so many.

Poor Sextus.

He didn't ask what had happened to those that might have survived. Their grandchildren were long dead and he pushed any feelings connected aside.

They talked for a good while, the candles sinking lower and the lights burning darker as time passed and Methos was careful to keep his secrets but he left eventually with the feeling that Darius had guessed at some great age and was too keen a man to be fooled by his vague and open answers.

He'd finally met someone who'd experienced a light quickening and he left for home, weaving just a little to think on it.

He had liked the priest but he didn't have any desire to see him again or to let him get any closer to figuring out his age. Someone as shrewd as Darius was apt to figure him out and so he avoided the street where the man had been and after a time when he asked he learned a new priest had been assigned to the church and that Darius had left the city.

He relaxed then, even if he had liked the man, he remained wary.

That was just how you stayed alive.