Chapter Text

ACT I: PRELUDING LIGHTS

Act 1, Chapter 1

28th of the 9th Cycle

Aether laid on golden sands, staring at clear blue skies high above.

Birds circled high above, incessantly cawing - perhaps thinking he was their next meal. He heard the crashing of waves against the shore - and squinted at the Sun blazing high above.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“Cursed gods…” he groaned, “Always so uptight…”

The golden-haired traveller shifted himself onto his stomach and pushed himself to his feet - brushing off sand from his outfit and running a hand through his hair to untangle it, feeling knots come apart under his digits.

He’ll have to rebraid it later, as currently he was too annoyed to do just about anything.

Aether willed some of his power to life, searching for the telltale sign of a blazing heat in his breast, but it amounted to nothing. It appeared that the damnable god had sealed away his innate powers - but he would not let it stay that way for long.

Nevertheless, he was still birthed of cosmic rays. He shan’t be able to show his face to Mother upon his return if he let some lowly gods lock him away like an errant child. 

Looking around, he found himself on a beach - one flanked by large, rising stone cliffs. The cliffs faced the morning Sun, which allowed him to align himself. There were the remnants of a campsite nestled under an outcrop, where upon further inspection he noticed a long extinguished bonfire and faint markings of where tents used to be.

How swell. 

Of course, if there were gods then there must be men, it was only natural.

Considering the form the god had taken when they encountered them, such men must be at the very least humanoid - though he would suspect they were simply some variant of human.

Investigating the sandbar some more, he found a distinct lack of his sister. It was unnecessarily irritating to say the least, but it was not as if this were the first time such an occasion occurred. His twin could take care of herself, she was far more capable than he in that regard.

Oh, he had some worries - but none of them were for his sister. He just hoped his sister won’t make getting off this damned place harder than it should be.

With the lack of his favoured sword, he was virtually unarmed. It shan’t be of worry, though, his alien build meant that incredible strength was his norm - in comparison to other sapient beings inhabiting cosmic worlds.

Among said beings, humans were among the weakest physically, there should be no issue.

Speaking of alien builds… 

“Try all you might,” Aether called, “You can’t hide from me, my kind were your progenitors!”

“Tch,” a voice rumbled, “Damned starwalker, your arrogance truly is unmatched.”

Aether watched as the veil of reality rippled - and tore itself open, revealing a shimmering patch of void, an infinite blackness speckled with countless stars. From the void, a female humanoid drifted out, donning a featureless white summer dress.

Her eyes were orbs of nebulae, her long flowing hair milky white. Trailing behind her came a mantle of twilight skies.

“Ah…” Aether mock bowed, “Great god, a greater displeasure.”

The god’s bare feet lightly touched the sand, and her shimmering eyes gazed at him in disdain.

“I ought to say the same,” she uttered, before her voice took on a more human tone, “As such, I also ought to remove you from this plane as fast as possible.”

“And how will you do that? Believe me, I wish to remove myself as much as you want to remove me - but your good friend-”

“Friend? Her? ” the god sneered, “I am Paimon, the day the likes of me lowers to the level of Law is the day the Sky falls!”

Names had power, and Paimon was a powerful name. Aether could feel the world ripple as the ancient appellation was spoken. A mighty god, surely, he beheld - among the greatest he had ever laid witness upon, but not the greatest. He could vaguely ascertain that she and him were distant kin, birthed of the same Mother.

Which meant he had done her a great insult by calling his kind her forefathers.

“And how can I please the great Paimon?” 

“A pact,” she proposed, “One sworn upon blood and bone.”

“Pardon?” he questioned, incredulous, “Denied, not unless it is sworn upon the elders.”

Blood and bone, he internally scoffed. What odd jape was she playing at? As if blood and bone were any threat to them, they were immortals - what was a moment of unimaginable agony compared to potential incomparable loss? No, let them swear upon the Gods - if she agrees.

The god’s face twisted horrifically, showing a glimpse of her true, disgusting form behind the human facade. 

“...I am not daft, starspawn!”

“Neither am I,” he shot back, “I know not what mummer’s show you are attempting to string, but I will take no part - not without assurances.”

“All I wish to propose is a simple deal; I will offer aid when needed, seven times upon the Seven Stars.”

“And in return?”

“You shall aid me once, upon use of all seven boons.”

Unimaginable loss, indeed. It was the kind of a pact that seemed to heavily favour one side, but no true pact was not equal. Likely, divine judgement would be cast upon him if his boon did not equal the value of all seven of hers.

Except, in all regards, this pact did indeed heavily favour him. Currently, Aether was powerless and trapped in a distant realm. Paimon could smite him on the spot and he would crumble with little resistance, which meant she had use of him as of now.

Blood and bone, hm? A pact was a two-way street, it seemed he had misjudged - a pact of such manner offered a way out if needed.

“Very well,” he acquiesced, “I swear to oblige by blood and bone.”

“And so do I.”

There was little fanfare, but the most serious of issues had little to do with such. All he felt was a ripple of power washing through his innards, and he knew the pact was signed.

The god stared at her pale hand, and smiled unnaturally.

“Follow the wind,” she pointed west, “You will not miss the Statue.”

With that, he watched as the god folded in on herself - sections of her corporal form bending and twisting in impossible shapes until she collapsed into an infinitely small form and disappeared from his sight completely.

Aether shook his head in exasperation.

His first day and he already made a deal with a demon - truly a new record.

A breeze suddenly brushed over him, causing his hair to fly in front of his face.

Grumbling under his breath, Aether began walking down the beach - following the wind - all the while rebraiding his long golden locks.

2nd of the 10th Cycle

Aether pressed a palm against the golden plate of the Statue.

Curiously, he felt an innate energy humming within the construct - as if taunting him. Closing his eyes, Aether weaved an immaterial thread of light from whatever miniscule power he had left within him - and pushed it into the Statue, wrapping it around the mass of energy.

Clenching his fist, Aether tugged at the invisible string - and the energy flowed in a stream of cerulean light without resistance.

The light eventually coalesced into a blue orb the size of his head, floating above him.

Pulling at string again, Aether captured the orb and pushed it into himself - absorbing it, resonating with it. As the energy flooded his systems, he felt something break inside him. A seal was cracked open, one he didn’t know he had.

Briefly, his veins shone with golden light.

Heart in his throat, Aether called upon his powers once more - and incredibly, his favoured star-forged blade manifested in his hand.

The divine blade shone under the sunlight, its argent hilt and handle glinted in silver glow - the golden blade rippling brilliantly. With a straight hilt, the design was simple, and would be unassuming if it weren’t for the manner of its birth. 

Aphelion and Perihelion, the twin blades - and his was the former.

Lowering himself into a pose, he launched into a few experimental swings - reassuring himself with Aphelion’s familiar weight.

Yet, he still felt a foreign energy within him. Drawing it from himself, a lifted his left hand and opened it to see a small whirlwind growing in his palm.

Just then, he felt someone - or something approaching him from behind, making no attempt to disguise their presence. 

Swivelling around, he saw nothing - only to look down and spy three formless blobs of watery gelatin crawling out of the lake. Extending his arm, he pointed his palm in the direction of the slimes and pushed out the foreign energy - and the whirlwind expanded into a violent gale that ripped through the creatures, tearing them to water droplets and spraying their remains across the lake.

Aether clenched his fist, and decided that until his full powers returned to him, this sort of elemental ability would be useful to him.

Turning back around, he closer inspected the Statue’s golden plate to see small words inscribed into it.

BARBATOS

ANEMO ARCHON

Backing away, he turned his gaze upwards to see the stone-carved figure of a robed person cupping a glowing azure sphere. A hood covered their head, and a pair of feathery wings extended from their shoulder blades.

Must be this Barbatos, he decided - and Anemo must be the Element that he had just resonated with. He had never heard of ‘Archon’ as a divine title before, however, so he assumed it was one bestowed unto them by mortals.

It is a manner of nature that gods have authorities - the elements that they rule over, whether they be divine ideals or mortal constructs. For a god to surrender their authority to a foreign being so easily was incredibly rare, so this Barbatos was either apathetic - or they had greater designs with him.

Aether could not decide which was worse.

As he pondered this new conundrum, a great earth-shattering roar broke him from his thoughts. Suddenly, a great shadow was cast over the valley, blanketing the land in brief darkness. Swivelling his head to the Sky, Aether watched a six-winged dragon flew overhead - screeching to make its presence known.

Dragons were the greatest of magical beasts, the pinnacle of magic and evolution. They were intelligent, Aether had no doubt, and considering the size of the creature he just laid witness - they were most assuredly old. Veritably ancient. 

And with age comes wisdom, wisdom of the world - which he desperately needed.

Aether took off after the dragon, using Anemo to extend his leap over the lake onto the far bank. He would find his answers, hopefully the dragon would be amiable.

6th of the 10th Cycle

It was truly unfortunate, but he simply was not fast enough to match the speed of the dragon.

Aether had observed the great primordial descended into the emerald forest, but by the time he reached there the dragon was long gone.

Now, he idly strode under the heavy cover of leaves and branches - so thick it blotted out the Sun. A perpetual breeze flowed through the woods, rustling the thicket and whistling through the trees - creating the illusion of a thousand whispers surrounding him. Fireflies buzzed around, their effulgent forms shining in golden glow - and luminescent plants in the shape of lanterns illuminated the forest floor.

Aether wandered into a small clearing, spying fallen trees and shambled brush. The forest floor was turned over, once pristine grass torn from their roots as a great force overturned them and kicked up soil.

Spotting the vague indentation of gargantuan footprints, he knew he was on the right track.

Inspecting the clearing, a glint in the dirt caught his attention. Bending down, Aether picked up a dirt-covered gem. Brushing away the earth, the gem was revealed to be a brilliant crystal - sanguine red in the shape of a teardrop.

He stowed it away, thinking it ought to be of import in the near future.

After ensuring there was nothing of interest he had missed, Aether left the clearing and returned to the track running through the centre of the woods. The path was of dry, beaten earth - used by carriages and carts, he could see the faint parallel indentations of wheels. 

He continued for the better part of the day. It was peaceful, the ambience of birds chittering from the treetops, the gurgling of small rivulets running across the forest floor, the foraging of animals. It was enchanting indeed, the forest was teeming with life - so much so it seemed alive.

The woods gradually cleared away as he reached the southern end of it. Squinting his eyes as the Sun glared down at him, he looked to the Sky as he attempted to orientate himself.

Aether spotted several columns of black smoke rising in the east, and decided he ought to follow the signal. 

As the Sky was painted in the red-orange hues of the Setting Sun, he neared closer to black plumes marring the halcyon sight. Climbing over a ridge, he stood upon a hill - staring down at a village in ruins.

At least some score of wooden dwelling built around a central court - the settlement was completely ravaged. The wooden houses were burnt husks of their former selves, the streets desolate and lifeless - strewn about with humanoid corpses. Fallen torches and braziers had sparked the fires that caught his attention.

Sliding down the hill, he entered the village to see a group of what seemed to be mounted knights patrolling the settlement.

They were silver armour marred with soot and blood, there was a golden sigil emblazoned on their chest pieces - but Aether couldn’t make it out through the ash. Their mighty steeds were lightly armoured, only donning light cloth barding - and Aether spotted blood covering the hooves of the horses.

“Hail!” he called.

A knight pulled the reigns of his steed to face him and trotted over.

“Hail, traveller!” the man pulled off him helm as he approached, “Apologies, you had to come across this - a hilichurl raid.”

Hilichurl. That must be the identities of the black-skinned, maned and masked corpses crumpled about the dirt. With their loincloths and bludgeons, they looked positively barbaric.

“Don’t worry, however,” the knight reassured, “It’s safe. It is unfortunate we’ve arrived too late to save anyone, but rest assured no savage escaped our blades.”

“You have my gratitudes for your diligence.”

The knight shook their head, before putting their helmet back on, “If we were more vigilant, no lives would’ve been lost. Where are you headed?”

“I’ve come from the north, escaping the cold,” Aether half lied.

“Oh aye, first autumn snows must’ve begun in the northern states,” the knight thankfully agreed, “I would invite you to rest with us and we’ll bring you to Mondstadt on the morrow, but I must inquire the captain first.”

“Please, do not trouble yourself with a lone traveller.”

The knight offered him a kindly smile, before trotting off, calling for their captain.

Taking his time to look around, Aether spotted several dismounted knights wrapping human corpses in tarps and loading them onto carts - while others were building a large pyre to burn the hilichurl corpses.

“Hail! You must be the traveller!” 

Aether looked up to see a woman in red riding canting towards him, before dismounting in a swift, practiced motion before her steed even stopped moving. Her horse was even more unarmoured than her subordinates - only having a saddle upon its back. Hanging from the side of her horse however, was a metal kite shield - on the silver facade emblazoned a stylised golden sigil.

Three pairs of wings entwined together in the shape of shield.

“Amber, I’m the captain of this little squadron,” the woman saluted by raising palm over her heart, “You’re welcome to share our fire and travel with us to Mondstadt tomorrow.”

Amber was on the shorter side, wearing a red leather riding outfit. Draped over her shoulders was a long sable mantle, which Aether thought looked somewhat feathery. Her hair cropped short and a dirty brown, like the colour of soil. She did not look of the same race as her subordinates, with a rounder face and somewhat slanted eyes.

“I am in your debt,” he lightly bowed.

“Oh, oh! That’s quite unnecessary!” she hurried forwards and grabbed his shoulders, lifting him up, “Reginwald explained to me you were fleeing winter - Mondstadt accepts all travellers, no matter their origins!”

“I… see,” was all he could say.

“You’re not from here, aye?” she smiled kindly, “A southerner perhaps, sailed to Dornman and found the chill too much for your liking? The Land of Wind does get quite cold, especially north of the Stormbearers.”

Before Aether could say anything, he was overwhelmed as she continued to ramble on.

“Lord Barbatos would curse me for not accepting outlanders,” she laughed, “Come, come - I will get you a mare and a tent.”

She put a hand on his right shoulder and pushed him forwards to the small campsite the knights had erected.

Internally, Aether thanked his stars that the land he stumbled upon was a welcoming land. 

Off to a good start, he decided, might as well enjoy his time here.

Chapter Text

Act 1, Chapter 2

8th of the 10th Cycle

The knights were a lively group, Aether could tell.

Except, that liveliness was dampened by the fact that they failed to save an entire village from complete destruction. They informed him that the hilichurls have been more and more daring with their raids - ever inching closer and closer to major human settlements. Amber seemed particularly irritated by the fact, despite her usually cheerful and optimistic character.

After asking around some, he found out that a long time ago the Favonian Order  had struck an incredible peace deal with the hilichurls. The terms decided that to stop the perpetual fighting between the two kinds, the Order had ceded a large region of the Land of Wind known as Dadaupa Gorge over to the greatest of the hilichurl tribes. 

In exchange, the tribes would unite the hilichurls and completely vacate the rest of the Land of Wind - with any hilichurls remaining the Order’s territory only suited to be run down. The reason that Amber was annoyed seemed to be because her grandfather had played a major role in the peace deal.

Nevertheless, the knights had their own theories as for the hilichurls’ actions. It appeared that the dragon he attempted to follow was quite a bit of a scourge plaguing the region, so much so that it came to be known as Stormterror - for its propensity of bringing raging winds wherever it goes. Their theory was that the dragon attacks have emboldened an organisation known as the Abyss Order, an ancient enemy of the Order, who are now rallying the hilichurls against the humans.

The knights wouldn’t tell him any more than that, which was completely understandable. 

They rode slowly, lugging the carts of bodies behind them. As the crested a hill, Aether could finally set his eyes on Mondstadt.

It was a grand thing, truly - a marvel of engineering.

Built atop an island in the middle of a lake - a lake large enough to be an inland sea at that. A great stone bridge allowed access to the walled city’s one main gate, wide enough for five carriages to travel across abreast simultaneously. 

There was a small town raised around the beginnings of the bridge on the mainland, which was curiously mostly abandoned. The knights explained that it was a ‘winter town,’ so-called because it was only inhabited during winter. During the other seasons, most smallfolk would be in the countryside farming and storing food for the coming winter. As such, outside of winter only 1 in 5 houses were occupied. 

Two stone gatehouses stood vigilant over the two ends of the bridge. Their portcullises were raised open, allowing for the constant stream of caravans and travellers coming to and fro. The guardsmen stationed at the gatehouses saluted as their little column marched across the bridge, while the pedestrians and merchants moved over to the sides to allow for an unobstructed march.

Aether witnessed many of them bowing their heads in respect as the carts loaded with the dead passed by.

As they passed through under the second gatehouse, a large shadow was cast over them. The walls of Mondstadt were just as impressive as they were imposing, built of heavy stone bricks each the size of a stallion. Guardsmen patrolled the battlements utop the walls, where over a dozen towers were evenly spaced across the entire length of the wall. The main gatehouse was known as the Lion’s Gate, consisting of two large crenellated bulwarks as well as two portcullises at each end of the entrance.

Between them, the walls were set with arrow slits in the sides, murder holes in the ceiling, and a concealed pitfall.

Banners fluttered in the breeze, most displaying the six-winged sigil of the Favonian Order - others proudly emblazoned the colours of the Four Winds, a purpure lion, a gules eagle, an azure dragon, and a vert wolf.

Once inside, he was assaulted by a hundred smells and half a hundred sights. The smell of smoke drafting from fireplaces and hearths, the potent scent of dandelions and perfumes, he could even make out the faint smell of fish wafting from the Northern Wharf.

Just after the gatehouse was a bustling marketplace, where merchants from all over the Land of Wind and beyond plied their wares. Aether saw fruits, silks and cloths, perfumes, jewellery, and foodstuffs on display as people haggled and bartered.

On their left was a street flanked by many blacksmiths, and the heavy scent of smoke wafted from there. The ringing of steel against steel was neverending.

Mondstadt was by all means a small city, its size limited by the island it sat upon. But its population never stopped growing, which made the city incredibly overcrowded and hell to navigate. Cutting through the city was a central avenue, with hundreds of twisting alleyways and paths branching out.

Amber informed him that newcomers use the Statue of Barbatos or the Cathedral as landmarks to orientate themselves, and Aether could see why.

They were massive structures, he can tell even from so far away, dwarfing the rest of the city below. And more importantly, visible from every corner of the city. Furthermore, windmills of all kinds sat and spun in the city limits, confusing Aether. What was the point of windmills inside a city? For he could not see any granary nearby. 

When he asked Amber, she laughed and told him it was a common question. 

“Those windmills don’t grind grain, they draw water up from the lake for us to use!” She continued, “look around us, everywhere is crowded, yet Mondstadt doesn’t smell nor is it filthy. This is thanks to those windmills, constantly drawing water up for us to clean, bathe, and drink.”

“You’ll find that Mondstadt is the cleanest city in Teyvat because of this, mark my words.”

Aether decided to take her word for it. 

They continued through the city, uphill. He learned that Mondstadt was built on a slanted island, and was as such consisted of four levels - the lowest for smallfolk, the second and third for aristocrats, and the highest was reserved for the institutes of the Favonian Order such as the Knights and the Church.

Passing by the central square dominated by a great fountain, they continued up to the highest level - where the massive Cathedral of Favonius overlooked the entire city. Off to the side was a smaller, but still impressive building - with four sides and four towers, the stone keep which designated the Knights of Favonius’ headquarters offered a mighty silhouette.

As the corpses were carried into the building, Aether reckoned it was there where they would part ways. 

He would find a suitable inn to stay before deciding his next action.

Before he could dwell too much on it, however, black clouds began to stir - rolling in from every direction. The winds picked up, but he saw that no civilian thought it was anything amiss; this was the Land of Wind after all, gales were a dime a dozen. 

But Aether still felt something was amiss - so he closed his eyes and opened them, golden eyes beholding the world in its building blocks; the Elements. 

And he realised that it was not merely wind blowing through the city, but Anemo.

His head snapped to the right, and saw that Amber was looking up at the sky with an uncharacteristically grim face. 

“There’s not enough time to inform the populace…” he heard her mutter, before she swivelled around and roared, “Get those ballistae loaded now! Ring the bell, ring the bell!”

It was too late. The gales turned into a squall, and then into a tempest, and an earth-rapturing roar reverberated through the skies.

“DRAGON!”

Like a comet, Stormterror dived from the storm clouds screeching its announcement. With every beat of its six great wings, the fury of the heavens was brought down upon the city. Aether watched as ballistae utop the towers shot great bolts at the dragon to no avail.

In the lower city, chaos ruled supreme. Mondstadters rushed inside their homes, screaming, crying, begging for the Anemo Archon’s salvation. But there was none to be had, the dragon approached unmolested. With a mighty roar, tornados descended from the skies, ripping, tearing apart anyone who were too close.

The streets and stalls that Amber lauded for their cleanliness were awash with blood and body parts. Aether watched with sick fascination as a house was torn from its foundations and tossed into the sky like a toy, a child screaming for help on the veranda.

Suddenly, another tornado landed right in the before the stone keep - which did not even shudder, a testament to its construction. 

They weren’t so lucky. Amber, the knights, and him were plucked from the ground - carried by the whirlwinds raging gales. Aether hastily swivelled around, clutching Amber by the shoulders and flinging her back towards the keep with superhuman strength.

He watched as the cloak wrapped around suddenly expand into a pair of midnight wings, which allowed her to land safely utop the keep’s battlements.

The other knights out of his reach weren’t so fortuitous. As they were sucked in, they were ripped apart limb from limb by scythe-like winds, their screams of agony drowned out by the squall. If Aether was any other normal human, he would’ve met their fate as well. 

But he was not.

Composing himself, he remembered that flight is nothing new to him, and willed his wings to manifest. But to his horror, they didn’t, he had forgotten his powers were sealed away by that cursed god.

Like a doll, he was flung into the sky - where he could beheld the city in its entirety.

Then, he began to fall.

Hitting the ground wouldn’t kill him, he mused, but it would most definitely crush his body into paste. Aether liked his current form, he was not keen on waiting another decade or two for his corporal form to knit itself back together.

Aether couldn’t help but think Paimon had planned this out from the beginning. Of course she would force him to use his boons as quickly as possible, so that she may call in is debt. 

O’ great god Paimon, he called sarcastically, a little help?

“Leave it to Barbatos to not put a leash on his pet lizard,” he heard her scoff, voice resounding from every direction, heard so clearly despite the raging winds.

“Alcyone sings, starwalker! Hear her call, and soar!”

He screamed in agony as an uninvited force wormed its way into him. Darkness, blackness… no, it wasn’t darkness, it wasn’t anything at all. It was pure nothing , the Devouring Chaos incarnate, the endless void.

Wings tore into his back, it was not the wings of the beautiful white and gold he had come to be familiar with, it was as if reality tore itself open to form them. The nothingness of the Great Beyond speckled with countless shimmering stars.

As he gathered his wits, he could finally appreciate the beauty of Mondstadt from high above. He noticed something odd, despite dozens of tornadoes crowding the Statue of Barbatos and the Cathedral, they stood unmoved like a rock in the tides. In fact, he saw many people standing beneath the Statue, unmolested by the raging winds. 

Perhaps the Anemo Archon does protect his people after all.

“▂▂▃▃▅▅▇██▇▆▅███▅▇██!!!”

Stormterror descended like a falling star, wings swept back as its maw opened to devour him in a single bite.

Twisting his wings, Aether caught the wind - sweeping backwards and around - narrowly avoiding the dragon’s dive. Angling his wings again, Aether plunged downwards after the mighty beast - Aphelion materialising in his right hand.

Just as he caught onto the dragon’s tail and grasped it, Stormterror suddenly screeched and pulled up. Aether felt his stomach plummet as he was violently tugged upwards. 

Gripping its tail harder, he thrusted himself higher by pulling the dragon down. Now flying parallel to the dragon, he swooped in and slashed with his sword - star-forged edge cutting through the beast’s hardened scales and rending deep into the flesh of one of its front legs.

A cerulean mist expunged from the wound in place of blood, proving to him that the dragon was an Elemental creature. 

In response, the dragon screeched and brought down its massive head to snap at him - only for him to ascend up and around its head, landing on the back of its neck and stabbing Aphelion deep into its flesh. The primordial howled in rage, angling its body upwards in an attempt to throw him off - so steep until it was essentially flying upside down.

Suddenly, the dragon stopped beating its mighty wings - and they began to descend together.

Gritting his teeth as the raging winds rushed by him and tore at his skin, he wrenched his blade out of the dragon’s flesh and kicked off. 

In immediate reply, the dragon barrelled back and twisted its serpentine body midair in a single motion to face him - its maw wide open to devour him. Without time to dodge, Aether outstretched his hand to meet the snout of the beast, stabbing his sword into the roof of its mouth just as his feet impacted the dragon’s lower lip.

Muscles straining to keep the dragon’s maw open, the beast roared a massive torrent of icy winds which threatened his grip. Stormterror beated its mighty wings, flying higher and higher into the storm it had wreaked upon Mondstadt.

For a brief moment, Aether’s world was surrounded by thick, charcoal clouds illuminated by the blinding flashes of lightning and the booming howls of thunder.

Nary a second later, they had broken through the storm - and before was revealed the upper heavens. A sea of snow white clouds covered the world below like a blanket, and the clear Sky of celestial blue wrapped around them. A chill set in his bones and the dragon continued ascending, undeterred by the thinning air.

Finally reaching the edge of his strength, Aether’s muscles went slack - and the dragon slammed its maw shut with a thunderous crack. 

But he had already slipped free - hurtling to the endless ocean of clouds down below. Aether slipped past the dragon’s right flank, ducking under first and largest wing - before raising Aphelion right before the middle wing.

Celestial steel forged in the hottest of stars and cooled in the coldest moons - the blade’s golden edge tore through flesh, muscle and bone as if it were paper. The sound of tearing filled his ears and Aphelion shredded the dragon’s wing from its body, amputating the appendage entirely.

“▂▂▃▃▅▅▇▅███▅██▇▆▇██!!!”

Stormterror’s agony-filled screech filled the upper heavens as its mist-like blood poured from the open wound.

Even while beating its five remaining wings frantically to stay aloft, the dragon began to descend nonetheless - before it gradually angled its serpentine body into a dive to gain momentum. Aether did much the same as he felt Aphelion dissipate into dust.

He hit the clouds with a soft thud, then continued straight through it. In his journey downwards, he found that the storm was gone, and nothing but snow white haze remained.

Emerging out of the overcast sky, Aether outstretched his arms in a spread eagle manner in an attempt to slow down his descent. Looking around, he could catch no glimpse of the dragon, and tentatively concluded that it had decided to retreat to nurse its wounds.

From his vantage, he could perceive the Land of Wind in its entirety. He spotted the might city of Monstadt utop its island fortress. He observed Springvale and Dawnton raised south of Mondstadt in the Windwail Highlands. He beheld the gargantuan tree which the city of Windrise was raised around, on the banks of the River Falke, which meandered down the great plains to Falcon Coast.

He could make out Starfell Valley in the north, where he had first descended - and the line of mighty fortresses that dotted the Stormbearer Mountains ever further north, first built to hold back the tides of savage barbarians inhabiting the Northern Wastes.

Finally, he spotted a massive city built on the foothills of Starsnatch Cliff, just northeast of Windrise. The great city was just as large as Mondstadt, if not even bigger - and curiously, the settlement looked abandoned. Wooden roofs had long rotted off the stone builds of houses, and the only structure left standing was a massive amphitheatre-like temple in the heart of the ruined city.

Tearing his gaze away, Aether focused back on the fact that he was still hurtling towards Mondstadt at unbound speeds. He angled his wings slightly, meant to slow him down gradually enough that he wouldn’t rip his organs apart in the process.

He honed in on the Statue of Barbatos, and landed at the feet of the god to a cheering crowd of Mondstadters. 

As Paimon’s gift began to worm its way out of him, he felt the wings on his back dissipate - as well as the heat in his veins fading away. One, he felt his heart of hearts say, one out of seven.

Suddenly, Aether’s legs gave out under him and he collapsed, now vividly aware of how utterly exhausted he was - and of how many muscles he had pulled. He reminded himself that with most of his powers sealed away, he might as well be human for all it was worth, and resolved to not pull such a stunt in the future.

The clopping of hooves against stone filled his ears, and Aether blearily looked up to see Amber rushing to him atop her horse - leaping off when she got close and pulling him up by the arms.

“Master Aether!” she called concernedly, “Are you unhurt!?”

“Exhausted is all,” he told her with a reassuring smile.

“I am glad - the Order with reward you for your service, rest assured,” she patted his shoulder.

Before he could reply, the crowd around them parted away as another voice spoke.

“Not so fast, captain.”

Aether looked past Amber’s shoulder to see a blue-haired, one-eyed man in flamboyant dress striding towards them, backed by at least a score of armoured knights.

He watched as Amber suddenly stand up straight at attention.

“Captain Alberich!” she saluted.

“I’m not here as captain, dame, but as Quartermaster.”

Amber suddenly swivelled around to look at him worriedly, before biting her lip and looking back at the Quartermaster.

“Sir, this man has done nothing but-”

The man raised a hand to stop her, “I know that, we all do. But safety comes first, and recall that internal affairs are under my jurisdiction.”

“Yes… yes sir,” she wilted, and back away.

The man suddenly started, striding forwards and extending an arm for him - with Aether obliged to shake.

“Kaeya Alberich,” he introduced, “I am to invite you to the Great Keep at behest of the Acting Grandmaster.”

“Who am I to decline?”

The man’s lone eye glinted in the sunlight, and he smiled sharply.

“I am glad to hear that.”

Chapter Text

Act 1, Chapter 3

8th of the 10th Cycle

Aether stood still and silent as a wallflower as the leading figures of the Favonian Order discussed among each other.

“I need you to be certain, Lisa.”

Jean Gunnhildr was a tall woman with blonde hair tied into a ponytail. She spoke with a soft, yet proud and authoritative voice that commanded total attention in any room she was in. Despite never raising her voice in any occasion, she always commanded respect among her subordinates - a quality befitting of a Grandmaster. 

Her pale blue eyes were sharp, and she bore a stiff face which rarely smiled. 

“One can never be sure when it comes to magic, Jean.”

Lisa Minci was Jean’s direct opposite. She wore a long purpure dress and donned a wide brimmed hat with a drooping, pointed tip. Every word which left her mouth was clear, and dripping with charm. Her droopy emerald eyes seemed always tired, only compounded by her languid, carefree attitude. A quality not befitting her station as the Head Mage of the Order, but what was he to know of mages?

He found it difficult to believe she was renowned as one of the most powerful witches in not just the Land of Wind, but across the entire continent. But Amber did warn him that while rarely angered, the witch’s fury was known to turn the very heavens dark with rage. He knew not how much was true, but Kaeya’s attitude seemed to support Amber’s words.

Jean released an exasperated sigh, clearly used to the mage’s antics. 

“Very well. I will send a raven to Windrise requesting they investigate the Temple of the Wolf, and another to Eagle’s Gate for the Temple of the Lion,” the Grandmaster spoke, “I trust that you will personally lead a squadron to the Temple of the Falcon?”

“Ah, well…” Lisa drew out her words, “Can Albedo do that? I’m not really-”

“I shall take that as an agreement.”

The mage sought a protest, but a sharp look from the Grandmaster killed the argument before it left her mouth. Once Lisa shrunk back in surrender, Jean then turned her head to address him.

“Once again, we owe you a great debt traveller,” she spoke, “We will organise a chamber for you to stay here until you regain your bearings. Rest assured, we will uphold our end of the deal.”

Aether bowed, “Your words will be taken to heart, lady dame.”

She didn’t humour him for long - after a shallow nod, she wordlessly waved him away with a hand. Perhaps he ought to take the silent dismissal as an insult, but he did not - it was clear the lady would be overworked in the coming days, and he wasn’t so shallow as to take such a snub so.

Aether spun on his heel and left the office, followed by Amber, who hounded his step.

As the heavy oaken door closed behind them with a thud, he could faintly hear the Grandmaster continue speaking.

“Sir Kaeya, inform Dame Hertha to mobilise her…”

The voices faded away as he continued walking. Amber sped her pace to come along side him, waving her hand at the knights in the hearth hall who stopped to salute her.

“Would you like me to bring you to your chambers? I will have attendants draw you a bath.”

“That would be unnecessary, dame-”

“Just Amber, please.”

“-Amber,” he continued, “You needn’t humour me, I am sure you have more pressing-”

“Nope!” she interrupted, “I just returned from a sortie, I still have time to submit my report later.”

“Well, I intend to spend some time in the city.”

“Then let me entertain you for a while,” she continued, undeterred.

Surrendering, Aether allowed her to escort him out of the building. 

As they made their way down to the lower city, an uncomfortable silence overcame them. The destruction wrought by the dragon was on full display - the collapsed houses, of which not even noble manses were spared. Civilians were calling out for their loved ones, some desperately digging at rubble as knights rushed to aid them, others mindlessly wandering the streets with dead eyes.

What could he say? Should he apologise? But what for?

This was her home in ruins, he doubted any words that came from his mouth could comfort her.

Deciding not to dwell on it, he swiftly asked a question to distract himself, and hopefully her, from the scene.

“Pardon me for asking, but your Grandmaster doesn’t seem very… Mondstadt-like.”

Amber tore her eyes away from the destruction, and up to him, “You mean to say she isn’t cheerful?”

“Oh- I didn’t mean to imply-”

“Nah, you have the right of it,” she waved him off, “Dame Gunnhildr isn’t a Mondstadter, after all.”

“She isn’t?” he asked, surprised.

Amber shook her head, “She hails from Windrise, the lordship of the Gunnhildrs. Her mother, Lady Frederica, rules that city.”

“I understand that Windrise rules itself?”

“Mhmm. All cities in the Land of Wind do, the closest thing we have to a central government is the Windic Union - but that’s more an alliance between the city-states than anything else,” she explained.

“Windrise folk are really serious, no fun at all!” Amber continued, laughing, “They are the firmest believers of the Church, even more than Mondstadt!”

Aether gave an idle nod in response, mind wandering off as he caught the scent of blood and wine mixing together. Hymns began to fill the air as they made their way down the city, funeral dirges strummed even in the bright of day.

Barbatos was well-known as the patron god of songs and the arts, he knew this. Indeed, there was a reason why Mondstadt was the City of Hymns to all across Teyvat.

Even in the aftermath of great tragedy, Mondstadt would not stop singing. He watched as people laid blood-soaked flowers at the base of the great state as Church sisters wandered the streets, offering blessings.

Aether witnessed people climbing atop the windmills and roofs of buildings - throwing ashes of their beloved into the winds, which carried the souls of the dead towards the heavens above.

When they finally reached the lower city, the both of them began to help those who needed it. Aether saw a weeping woman desperately claw at a fallen wall to no avail, where he could hear feeble cries originate from underneath.

Aether approached and pulled the inconsolable woman away, who screamed and scratched at him as he tugged. Handing her off to Amber - who began attempting to console her - Aether walked up to the fallen wall and gripped the bottom of it with both hands.

Groaning, he slowly but gradually began to lift the wall as the woman stopped crying and looked at him with wide eyes. 

“Mama!” he heard a cry from underneath the debris.

Straining his muscles, Aether suddenly crouched - dropping the wall a little as the pushed his hand further underneath to get better leverage.

“Kgh!” he released a sound of exertion, “Graaaaah!”

With a mighty push, he lifted the rubble high enough for the child underneath to scamper out and leap into their mother’s arms.

Aether released the piece of wall, letting it crumble back to the earth in an earth-shaking thud. As he massaged his arms, the mother thanked him with teary eyes, which he gracefully accepted.

For the remaining hours, he continued to help rescuing people trapped under the rubble, making good use of his strength. Amber, in the meanwhile, began coordinating the knights in the area to prepare designated first aid areas - and set up a makeshift field hospital in the central plaza, right next to the ruined fountain.

As the Sun crested the peak of its curve, the formation of knights entered the lower city from above - pulling behind them dozens of carts filled with supplies.

“Captain Hertha’s logistics company,” Amber informed him as they watched the column of knights passed them by, “They’ll take things in hand from here, Dame Hertha’s really capable.”

“That is good to hear.”

As the knights detached into smaller squads to assist civilians and restore order, a makeshift platform was raised where the captain began calling for volunteers to help in rebuilding. Almost immediately, great swathes of men, women, and children responded, crowding at the base of the stage - where knights began organising them into coherent bands.

Soon after, another column of men made their way through the city towards the Lion’s Gate, all mounted atop steeds. Aether spotted the Head Mage Lisa at their lead, followed by at least a dozen robed men and women - mages - and at least two score armoured knights.

As Amber rushed forwards to intercept them, Aether heard cawing from up above - where he saw two jet black ravens fly from the Great Keep, one towards the east, the other in a more southerly direction.

Tearing his gaze away, he hastily strode to the slow moving column of knights, where Amber and Lisa were conversing as they marched.

“-heading out now?”

“That’s right, can’t leave the leylines as they are right now can’t we?” he heard the witch reply, “These fine knights behind me will be stationed at the Temple as a garrison, I’ve already submitted a request to the Church for them to dispatch a group of caretakers as well.”

“I cannot believe we let the Temples deteriorate like that.”

“Or be defaced.”

There was a brief silence, before Amber responded.

“When will you return?”

“When the Temple has been brought to order, so I do not know,” Lisa admitted, “I would reckon at least a moon, if not more.”

“May the winds guide you.”

“As they do you,” Lisa returned, before spurring her horse forwards, “Hyah! Let’s go, girl!”

Her mare broke into a gallop and raced out of the gates, her followers close behind her. 

As Amber returned to him, she bore an indescribable expression - a sort of deep musing affixed with irritation. When she noticed him staring, her face easily morphed into one of cheerfulness, one that impressively did not seem forced at all - so he could not ascertain whether it was an act.

“Come on, let’s go eat luncheon.”

12th of the 10th Cycle

Aether was breaking his fast in his chambers when a sudden commotion outside the Great Keep caught his attention.

At first, he feared the dragon had returned, but he soon realised that the bell was not ringing at all. He contemplated ignoring the commotion, rebuilding and reconstruction was occurring all over the city, after all. Accidents here and there were to be expected.

He stood from his seat and walked over to the window, opening the wooden shutters and letting light of the Morning Sun stream into his room. Gazing outwards, he realised that this was no ordinary hubbub - entire platoons of knights were rushing out from the Great Keep, dressed in full plate and wielding lethal arms.

Was there a riot of some sort?

Aether hastily returned to his desk, pinching the lit candle to extinguish it. Reaching for the rack near the door, he retrieved his coat and shrugged it on before opening the door. 

Walking through and shutting the door behind him, Aether entered the empty hallway. The guest rooms in the Great Keep were largely empty, since the Order was not hosting any notable party at this time, apart from him. As such, he was unaccosted as he made his way to the end of the hallway and began clambering down the stairs.

Since the keep also served as a barrack for off-duty knights, the lower floors were bustling as men and women donned their armour and equipped their gear in a hurry. Outside the building, the stables were just as chaotic as squires and pages rushed to and fro, grooming the horses and fixing saddles and bardings onto them.

“Pardon me,” he asked one passing knight, “Do you know what is happening?”

“The damn Fatui has gone too far,” the armoured woman told him, “The Grandmaster has finally authorised their eviction from the city. Good riddance.”

The Fatui were a manner of diplomats hailing from the northern nation of Snezhnaya, if he recalled correctly. Throughout his brief time in the city, he heard only negative things about them - such as their arrogance, ignorance, and hard-handed manner of diplomacy. All these rumours abound, he couldn’t help but wonder why the Order still humoured them.

It seems the Order finally has had enough.

Aether followed the knights to the Goethe Grand Hotel, a sizable building in the third level of the city. He found out that the hotel was originally the city residence of the Goethe Clan, but after falling on some hard times, the current Lord Goethe had converted the manse into a hotel to bring in extra revenue. It was also the institution currently hosting the Fatui delegation, or no longer hosting now.

As he approached the building, he saw at least ten score knights stationed outside. Men and women dressed in dark coats were roughly escorted out of the building, and those who tried to resist were swiftly beaten into the ground by the knights. Aether was surprised at the amount of anger the knights had as they took it out on the diplomats, and wondered what could’ve caused such.

He noticed one person out of place, an elderly man with a cane. Some of the knights noticed him as he approached the scene, but none chased him away. Deciding that meant he was allowed to witness the proceedings, Aether approached the elderly man and introduced himself.

“Hail,” he called, “I am Aether, an outlander in these parts. May I ask if you know what caused this?”

“Hmm? Ah- Ludwig Goethe, a pleasure,” the man smiled, crow’s feet around his eyes clearly visible and wrinkles rippling. Despite that, the man had clear eyes, which belied a still sharp mind.

“I had allowed the Fatui to take up residence in the hotel, but it seems they made an enemy of the wrong people. A shame, they had good money.”

“Ah- yes. I was wondering what exactly they are being evicted for,” Aether repeated.

“For being fools. They openly questioned the competence of the Knights after Stormterror’s attack,” the man explained, “But that shouldn’t be enough for them to be kicked out.”

“Then?”

Lord Goethe looked up at him with a thin smile, “They offered to help hunt down the dragon.”

“I don’t see how that justifies anything.”

“Of course you don’t. ‘Stormterror’ is the Dragon of the East, one of Lord Barbatos’ servants,” the man gave a throaty chuckle, “The Church was so insulted that they requested the Knights evict them on grounds of heresy.”

“And the Grandmaster was happy to oblige?”

“The entire city is happy to oblige, young man. The Fatui has been a thorn in our side we could not remove for so long since it’d cause international outcry, we simply finally have justification.”

Aether thanked the man and departed, deciding to head down to the lower city to assist in the reconstruction - as he has been doing for the past few days. On the way, he pondered about the people of the land he found himself in.

For the world to view a religious spat as justification meant that it was common knowledge that the people of the Land of Wind were fanatical in the worship of their god. Ironic, truly, considering that it seemed compared to other gods, the Anemo Archon has been absent for most of his people’s existence. Freedom was an odd ideal, in that sense, an intangible thing powerful enough to command nations without ruling at all.

Powerful indeed, for these people had just been attacked by the dragon they worshipped, and yet when some offered to help rid them of the threat, they sided with the dragon. Unease filled Aether at that thought, what would happen when these same people found out he had actually injured the holy dragon? A grievous injury, at that.

At worst, they will burn him at the stake.

With that amusing thought, he continued walking to help the people that might kill him later.

As he stepped into the lower city, he heard shouting coming from the north. Curiosity taking over him, he decided to change his original goal and investigate the commotion. 

He soon found out that several knights were arguing with a group of fishermen at the Northern Gate. More curiously, he spotted Kaeya at the head of the squad of knights. Inching into earshot, Aether began to listen into the conversation.

“-what gives you the right!?”

“Please, this is necessary-”

“We don’t care, sir knight! This is our livelihood, you are asking us to give you out boats for an indefinite amount of time! We’d starve!”

“Would you accept if we’d be compensate you-”

“Now you’re trying to pay us off!? Do you think we are so-”

“Master Tilmann!” from his vantage point, Aether could see Kaeya’s smile grow strained at the fishermans' obstinacy.

He watched as the Quartermaster pulled out a scroll, “This is a direct order from the Grandmaster, will you not comply?”

 The lead fishermen accepted the scroll and broke the seal, stepping back and reading its contents. 

“...Fine, but we will be compensated.”

“Rest assured. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Aether backed away and returned to the main street. It seems the first phase of the Grandmaster’s plan was well underway.

Chapter Text

Act 1, Chapter 4

25th of the 11th Cycle

The cold has set in as winter snows fell over Mondstadt.

Most construction has finally halted, giving the people of the city a respite from the constant ringing of steelworks, hammering of stone and sawing of wood. Despite this, good progress had been made, and much of the lower city has already been restored to its former glory - though the human cost would not be so easily recovered.

The atmosphere was languid, in the city. The chill has done well to cool the blood and with the tumult of the past moon dying down, many have taken to the Land of Wind’s favourite pastime - drinking. Indeed, it seemed life was gradually returning to normal for Mondstadters.

Aether downed the last of his horn of mead and called for the barmaid, requesting another round - to the delight of his table companions. Mondstadt had no lack for taverns, but none denied the Angel’s Share was the largest and most prestigious of them all.

Once a manse owned by the Ragnvindr Clan, the current Lord Ragnvindr had converted the mansion into a massive tavern in his bid to monopolise the Land of Wind’s wine industry. And indeed, his commercial fiefdom stretched across the entire realm, making him the land’s richest man. Dawnton, ruled by the Ragnvindr Clan, was home to greatest of the Land of Wind’s orchards and vineyards. The lord had also raised subsidiaries in Springvale to collect their prized spring water, as well as in Windrise for their fields of wheat and rye.

Inside the tavern was a boisterous atmosphere as clients and patrons cheered as shared drinks. Aether watched as a barmaid approached his table with seven flagons of mead stacked in her hands, before dumping them on the wooden surface. Almost immediately, they were scooped up and downed by his table companions. 

Aether himself took the remaining flagon and downed a gulp, feeling the liquid spread warmth throughout his body. It was no surprise the Angel’s Share was flooded with clientele on this day, it was particularly chilly outside, and Aether was certain most establishments of this manner were in good business.

“H-Hey,” an adventurer opposite him burped, “Have you heard? Miss Lisa had just returned the other day looking all serious like.”

“Slow on the news are ya Jack?” an off-duty knight laughed, “We all saw that!”

Suddenly, the knight’s voice lowered as he leaned it, “Let me tell yall something…”

Everyone unconsciously leaned forwards, curiosity taking over their murky minds.

“Dame Lisa and her m-mages,” the knight burped, “They have locked themselves in the library the moment they returned! Even now, none of them have left at all, even for food - Lord knows what they’re doing in there.”

“Must be real serious,” another knight grumbled, “I have a friend who works with the ravens - he says the Grandmaster got grim after looking at the messages from Windrise and Eagle’s Gate.”

“You think we’re finally going after the Abyss Order?” Jack slurred.

“I’m all for it! We just got rid off those Fatui, best we get the Order to bugger off as well!”

“What’s next you bastard?” the knight was playfully punched in the shoulder, “You think we should go to war with those hilichurls down in Dadaupa as well?”

“Why not?”

“Gyahahahaha!”

A round of rapturous laughter erupted across the table, and the infectious mirth spread to neighbouring tables until it overwhelmed the entire establishment. Aether didn’t join in, but offered an easy smile as he leaned back. Across the hall, past the swinging flagons and howling men and women was Lord Ragnvindr, the powerful man acting as the day’s bartender for some odd reason or the other.

The man shook his head in exasperation, grumbling something under his breath which Aether couldn’t quite make out through the hubbub.

As the manic laughter finally subsided, he heard another man - a civilian - speak through hacking coughs.

“Have you heard ‘bout the Quartermaster-?” 

“Hasn’t that man been fishing for nearly a moon now?”

“That’s right- commandeered the city’s entire fleet to comb Cider Lake with those massive chain link nets- the blacksmiths have been smithing nothing but those chains for so long!”

“What’re the knights trying to catch? A sea dragon-!?”

“Gyahaha! Wouldn’t that be a sight to see!”

Aether took another swig from his flagon, before slamming it back down onto the table. There was indeed no better place to take in rumours abound than in a tavern like this. With all the happenings swirling about Mondstadt these days, it was no surprise loose lips would spit some interesting things.

The Angel’s Share was like a watering hole in the middle of a desert - except to Mondstadters, the water is alcohol and the desert is soberness. Not only do off-duty knights and civilians flock to the Share, but also foreign merchants and visitors trying to familiarise themselves with the economic and political climate in the city.

Aether stood from his bench and excused himself, making his way to the bar near the entrance.

“Hey, have you heard?” he caught a woman saying as he walked by, “If you want to catch the Rite of Descension, best start going to Liyue now.”

“That would be a sight to see, wouldn’t it? I heard the Geo Archon descends from the sky in the form of a dragon!”

“Yeah, I witnessed the event once - you’ll see nothing like it here.”

Twisting through the mess of tables and benches, Aether finally reached the bar - dropping a stack of mora on the countertop. Lord Ragnvindr stopped cleaning the glass he was holding and scooped up the payment in a single motion.

“I wouldn’t expect a lord to work as a bartender,” he spoke to the lord, flushing the alcohol from his system to sober up.

“You’re the man who fought back the dragon - you’re searching for your sister, I heard.”

“Didn’t realise the knights made that common knowledge.”

“It isn’t, I have my own sources.”

“I see,” Aether looked down, before returning his gaze to meet the lord’s eyes, “Then, if you wouldn’t mind me asking-”

“Dawnton has seen neither hide nor hair of your sister, I’m afraid.”

“Ah- well, a shame.”

Surprisingly, the lord patted his shoulder, “I know the feeling of losing a loved one - don’t lose hope, you’ll be fine.” 

“Thank you, but I do not fear for my sister. I hold great trust in her abilities - we are twins after all, and I fought off a dragon. Oh, and- sorry for your loss.”

Lord Ragnvindr opened his mouth to reply, but they were interrupted when the tavern door was suddenly shoved open. The lord's eyes snapped upwards towards the entrance and Aether spun around on his seat - and they saw a gasping man at the threshold.

The entire tavern went silent as the man tried to speak through deep heaving.

"The- the Northern Gate!" he got out, "The Quartermaster's fleet is returning, they caught something!"

There was a brief pause as everyone in the hall absorbed the new information - then all hell broke loose. Civilians, adventurers, and guards alike jolted from their seats, pushing and clambering over each other in their bid for the entrance. 

Aether shared a glance with Lord Ragnvindr, before he got off his seat and left the tavern ahead of the onrush - the lord fast behind him.

It was just past noon outside, and as he stepped onto the main street he was immediately swept into the mob of people making their way to the Northern Gate. Aether was saved when Lord Ragnvindr snapped his fingers and sparked a lit flame of Pyro in his palm - and when the people noticed the man they immediately parted to let him through.

“Thank you… a Vision is truly a blessing, hm?”

The lord looked down at the unassuming trinket hanging from his belt, the glassy surface shining like a miniature star.

“...It has its uses.”

From there, they were left largely unmolested as they continued onwards - Lord Ragnvindr’s high status deterring any who might get in their way. Nobles in Mondstadt were much closer to their smallfolk compared to other realms, so much so that it would not be amiss to see aristocrats in the lower city and enjoying smallfolk establishments - but Lord Ragnvindr had built a reputation as the Lord of Dawnton.

The Northern Gate was raised, but there were two knights standing guard by its flanks. Upon noticing them approaching, they quickly stood at attention and saluted - to which Lord Ragnvindr waved them off.

The knights seemed to notice his close relation with the lord, because they did not stop him as they walked through the gate. Upon the approach of the growing crowd behind them, however, the guardsmen hastily blocked the entrance and halted them - to heckles and angered cries from the mob.

Lord Ragnvindr turned around and addressed the knights, “Let them through, what does the Order have to hide from the people in this fine land of freedom?”

“...Forgive us, my lord. But it was a direct order from the Quartermaster-”

“So the Order is indeed hiding something? Are they not acting in Mondstadt’s best interests?”

The crowd was silent as they observed the tense exchange. It was well known that Lord Ragnvindr held a great distaste for the Order, to the point that he expelled both the Knights and the Church from his fief of Dawnton. The Church was quick to excommunicate the man for doing so, but Lord Ragnvindr was simply too economically and militarily powerful for the Church to feasibly authorise any actual attack on the man.

It also helped that the people of Dawnton supported their lord unconditionally, quickly forming their own heresy of the Church of Favonius known as the Falcon Church - which focused on worshipping the demigod Venessa rather than Barbatos. Amusingly, they exported the heresy to Windrise, where surprisingly some of the residents adopted the heresy as their own belief. Aether supposed it made sense, considering Windrise was the very place Venessa ascended to godhood.

To say the Church was apoplectic would be an understatement, but what could they do?

“...You wound us, my lord.”

When the lord in question did not reply, but continued to stare at them, the knights shared a glance with each other and conversed under their breaths. The tense moment extended a little longer, until-

“It is as you say, my lord. Forgive us for our impudence.”

The knights stepped aside to the cheers of the crowd, which soon poured forwards and through the gatehouse out onto the harbourfront.

There was another line of knights before the actual docks extending out into the lake, but none made a move to confront them as they could already see the small fleet of some two dozen vessels returning to port.

Two ships led the fleet, both respectably sized caravels flying flags bearing the six-winged arms of the Favonian Order. They were tied together by a long cast iron chain, which dragged a chain link net trailing behind the wake of the two ships. Even from a distance, it was clear the net had something large contained within.

Onlookers gandered in curiosity as the leading ships broke away from the fleet and headed for the shore while the rest of the ships drifted into port.

Shouts from behind caught his attention, before he was roughly pulled aside - narrowly missing a mighty bull making its way to the front of the mob. Aether watched as four farm oxen were led onto the beach by a group of knights. The animals were harnessed, with thick chains trailing behind them.

With a thunderous crash, the caravels rammed into the sandbank and beached themselves. Their crews - consisting of mages and knights - hastily leapt off the vessels and into the shallow water, waves lapping at their thighs as they untangled the chains wrapped around their catch.

“Are those mages casting spells?” he heard one woman murmur, “Did they actually catch a sea dragon?”

“A sea dragon in Cider Lake? You’re dreaming, miss!”

“Then explain that!” she pointed at the water.

Indeed, Aether could make out the vague shape of an object in the shallow waves. It shimmered a glimmering cerulean blue, a thousand sparkles in brilliance hidden under the waves.

“It- it looks like a gem?” the man tried to explain.

The knights tied the ‘gem’ to the oxen using the chain harness, before slapping the rear of one of them. With a snort, the oxen began moving together, baying and heaving as they hauled the object out of the surf.

The object drawn onto the beach was larger than any of them could imagine - even Aether had massively underestimated its size. 

A massive wing, glowing a faded blue. The limb was covered in cerulean feathers, while the wing itself consisted of colossal overlapping scales in the shape of flower petals. The length of the wing was the same as that of a galleon from bow to stern, while the breadth was as high as Mondstadt’s walls. Faint, ethereal mist wafted from the open wound where the wing was sheared off from the body, drifting into the air in turquoise streams.

Aether could feel the sheer amount of Anemo humming within the appendage, large and concentrated enough to nearly overwhelm his senses.

“Is that-!?”

“Stormterror’s wing…?”

“Who would harm the Dragon of the East!?”

Aether felt Lord Ragnvindr’s gaze boring burning a hole into him, and swivelled his head to meet the man’s eyes. He held it for a moment, before breaking away and started looking around for a swift escape.

“Quickly,” he heard the fire-haired man mutter, “Circle around the island go through the Lion’s Gate.”

“I owe you a debt,” Aether thanked him.

Offering a swift nod, the Lord of Dawnton stepped forwards and raised his voice, drawing all attention to himself.

“And may you fair knights explain what this is!?”

With the mob preoccupied with the scene in front of them, Aether ducked and snuck off - breaking away from the crowd and hastily making his way around the city to the front gate.

Aether feared his worst possible outcome would quickly be realised, that the people would treat the injury of the dragon as a direct assault on their god and religion - and seek to find the perpetrator and prosecute them.

27th of the 11th Cycle

His worst fears were indeed realised.

Stormterror’s wing was simply too massive to fit through the Northern Gate, so the knights had dragged the limb all the way around the island to the Lion’s Gate. Then, they had no choice but to bring it up the central avenue, as there was no other road in the city wide enough to host the thing. 

By the end of the day, there was not a single soul in Mondstadt’s walls who had not at the very least caught a glimpse of the wing.

And the response was indignation and fury - who dared to harm one of the Four Winds, the Dragon of the East no less?

Aether was simply too well known. He was a public figure, made famous after driving off the very same dragon they were now defending. Furthermore, his face was well known after he helped save and rescue many people in the days following the disaster, as well as help with reconstruction efforts.

How fickle human minds were, he couldn’t help but lament, to turn on someone as quickly as they were to applaud them.

Already, Mondstadters were marching in the streets, protesting his guest right at the Knights’ hearth. There was a large crowd outside of the Great Keep, Aether could see from his room, and the mob was only held back by a thin line of knights.

Grandmaster Gunnhildr has been nothing but a gracious host thus far, but Aether felt that was about to change soon. When he had first saved the city, he was a splendid publicity stunt - and now he was a liability. 

Indeed, for not only were the people protesting for his arrest, so was the Church of Favonius. Aether had thought that the Knights and the Church were the same organisation, but he had been mistaken. The Favonian Order was constructed of two branches, which were the Knights and Church. Both organisations were fundamentally separate from each other, however, with their own command structures and leaders.

It was how the system was designed. A millenia ago, the Church was a corrupt institution serving not the people, but the powerful aristocrats. After the demigod Venessa led a bloody revolution against the aristocracy, succeeding in the end and forming the Knights of Favonius to act as a counterbalance against the influence of the nobles and the Church.

Now in current times, the aristocracy has grown largely irrelevant, submitting to the authority of the Knights - but the Church still held significant influence among the people. A hidden war was constantly being fought in the Land of Wind, a mighty struggle between the Knights and the Church - both sides acting to counter each other to ensure neither grows too incredibly powerful so as to tip the balance of power in the Land of Wind.

And now, the Church has placed their weight behind the people’s, demanding the perpetrator - he - be brought to justice. They had also demanded the wing of Stormterror to be handed into their possession, citing that it was a holy object and as such under their jurisdiction. 

This all meant the Knights’ authority in the city was falling quickly, and that the Grandmaster ought to act soon to mend the situation.

Just then, a knock on the door caught his attention.

Aether sighed.

He turned around and headed to the door, swinging it open to see two squires standing outside.

“Master Aether, the Grandmaster requests your presence.”

“Of course.”

He did not resist as the two men escorted him down the stairs and to the Grandmaster’s office, the heavy oaken doors now oddly foreboding in light of the situation. One of the squires moved forward and pushed open the doors, gesturing for him to enter.

Aether obliged, striding through the threshold - and the doors slammed shut behind him with a sense of finality.

“Grandmaster, you asked to see me.”

Jean Gunnhildr was sitting at her desk, as she always seemed to be. Despite her upright posture, her face was pallid and there were heavy bags under her eyes. She looked just about ready to collapse, and Aether did not envy her position - even despite his own position he found himself in.

The woman placed down her quill and looked up at him.

“Yes… I did,” she spoke, not quite able to conceal the tiredness in her voice, “Do you understand my position?”

Aether bowed his head, “I do, my lady.”

“Then you understand that my next actions are not personal.”

He bowed his head again, “Of course, my lady. Though if I may ask, it would do well for my conscience if I could know-”

“We have found no sign of your sister in Mondstadt, Master Aether. Nor has she been seen in Windrise or Springvale - I’m afraid your sister is not in the Land of Wind at all.”

“...Thank you.”

“You have done us a great service we have not repaid,” the Grandmaster looked him in the eye, “I only wish you to place your trust in us.”

“Then I shall entrust you with my life.”

“Good.”

Jean Gunnhildr smiled thinly, before returning to her papers. The scribbling of quill against parchment filled the chamber for a moment, as neither of them uttered nary a sound. Then, like a swift strike of thunder, the Grandmaster picked up her seal and slammed it onto the parchment.

Suddenly, the doors to the office violently swung open as a squadron of knights barged in and seized him by the arms. Aether did not resist as they forcefully pulled his limbs and chained them at his back, before kicking his knees out from under him and forcing him into a kneeling position.

The Grandmaster slowly stood from her seat, sword sliding out of the scabbard with a defined hiss. She pointed her blade at him, silver edge glinting in the firelight.

“Aether, of no clan - by law of the Codex Favonius, in the name of our Lord Barbatos - I, Jean Gunnhildr, in my authority as acting Grandmaster of the Favonian Order - hereby place you under arrest for the crime of high blasphemy.”

Chapter Text

Act 1, Chapter 5

4th of the 12th Cycle

Aether mindlessly stared up at the cold stone ceiling above him.

He was in a small cell, around seven by eleven feet with a height barely high enough to allow him to stand upright. Surrounded around him were four stone brick walls, with a single hardwood door embedded in one of the walls. The floor was of smooth stone, and all in all, surprisingly clean.

Deep in the bowels of the Great Keep, there were no windows nor any ventilation grates - so despite the well hygiene the air was thick and stale. There were no light sources save for a single candle and holder in the corner of the room. At the start of every new day - and thanks to his otherworldly qualities he was able to ascertain time accurately despite lack of access to the sky - his guards would bring him a meal to break his fast, as well as a new candle.

Save for that, the cell that made his temporary abode was positively barren, there was no furniture - no bed - only a wooden pail in the corner meant for him to excrete in. Except, Aether had no need to do so, so long as he did not consume physical food.

Thus, to save at least some of his dignity, he always left the food brought to him uneaten - at first to the worry of his caretakers, but they soon realised he was not as human as they thought.

Aether knew that he could surely escape from his captivity, even despite his sealed powers he was still strong enough to break through the hardwood door of his cell and fight through all the guardsmen. But he did not, and would not unless he was given no other choice. He was not a particularly petty man, but it still left a foul taste in his mouth being ‘betrayed’ by the people he saved.

So if he were to escape, then he ought to have it done moments before his execution - just to show just how out of reach he truly was to mere mortals.

Nevertheless, he knew he was a more fortunate prisoner. Many of the knights were noble scions, aristocratic second and third sons and daughters who joined the Order to give their lives some worth. These nobles held a more reserved view of the Church of Favonius compared to the smallfolk, so they treated him well - giving him acceptable food and a clean cell.

Other than that, his time in prison has been positively mind-numbing. There was nothing to see or do in his barren cell, there was no light save for a single woeful candle, and since he was surrounded on all sides by stone walls - with an opaque wooden door - there was even nothing to hear . The most he could make out - even with his inhuman ears - was the faint muttering of the guards stationed outside his cell.

Which was why he was caught off-guard when the door suddenly creaked open, allowing light to flood into his cell. Aether squinted his eyes at the sudden onrush of brightness, pushing himself off the cold floor into a cross-legged sitting position.

“-for a moment, dame.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Ah… a welcome surprise,” he aired.

“I’m here to bring you to the trial,” Amber informed him, “It will be a public affair, in the Favonius Cathedral.”

“I don’t suppose I will be having a fair trial?”

“No, you will not,” she admitted, “With the Church and civilian authorities on the same side, well…”

Aether sighed heavily, it was to be expected.

“Your Grandmaster told me to trust her, what can I do except do so?”

Amber shifted on her feet, her face morphing into an unsure expression that Aether decided he did not like the look off. She turned around and closed the cell door before replying, as if afraid the guards outside would hear her.

“Nobody denies the Grandmaster is an honourable person, we owe you a great debt, and she has taken it upon herself to repay it.”

“But…?”

The outrider wetted her lips nervously, before continuing.

“But she is a Gunnhildr,” she said, as if it explained everything, “Do you know the words of the Gunnhildr Clan? ‘For Mondstadt, as always.’ She will try her best to vindicate you, but remember that if the trial becomes too far gone, then she will put nothing- nothing above the well-being of Mondstadt."

“Even if I must become the sacrificial lamb.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, before continuing in a more uplifting tone, “But I don’t think you need to worry - the Grandmaster wouldn’t tell me her plan, but she seems confident.”

“I did not make her out to be a plotter.”

“She’s a noble, all nobles are plotters,” Amber laughed, “In time she will inherit Windrise, the second largest city this side of the realm - and she is also the successor of Grandmaster Varka. She will have many enemies, and honour will not save you from a knife in the dark.”

Before anything more could be spoken, they were interrupted by the guards outside banging against the door - signalling that their time was up. Amber turned her head around to face the door, before bringing her gaze back to him.

“Get up and turn around.”

Aether obliged, slowly rising to his feet and turning on his heel - to feel Amber seize his arms and chain them together behind his back with manacles. Then, he heard the door creak open, and he was pushed outside, into the prison hall.

The two guards outside his cell flanked behind him as Amber took point, creating a sort of triangle formation with him in the centre. As he was marched up to the stairs, Aether took a glance around, seeing many more cells marked by hardwood doors. Other inmates were banging against their cell doors, shouting words of encouragement and good luck.

Neither Amber nor any of the guards made a move to quiet them.

They climbed the stairs, and just as Amber pushed open the dungeon’s exit door, the guards behind him suddenly shoved a sack over his head. For the next few moments, all he saw was inky blackness, feeling the guards hands on his arms guiding him through the labyrinthine basement of the Great Keep.

After some time of being pushed around, Aether heard the sound of a gate groaning as it was opened - and for the first time in a sennight, he felt the warmth of the Sun blessing his skin. Then, the sack over his head was wrenched off - and he was blinded by the brilliant glare of the Sun.

Blinking white spots out of his eyes, Aether spotted a simple wooden carriage in front of the Great Keep - pulled by a single horse. The coachman was already waiting, and there was a platoon of knights surrounding the carriage to escort it up to the Cathedral.

Aether took his cue, and strode forwards on his own volition - climbing into the carriage, and one of the guards shut the door behind him. After a brief pause, the coach lurched forwards as he heard the distinctive crack of reins. 

He slowly breathed out and leaned into his seat as the carriage clacked down the road, letting the tension drain out of him. After moments of sitting still in a dim coach however, his nerves began to fray. He shifted in his seat, curiosity taking over him as he leaned over to the drawn curtains and pushed them aside, peeking out of the carriage.

The platoon of knights were escorting him in formation, silent and stoic as they marched in perfect rhythm - shields and spears shining in the Sun. Civilians lined the road, watching the procession with mixed emotions - he noticed some were holding stones and fruits, but none dared throw them for fear of the knights.

Letting the curtains fall back, Aether felt the carriage tilt as it travelled up an incline - forcing him to lean backwards. Then, the ground levelled up and after a juncture, the coach slowed to a halt.

The door was opened, and Aether stepped out of the carriage to behold the seat of the Church, the Favonius Cathedral. The grandiose structure towered over him like a giant, its sharp edges and pointed towers piercing the skies imposing down on him as if he were an ant in its shadows. 

Its gargantuan bronze doors yawned open like the maw of a beast.

Aether started walking, climbing up the long flight of stairs leading up to the entrance - then he crossed the threshold in the opulent interior under the gaze of what seemed like the entire population of Mondstadt. 

The interior of the Cathedral was a work of art. Three massive chandeliers hung from the frescoed ceiling - which depicted the many legends of the Anemo Archon, most prominently the Long March, when the god led his people from the ruins of the Tower to their new homeland on the banks of Cider Lake. 

Sculpted marble columns lined the sides of the hall, running from the entrance all the way to the podium at the far end - where a massive organ was built into the wall above the raised platform. Gorgeous stained glass windows adorned the flanking walls behind the columns, dyeing the sunlight streaming into the grand hall in a myriad of vibrant colours.

There were two rows of pews flanking the main avenue, counting to over a hundred benches in total - all of them filled to the brim with spectators and juries. He heard the whispers and murmurs as he walked past them, unfeeling even as they stared at him with judging eyes.

Atop the pulpit, just before the organ, were five thrones - seated by the judges. 

In the centre, he spotted the luxurious white-red robes of a cardinal - Cardinal Calvin, if he were to guess. He also noticed two other cardinals participating as judges. In the fourth seat was the acting Grandmaster, Jean Gunnhildr - and finally there was the most powerful lord in the city, Diluc Ragnvindr.

From the outset, he has already lost the trial, as the panel was stacked against him.

Expressing nothing, Aether kept his head held high as he climbed on to the podium placed in the centre of the grand hall - right in between the first rows of pews, where he saw many nobles of Mondstadt were sitting.

When he settled down, Cardinal Calvin rose from his seat - and the entire hall quietened.

“This trial has begun!” the man called, “Aether, of no clan, do you pledge before the grace of Lord Barbatos that your every utterance shall be truthful and devoid of lies?”

“I do.”

“Plaintiff, you may take the stand.”

Aether watched as a thin man dressed in church robes stepped into another dais placed just in front of the gallery, facing the pews.

“I, Archbishop Joseph Wendel, on behalf of the Church of Favonius and People of Mondstadt - accuse the defendant, Aether of no clan, of committing the crime of high blasphemy.”

“And what is the cause for this charge?”

The man cleared his throat, “On the Eighth Day of the Tenth Moon in the Year of our Lord Twenty-Five Hundred Eighty-Three, Aether of no clan had committed high blasphemy by inflicting grievous injury on the Dragon of the East.”

“Thank you. Master Aether, how do you plead?”

Aether did not respond at first, instead looking up at the pulpit to meet the eyes of Jean Gunnhildr. She stared at him, and tilted her head.

“Your Eminence, I must protest against these charges for lack of-”

“Master Aether, how do you plead? ”

Aether cursed underneath his breath.

“I plead guilty, your eminence.”

"Admission of guilt has been received," the archbishop spoke, "I request a motion to convict."

"Request received. What is the Will of the People?"

The jury broke into a raucous cheer, shouting 'aye!' at the top of their lungs, filling the grand chamber. Despite this, Aether could hear some 'nay!' mixed into the chorus of voices, but they were too drowned out for any ordinary human to hear. Curiously, Aether noticed that none of the nobles in the front seats voiced anything, and that all the shouts came from the commoners in the rear rows.

"By overwhelming majority, the motion-"

"Motion denied."

The Grandmaster's voice struck down on the jury like a crack of thunder, voice clear as a cloudless sky - silencing them all in two words.

"Grandmaster Gunnhildr-"

"Motion denied," Lord Ragnvindr spoke, leaning against his fist.

Cardinal Calvin's face twisted in distaste, but since this was a 'fair' trial, he was forced to play the impartial judge.

"...Two of five judges oppose the motion. Motion denied."

Aether had to admit, he had thought there needed to be a majority consensus within the judge panel to form a decision. Well, it was to be expected - what did he know of the Mondstadter law? If it only took two judges to oppose any motion, then all the better for him.

"Master Aether, you may state your defense."

"...Thank you, your eminence," Aether breathed in, "The good archbishop had refrained from stating the reason I committed the act - which is to say, I was acting in the defense of Mondstadt."

"Objection, irrelevance."

"What is the will of the panel?"

The Grandmaster and Lord Ragnvindr both called out 'nay,' but the other two cardinals matched them by calling 'aye.' Aether already knew where this was going.

"Aye," Cardinal Calvin said with a pleased smile, "By majority vote, the objection passes."

Aether watched as the Grandmaster pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. Lord Ragnvindr rubbed his temples, before finally speaking.

"Motion to dismiss trial."

"...Pardon?"

The lord repeated himself, "Motion the dismiss trial."

Cardinal Calvin bore an incredulous expression, as if unable to comprehend what he was hearing. 

"My lord, this is-"

"This is unprecedented," the lord interrupted, "We do not have the authority to hold a trial on behalf of the Four Winds."

"Aye!" one of the lords seated besides Aether called, "If the Lord truly sees this as an affront, then I imagine he would come down and punish the man personally!"

Several of the nobles voiced their agreement, to jeers and shouts from the commoners in the back.

"Lord Humbert!" the cardinal reprimanded, "While you may be correct, Lord Barbatos has trusted us to govern ourselves. As acting in place of the Cardinal of Daybreak, I hold the highest authority in regards to the Lord's-"

"But you are not the Cardinal of Daybreak."

The entire cathedral fell silent again, and the cardinal swivelled around to see who had spoken so boldly - only to realise it was the Grandmaster herself, staring at him coldly from her seat.

"Grandmaster-"

"Sit down, cardinal."

The cardinal looked down at his feet, as if just realising he was standing up. Pressing his lips together, the cardinal turned back to the Grandmaster as if to scold her.

"My lady-"

"Recall my chivalric title, cardinal," she interrupted again.

The man's face morphed into a puzzled look, "You are… the Lionfang Knight."

"I am the Lionfang Knight," she agreed, emerald eyes flashing dangerously, "And do you know what that means?"

Noticeably, understanding slowly dawned on the cardinal - his eyes widened, and the man wetted his lips nervously.

"It means- it means that you are the Lion of the South..."

The Grandmaster raised an eyebrow.

"One of the Four Winds," the cardinal finished, as if it pained him to speak the words.

"Know your place, cardinal," the Lion of the South said lowly, "Now, sit down. "

The cardinal sat down.

The Grandmaster clapped her hands, the sound loud and sharp, reverberating throughout the cathedral - and everyone jolted, as if a bolt of lightning had run through them.

"I suggest," she spoke, addressing the entire hall, "That we leave the verdict up to the Dragon of the East itself. There is no argument that the dragon is Lord Barbatos' closest servant - if the dragon finds the man guilty, then may he submit to divine justice."

"However!" she raised her voice, "If the dragon finds him innocent, then may he be vindicated in the eyes of god and man!"

There was a brief quiet as she allowed everyone to muse over her words. Then, Lord Ragnvindr repeated his words for the third time.

"Motion to dismiss trial. What is the Will of the People?"

"Aye!" Lord Humbert was the first to call, soon followed by his peers.

The wave of consensus continued past the nobles and into the commonfolk, as they were convinced by the Grandmaster's words. Soon, the entire hall was shouting 'aye!'

"Your Eminence?" the archbishop questioned.

Cardinal Calvin looked as if he was forced to squeeze every last drop out of a rotten sunsettia.

It was a masterful stroke of diplomacy, Aether had to agree. By reminding everyone that she was the Lion of the South, she had set her authority in stone, proclaiming she was ranked higher than the cardinal by ordering him to take his seat. Then, as one of the Four Winds, she suggested that it would be the Dragon of the East who should be his judge - a most sensible request.

Now, with one of the Four Winds, the aristocracy and the smallfolk stacked against him, Cardinal Calvin - no - the entire Church was backed into a corner. They could not feasibly protest against the Lion of the South's decision without being viewed as impious - or at worst, as heretics.

The only problem was, that didn't solve Aether's issue of being on trial in any way. No, he reckoned his position was now worse than ever. If the people of Mondstadt hated him for harming the dragon, what would the dragon itself think? He might as well already be dead. 

Aether did not know what her plan was, but he decided the threat of execution later rather than sooner was a benefit to his health nonetheless.

Finally, the cardinal spoke.

"By overwhelming majority, the motion passes. Trial dismissed."

"Knights," the Grandmaster called, "Bring Master Aether back to his cell!"

As the knights came forward and began to march him out of the hall, Aether could faintly hear the Grandmaster and Cardinal Calvin conversing to each other atop the stage.

"I trust that you will organise the expedition?" the cardinal asked.

"You may send some men to serve as witnesses, if you so wish."

"...Very well."

As he stepped out of the cathedral, Aether lowered his head to shield his eyes from the Sun's harsh glare. The carriage that brought him was still waiting at the bottom of the stairs, along with what might as well be the entire population of Mondstadt - all eager and clamouring to hear the verdict.

Aether was not sad to disappoint them.

As he walked down the stairs, he met the gazes of many people. Men and women, some stared with pity, most with hatred and judgement. He saw children, looking on at the procession in curiosity.

But the figure that caught his attention the most was a young person, short in stature. They had a childish face and androgynous form, and Aether could not tell their gender. They were holding a silver harp, staring directly at him with verdant eyes lit with emerald flame.

Aether met their gaze, and saw power.

Visions of men and women dressed luxuriously, laughing as they held wine glasses, slaves at their feet. They died horribly, wind spirits tore at them, ripping their clothes from their skin, then flesh from their bones. He saw entire mountain ranges cleaved apart by massive otherworldly storms, torn from the bedrock as if they were weeds in a garden. He saw an empire in flames under a crimson sky - a scene borne of the deepest pits of hell - and watched as a legion of a thousand angels rained damnation upon them.

All in the eyes of a single human.

No, not a human.

A god.

Chapter Text

Act 1, Chapter 6

11th of the 12th Cycle

Aether released a puff of mist, feeling the cold set into his bones.

It was well and truly winter in the Land of Wind. The trees were lifeless and skeletal, adorned by gleaming icicles which looked to be crystalline leaves from a distance. A thin layer of frost covered every surface, from the wood of the prison cart he sat upon, to the silver armour of a thousand marching knights. 

A thick blanket of snow covered the ground - beget by heaven-given wintry stars - gradually thinning out as they made their way further south.

Even despite his biology, the cold air stung at his cheeks - the everswept breeze that gave the Land of Wind its name neverending. 

He even dared to think the Grandmaster was a fool for departing at this time, in the midst of the frozen moon. That was until he learned that winter would not end until the third moon of the new year, and that this was the best time to depart - when the cold season was still in its infancy. 

And so the expedition departed, over a thousand strong, ploughing into waist-high snow. 

They made good progress regardless, which Aether did not know whether to think it was good or bad for him - considering they were riding to his potential material death. Head Mage Lisa had joined the expedition with some two-hundred of her best mages, and they plied their trade with exceptional skill - summoning wind spirits and chanting psalms to blow the ice and snow from their path.

Their hymns filled the air, melodies visible and dancing upon the wintry sky - their voices gave them their names, spellsingers.

All staples of Gwynt Sorcery, the most famous arcane art of the Land of Wind. Aether had heard that it was considered the most beautiful of magics on the continent, but he never put much stock into it until now. Unlike all other sorceries, Gwynt Sorcery relies heavily on the application of miracles through belief - by calling upon servants of Lord Barbatos for a certain price. 

Aether watched as zephyrs and aurai frolicked in the air, their immaterial forms like flowing ribbons, twisting and twirling as the blew gales from their undefined maws - sending the snow in their path flying away in miniature snowstorms, the sunlight reflecting off crystalline snowflakes to refract into an array of vibrant hues.

Tearing his gaze away from the magics abound, Aether scanned the marching column he was in the centre of. 

Ahead of him were some five-hundred mounted knights, Jean Gunnhildr’s personal retinue, the best the Knights of Favonius had to offer. They were heavily armoured, men and women clad in full prayer-carved plate - glowing runes forged into the very silver steel. Such was the same for their mighty steeds, dressed in full metal barding - silver shields, wicked lances and visored bascinets hanging from the saddle.

Interspaced throughout were assigned flag bearers, holding aloft bannered lances - some bearing the six-winged sigil of the Favonian Order, others the golden Lion of the South, and a few bore the bleu-celeste windwheel asters of the Gunnhildr. Ahead of them even yet, were the mages and their spirits.

Following them was the prison cart Aether was chained too, pulled by two horses. Three members of the Church - bishops if he ascertained correctly - sat in the cart as well, watching over him. A platoon of dismounted knights surrounded the cart. Behind them were the rest of the dismounted knights, escorting a gargantuan tarp-covered wagon housing the wing of Stormterror.

The wagon was essentially twelve carts fastened together and reinforced, drawn by sixteen monstrous draft horses. It took the area of an entire house, and was wide enough to block the entire road as it travelled.

Suddenly, shouts from the head of the column caught his attention. 

A group of a dozen scouts had returned to the column, and Aether could spy Amber’s distinct red riding outfit at their head. The outriders sat upon unarmoured coursers - the fastest the Land of Wind had to offer - with rune-carved horseshoes which allowed them to gallop like the wind, skipping atop snow cover as if it were solid ground. 

The riders leapt down onto the ground from atop the snow, and Aether could see the recurve bows strapped to their backs. They were the only horsemen in the Land of Wind that were equipped with bows, capable of shooting from horseback - skilled enough to command their steeds with stirrups alone. 

Despite being looked down upon by other knight companies, the outriders were some of the most formidable foes the realm had to offer, personally trained by Amber. It is said there was none in the Seven Nations that could match their speed and stamina, and that they rode with the legions of Barbatos at their backs. 

Aether perhaps would’ve once thought it was all gaff, but now that he could see literal wind spirits commanded by mages, perhaps the saying had some inkling of truth to it.

The column halted for a while as the scouts reported to the Grandmaster, and then started moving forwards again as the scouts leapt back up onto the snow cover and raced off. 

Hours later, the Sun was dipping below the horizon - painting the wintry sky in warm hues. Unfortunately, it was anything but warm where they were. The boreal winds swept down from the north, whipping frost and ice in the air, eating into the flesh. Everyone was unconsciously huddling together in a futile attempt to stave off the chill.

Aether was a veritable bonfire - the warmth of a dozen stars radiated from his skin, glowing red-gold. Two hearts beat together in unison, one pumping sanguine blood, the other brilliant starlight. Veins of molten gold were visible even through his skin, and melted ice and snow surrounded where he sat, wetting the wood around him.

The bishops in the cart stared at him with wide eyes, unwittingly inching closer, yet unsure of whether it’d be right to partake in his heat. 

Perhaps it would not be so cold if they were moving, but the column was currently still in its tracks - right before the town of Springvale. In the distance, plumes of smoke rose into the Sky - orange lights gleaming from buildings, taunting them with their pleasant warmth.

Aether leaned over the cart and asked a nearby guard why they had stopped moving.

“The Grandmaster is negotiating to stay at Springvale for a night, most likely.”

“Why would she need to negotiate?”

“They don’t like us,” the knight explained, “Fifteen-hundred years ago, the place was just a small hunting village. But then hundreds began to flee here from Mondstadt due to the old aristocracy, and Springvale turned into a growing city.”

“Because of that, Mondstadt went to war with Springvale several times,” another knight joined in, “They lost twice, but succeeded once - and razed the city to the ground. The Springvites fled into Wolvendom, where some managed to find refuge with the Wolf of the North, but most died.”

“I see, and after the aristocracy fell they returned?”

“Something like that. As you can see, they still haven’t fully recovered, and Springvale is considered a town rather than a city as they once were.”

“But it was the Knights who overthrew the aristocracy. Shouldn’t they be welcoming you?”

The knights stared at the town in the distance for a while, before one of them finally spoke.

“Old grudges linger still, and when they see the banners of Mondstadt flying - they’re reminded of what they had lost.”

Aether huffed and sat back down, chains clinking. Another gust of wind blew through the column, making them shiver violently. The mages were exhausted from clearing the path all the way to Springvale, working tirelessly for days - and they no longer had the strength to craft any heating magic. 

Thus they had no choice but to continue to wait, for hours. Until finally, the horn was blown, and the expedition started marching forwards again.

By the time the prison cart rolled into the town, the knights ahead of him were already raising a campsite. As he climbed off the cart, Aether took the opportunity to look around the town. 

Springvale was aptly named, raised in a valley between two hills arranged in a horseshoe shape. At the bend of the horseshoe was a small vale between the hills, leading to a waterfall and lake - formed from melting glaciers of the grand mountain of Dragonspine. In front of the village were vast farmlands, irrigated by a small spring which is said to house a lochfolk.

East of the town was an enormous forested area, geographically rugged and impenetrable to any conventional army. Ruled by the Wolf of the North, the region was known as Wolvendom - a wild, feral place, uninhabited by any humans. Or more accurately, any civilised humans, if the locals of Springvale were to be believed. 

They mentioned savage barbarians who lived in the woods, remnants of the humans who seeked refuge with the Wolf of the North so very long ago. 

In any case, these rumours did not stop the locals from using the outskirts of Wolvendom as their hunting grounds - as they have been for millennia.

That night, the Sky was adorned with countless pinpricks of light. By favour of the Anemo Archon, the winds had died down - and despite the slight chill, the temperature was manageable.

Aether shifted in his place, making himself as comfortable as he could. He was chained to a stake in the middle of the camp, just by the fire. The knights seemed to believe he was immune to the cold and deigned not to raise a tent for him.

He sighed, breathing mist.

A few more hours until he could see the Sun again.

18th of the 12th Cycle

Aether could smell Dawnton before he could see it.

He inhaled deeply through his nose, relishing the sweet scent of wines and fruits blown north by southerly winds. Dawnton was built directly on the Stone Road, the primary trade route between the Republic of Liyue and the rest of the Windic Union. This meant that Dawnton was a massive trade centre, only second to Dornman Port in the Land of Wind.

The city was also located in a strategic spot, in the centre of a flat basin. To the north was the Windwail Highlands, to the south was Dragonspine. This meant the only landway into the Land of Wind were two mountain passes - the northern pass was Messer Vale, and the southern was Remembrance Valley. And both passes start at Dawnton.

Built on a rise, Dawnton was surrounded by a pair of crenellated curtain walls, the outer wall being around twenty feet high while the inner was thirty feet. Acres of vineyards and orchards surrounded the walls, feeding the city’s booming alcohol industry and people. 

Castle Dawnlight towered over the city, raised by the first Ragnvindr - and said to be named after a woman he once knew. Aether could also spy the Dawn Winery, the two-story stone mansion built inside the confines of the walls - with its own vineyards surrounding it. Banners flew from high stone walls, bearing the falcon of Ragnvindr - facing the viewer, as if ready to burst out of the tapestry and soar into the Sky.

Unlike Springvale, the three gates of Dawnton were wide open - admittedly to administer the constant flow of trade caravans arriving in and departing the city. Nevertheless, they received a much more pleasant welcome nonetheless - with the small army allowed to stay within Castle Dawnlight and many barrels of liquor gifted to them.

In no small part to the fact that Lord Ragnvindr had accompanied them, Aether was certain.

Despite the authorities’ warm demeanour, the smallfolk were less welcoming to say the least. Crowds gathered on the sides of the cobbled streets to watch the column march to the centre of the city - and while they refrained from shouting or revealing their displeasure at all, Aether could still see their hardened eyes, especially cold when they spotted the Church bishops with them.

As they marched uphill, Aether could get a good view of Castle Dawnlight. The fortress was built of pale red stone - consisting of a central drum keep with a single tower that pierced the skies, and two squat rectangular keeps that branched out to either sides of the central keep. Altogether, from a distance Castle Dawnlight looked to be a great bird erupting skywards from the earth.

Since Stormterror’s wing was far too large to fit through the entrance, the knights had decided to split off a contingent to camp just outside the gate in order to guard the cargo. Meanwhile, Aether was escorted to a somewhat barren room that he was to stay in.

Much more preferable to the dungeons, he could admit. 

His guards unmanacled his arms and let him go, leaving the chamber and locking the hardwood door behind them. Aether spun around, scanning the room - and saw that the only window was barred. Other than that, there was a candle-lit desk, and a bed.

Outside, the stars shone down on him.

Indeed, he would have to thank Lord Ragnvindr for his graciousness once this ordeal was over. 

Chapter Text

Act 1, Chapter 7

31st of the 12th Cycle

One step after another.

Left over right, right over left.

Keep pushing forwards.

Behind them, the pristine snow swept plains of the Dawnton.

Ahead of them, the divine fury of a dead god - unbound - boundless - with all the rage and resentment of a betrayed king unleashed upon eternal oblivion.

The winds howled as a thousand men marched into the greatest storm to ever grace this corner of Teyvat. The earth roared as the hurricane ripped trees - root and all - from the ground and threw them as if they were toys, roared as stone fractured under the immense pressure and as frozen soil was churned into mud. Whips of air lashed indiscriminately, tearing earth from earth and sky from stone - as bolts of lightning curled and flashed overhead like furious dragons.

The world screamed as the divine tempest ripped and shredded at the edges of reality, scoring miniscule lacerations into the veil of mortality. Aether’s keen senses saw it all, the Great Beyond shining the firmament yonder. And he was the only one who saw it, for even with the fractured veil, mortal perceptions of reality meant that it was natural they could not observe anything that would contradict said perceptions.

When Barbatos first tore his people from chains and led them out of the Tower’s domain, he carved open a path straight south through the Brightcrown Mountains and Windwail Highlands with his newfound power. Now, it was the only rational landway towards the Tower, nestled deep in the heart of the Brightcrown Mountains as it was. 

Uncreatively, it soon came to be known as the Windwail Gorge. 

The same gorge they were marching northwards through. The same gorge acting as a wind funnel for the largest hurricane Aether has ever laid his eyes open.

‘Hurricane’ could not even encompass a fraction of the sheer magnitude the storm possessed. It was as if the very heavens had fallen to the earth, a mass of revolving grey clouds - an ashen mountain borne of untold fury and despair. Lightning flashed intermittently within the great totality, so vast it was as if the gods had planted trees of pure power - and the thunder that followed so deafening it even drowned out the howl of the winds around them.

It was even said that on a clear day, the ceaseless tempest could even be seen from the highest towers of Mondstadt.

An old god known as Decarabian once ruled the Tower, a deity perceived as a tyrant who had imprisoned his people in the very storm they were now fighting against. But humanity sought freedom, and rebelled against the Tower - fighting a short but bloody war that resulted in many lives lost. But death was preferable to captivity, and the rebels emerged victorious in the end - with a newborn god at their head.

When Decarabian was slain, his storm fell with him - but five centuries later, following a bloody war with the Kingdom of Khaenri’ah, the storm was raised once again by the Dragon of the East. Stormterror, as it is now known as.

Aether forged onwards, on foot, as the prison cart had been flipped and ripped apart by the winds a while back - two of three bishops dying as a result. No one was looking at him, all too preoccupied with having a steady footing on the rocky ground - for the winds had long blown the dirt and soil away, eroding the ground to smooth stone.

Despite that, Aether made no attempt to escape. 

Because to stop moving forward for even a second would mean being swept off his feet and torn apart by the razor-like gales overhead.

Mages surrounded the column, spaced at regular intervals. Compared to the rest of them, they had a much easier time finding purchase - the zephyrs at their command pushing away the worst of the storm-gale, creating a sort of vacuum which allowed the expedition to march without being killed outright.

At the southern end of the gorge, the winds were much more manageable - a far cry from the state of them now. As they made their way north, stronger and stronger wardstones had to be raised in order to set up camp - and now on the final stretch, they had no choice but to break through the storm before they succumbed to exhaustion, for there was no longer any suitable place to raise a camp.

Although the world around him was a drab, raging grey, Aether’s internal clock allowed him to ascertain that the Sun had just touched the horizon. Thankfully, before he could fully come to terms with potentially having to struggle for the coming night - a horn was blown from the head of the column, long and low, the signal for having reached the end of the gorge.

Having prepared for the instant beforehand, everyone - including him - immediately dropped to their knees and moved to the side, pinning themselves against the canyon walls. Aether materialised Aphelion in his chained hands and stabbed its golden edge into the earth - just as he saw many knights doing the same with spears and swords. 

There were no horses to be seen, save for the ones pulling the wagons, for the Grandmaster had judged it too cumbersome and risky to bring their steeds along. The horses pulling the prison cart, well, their churned bodies were likely resting somewhere far behind them. 

As for the horses hauling the wagon containing the wing, they were now steadily making their way up the column - the path now cleared thanks to all in front moving out of the way. The tarp covering the wagon had long been ripped away, revealing the amputated limb for all to see. 

To the untrained eye, there looked to be nothing amiss about the wing, but Aether could discern the truth readily. The wing had lost its lustre, for no longer was it the vibrant cerulean it once was. It was lifeless, pallid and greyish. The mages had long drained the wing of all the Anemo it once contained, harvesting the energy for other uses.

Which meant the appendage was now a massive empty container.

The mages brought the wagon to as close as the storm wall as they dared - the dark grey, near-opaque barrier of wind and thunder ever threatening. Hastily, they began to syphon Anemo out of the storm and into the wing - moulding their mana into invisible tubes in order to perform the act - a simple yet ingenious solution, Aether had to admit.

It seemed like an eternity for the ritual to be completed. A careful act it was indeed, for if the mages let too much through at once, the entire mana system may be overloaded with Anemo - which would not be preferable for just about everyone present. Thus they knelt there, even as night fell upon them and the world got dimmer did they still kneel and wait. 

Aether did not know whether to praise the discipline of the knights or the craftsmanship of their prayer-carved armours - for the men were still as statues, like boulders withstanding the raging waves of a furious sea, unmoving, unfaltering. 

As he was just about to keel over from either exhaustion or boredom - or both - the horn was blown again, and Aether jerked upwards. 

He gazed at the wing, and saw it restored to its former glory. So saturated with Anemo it was, that motes of light were wafting off the surface, not to mention the massive thing was floating off the wagon - somehow lighter than air. 

The winds had noticeably calmed, from a hurricane-like gale to a more manageable squall. Despite that, the storm wall was just as dark and foreboding as ever - seemingly unaffected.

Seemingly.

The mages retreated, forcing the wagon to back away from the barrier - and the Grandmaster took their place, with a small squadron. No more than a dozen men and women, they all had one thing in common - a small gleaming trinket tied onto their outfit - an Anemo Vision.

Over the winds, he could hear the Grandmaster ask a question to a beast-eared young lady.

“Dame Sucrose, are you certain this technique will work?”

“A-Ah! Yes… yes, most c-certainly, Grandmaster!” Sucrose stuttered, “I assure you, isomer eighty-three type four is completely stable!”

“...Very well,” Jean sighed, “Vision Bearers, fall in!”

He watched as she nodded to Sucrose, who anxiously bowed back - before retrieving a lime green flask out of a case. 

There was a brief pause, then the young lady sucked in a breath - and hurled the concoction into the storm wall. Aether tensed as he watched the flask enter the barrier and disappear out of sight without any reaction - then tentatively relax as nothing happened. Glancing side to side, he saw that many of the spectators were just as confused as he was.

But he noticed Sucrose continued to stare intensely at the storm wall, and Aether tightened his muscles again.

Just in time for an ear-splitting shriek to surge over them - causing many of the knights to keel over in pain, clutching at their ears. Aether winced as he continued to withstand the terrible, terrible sound - it was as if the winds had suddenly gained vocal chords.

He watched, transfixed, as the barrier expanded - as if it were in labour with child - before bursting like a cyst, revealing a raging artificial wind spirit inside. The ungodly creation screeched at the top of its non-existent lungs, whirling, flapping, creating a vacuum within the storm where no wind blew. And yet, the storm pushed back, pressing against the spirit from all sides, and it began to falter;

Before a dozen Visions gleamed in the twilight like miniature stars - and the spirit was suddenly reinvigorated, enlarging and growing ever more furious. As more and more power was pumped into the spirit, the vacuum steadily expanded in size - before he suddenly caught a faint light from the other side.

“Forwards!” the Grandmaster roared, as the horn was blown, “Forwards, forwards! Hold your breath as you pass through!”

No one needed to be told twice, and the entire column surged forwards into the breach like a tide. Aether sucked in a breath and entered the vacuum, suddenly feeling himself speed up at the lack of air resistance. He leapt forwards, and within the fraction of a second he bypassed the raging spirit and broke through out the other end.

Glancing backwards, he watched as more and more people emerged from the swirling mass of black clouds, and moved out of the way to give them space. Aether heard a chorus of neighs, before suddenly the sixteen-horse wagon burst out of the clouds, Stormterror’s wing held on by hastily tied ropes. Lastly, the Grandmaster and Vision Bearers emerged from the storm, drenched in sweat.

Without any more power feeding it, the spirit started to succumb to the immense pressure placed on it by the storm wall. Shrinking more and more, with a final feeble wail, the spirit was devoured by the tempest.

“By the Lord…” someone murmured.

Turning around, Aether looked up and widened his eyes in shock. 

Decarabian’s city must have been many times the size of Mondstadt. Sitting in a great valley shaped like a bowl, the Brightcrown Mountains surrounded the ancient metropolis on all sides. They were in the eye of the storm, and Aether could see the walls in all of its glory - massive curtains that hung from the heavens encompassing the entire city.

On the ground, he could see the ruins of numerous manses and castles now inhabited by nothing but ghosts. In the distance, the husks of once mighty towers rose from the earth, like small children in the presence of their progenitor. There were numerous ridges and valleys - perhaps once canals brimming with water - crossed by massive bridges comparable to the great bridge leading into Mondstadt.

“Let us make haste,” Lisa spoke, breathing heavily, “We must erect an encampment at once - for I am bone-tired, and exhaustion does not bode well for my complexion.”

1st of the 1st Cycle

Aether thought he knew the Tower, having seen it from a distance. 

It was impossible to miss, even from leagues away and beyond the storm - the dark silhouette ever present and foreboding. 

He didn’t know the Tower.

The hulking spire of once polished stone was marred by soot from a rebellion long past - creating an ashen black appearance. Even in ruins, he could tell the facade was beautifully carved - tall arches sculpted into the stone that served as windows and the hundreds of balconies that sprang from them. There was no comprehending how gargantuan the Tower truly was, until you stood in its shadow. 

You could fit the entirety of Mondstadt’s upper city into its walls and still have space to spare, it was a small city unto itself. And the Tower was so tall he could scarcely see all of it even looking straight up, so high in fact, that the top of the Tower was shrouded in perpetual storm clouds. 

The stories did not do it justice.

Aether beheld the once beating heart of a forgotten kingdom - and he felt like an ant.

A small detachment of around a hundred men marched him across the only remaining bridge that crossed the dry moat surrounding the Tower. While he was still chained, everyone knew it was for formality’s sake, if nothing else. They knew there was no escaping here, and that he could’ve escaped many times before arriving here if he so wished.

Stepping foot on the hill the Tower sat upon, the Grandmaster cautiously led them up the stone stairs leading up to the gate. Old legends were carved into the stone, depicting great battles and heroes - and twin rows of granite statues in the likeness of ancient knights flanked the stairs. 

There was nary a sound save for the faint clanking of armour and the creaking of leather boots - and a shiver crawled up Aether’s spine as they stood before the gates. They were massive, ashen black basalt marred by countless runes and symbols carved into it.

Aethe could feel the dull thrum of an age-old sorcery permeating the air, as if the gate was the maw of a great beast breathing down on them.

The Grandmaster stared at the gate and glanced back at them - and for the first time since meeting her, Aether saw uncertainty gracing the woman’s face. An uncertainty that was present on all their faces too.

She sucked in a breath, before speaking loud and clearly.

“I am the Lion of the South, come to request the audience of the Dragon of the East!”

There was a heartbeat - and then the basalt stirred, vibrating, swirling, as if were a liquid. Ripples formed on the surface, and there was a voice-

“Thee has’t come to die.”

A soft voice, young and feminine. 

From the ripples, a fair maiden emerged - grasping a cecilia to her heart. Her long flowing hair was white as freshly fallen snow, her eyes a dazzling array of colours - as if staring into a kaleidoscope - her attire, a simple plain halter dress fastened by a blue corset around her waist.

Her lips were soft pink, her lashes long - her face spotless.

The young lady was gorgeous, her beauty unmatched by all in her presence.

And yet, manacles were fastened around her wrists and heels, the chains leading into the basalt gate - creating ripples when they clinked. Her splendid dress was marred with dried blood around her chest, and a golden spearhead was stabbed though her heart, the shaft snapped off. Her nails were broken, her slender fingers calloused and bloodied.

“Depart,” she said, “Thee has’t no business here.”

“My apologies,” the Grandmaster replied, “But we do have business here, my lady…?”

“Amos.”

Despite only being able to see her back, Aether could tell Jean was surprised by the fact that she took a half step back. Around him, he saw slight flinches and heard stifled gasps.

“Lady… Amos,” Jean tested the name, “I… we thought you had fallen against Decarabian.”

“Doth I seem alive to thee?” Amos gestured to the spear piercing her heart, “I am but a shadow, bound to guard this gate for an eternity.”

“...”

“Now, depart.”

The Grandmaster seemed to gather her resolve, for she stepped forward and put a hand on the hilt of the sword at her side. Seeing this, the knights followed suit, fingers curling around hilts and hafts.

“We seek audience with the Dragon of the East, if you will not let us through - then we will have to force our way in.”

“Dragon of the East?”

“...The dragon that claimed this tower.”

Amos laughed, a melodious sound that morphed into a cackle near the end.

“Who dares claim the Tower?” she asked, clearly amused, “Who dares challenge the usurper’s place?”

“Pardon? The dragon is Lord Barbatos’ servant, as are we all. Did you not fight alongside-”

“Barbatos?” Amos hissed, “Who doth thee think binds me here!?”

Oh, oh. Aether took a step back, watching the knights’ reactions. Various degrees of shock, surprise, and disbelief - and even the Grandmaster looked wary now. He began to piece the puzzle together, and found the situation increasingly curious.

“Lord Barbatos-!? But… but why?”

“I do not fathom the mind of the mad god,” she scoffed.

One of the knights drew their swords, “Careful what you say next, girl!”

“Sir Eberhard, put that blade down,” Jean sternly ordered, to which the knight obeyed.

Despite that, it was clear to Aether that all the knights shared the same opinion as Eberhard, even if they did not show it so obviously.

Jean turned back to Amos, “I do not understand, my lady. The stories say you fought together to kill Decarabian-”

“Thou cannot kill a god.”

“Pardon? It is known that Morax has killed many gods during the Archon War.”

“Thou cannot kill a god,” she repeated, as if in a trance.

“What-”

“She is correct,” Aether interrupted, speaking for the first time, “You cannot kill a god - not truly - you can only destroy their corporeal form. Be it decades or centuries, the god will recreate a body in time if they so wish and return to the mortal plane. But you cannot kill a god .”

There was a silence as they all stared at him, and Aether shrugged his shoulders in response. He spoke the truth as he knew it; you cannot kill a god. Or more accurately - a god can be killed, but they cannot die . Because gods were simply masses of energy without a shape, and energy cannot be destroyed.

Amos stared blankly at him, before sighing and sitting down - her chains clanking as she did. 

“And yet, mine own dear Decarabian was murdered by the usurper,” she scoffed, “His body reduced to ash, his soul cast to oblivion.”

Soul cast to oblivion? Aether shivered down to his bones, the Devouring Chaos? That was the end of the line, not for gods, but for everything. When all is said and done, everything will be devoured, the sun, the stars, the Great Beyond - all of it. There was no fate worse than oblivion, for that is no fate at all - just pure nothingness.

Emptiness.

Aether was shaken from his thoughts by a flash of lightning - and a violent crack of thunder that popped his ears. He saw Amos craning her head upwards, staring at the perpetual storm clouding the top of the Tower.

“Doth thee truly wish to climb the Tower?”

She spoke softly, dangerously - with a slight tone of warning. As if trying to discourage them from even attempting.

The Grandmaster swallowed, “We do.”

“Even if’t be true the things thee’ll see shall shake thy reality?” she pressed, “Even if’t the truth be unfit for mortal eyes?”

“I don’t understand, we just want to-”

“Even if?”

“...Indeed.”

“Then so be it,” Amos rose to her feet, walking back into the gate.

“May thee climb the Tower, may thee court death,” her ethereal voice surrounded them, “Welcome daft fools, the mad god awaits.”

Chapter Text

Act 1, Chapter 8

2nd of the 12th Cycle

“I am the Venti of the South,” the elf announced, “I have come to seek audience with the Lord of Wind, grant me entrance!”

There was a pause, a deafening silence that crawled up his skin - and then the midnight gate stirred. The black stone came to life, an undulating form emerged from the surface; an immaterial figure in the vague shape of a human, with a body formed of golden winds. It’s breezy golden locks were light and airy, like willows billowing in the wind, face obscured by two golden wings wrapped around it.

His eyes throbbed from merely gazing upon the being, forcing him to look away and rub at them. He felt a wetness, and the boy withdrew his hands from his face to see blood coating his fingers.

“You have come to die,” it- no, she - spoke.

“The tyrant must face his due,” the elf forged onwards, “Does he not grate you as well?”

“You overstep your bounds,” the abomination hissed in return.

“Look, are you going to let us through or not!?” the boy demanded, impatience growing.

He felt the elf’s intangible arm fall on his shoulder, feeling it squeeze painfully even through the gambeson he had donned. The thing in the gate laughed softly, and yet he could feel his ears bleed at the otherworldly sound - like rasping, grating noise combined with the choir of a thousand winds.

“You bring the most interesting of strays, venti,” she spoke, “I grant you entrance - best use that splendid voice of yours for more welcome acts, boy.”

The thing melted back into the stone and the boy heard a series of latches unlock through the gate, then the vast thing yawned open like a beast. They stepped through, and found the antechamber empty, nary a soul haunting the dark depths of the Tower. The very moment he heard the gate slam shut with a resounding thud behind them, the elf turned on him.

“Never,” it whispered furiously, “ Never do that again.”

“But- but it let us in, right?” he tried.

“Do you want your soul to join the rest in the storm wall!?”

Does he want his soul- the boy’s blood ran cold. He knew the storm wall was maintained by the tyrant’s servants, but not any ordinary wind spirits - the purpose was far too important to be entrusted to the likes of minor deities such as those - no, they were maintained by angels.

“That thing was an angel?” he choked.

“A fallen angel,” a companion drawled - the fair archer Amos, “Once a lover of Decarabian, now cast out of grace. A seraphim, if I recall rightly.”

Her face was calm - even bordering on apathy - but her prismatic eyes were sharp and cold, staring at him in distaste. 

All knew of angels, they were the tyrant’s authority, his will given form. They obeyed with absolute obedience, blood-drenched by a thousand wars fought with a thousand rival gods and kingdoms. There were stories, of a time from when before the storm descended - of legions of seraphims, of phalanges of ophanims, of erelims, hashmallims, cherubims.

Once, they filled the sky with divine light - raining salvation upon their allies as they rained damnation upon the enemy. Now, they commanded the storm, the great prison that made their allies into enemies. The boy felt a fresh flush of panic, but wrestled his breathing under control.

“What kind of king imprisons his own lover in stone?” Gunnhildr murmured.

“The kind of king who rules from the Tower,” Regin shot back, hefting his claymore.

An uncomfortable silence fell over them, and the boy took the opportunity to glance at Amos - who was staring at the gate behind them with an impenetrable gaze. They knew she once held the same position as the angel-turned-gatekeeper, just as they knew her purposes differed from theirs. Yet, she was a good friend, and while their goals were unsimilar, they were not parallel.

He shot Gunnhildr and Regin a look, and while Gunnhildr diverted her gaze sheepishly, Regin was not so cowed.

“It is the truth,” he said, “Now come, if we fail here, then everything would be for naught.”

“Yes…” the elf murmured, “The people’s belief in the tyrant is waning, and he grows weaker by the moment - just as I grow stronger as they continue to believe in me- us . We must crush the tyrant before his legions snuff out the revolution.”

“Alright,” he breathed, “Let’s move on.”

1st of the 1st Cycle

Aether gasped for air, feeling his knees and palms pressing against the cold stone floor.

He hacked and coughed, clearing his throat and spitting - blinking the fogginess from his eyes. Looking up, he saw his captors in much the same position. Proud knights laid lifelessly on the ground like broken dolls, and while some managed to push themselves up, Aether found that most were dead.

Bleeding from every orifice, brain matter leaking from their eyes and ears - mouths wide open in the facsimile of a horrified scream frozen in time.

He staggered to his feet, breathing heavily - and watched as the Grandmaster, Lisa, and the others rose as well. Of just over a hundred men and women, half of them were dead before they made it to the second floor.

“What in the name of the Lord…?” Jean released a horrified whisper.

A sentiment matched by all of them.

“Did you all see… that?” Lisa asked, “It was- it was like a…”

“A memory,” Aether finished for her.

thud–thud

The knights still sound of mind hastily reached for their swords as the Tower rumbled, staring at the ceiling. It sounded as if there was a giant walking above them, their footsteps shaking the entire structure.

It was quiet, too quiet. There was no sound, not the breathing of anxious men and women far out of their depth, not the howls of a raging storm, not the intermittent cracks of thunder they have gotten accustomed to. There was nothing, only-

thud–thud

“Memories, hm?” Lisa murmured, “I would say… this Tower is alive.”

“How could that be?” Jean questioned, bewildered.

“There are tales of objects,” Lisa explained, half musing, “So steeped in legend and myth, that they formed their own faux-consciousness, able to remember the things they have experienced.”

thud–thud

“Aye,” a mage interjected, “I visited Liyue once, and got my hands on a legendary sword. When I held it, it felt like a living organism - breathing, vibrating, with even its own emotions, I dare say. It rejected me, burned my hands as I gripped its handle - so I returned it to its owner.”

Aether thought of Aphelion, and wondered if the sword was alive as well. Truthfully, this was the first he had ever heard of faux-conciousness. An object must’ve had a long and rich history to be capable of such, surely the price is higher for cosmic blades such as Aphelion - for in a mortal world, a sun-forged blade is already a legend by sheer value alone. 

In the eyes of beings like him, however, Aphelion was an average blade - simply well fitted and balanced for him - it was young, and hasn't seen a fraction as many millennia as other celestial weapons had.

He doubted his sword had a consciousness, but perhaps one day it will.

“So you're saying that… right now, we are hearing the Tower’s-”

thud–thud

“-heartbeat?”

“Afraid so.”

“And what we saw… was what the Tower saw?”

“Afraid so.”

The Grandmaster glanced around, staring at the blank, nondescript walls that held so much history in every foot.

“But why would it reveal that to us?”

thud–thud

It was a question that could not be answered. They were living organisms, sound of mind and clear in clarity - how were they supposed to fathom the purpose of a tower that thought? Aether had a theory, that the memories were not revealed - even borne of - the Tower at all.

“Who rules this Tower?” he asked quietly.

And he was answered by silence. 

But all knew the answer in their hearts - Lord Barbatos.

So why would a god reveal his darkest secrets? They had set off towards the Tower in order to track down the Dragon of the East, to dispense judgement on a blasphemous soul. And yet, now they were embroiled in forgotten histories and hidden designs of unearthly origins.

thud–thud

Aether had called the Tower the once beating heart of a forgotten kingdom.

He was mistaken.

The Tower was a sleeping giant, one just waiting to be reawakened.

Aether breathed out, and forced starlight into his arms - heating the chains around his wrists red-hot until molten iron dripped onto the stone below, sizzling in the darkness. When the chain completely disconnected, he gripped the still scorching manacles with his bare hands and ripped them free, dropping them onto the ground.

Aphelion materialised in his hands, blade shimmering brilliant gold - he raised the blade in front of him, using it as a light source. No one intervened, no - with Aphelion out in the open, he dared say they all felt much safer - the remaining mages with them even casted magelights to help illuminate the path ahead, following his lead.

thud–thud

The antechamber led into a high-ceilinged room of greasy black stone, the walls bare and devoid of any ornaments. Aether brought his glowing blade closer to a wall in order to inspect it, when suddenly the wall caught aflame. He watched, transfixed, as the flames expanded, burning away the thin layer of soot, revealing what was hidden beneath.

An array of mosaics, masterfully worked, yet strangely patterned in half a hundred different shades of blue and green. He brought his face closer, scanning the mosaics, and saw-

Aether recoiled backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet.

Lisa caught him, face half worried and yet half curious - as if she wanted to inspect the walls for herself now.

“Don’t,” he coughed, “Whatever magic is built into that, you don’t want anything to do with it.”

“Can we just carve a little piece out?”

“Do you dare to?”

The witch stared at the mosaics somewhat longingly, unconsciously inching forwards. Aether wasn’t about to save her if she touched them, he was a firm believer in self-determination - let every man’s face be left in their own hands. However, he did notice some of the more sensible men getting ready to pull her back if needed.

Lisa relented, jerking away from the wall, as if she just realised she was moving closer to it.

“Let’s… let’s move on. Does anyone know the way up?”

thud–thud

2nd of the 12th Cycle

The next level was accessed by two sets of spiralling stairs winding around each other.

As they climbed, the boy noticed that the smooth railing guarding them was carved into the likeness of a snake. Immediately, he snatched his hand away from the railing as if it was scalding hot. Given how their march up the Tower has gone so far, he half expected the stone snake to come to life and devour anyone who bothered it.

When they crested the final step, Amos paused. Turning around, she glanced backwards at them.

“Steel your nerves,” she warned, “This part is, well… see for yourself.”

Without waiting for a response, she forged ahead briskly - stepping through the archway to the next chamber.

Three humans shared an anxious look, while the elf flew underneath the cover of Gunnhildr’s cloak. Taking a deep breath, they stepped through the entrance, resolving to stay cool and collected in face of whatever was beyond the archway. After all, they had each other to boost their confidence.

That resolve lasted no more than a dozen heartbeats.

The long corridor awaiting them was filled with malformed corpses - of humans, of angels, of beasts and monsters and daemons. They hung from the ceiling by ethereal ropes, they were nailed and chained to the walls in such a close manner that they formed a curtain of mutilated flesh covering the entire facade of course stone.

That alone was enough to fill his nightmares for the coming moons, the boy thought - but then it got worse.

Their heads swivelled in unison to face them the moment they stepped in. A thousand maws opened and they began groaning, yelling, and pleading, words shouted in half a dozen different tongues drowning each other out until all that could be heard was one deafening cacophony of misery and fury.

The boy flinched back when he saw the nearest ones laughing at him, leering, and calling out sentences he couldn't understand. Slamming his palms onto his ears, he attempted to block out the noise - but it only grew louder, until it began to overwhelm his senses.

When he saw a snake-like creature with feet and wings wriggling in its place above him, mouth wide open and ready to devour him even when it was chained in place, the boy snapped.

The bard shoved a hand into his sack and pulled out his lyre, strumming a frantic, delirious tune in a desperate effort to drown out the screams. He shut his eyes and kept playing, nimble fingers dancing upon the strings like Windblumes in the breeze.

He kept playing and playing, until he felt someone touch his shoulder.

He stopped, and slowly, cautiously, opened his eyes. The corpses were still, their eyes wide open and their mouths sealed shut. There was no more noise in the hall, none save for his gasping breaths. Swivelling his head around, the bard saw that it was Regin who had placed his hand on his shoulder.

Not saying - not daring - to utter a word, they hastily strode forwards, trying to ignore the weight of a thousand stares laid upon them.

In a matter of moments, they were out the other end - to see Amos waiting for them, an amused smile dancing upon her lips.

“Nice song.”

“What in seven hells was that!?” Regin demanded, voicing all of their thoughts.

“The gallery, you like it?”

“What kind of gallery-!?”

“The kind owned by kings who rule from the Tower,” Amos fed his words back to him, before nodding at the archway, “They were all past gatekeepers, kept in a state of perpetual undeath by the Ophanim.”

“Well isn’t this a place full of horrifying surprises,” Regin growled, “Couldn’t you have, I don’t know - warned us!?”

“Regin!” Gunnhildr raised her voice, “I’m sure she has her reasons, maybe there was a trap-”

“It’s because I wanted to see your reactions,” Amos admitted shamelessly, “Now quit whining and let’s get a move on.”

“Amos,” the boy tried, “Why must you-”

“Because I am your guide, nothing more.”

Within a matter of mere moments, they were making their way up another flight of stairs. After the rather nightmarish experiences they were met with below, the boy half expected to see some horrid sight that would leave him waking up screaming for nights to come - but contrary to his expectations the chamber was surprisingly mundane.

Similar to the floors below, the entire level was carved into a single massive room. There were no actual walls in the circular chamber, just empty spaces between large sculpted archways that directly into oversized balconies. Colossal granite columns held up the upper floors, spaced at regular intervals between the arches, carved into them scenes of heaven and angels.

For the first time since they had entered the tower, the boy finally saw other people around. Well, not people, but beings.

Dressed in dull metal plate with masks over their faces, the Ishim stood as silent sentinels under the arches leading into the balconies. They were the lowest of the angels, and were shaped the most similar to humans, but with one great difference - the pair of dark, feathery wings extending from their shoulder blades.

They made no sound or movement even as the band approached, continuing to stand in unnerving silence.

Glancing over the angels’ shoulders, the boy could see the lights of distant stars shrouded by the great storm. Despite this, the night was not dark, for the city below was lit with a thousand fires as the revolution burned. Even from so high above, the boy thought he could hear the faint cries and shouts of the raging war down below.

“So… what do we do?”

Amos did not reply, starting for one of the archways on the right. The boy could faintly discern the numbers two, zero and five carved into the top of the arch in Reitz numerals, masked within the pattern adorning the stone.

“Ishim!” Amos called, “Let us pass!”

The sole ishim standing underneath the arch moved, fluidly spinning its long spear into a guard position - its great tower shield resting on the ground, and the spear laying on its top edge. The angel’s wings flared, blocking the entire entrance.

Amos backed away, “Come now, we owe no grave injury to the king. Let us pass, and we can put all of this behind us.”

“Is… is she really trying to negotiate with an angel?” Gunnhildr murmured softly.

“Lord Decarabia will miss your presence,” the angel growled, it’s voice grating - like a thousand swords shattering together, “Alas, your betrayal will not go unpunished!”

“Betrayal? I have betrayed none!” Amos insisted, “I have come to place sense into the king, as I have for years!”

The fair archer gestured behind the angel, at the storm wall, at the war being fought.

“What happened to the king’s fair reign so many centuries ago, can you see how far he has fallen?”

“Lord Decarabia always had our best interests in mind, for he is our king.”

“Not anymore,” Amos contradicted, “You used to be able to fly free on the thousand winds, you used to be able to see the stars and Sky! Look at us now, look at you now! Decarabian- Decarabia has lost his way, we must have him be brought back to his senses!”

The ishim shifted in its place, but did not speak. Seeing this as a sign to continue, Amos forged ahead.

“When this is over, the storm will fall,” she told it, “You will no longer have to be trapped in this cage with us, you will no longer have to maintain it. You will be- we will be free! ”

“Freedom…” it rasped.

“Freedom,” Amos agreed.

The ishim slowly untensed, bringing its spear and shield back to its sides - before moving out of the way, magnificent wings retracting.

“We shall trust your word,” the Ishim spoke as one, and the Tower shivered as a thousand angels joined in choir, “Make haste, Lady Amos - you know the way ahead.”

“Thank you.”

“That’s step two,” the elf emerged from underneath Gunnhildr’s cloak.

“Step two?”

“A god must have authority, something to rule over,” the elf related, “What is a god without anything to lord over?”

Regin’s eyes widened, “Then there would be no god at all.”

2nd of the 1st Cycle

Aether stepped onto the balcony.

It was a large, semi-circular platform of solid stone jutting out of the Tower’s main body, fitted snugly into a groove cut into the side of the outer wall. In the centre of the balcony was a small pedestal with a thin opening in the top. Aether leaned over the edge, as there was no guardrails at all.

He felt the mountain winds brush pass him, feeling his hair and cloak flutter in the cool breeze. In the not-so-far distance, the storm churned, roiling black clouds sometimes illuminated by streaks of lightning. Aether watched as the Sun crested the horizon, its dazzling glow visible even through the tempest veil.

Below were the ruins of a city kept in semi-stasis for half a millennia, the storm winds blocking the entrance or exit of anything - until now. When Decarabian, or Decarabia - Aether was no longer quite sure which was correct - fell, the storm fell with him as the spirits maintaining the great barrier broke free of his authority.

It stayed that way for millennia, until a great war was fought and lost - and the Dragon of the East revived the storm with Barbatos’ authority, using the Tower as its new roost. Or so was what Lisa theorised, in any case.

Looking down, Aether saw that as expected - despite being in the midst of winter - there was not a speck of snow on the ground, none getting through the great shield that is the tempest.

Jean, Lisa, the single remaining bishop - whose name was Johann, he’d learnt - and a handful of knights stepped out onto the platform after him. Tearing his gaze away from the magnificent view, Aether turned around and watched as the Grandmaster addressed the knights left in the chamber.

“Set up camp, and wait for our return,” she ordered, “If we do not appear in three days, return back to the ground.”

“Understood, Grandmaster.”

Jean stepped back and looked around, before drawing her blade and stabbing it into the pedestal. There was a click, but nothing happened.

“Try imbuing some Anemo,” he suggested.

The Grandmaster clenched her hands around the grip, and her Vision glowed. Streams of Anemo emanated out of her body, spiralling down the blade of her sword and into the pedestal.

Thin veins of blue trailed out of the pedestal and into the platform, travelling towards the Tower in winding yet sharp ninety degree turns. Once the veins contacted the wall, they dispersed - before two massive luminous bands of light shone on either side of the groove extending upwards, revealing the true purpose of the balcony.

The platform rumbled, and began to ascend.

Clearly, the elevator hasn’t been used in some time - likely in several millennia now - as the ride was rugged at best. Several times over, the lift hit some snatch or uneven surface in the wall and shook violently, throwing them off balance. This led to them huddling near the centre of the platform out of fear of tumbling off the edge.

The only exception was Lisa, who was standing near the wall and watching as the surface travelled past them. Aether could faintly hear her muttering to herself about runes and other thaumaturgical terms he was not quite familiar with.

Several eternities later, the elevator shuddered to a halt. 

Aether was the first to step off, and regal the new level they found themselves on. They had arrived on what appeared to be a larger, more opulent parody of the balcony down below - the lift having been hit cosily into a hole in the centre of the balcony.

He heard the sound of boots stepping off the lift as his companions followed his lead, boots tapping against the polished marble that the balcony was made from. Opulent indeed, for the outer edges of the platform were coated in gold, albeit crumbling away as well. 

Directly above them were the dark, wreathing storm clouds that crowned the Tower, obscuring the very top. Lightning arced overhead, sometimes mere feet away from their heads, and the thunder that followed like distant explosions.

Turning inwards, they walked under a massive archway that led to a smaller antechamber with a handful of crumbling stone couches bordered in gold and heavily encrusted with all manner of precious jewels. It must be a terrible and uncomfortable experience to sit on them, so Aether did not try.

There were also massive tapestries hanging from the walls, all depicting Decarabian in various ways and forms. Sometimes the god was a man, sometimes a woman, sometimes inarticulate objects that evoked a sense of dread even through a medium such as wool. In all cases, he sat upon his throne, looking over the realm beneath him.

At the end of the chamber was a set of massive studded bronze doors, intricately forged to contain countless subtle patterns and designs. 

Jean strode forwards, and put a hand against one of the doors - attempting to push it open. It didn’t budge an inch. Backing away, the Grandmaster’s Vision gleamed brilliantly - before she thrusted her blade forwards, a gale forming at the hilt and shot through the blade.

The force impacted the doors with a thump - and then a loud rumbling, creaking noise was heard. The bronze door groaned as it was tipped over, screaming as it fell and slamming against the floor with a great crash - sending dust flying into the air.

When the dust settled, Jean took a deep breath and climbed over the fallen gate, entering the hall - and they all followed in silence.

thud–thud

3rd of the 12th Cycle

It should be impossible for the throne room to actually fit inside the Tower, he thought.

And yet it was, and the boy did not know whether it be through some divine sorcery or merely the result of his own mortal perceptions. The chamber was far too broad, seemingly many times the width of the Tower. The column-raised ceiling was far too high, so far up that he half-expected to be able to see clouds drift above him.

The Tower’s stone, cavernous walls were unpainted and unadorned - instead a hundred drapes in a hundred hues of green, blue and grey cascaded down like cloth pillars, weaved of a strange feathery textile he had never seen before.

And the entire floor was a massive mosaic depicting a hundred different scenes. The boy laid witness on the destruction of Cecilia Garden, on a dozen different battles with a dozen different gods at the gates of the city. He saw the flying legions of the Seraphim raining golden death on the enemy.

But the scene that caught his eye was the same one directly in front of him - it depicted five people climbing a tower as the world burned below them. Two males, two females, and a single venti - and in the next scene, only three of them were yet alive, standing before a broken tower.

thud–thud

The boy tore his gaze away from the decor, and up at the throne. At the tyrant who started it all. He barely even glanced at the throne itself, though it was a thing of legend - crafted of storm clouds in solid form embellished with pinioned sapphires made to look like raindrops.

No, his gaze was affixed on the god who sat on it.

Decarabian had taken the form of a young man. He was tall, even sitting on his seat he could tell that much - but there was more. The god looked the carved statue, all his proportions were perfect - too perfect - so perfect that it made him uncomfortable just staring upon him, as if human eyes were never meant to gaze upon the manner of such. His hair billowed down his back, white and feathery, and so long it that it pooled at the base of the throne. His eyes were a stormy grey that seemed to pierce their souls.

“Amos,” the old god greeted, “It seems you have brought… friends.”

The fair archer strode forwards, confident in her step.

“Decarabia, please!” she pleaded, “Stop this madness at once!”

“Madness?” the mad god laughed, “What madness? No, this is fate, all that I have foreseen.”

“Foreseen?” Amos croaked, “Then why… why have you not-”

“I am the Lord of Wind!” he laughed, “Heir of Astaroth, King of the Tower! I see it all with a thousand eyes upon a thousand winds - nothing escapes my sight.”

Amos looked about ready to burst, before she sucked in a deep breath and shakily relaxed her shoulder. From the corner of his eyes, the boy noticed Regin pass a spear of yew over to the elf. 

“You’ve gone mad,” she spoke, as if it were fact, “Don’t worry, we will drag you out of it.”

“I’ve waited,” the god spoke softly, “So very long.”

Amos leapt backwards and into the air - inhumanly high, blessed as she was by the god. In a split moment, she drew her bow and unleashed a storm of glowing arrows. Regin and Gunnhildr rushed forwards as one, blades in hand and primed to strike at the heart of the god.

Decarabia rose leisurely, and extended his eight wings. He brought three wings in front of himself to knock away Amos’ barrage, fast enough to intercept them, yet slow enough to make the action seem effortless. A spear of shining gold materialised in the god’s hand, which he used to parry both Regin and Gunnhildr’s strikes simultaneously, before knocking both of them back.

As Amos landed and the two warriors regrouped, Decarabia casually strode down the steps leading to his throne. 

thud–thud

The bard pulled out his lyre, and strummed a tune.

The fight continued, with Amos, Regin and Gunnhildr constantly engaging the god to keep him occupied while the bard continued to play his lyte, invigorating his comrades with strength and stamina. With every blow and parry, the hall shook and shuddered - with every twang of a drawn bowstring loosed, the Tower weeped.

He watched as Gunnhildr dove for a strike, thrusting her silver blade forwards - and extending too far. Decarabia spun his spear around, knocking the sword out of her hands. Gunnhildr lost her footing, stumbling right into the god’s range - and the bard could only look on helplessly as Decarabia brought down his golden point.

“No!” Regin roared, diving forwards.

The red-haired man’s claymore knocked the spearpoint out alignment just as he tried to push Gunnhildr away. Except, the golden spear was double pointed, and the god used the momentum to spin the haft around before bringing the second point down on Regin.

“GyaaAAGH!” 

Regin had successfully pushed Gunnhildr out of the way and tried to kick himself out of range, but it was too late - he now had a golden lance piercing through his upper thigh. Decarabia bent down, his wings curled to block another wave of arrows, seizing Regin by the scruff of his neck and lifting the man into the air.

The god wrenched his spear out of the flesh - prompting a yell of agony - before tossing the man to the side as if he were a doll. Regin crashed against a pillar and slumped, head bowed.

Cursing, the bard drew his shortsword.

“You can’t!” Gunnhildr yelled at him, “You’re no fighter!”

“We don’t have a choice,” the bard rebuked, “We must buy time, no matter what it costs!”

Gunnhildr closed her eyes and exhaled, before opening them and nodding firmly. Together, they rushed the god, ducking under another hail of arrows. The exchange of blows that followed was something the bard could hardly keep track of, relying on his instinct alone to keep himself alive. He weaved between swings of the golden spear, creating openings for Gunnhildr to purchase a jab or two.

It was even going well, he dared say, they were working together fluidly and smoothly. At this pace, the elf would be able to-

schlick

The boy felt something cold deep in his gut. He looked down numbly, and saw a golden haft - the spear had pieced his stomach and came out the back. He coughed, spittle and blood dripping from his mouth.

He heard a scream.

The bard dropped his sword, and looked up at the god with bloodshot eyes - and offered a bloody smile.

“Do you know how to kill a god, Decarabia?”

The god’s eyes furrowed in a surprisingly human way, his eight wings bristling at the insinuation. Then, he twisted the spear and wrenched it out of the bard violently, making him keel over in agony. The bard hastily covered his stomach, desperately trying to keep his innards inside his body.

The god spoke, “You cannot kill a-”

schlick

The bard gave a bloody grin. The god choked, coughing golden blood, and looked down. The elf had silenced its steps and snuck around, stabbing the god in the back with the spear of yew - the point piercing through the heart and out the chest.

“So you have ‘killed’ me,” he mused, as if he did not have a spear through his heart, “But I will not die, and I will return. Mayhaps in a thousand years, but I will return.”

“No, you will not,” the elf denied.

There was a shift- a warping as the world tilted a little. A great deafening roar of thunder reverberated throughout the hall, and what followed was silence. Absolute silence, so silent in fact, that he could hear-

thud–thud

“No,” Decarabia whispered, “No, no, no! What have you done!?”

“Decarabia!?” the bard heard Amos shout even as he fell to the ground.

Gunnhildr rushed to his side, desperately wrapping his wound with cloth to stem the bleeding - but he knew it was already too late.

Through hazy eyes, the bard watched as the elf wrested the spear free of divine flesh before plunging its arm into the cavity. He watched as the elf pulled free not a heart, but a single seed of dandelion - a godhead, the source of Decarabia’s apotheosis.

The elf stared at the seed in its hands, and plunged it into its own chest.

Decarabia fell to the ground, and a newborn god rose in his place.

“You… YOU!” Amos screamed hoarsely, “That wasn’t what we agreed upon, what have you done!?”

“What I had to,” the elf replied, “To ensure a new age where all men live free.”

Amos howled in rage, drawing a pair of hunting knives and lunging at the newborn god. 

It was useless. The elf plucked her out of the air with a hand of wind, before hurling the wooden spear at her. 

Amos coughed weakly, clawing at the stake in her chest, trying to pull it out. She was unceremoniously dropped out of the air, and crumpled to the ground. Unfaltering, the fair archer staggered to her feet, finally pulling the spear out of her chest and tossing it aside. 

She limped forwards, but her legs betrayed her will, dropping her to her knees. 

“No…” 

Through the haze of pain, the bard’s eyes widened. Decarabia was still alive.

The dead god stood, employing his golden spear as a crutch, even as he decayed and rotted and disintegrated away. 

“What are you doing, tyrant?” 

The elf picked up Decarabia with a hand of wind, tugging the god away from his lover even as he struggled and raged. In a last act of desperation, the dead god raised his arm and hurled his spear- 

And it struck true, piercing Amos’ heart and killing her instantly.

Then, the god went slack, rotting flesh dripping onto the ground. The elf stared in confusion, and in distaste, before dropping the corpse.

The elf strode over to the bard’s dying person, and Gunnhildr immediately rose to her feet - sword bared in defiance, but the newborn god raised a hand in surrender.

“I mean no harm, my lady.”

Slowly, the female warrior brought down her blade, and the god came to his side and picked him up in a bridal carry. The bard flickered in and out of consciousness as he was brought to the exit, the heavy bronze doors opening before the elf’s presence as if it was natural.

Walking out onto the balcony, the god set him down gently.

“W-Where’s…”

“Gunnhildr is assisting Regin,” the elf chuckled, “He likely needs healing, as he always seem to need.”

“Can’t- can’t you heal me?” he rasped.

The god shook his head, “I am unable to. Decarabia’s spear was cursed with some kind of ancient magic I cannot discern. I’m afraid I can only prolong your suffering.”

He breathed, “Then just let me die.”

“No, I want you to look at this.”

“Look at what…?” the bard trailed off as he set his tired eyes on the most incredible sight he had ever laid witness upon.

The city had stopped burning, the storm walls had fallen. The bard could see the dawning Sun cresting the horizon, washing the Sky in a dozen hues of oranges and reds. He could see the mountains, and the verdant plains beyond them. He could see a great shimmering blue lake too, far far in the distance.

Just as he could see tens of thousands of angels flying, those that looked like man, those that were as eldritch as the gods themselves. He could faintly discern the millions of wind spirits that breezed around, the zephyrs, the ventis, the aurai. 

He could hear the rapturous, jubilant cheering of a kingdom set free from its shackles.

“I wish…” the god uttered, “I wish you could’ve seen the world we have built together.”

The bard closed his eyes, a faint smile dancing upon his lips.

He heard the thunderous choir of all the once-subjects of Decarabia call for their new god, of the angels’ otherworldly chants, of the spirits’ breezy voices, of human lungs howling at the top of their lungs.

“Hail Barbatos, Lord of Wind, God of Freedom! Hail Barbatos, King of the Tower, Protector of his People! Hail Barbatos, may he reign for a thousand years, and reign a thousand more!”

How do you kill a god? 

You take their belief, their authority, their godhead - and you usurp their divinity. You kill a god by replacing them with another one - and leave them nowhere else to go, nowhere but oblivion.

“There’s no need to wish, Barbatos,” the bard whispered to the wind, “For I’ve already seen it.”

And the bard died, feeling the light and heat of the Sun against his face for the first time in his life.

Chapter Text

Act 1, Chapter 9

2nd of the 1st Cycle

So that’s how it was, Aether mused.

He took a glance around the once magnificent throne hall, now a desolate cavern. The dias from where the throne once dominated the hall was empty, the seat of Decarabia’s power long dusted to ash. The great banners that hung from the rafters were coated in dust and cobwebs, a far cry from their once vibrant hues.

The mosaic floor was shattered and torn, great empty patches from where mosaics were smashed from the ground stippled the hall. The ceiling, high above them, could barely be seen through the darkness, for no longer was there the divine brilliance that once illuminated the chamber.

Wind did not blow here, and the air was thick and stifling. The small group had split up in order to further investigate the chamber - the womb of a god - and the tomb of another. Everyone kept to themselves, silently gazing. Silently - for there was no sound, only silence, time and time again broken by-

thud–thud

Aether noticed Jean staring at the broken column where a red-haired warrior once laid, he saw Johann tracing the masterfully crafted images of the ground. But what intrigued him the most was Lisa, still as a statue, her eyes boring into the empty space where a throne of storms once stood.

He approached her from behind, and she spoke first without looking at him.

“This place is so steeped in sorcery,” the witch said, “That I could live by breathing in the latent mana alone. It’s so… concentrated, that I could swim in it.”

Aether experimentally took a deep breath, and felt nothing but lukewarm air entering his lungs. Well, it was to be expected - as a celestial entity he had no capacity for mana. It was well documented that humans had three systems in their body that allowed them to function - first was the bloodstream, second were the nerves. These allowed a body to function, every living being had them.

Even the corporeal forms of the incorporeal. Because bodies were a vessel for the soul, nothing more. Humans might identify themselves by their bodies, they were born with them after all, but immortals like Aether did not.

The third system, however, was what made humans human. It gave mortals the capacity to be more than mortal, it allowed them to fight beyond their capacities, it allowed them to be audacious. Meridians, a set of special pathways in the human body that allowed them to absorb latent mana in the air and manipulate it - an art called sorcery.

It was a largely unknown phenomena, and the greatest mages of every nation made it their life’s work to perfect their knowledge of the meridians - albeit through different methods. Unlike blood and nerves, meridians differed from human to human - those with more of them naturally had more potential in the arcane arts.

If Visions were the gods’ gift to man, then sorcery was of man’s own ingenuity.

Aether had no meridians, only a second heart and bloodstream. Gods had no meridians, their artificial bodies incapable of hosting such a complex system. Only humans did, it was what made them special compared to greater beings.

As such, he could not feel the mana in the air, and simply decided to take Lisa’s word for it.

“Well, it is to be expected,” he replied, “Just look at this Tower, do you think any ordinary magic could build such a thing?”

Lisa did not reply, seemingly transfixed on a sight. Aether walked up besides her, following her gaze - and saw a series of symbols carved into the bottom step of the dais.

“What is it?”

“Looks like… Old Reitz?”

Aether stared at the words, golden eyes burning, attempting to decipher what was written - to no avail. He cursed the god who sealed his powers away again, for the petty deity seemed increasingly more bent on inconveniencing him as much as possible.

“What does it say?” he was forced to ask.

“I… don’t know,” Lisa seemed stumped, “I am only able to recognise a few characters, from my time studying old runes - but without the context, I’m afraid they are meaningless to us.”

“Iomerhaltan; everlasting. Immortality. ”

Meaningless indeed. To be written beneath a throne, immortality could mean many things. It could describe Decarabia as a god, perhaps as an eternal ruler, perhaps it meant his kingdom would never fall. There was no point dwelling on it.

thud–thud

Or there could be, for immortality might mean something else entirely.

“How do you think Amos has stayed alive all this time?” he asked quietly.

“Why are you asking-”

“Just speak your thoughts.”

The witch shifted in her place, her eyebrows furrowing in puzzlement as she leaned in thought.

“Perhaps it is the gate, binding her soul to it.”

“Except we walked through hallways covered in the corpses of a thousand gatekeepers,” and wasn’t that a horrible sight, at least when they got there the bodies had all long rotted away to bone.

“But it could bind her soul, no?”

“An immortal soul does not beget an immortal body,” Aether rebuffed, “Besides, the Ophanim had kept the gatekeepers’ bodies in a state of undeath, not their souls. I propose that the gate does indeed bind you, but it does not extend your life.”

“...You may be right,” Lisa admitted, “A curse then, plied by Barbatos?”

Aether closed his eyes, thinking. It was a sensible theory, curses and blessings were two sides of the same coin. Barbatos could have cursed Amos for her stubbornness, or blessed her for her conviction - except, there was a single contradiction.

“Then why didn’t Barbatos save the bard?”

thud–thud

“Because… because Decarabia’s spear was cursed- … oh. ”

Decarabia had pierced Amos’ heart with the very same golden spear in his dying moments.

“Lisa… you’re a librarian, no?”

“...I am.”

“Do- do you know,” Aether wetted his lips, “What happened to Regin after the war?”

“The only thing the histories say is that he condemned Barbatos for taking the mantle of godhood,” Lisa recounted, “After announcing he would not trade one tyrant for another, he fled the Land of Wind. Millennia later, his descendant Ragnvindr would participate in the Great Revolution.”

“So Regin died.”

“That is the consensus, yes. There is no evidence he lived beyond human years.”

Aether palmed his face in frustration. He had thought the cause of Amos' apparent immortality was the golden spear, but she was not the only person pierced by it - Regin and the bard were as well. Except Regin lived a largely ordinary life after the rebellion, and the bard died after seeing his first sunrise.

“So was it not the spear…?” he muttered.

“...No, perhaps it was,” Lisa looked up, a hardness in her eyes, “Where were Amos and the bard struck?”

“Through the heart… through the soul,” Aether said slowly, “But the bard was killed, wasn’t he?”

“Was he?”

thud–thud

“I do not understand…”

“Think about it!” Lisa spun around, a fire burning in her eyes, “The spear was cursed , but if the curse was to cause an unhealable wound, why would Decarabia kill Amos with it?”

“Because… because…?”

“It doesn’t make sense,” she insisted, “He purposely made his last act to kill his lover, even in the face of his own death - was he truly so enraged by her betrayal, or was he killing her at all?”

“Even so!” he rebuked, “If the curse on the spear was one of longevity, then why did the bard die?”

“What I’m saying,” the witch said lowly, “Is that the bard isn’t dead either.”

thud–thud

Aether took a step back in faint surprise. If the bard wasn’t dead, then where was he? Amos’ own body felt very much alive, and her soul had retained much of her own personality and character. If Lisa was correct, then the same should be for the bard - but despite climbing the Tower for over a day, they had seen nary a single sight of the boy.

“Like you said, an immortal soul does not necessarily beget an immortal body,” Lisa mused, “Perhaps his body is long gone, but his soul remains.”

thud–thud

“Lisa…” she spoke, and the witch turned to look at him, “What are the chances this Tower doesn’t have a consciousness like you first theorised?”

She furrowed her brows, before suddenly flinching - eyes widening in shock. Lisa stared at him, and he met her gaze. 

“What you’re saying… is that we aren’t hearing the heartbeats of the Tower?”

“No. Remember, a faux-conciousness, not life. An object cannot live, they have no organs, it is impossible for them to have a heartbeat.”

“So what we’ve been hearing this entire time was…”

“The bard,” he finished.

thud–thud

“And all those memories and visions we saw,” she breathed, “It wasn’t from the Tower, or Barbatos - it was from…”

“The bard.”

Yes, it was all coming together now. Decarabia had pierced the souls of the bard and Amos with a cursed spear - damning their souls to eternal life. Or perhaps, it was a blessing - Aether knew that many mortals considered longevity a blessing. With their souls now immortal and trapped in the Tower, their bodies degraded over time until they were gone - leaving them formless spirits trapped in a tomb.

However, that doesn’t explain two things. First, why did Amos have a body while the bard does not? And second-

“How does the bard have a heartbeat, if he does not have a body?” Lisa asked.

thud–thud

Aether felt like smashing his head against a rock. They had taken two steps forwards, and then one step back.

He opened his mouth, but suddenly stumbled forwards when the entire Tower shook violently. Balancing himself, he swivelled around to see dust falling from the ceiling - and looked up to see a section of the roof slowly descending. 

Everyone scattered around the hall turned to watch as the odd elevator descended with seemingly no support - simply a circular piece of stone floating downwards until it hit the ground with the soft thud. Aether cautiously moved forwards, craning his head upwards in an attempt to see the exit - but could spy nothing but an endless void through the darkness.

As they gathered around the platform, the Grandmaster spoke.

“Masters Johann, Aether, and I will take this lift to the top. The rest of you will await us here.”

Lisa released an incredulous laugh, “No, no no - I am coming as well! Do you really think I will miss this chance!?”

“You will,” Jean answered firmly, “This is divine judgement, not anyone can witness it.”

“Is it truly? Or is that simply your opinion!?”

Seeing the quarrel between the two women heating up, Aether raced to think of a way to calm them down before Barbatos got impatient. Hells, he didn’t know if Barbatos could even get impatient, but better safe than sorry.

He leaned over to Lisa and whispered in her ear.

“You have to investigate the bard, remember?”

The witch paused - before releasing an explosive sigh and striding away.

“Mages, with me!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

The mages broke away and followed their leader.

Seeing this, Jean stepped onto the platform and beckoned him to join her - to which he did. After a brief moment of hesitation, Johann climbed onto the stone slab as well. As if understanding their intentions, there was a rumble, and the platform began to ascend.

The knights below saluted as they watched them leave, and the Grandmaster saluted back.

They rose higher and higher, into the mist that shrouded the ceiling, into the darkness that enveloped them. 

thud–thud

“Time to go face destiny, hm?”

2nd of the 1st Cycle

Aether blinked away the darkness, and never felt more at home.

Above, a great dome of impenetrable void - the black body of heaven’s keep, cradling sacred starry boughs that shone so bright. Constellations ignited upon the midnight sky as if choreographed upon a celestial stage. Distant galaxies spun amidst the cosmos, observing the motions of realities so very different from the one he experienced now.

It was home.

So close, yet so very far away. And so false, like the False Sky it was.

For they were in the midst of the eternal storm, a raging maelstrom of dancing winds dressed in turbulent greys. They danced to the roar of heaven’s drum, they called great arcs of lightning to their stage. They were in the eye of the storm, the sole place of stillness in a furor of chaos - surrounded by the tempest.

In the middle of the tempest.

On judgement grounds.

And the judges came into view, descending from the inky blackness above.

And they sung.

Seven Choirs and One, they sang and Aether crumpled to his knees - clenching his teeth and clutching his ears as a great pressure posed down upon him. And yet as if unaffected, Jean and Johann stood tall, gazing over their heads in awe and horror.

For it was a sight to behold.

The Ophanim - Choir of Mercy - sang a mournful tune that did not beget their appearance. Each composed of four interlocking gold wheels adorned with countless eyes of their own mind - with a single massive cerulean eye held in the centre of the sphere. Each wheel spun independently, set aflame with different colours.

The Hashmallim - Choir of Contrition - howled upon a dais of rage, their unearthly screams demanding penitence. They were ethereal, a great flaming cloud from north, outlined by a corona of brilliance. And in the midst of them were flashes of lightning among the flame, and from the flame were silhouettes in the likeness of four creatures. Indecipherable.

The Seraphim - Choir of Judgement - flew in deafening silence, each beat of their six wings like the crack of a gavel against the block. One pair was set about the waist, crossing over their bodies to cover it; another pair was set about the shoulders, raised over their heads and crossed. The last pair was set from the back, beating and keeping them aloft - though Aether did not know whether they needed it. And since their bodies were covered by feathers, only their heads were revealed - an abomination, the heads of a lion, a falcon, a dragon and a wolf fused together at the neck, each gazing in a different direction and revolving about a pivot.

There was a reason why Barbatos emerged victorious from the Archon War. Aether had doubts of how a newborn god still conforming to their divinity could crush its rivals, but now he had a good idea of what won the war for him.

Or perhaps not, for Barbatos was still a god. In the centre of the audience, was a figure wrapped in linen, with six wings about his back beating in pairs. Aether looked upon the god, and knew why the bard had no form.

Because Barbatos stole his body.

For the bard looked down upon him, with his boyish face and braided hair. With his short, lanky body and large green-blue eyes. Then, with a beat and an imaginary breeze, the god’s wings opened, feathers splitting apart like lapels - eyelids , and a thousand eyes opened, gazing everywhere and nowhere at once.

“The Thousand Winds,” he heard Johann whisper in reverence, “A thousand eyes for a thousand winds! Lord Barbatos, the Thousand-Eyed God!”

This was a god just as powerful as Paimon, Aether realised incredulously, if not even more. However, this did not undermine Paimon’s own standing. She was a Cosmic God, as was he - to a degree - with such a boundless domain, it was natural that their authority is beyond anything worldly pantheons could accumulate. They were aliens, foreigners, who did not need mortal believers to justify their authorities.

However, that was also their weakness. With no mortal believers, their belief was incredibly miniscule - with only minor cults who had seen beyond their own realities able to perceive their existence. In simple terms, it was a trade off. What Aether felt now, was the unchallenged, unrivalled, and absolutely fanatical belief the Land of Wind had in their patron god given form.

As if in response to the bishop’s reverence, there was a soft laughter. Aether looked up to see Barbatos chuckling, his mouth not matching his sounds, laughing - a mocking laughter - not at Johann, but seemingly at himself. Aether had not realised a god could be self-deprecating, for they were naturally arrogant beings. Perhaps, he numbly thought, it was because Barbatos was once an insignificant venti himself.

At the laughter, however, both Jean and Johann snapped back to their senses - eyes widening. And then they hastily moved to kneel, their knees bending so fast it looked like they snapped.

A wave of power washed over them, pressing Aether further to the ground, and he grit his teeth in indignation. For the same power stopped Jean and Johann from kneeling, caught mid-bend, their bodies shaking as they were trapped in the midst of an action.

“You are men of freedom, Freedom,” the God of Freedom spoke, his voice reverberating throughout the heavens, “You do not kneel.”

It was spoken with finality, a declaration so powerful it must’ve been heard throughout the Land of Wind. Jean slowly - ever so slowly - rose to stand once more, head held high. Johann, meanwhile, couldn’t seem to fathom not kneeling to deity - so while he did rise, he did so with his head still bowed.

“You seek judgement, Lionfang Knight. Who is the accused?”

The Grandmaster pointed down at him, “This man, my lord. He is accused of blasphemy, by inflicting grave bodily harm to the Dragon of the East!”

“And who shall be the judge?”

Jean’s eyes widened as she took a step back in surprise. She looked up to see Barbatos’ gaze boring into hers, and she averted her gaze - to hear the Seraphim’s silent roar. Two choices, the god had given her. Aether cursed under his breath, both choices could equally mean the end of him. 

He could not perceive through Barbatos’ impenetrable gaze, and could not discern his thoughts. Out of the two, the god was a much preferable outcome compared to the Seraphim - as the Choir did not look particularly pleased he was still alive. He couldn’t actually tell what they were thinking, it was hard to discern the emotions of four inhuman faces, but it was a gut feeling he believed. Silently, he hoped Jean would choose Barbatos to be his judge.

But to his surprise, and he dare say to the god’s surprise as well, Jean chose a third option.

“I propose the judge shall be made of my peers, the Four Winds!”

Barbatos smiled oddly, “Then so be it.”

A cold wind blew, sharp and stinging - it ripped tears from his eyes and brushed his skin dry. Aether was forced to shut his eyes and shy away from the wind, and when he opened them again he saw that the False Sky was gone - and so were the angels.

There was only the storm, and clear blue skies devoid of clouds.

Barbatos descended, his wings folding away and seemingly in on themselves until they no longer existed. Then, floating just over a dozen feet from the ground, he reclined - lounging on an invisible seat and resting his head on a fist.

“Come, the prevailing wind calls” he spoke, his voice with all the power of a man, “and the Four Winds answer.”

A heaven-rending roar shook the world, and the Dragon of the East burst out of the tempest - so immediate that Aether dared to think that the dragon was waiting for the very call. To his surprise, he saw that the great beast had all six of its wings.

The dragon landed on the Tower, shaking the ground. And it spoke;

“Enough with your dramatics, Barbatos,” its voice was a deep, low growl.

“Ooh, it seems you have returned to your senses, Dvalin!” the Anemo Archon cried, “And your wing as well, how’d that come about?”

Gone was the great deity that commanded the heavens and skies, all that Aether saw before him was a childish boy. Was that an act, or was this an act? He could not fathom, for the god did not show any speck of falsehood on his face that would suggest he was putting on a mummer’s show. A god of many faces indeed, Barbatos was. Jean and Johann too, looked on with wide eyes - visibly unsure of how to react to the sudden change in personality.

“Indeed,” the dragon grumbled, “I had reclaimed my lost energies from the Lion’s knights below - and I must duly thank you for bringing my lost limb, Lionfang Knight.”

“O-Oh, it is no large issue, my lord,” Jean stammered in the beginning, but quickly composed herself soon after, “I was simply doing my duty.”

“Heavens know what a rarity that is, for a human living in the Land of Wind - ruled by the most immature deity that is!”

“Surely you do not mean those words, my lord,” the knight laughed nervously, afraid of whether to offend the god or the dragon.

“Indeed, she is right, Dvalin!” Barbatos cried, “How must you offend me so?”

Jean hastily opened her mouth to voice her agreement, but god’s next words prompted her to shut it just as hastily - with an audible click to that end.

“I rule nothing at all,” the God of Freedom reminded - and somewhere, thunder roared.

“...Of course,” the dragon replied smoothly, “My apologies.”

“How grand,” Barbatos clapped, “Now, where is that-”

The storm turned icy, freezing cold. Hoarfrost crept across the stone as a chill set into his bones. Then the storm was gone, replaced by a howling blizzard of raging slate and hail, like a blinding white curtain descending from the Sky. 

And from the storm came the largest wolf Aether had ever set his eyes upon. At least three men tall, the giant wolf bore deep blue fur upon its head, thick like a lion’s mane. Icicle-like spinal bones ran down its back all the way down to the tip of its tail. Its underbelly was white snow turned fur, with ice hanging off the edges.

Andrius, the Wolf of the North - he had heard of the tales told of the mighty being. The Lord of Blizzards was once the undisputed god of the north, his kingdom spanning across all of the Windwail Highlands. That was, until the Tower burned the Cecilia Garden to the ground. From there, Andrius declared war on the Tower to keep Decarabia’s power in check. 

This prompted the rise of the storm walls, and the subsequent fall of the Tower.

Stories told of how Andrius - realising he was not fit to rule over the north - killed himself after the rise of Barbatos, allowing the Lord of Wind to take the seat of Anemo Archon.

“Andrealphus!” the Lord of Wind laughed, arms wide, “I haven’t seen you since- since when!?”

“Since the last Walpurgis, Barbatos,” the wolf growled, his voice like the harsh whisper of a fleeting cold, “Now, what have you summoned me for?”

“Sullen as ever, huh?” Barbatos smiled widely, “Still bitter from your loss in the War? You need to get over that, old man!”

Even as the wolf uttered not a word, the blizzard still howled - betraying his emotions.

“Enough with your japes, Lord of Wind. A worthy war was fought, and I have long accepted my defeat. Now, what is the purpose of this gathering?”

There was a story there, Aether could tell. Of a long and brutal war over the north, of men dying by the tens of thousands in raging snowstorms, of mountains torn from the bedrock under the rage of two rival gods. Of an ancient deity succumbing under the brutal ideals of a younger one, and accepting the outstretched hand of peace.

“To dispense judgement, I suppose,” Barbatos mused, staring upwards, “We should be waiting for the Falcon… but she isn’t coming, is she?”

Andrealphus sniffed, the very act cooling the temperature drastically, “The Overseer does keep a close eye on mortal gods.”

“Ah- AH!” Barbatos put a finger over his mouth, “You’re speaking way too much!”

In response, the wolf hacked out a cough.

“Another jest of yours? All know the Overseer is at his end, the Lord of Void is set to replace him very soon.”

“That’s supposed to be secret!?”

“To whom? If it is a secret, then it is a very open one.”

“Seven hells, you have no sense of politics at all!” Barbatos swivelled his head around, “Look, Dvalin’s staring as if you’re mad - and those three down there have no idea what you’re talking about! Let’s just- let’s just get this underway.”

“About time,” the dragon said blandly.

Aether felt as if he was in a fever dream. Were these supposed to be gods? Well, the dragon wasn’t, but that was besides the point. The Lords of Wind and Blizzards were bickering like children before his very eyes, and he was supposed to take them seriously? No, wait - he was, for he had witnessed first hand the power of the God of Freedom.

That, and he was still pinned to the floor - he could already feel his legs getting numb. 

“Right, right. The Dragon is here, the Wolf is here, the Lion is here - and the accused his here. Three out of four, not bad.”

“Barbatos.”

“Ah-? Oh, right. Alright, who deems this man guilty?”

“Guilty of what?” the great wolf asked dryly.

“Uh, of rending Dvalin’s wing off his body.”

The wolf’s massive head turned to face his downed form, then turned to stare at the dragon Dvalin.

A howling laughter filled the Sky.

“To inflict such a wound-! A worthy adversary indeed!” the wolf roared, “Come to my domain some time, it would be an honour to engage in battle with you.”

“Uh- yes,” Aether jerked, “I would be my pleasure.”

“Grand! I deem you innocent!”

“So do I,” the Lion of the South proclaimed, “An injury inflicted in self-defence is justified as they come. Innocent.”

“Two out of three,” Barbatos hummed, “What say you, Dvalin?”

“I owe you a great debt, outlander,” the dragon said, “For the pain of your blade shook me from my madness. I have torn off the yolk of the Abyss, thanks to you. Innocent.”

Aether saw the Anemo Archon’s eyes incrementally narrowed, as if he had not realised Dvalin was corrupted by the Abyss. Well, he mused, it did explain why the dragon abandoned his post as one of the Four Winds, and began attacking those he was meant to protect. When Aether shook himself from his thoughts, he realised there was no longer a pressure holding him down.

He stood up, dusting himself off.

“Well,” Barbatos clapped, “Trial over, I’ll see you all next time.”

“Ah- if you would wait for a moment!” Aether called, and the god swivelled to stare down at him.

“Can you explain why Amos was sealed in the gate of this Tower?”

The god paused, then disappeared in a breeze - and appeared directly in front of him, grabbing him by the shoulders.

“Amos was sealed in the- what!? ”

“Lady Amos, the fair archer! She said you sealed her in the gatehouse-”

“Seal!?” the god all but roared, “I am the God of Freedom!”

Barbatos clenched his hands, and Aether winced as he felt divine strength squeezing him. The god’s eyes were hard and flinty, like finely cut emeralds. The winds around him roared, deafening his senses.

This, Aether realised, was the true God of Freedom. The god who held such an unyielding stance in his ideals that he waged bloody wars across the Land of Wind in order to unchain peoples not even his. The god who warred to the north, to the west - the god who even warred with an ancient assembly to the south - a triumvirate of gods - half a dozen times before relenting.

The very god who smashed his rivals to insignificance before he was even a century old.

The god born from the corpse of another.

“Amos and the bard,” he tried to explain, “They’re alive, somehow, trapped in the Tower.”

“How?”

“We- we think it’s Decarabia’s golden spear which cursed them to immortality.”

“Impossible,” Andrealphus growled, “Celestia would not allow such a weapon out of their grasp.”

“Golden spear… golden spear,” Barbatos mumbled, before glaring at him, “Tell me more!”

So Aether told him all of it, of everything he and Lisa theorised, of what they discovered. Of how the golden spear pierced the hearts and souls of Amos and the bard - of the heartbeat, of the memories.

And at the end of it all, the God of Freedom was silent as a stone - a dangerous kind of silence.

“I,” the god spoke, “Am not the first Heir of Astaroth.”

“My lord,” Jean asked slowly, “What are you speaking of?”

“The spear may not be in the possession of Celestia because it was gifted to Decarabia by an older god, one older than even Celestia,” the wolf god explained, “An Elder God.”

“I- I am afraid this is no curse of immortality, but a curse of time.”

“...The Thousand Winds of Time,” Jean breathed, as a kind of realisation dawned on her.

A realisation Aether was no privy too. And he felt increasingly oblivious, for it was obvious even Johann understood what the Grandmaster was saying - for the poor man looked just about ready to faint. He had his sympathies, Aether decided, any man would feel so after experiencing what he had just gone through.

“Yes,” Barbatos raised his head, “Our goals may not have aligned, but I have never - never - wished Amos undue suffering. I am afraid that both the fair archer and bard have found themselves trapped in time - and thanks to my ignorance, they have suffered unduly for it. For millennia.”

Six pinioned wings flared, the great wingspans blotting out the Sun - awakened with a thousand eyes. The dragon roared to the heavens in response to his god’s fury, and the wolf howled - calling upon the Sky to witness the great council.

“This-,” the God of Freedom snarled, “This must be rectified.”

Chapter Text

Act 1, Chapter 10

2nd of the 1st Cycle

The sable Sky was lit with the light of countless pearls.

With the storm lifted, the Moon's celestial carriage could be seen drifting overhead. The sounds of life filled the world, the birds singing their twilight calls, the crickets filling the silence with their ambience.

Life had returned to the bleak, isolated kingdom that was the Tower.

And yet, despite the sizable base camp of the expedition, there was so little noise that from afar it might seem that the encampment had been abandoned. Truths and lies had been revealed, ancient secrets not fit for mortal eyes and ears.

Realities had been shaken, world-views fractured, and now none knows what to believe. In the silence of man, they mourned the dead, and came to terms with their own beliefs.

The fire came to light up the night, to warm air that was more accustomed to the winter chill. It lit each face and they felt the heat go to their core. The crackle of the pyre was all that could be heard, a natural music in the sable night. Flames sent red sparks dancing into the breeze. 

The smoke twirled heavenwards, lifting the souls of the dead to join those who came before - to wander for the rest of eternity, dancing freely on a thousand winds.

And when it was all over, they retreated back to their own little quarters - and conversation slowly returned once more.

Newly vindicated, Aether still couldn't help but rub his wrists, feeling the phantom weight of heavy manacles upon them. Sitting down by a campfire, Jean, Johann, and Lisa joined him.

As Jean slowly roasted venison on the spit, there was a silence - one which he was forced to break.

"My apologies for your loss," he offered to Johann, "I am sure your brothers never expected the fate which befell them."

"They died seeing a divine truth," the church man returned, "I do not doubt there is no better way for them to go."

Another silence fell upon them. What could Aether possibly respond with? He may not be mortal, but he had walked countless stars before Teyvat, he knew of propriety - even if he was still unfamiliar.

Jean paused from prodding the fire, "I'll have to explain the deaths of those knights as well… what am I to say?"

"They fell to a curse in the Tower," Lisa offered, "It is not completely untrue, nor will it be unexpected."

"..."

"Or…" the witch eyed the knight, "Do you intend to reveal the truth?"

Jean barked a dry laugh, "You think they can handle the truth? No, we have enough problems already."

"I am obligated to inform my superiors nonetheless…" Johann whispered.

The Grandmaster sighed, and closed her eyes tiredly.

"At least hold on until after all of this?"

"...Of course."

As the knight and the bishop leaned in to discuss their future actions, and the future of their organisations, Lisa pulled him to her side as she plucked a stick of venison from the fire.

"I found out why the Tower, or the bard, has a heartbeat," she told him as she twirled her stick.

Aether leaned in curiosity, "So?"

"Quite simple, actually," she laughed lightly, "The bard thinks he's still human, and thus thinks he has a heartbeat."

"So what we heard were just his thoughts? That feels… inadequate."

"No, it is quite incredible, actually. For us to be able to hear his thoughts, it possibly means that the bard has completely saturated the Tower with his presence. There is essentially no difference between the bard and the Tower now."

"I see," he hummed, "It could also explain why we were able to see his memories."

"That's right. Think about it, imagine the power a mere mortal soul must have to possess the Tower. It is essentially proven that the soul weighs twenty-one grams, but is that really true?"

"I must admit, I did not think this circle of thought was of your speciality."

"Oh, it is not!" the witch laughed, "But it is still so curious, no?"

They continue to talk into the night, finding comfort in new knowledge and curiosities learned. Aether had to admit, he had expected to find conversation with Lisa so amiable - they had vastly different characters after all.

But, to his pleasant surprise, their circles of thought appeared to mix well. They covered each other's bases - his knowledge of miracles and divinity with her knowledge is sorcery and thaumaturgy. Together, he had no doubt that great discoveries could be found.

After all, he was a celestial outlander harbouring knowledge no mortal in Teyvat could fathom - and she was the Purple Witch, one of the greatest sorcerers on the continent.

It was likely Lisa knew this too, for she offered for him to join her as a partner.

Of course, he politely declined. Aether was a starwalker, while a few decades of waiting for her to die and move on was insignificant at best, he still had an objective to carry out. Which was to unseal his powers first, and find his sister second.

Maybe in the future, when he has naught left of import, he could enjoy himself in this new reality.

Until it was time for him to leave again, of course.

Aether tore himself away from his musings when he heard footsteps coming up behind him, and swivelled his head around to see Amber approaching them.

"Lisa," she called, "Your mages are calling for you."

He shared a glance with the witch, before rising to his feet.

"Appears it's about time," he mumbled, before calling out to Jean, "Will you accompany us?"

The Grandmaster stared up at them, before shaking her head.

Lisa sighed, before groaning as she stood up.

"Haven't walked this much since my fieldwork back in the Academia," she muttered under her breath.

As they made their way through the camp, Aether saw many knights and squires huddled around fires - tending to large pots of stew and carved meats. There were pages tending to the horses and mages practising their spells in the open air.

Fireflies twinkled in the darkness, their luminous glow shining upon the landscape shrouded in shadows.

"What are you even up to?" Amber asked as they walked.

"Mm," Lisa hummed, "Breaking someone out of prison, something like that?"

"What?"

"What?"

Amber released an explosive sigh, before shutting her mouth with a click. Clearly, she was tired of the witch's antics - which was ironic, because the outrider was as much a colourful character as the witch.

Finally crossing the bridge, Aether spotted a crowd of mages gathering around the gate. Wardstones had been raised in a semi-circular formation, with the gate being the straight edge. Inside the boundary, Amos stood with her arms crossed, engaging in a staring contest with the mages.

When the fair archer spotted them approaching she exclaimed.

"Ah, thee seems like a person who is't know what is happening! Now bid me, what is happening?"

Her answer came in the form of a god falling out of the Sky. Barbatos landed with a gale at his back, six pinioned wings splayed like a pure white cloak around his form. The force at which he landed prompted a great dust cloud to be kicked into the air, as the ancient stone beneath his feet cracked.

“Thee…” Amos’ eyes narrowed, “Has’t thee come to gloat? I shall not hear it!”

“I did not do this to you, Amos,” Barbatos said lightly.

“If not thee then who is’t?” she scoffed.

“Decarabia.”

Amos jerked, “Lies! Wherefore wouldst he-”

“Because he loved you so, why else?” Barbatos interrupted, “He thought faux-immortality was a gift, even if it meant imprisoning you in stone. Even to the end, he could not fathom the reason we rebelled in the first place.”

“I- what!? ” the fair archer stared down at her chest, where the broken spear pierced through her heart.

She gingerly pulled out the spearhead and tossed it to the ground, only for nothing to occur. Her heart still bled, and she was still trapped in time and sealed in stone.

“The spear has already cursed your soul,” the wind god said softly, “As it had the bard.”

“The bard…?”

Barbatos lifted up his arm, and Aether realised the god was holding a bird’s cage - one with no bird within. Instead, there were miniscule, nearly imperceptible motes of light - like tiny fireflies - drifting about.

thud–thud

The air vibrated, as if they were in a box and someone was smashing their fist on the outside. Amos flinched at the sight, but before she could say anything, Barbatos opened the cage’s door and they all watched as the lights flew out before dispersing into the breeze. 

“He has chosen to go free,” the God of Freedom told her, “Now, it is your choice as well.”

Suddenly, Amos looked nervous, as if the thought of death had not crossed her mind once in the entirety of three millennia in which she had been sealed. She backtracked, so far that she hit the gate and was semi-absorbed into it.

“A-Afterlife… what is the afterlife like?”

Lisa unconsciously leaned in to hear if Barbatos would answer - and she was not alone, the mages listening in also stared intensely, and Aether had to admit he was curious to this realm’s manner of afterlife.

Barbatos shrugged, “Freedom, I suppose. The Land of Rock buries their dead, the Land of Thunder and Fire burns them, the Land of Water feeds its fishes with them. Here and now, in the Land of Wind, the dead are set free to roam amongst the wind.”

“...And what doest yond mean?”

“Your soul would be free,” the god smiled, “Every nation has their own heaven and hell, the Land of Wind has neither, I allow the dead to drift among the winds for as long as they wish. If you have decided to have enough of an eternity wandering, then travel to another nation - their god will send you to their afterlife.”

“...”

“Or…” Barbatos pointed to the night sky above, “You can go up there, and live among the stars. Back before the Archons, that was where all the dead go, even deities. It would be a treacherous journey, and if you fail - as most do - your soul will be damned to oblivion. But if you decide to take the risk…”

He shrugged, wings ruffling.

“I am the God of Freedom, who am I to stop you? In the Land of Wind, all are free, even in death.”

“That-” Amos paused, musing, “That doest not sound so lacking. If’t be true the afterlife is so… pleasant… wherefore doth people live at all?”

Barbatos’ eyes shone with a mischievous light, “Old Ronove would dislike it if I revealed that.”

“Ronove?”

“The Lord of Death,” he clarified.

“Oh…” Amos muttered, before finally saying, “Oh, well. I accept, then.”

Barbatos nodded, and stepped back.

“Lady Lisa,” he nodded to her.

Lisa looked down, closing her eyes. When she raised her head back up, she met Amos’ gaze, and asked a soundless question he could not discern. Seemingly nodding in acceptance at the fair archer’s wordless answer, she nodded and spoke.

“Mages,” she ordered, “Begin the ritual - hold tight Lady Amos, we’re getting you out of there.”

“...Pardon?”

The wardstones roared to life, blue energy coursing through the rough stones carved with symbols of power. A translucent shield of energy burst forth, enveloping Amos and the gate in it - a bounded field. 

Then, the Purple Witch raised a hand to the Sky, an orb of crackling violet Electro in her grasp. Aether felt a tingling sensation run across his skin, and felt his hairs stand on end. Staring upwards, he watched in abject awe as massive rolling storm clouds gathered under the clear night Sky - an inevitable tide of booming thunder. The heavens were dyed a deep purple, illuminated by the gleaming purpure Moon.

Aether tasted blood on his tongue, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead. The clouds have completely covered the Sky and horizon, now, so thick and heavy not even the glow of the Moon could be discerned, let alone the stars. It was as if someone had dropped a blanket over reality.

A massive streak of lightning descended from the Sky, crackling into Lisa’s outstretched hand and feeding the orb of Electro.

“Stand back!” she roared.

Tendrils of lightning sparked forth, creating arcs of violet brilliance that extended from her palm and danced in the air - ripping dirt and stone from the ground. Aether had to hurriedly leap away, lest he be shocked. Then, more lightning descended, all cracking into the witch’s hand - forming the illusion of a gargantuan tree of lightning that started at the witch and branched out endlessly into the heavens above. Thunder boomed, hundreds upon thousands as lightning constantly flashed and thunder followed.

It was blinding, deafening, it overwhelmed each and every one of his senses.

So this is the Purple Witch.

Lisa closed her fist, and the light-works all disappeared in a flash. There was a lingering silence - complete and total silence. So silent that Aether realised he could hear every beat of his two hearts, he could even hear the sound of blood rushing through his veins and nerves sparking in his head. He could hear every detail of his lungs shrinking and expanding in breath.

“I suggest,” Lisa said softly, yet loud enough to seem like a roar, “That you cover your eyes.”

Aether did not hesitate to follow her advice. Immediately, he shut his eyes tight and brought both of his arms over his face to block out every bit of light - there was a pitch black darkness.

Which was torn away by the blinding light of the largest lightning strike he could ever fathom. It was so bright his eyes burned , he could see through his eyelids, his arms - he could see every bone in his arms, every vein and every nerve. He could see everyone standing around him, or more accurately, he could see the skeletons of everyone standing around him. He could see what Barbatos truly was - a formless mass of energy inhabiting the corpse of a boy.

And the lightning strike itself, it was colossal - as thick as an oak tree and blinding purple. If Aether had not known better, he would’ve thought a god was smiting some poor soul - but no, this was all the works of a mortal.

A single witch.

And then, the thunder followed. His ears popped, maybe even bled, as he was thrown off his feet - all of them were. It was all over in a fraction of a moment.

Aether picked himself up, groaning as he staggered to his feet - patting off his smoking outfit.

Raising his head wearily, he spotted Amos lying face down on the stone, steam wafting off her body. To his right, there was a great white orb - and after blinking away the blurriness, he realised it was Barbatos, who had wrapped himself into a cocoon with his wings.

The cocoon slowly opened, wings unravelling to reveal the god’s bard form in the centre.

Barbatos slowly started forwards, lowering himself to grab Amos’ fallen form by her shoulders and lift her to her knees. The fair archer hacked out a cough, before wearily speaking.

“W-What…?”

“You have been unsealed from the gate,” Barbatos told her, “Now I must unchain you.”

The god pulled out a long dagger with a curved blade, vaguely in the shape of a skinning knife. The blade was a dull, glossy silver with small, imperceptible runes carved into the spine. Without ceremony, he plunged the dagger into Amos’ already open heart.

Almost instantly, the fair archer began ageing. Her smooth, flowing white fair grew stringy and brittle. Wrinkles and blemishes formed on her fair skin, and her prismatic eyes grew dull. Once trapped in time, the beautiful young lady aged three-thousand years in a moment, her flesh grew black and rotted, revealing stark white bone underneath. 

Then her bones started crumbling to dust, and the dust was swept away by the wind.

There was nothing left, save for a faint whisper on the breeze.

“Thank… you…”

As the last mortal remnants of ancient history were set free, Barbatos turned to leave, his wings poised. But then, in a rare act of boldness, Lisa stepped forwards to grab him by the shoulder. The god paused, slowly looking backwards with a face of asking.

“I would like to ask - if it is allowed,” Lisa asked softly, “The reason why afterlives were only formed after the Archon Wars was over.”

“Careful there,” Barbatos smiled easily, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Some questions are not meant to be asked.”

“I need to know,” the witch insisted.

Barbatos raised an eyebrow in response, before noticing something on Lisa’s face that Aether didn’t catch - mostly due to the fact that she was facing away from him. The god sighed, before jerking his head in the direction of the mages that were trying to be inconspicuous while listening in.

“You lot,” she ordered, “Leave us.”

The mages looked just about to protest, but a firm look later, and they were walking away, obviously downtrodden. Aether meanwhile, made no act to move, and while the god surely noticed - curiously, he did not mention it.

Barbatos slowly pried Lisa’s hand away from his shoulder, before speaking.

“In the waning years of the Archon Wars, there were very little active gods left on Teyvat. This meant each remaining god had a larger portion of mortals to rule over - more total belief in each god,” he explained, “And naturally, these mortals would believe in an afterlife as well, so it was a natural consequence that afterlives were formed to retain these beliefs.”

“So these afterlives… were essentially a divine marketing tool?”

“Oh, most definitely,” he laughed, “Did you know Inazuma was one of the last places to end their wars? A bloody realm, that, even now they are at war!”

“Yes…?” Lisa looked confused, “But what does that have to do-”

“Liyue and Natlan were equally as warlike, but they had something Inazuma did not, and that was a great population. In Inazuma, population was limited, and with every campaign, more and more mortals died - which meant less and less belief - and less powerful gods.”

“So the gods of Inazuma created an afterlife to retain that belief?”

“That’s right, because even the dead can worship gods,” he answered, “Baal, the Lord of Storms, was the first to create one. Then her rival, Orobas, followed soon after. This meant the Archon Wars in Inazuma dragged on even decades after those on the mainland ended.”

“So seeing the effectiveness of afterlives, the Archons on the mainland adopted the strategy soon after,” Lisa summarised.

“There you go,” he made a show of praising her, “Now if that’s all…”

“Ah- yes, thank you for enlightening me, my lord.”

“No need for that,” he waved off, “If Ronove smites you for knowing, remember that we did not have this conversation.”

After offering an non-reassuring smile, the Lord of Wind launched himself into the air - losing his form and dispersing into the winds.

Aether strode up beside Lisa, “Why are you so curious about death?”

The witch side-eyed him, “Hmm, do you think I’d just tell you?”

“Well, no, but-”

“How about this, I’ll tell you if you agree to be my assistant for the next-”

“I’ll have to decline,” he interrupted, raising a hand to stop her.

Lisa laughed, turning away and walking back to the camp, “I thought so.”

Aether watched her back until she was just a faint silhouette in the darkness, before turning back to the gate. The witch’s spell had burned a massive runic circle into the stone, one which he could not decrypt - but it looked interesting nonetheless.

From the corner of his eye, he caught something glinting in the darkness.

He bent down, scooping the object off the floor - and in his hand was the golden spearhead which had cursed both the archer and the bard.

Aether stared at the artefact for a long moment.

He looked around to ensure no one was watching him, before ripping off a portion of his cloak and wrapping it around the spearhead, before stowing it away.

Sighing, he turned around and began making his way back to the camp.

14th of the 1st Cycle

The return march was largely uneventful.

Whether it be by luck, or by grace of the wind god, the snowfall was light and the weather pleasant. A dove flew ahead under the wintry Sun as heavenly snow-crystals fell to the earth, refracting sunlight into glittering rays. 

As the crested a small hill, the faded red walls of Dawnton entered their view, banners of the soaring falcon fluttering comfortably in the breeze. There was a thought across the expedition, Aether could tell, a tension - a held breath as they approached the city’s western gate. 

Was it truly over?   

As their path merged with the Stone Road, the caravans travelling to and from Liyue halted to allow an unobstructed passage. There was a long queue before the western gate which caught his attention. When they left Dawnton, security was lax, and most travellers were allowed in and out without much inspection.

Now though, there was an entire platoon of Ragnvindr household guards stationed in front of the gatehouse, and every trade wagon and carriage entering the city were thoroughly checked - slowing down the entire road. A horn was blown from the walls of Dawnton, long and deep.

Hastily, the guardsmen forced the queuing travellers to move to the side of the road - and the marching column passed through the now empty space where the road was once packed. The Grandmaster nodded to the head guardsmen, who saluted back and beckoned his subordinates to let them through.

Not a word was spoken as they passed through the gatehouse, under the raised portcullis. When the last knight finally crossed the threshold, they all breathed a collective sigh of relief.

It was over now. Now, they could rest.

Aether heard the commotion started back up behind them as they continued up the hill to Castle Dawnlight.

At the gates of the castle, Lord Ragnvindr and a small retinue were waiting for them - all bearing serious faces.

“All knights, dismissed,” the Grandmaster ordered, before offering a small smile, “Take this time to cool your blood. We will be leaving in three days.”

There was a chorus of affirmatives, before the column dispersed into a hundred groups. Some made a beeline to the castle, others moved into the city. Seeing this, Jean turned away and cantered up to Lord Ragnvinder, a question on her face.

“What is the issue, my lord?”

“I find myself needing your knights.”

“A serious issue indeed, for you to request help from me,” Jean said, “Shall we continue in your office?”

“Yes,” he nodded, “Dame Amber, Lady Lisa - and you as well Master Aether, you will want to hear this.”

He led them into the castle soon after, and Aether found the keep rather barren. Like the Great Keep in Mondstadt, Castle Dawnlight was built to be practical. It was granted, given the importance of the castle's strategic value.

Thick stone walls with high, arched ceiling hallways dominated much of the base floor - as if the purpose was to create a confusing maze for would-be invaders to lose themselves in. The walls were pockmarked by dozens of little holes and the roof had wooden trapdoors scattered about - arrowslits and murderholes, Aether realised starkly.

The first Ragnvindr had built the entire ground floor of Castle Dawnlight to be a single massive gatehouse. And indeed, with that in mind, Aether could swear he saw many archways that were the perfect place for a portcullis to drop from above. There were odd, empty chambers with two archways exits but no gates, long hallways with no rooms on either side.

No army would get past the first floor, for it was the most elaborate and expensive slaughterhouse ever designed and built.

And it was all proven to him when they arrived at the entrance to the second floor - a gated winch lift. The elevator travelled through a vertical stone corridor, where above was a murderhole, and when it reached the top their exit was barred by a thick cast iron gate.

The guardsmen on the other side noticed their arrival and raised the portcullis, allowing them to enter the floor;

Which was much more lived-in, admittedly. Unlike the stark ground floor, the walls were covered in polished planks of spruce, and golden lamps hung from the ceiling. Paintings of past Ragnvindrs adorned the walls, their eyes seemingly following them as they passed by.

Lord Ragnvindr's office was a vast, tastefully decorated chamber. There was a great oak desk in the centre, with an arched windown behind to let natural light in. Torches illuminated the room with a warm glow, hung from hardwood walls. Aether also spotted numerous paintings of falcons on the walls, placed intermittently - though he never took Lord Ragnvindr for a painter.

The red-haired man strode ahead before turning around, addressing him.

"Master Aether, am I correct to assume you will be leaving for Liyue from here?"

"That is correct."

"I assumed as much, and so you will need to hear this."

"So?" Jean asked, "What is the issue?"

"I will be blunt," the lord replied, "The Fatui have turned to banditry, and are now plaguing the trade routes."

Lisa shook her head in exasperation, walking to a nearby chair and lounging on it.

"Pardon?" the Grandmaster asked incredulously, "We expelled them, why would they-"

"Mondstadt expelled them, yes. And being good allies, Dawnton and Windrise followed suit. But now the Fatui are harassing our convoys, and I don't have enough men to patrol the entire region."

"That is an act of war!" Amber cried, "Are they also attacking Liyuean caravans!?"

"No, they aren't that foolish," he grumbled, "Only Windic merchants are being harassed. They must think that without Varka, we are headless chickens."

“Of course,” Lisa drawled, “What do they know of us? Wasn’t that why they were evicted in the first place?”

“Even then, it makes little sense,” Jean furrowed her brows, “They must know that Snezhnaya imports nearly thirty percent of their grain from the Union, nearly fifteen percent from Windrise alone. If we stop exporting our grain, they will starve.”

“Well, they import just as much from Fontaine, right?” Amber asked.

“Fontaine!” Lisa giggled, “I’ve seen some of Fontaine’s tariffs, Zapolyarny must want to go bankrupt!”

Lord Ragnvindr nodded in agreement, “This cannot be the work of Zapolyarny Palace, but instead of the Harbinger in charge of Fatui affairs here.”

“Harbinger?” Aether asked.

Four pairs of eyes snapped towards him, as if just realising he was still there.

“Harbingers are… important military, economic and political figures in Snezhnaya,” Amber clarified, “They basically rule the country in the Tsaritsa’s name.”

“Ah… I see,” Aether stared at them, and they stared back.

Well, he knew when he was not welcome. 

He bowed to all of them, “Thank you for the warning, my lord, I will keep that in mind as I travel south.”

“What?” Amber cried in alarm, “You are leaving immediately!?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to impose…”

“Best leave now before all the roads close due to the Fatui,” Lord Ragnvindr nodded, before calling to the door, “Reiner, prepare Master Aether the best steed we have, and saddle it with enough supplies to get to Wangshu!”

“Yes, my lord!”

“Hey, hey!” the outrider cried, “Make sure you come visit in the future! Especially for one of our festivals!”

“Indeed,” Jean smiled, “It is a shame you had a less than pleasant stay in Mondstadt. If you come again, you will find open gates and lit hearths awaiting you.”

Lisa lazily waved, “I had an enjoyable time, dear. It was a pleasure to have another intelligent mind in these parts - I could feel myself losing my intellect the more I am surrounded by these bucketheads knights.”

“Of course, I will most certainly come by again,” Aether bid farewell as he turned for the door, “But for now I must continue on my path.”

“May the winds guide you, traveller.”

Aether left the office to find a man, likely Reiner, outside and waiting for him. Reiner escorted him to the stables where several pages were preparing his horse. In the meantime, he decided to ask a few questions.

“Is the Stone Road the fastest way to Liyue?”

“Oh yes, safest too - or used to be,” the attendant answered, “Bandits like the Fatui will only pose an issue until you reach the Stone Gate, a great fortress that serves as the entrance into the Republic. From there, just follow the road south and Liyue Harbour will be at the end.”

“Any advice?”

“Hmm,” the man brushed his chin, “I suggest you join a caravan if you can, much safer to travel in numbers. Though, the Millelith keeps a tight grip on the trade routes, so there wouldn’t be much of bandits or hilichurls in your way anyway.”

“I see, thank you.”

“Milord, your horse is ready!” the page called.

Aether looked up to see a young man pulling the horse’s reins - a Windrise bred courser, one of the best breeds - to him. He gratefully accepted the reins and swung himself onto the saddle, shifted into a comfortable place.

He waved farewell to Reiner, before flicking the reins and starting forwards. Travelling through the city, he saw that the new Fatui threat had slowed down trade some, with less stalls and businesses than before - but not enough to quieten the bustle in the city. Some people who recognised him waved, to which he returned the gesture. 

Aether passed under the western gate, nodding to the guardsmen stationed there - and trotted out to see the queue of wagons still growing. Moving closer to one of them, a Liyuean styled carriage, he found the coachman and approached.

“Hail!” he called, “Why do so many still come north even in winter?”

The coachman’s head swivelled to him with wide eyes, clearly surprised he could understand what Aether was saying.

“Uh- to wait out the winter.”

“You wait out the winter in Dawnton?”

“Yes. The Land of Wind is fertile, and the Land of Rock is not,” he explained, “The moment the snow thaws, we head north to buy grain from Mondstadt and Windrise, then go back south to sell it in Liyue.”

“Ah, so you come here to be ahead of the rest.”

The man smiled, “Yes. After winter, the first catch of the year is always most expensive - meat, fish, grain - especially grain.”

Aether bowed his head in thanks.

Departing, he joined the column leaving the city - which was even larger than the column entering the city - and continued down the road. All those around him were likely travelling south to escape the cold, while he was simply a fool choosing the worst season to travel. Aethe chuckled under his breath at that thought.

With the Sun ahead of him, Aether set his sights on the horizon.

There was still a longer way to go.

Chapter Text

Interlude I: "My Freedom is my Song"

Give a man bread, and he will not go hungry for a day. But teach a man to farm, and he will not go hungry for a lifetime.

It was a common saying in the Land of Wind, even written in the Codex Favonius. It is not uncommon that foreigners would ask why they have such zealous belief in their god even if said god was never present. Jean would answer with that saying, and so would every Mondstadter, Windriic, Dawntoner, Dornman and every person from the Land of Wind.

Why would Barbatos need to rule us, when he had already taught us to rule ourselves?

Jean held no small amount of pride in being a believer of Lord Barbatos, even if she doesn’t fully adhere to the Favonius Church. As such, she holds the saying close to her heart, and tries to live by it.

But sometimes, on some days, she wishes she had been given bread instead of a hoe. 

Days just like this day.

She barely held in another groan when she watched a page dump another stack of papers on her desk. No, she would not say anything, that would be unbecoming of her. But she could most certainly think that this was ridiculous. Alright, so she had been absent for over a moon, but even then her work should not be piling up like so!

What in seven hells was Kaeya doing all this time!?

There was a reason why the title of Deputy Grandmaster exists, she bemoaned, it was to ensure the Grandmaster wouldn’t die of overexhaustion - that and so his orders would be more efficiently carried out, but that wasn’t the point. Only problem was, Jean is the Deputy Grandmaster, and the actual Grandmaster was out fighting a war in the Northern Wastes.

So who was to be her Deputy Grandmaster? 

Well, no one - because it appeared the first Lionfang Knight never thought that far ahead. And no one wants to volunteer either, because unlike the title of Deputy Grandmaster, whatever placement they would have volunteered for would be temporary and powerless. 

At least she had assistants; a rotating cadre of pages and squires volunteering to take on the extra work for credit. Lord bless their souls, if even she had this much work, she could only wonder on in horror how much work they had.

Jean mindlessly brought another parchment in front of her, reading its contents - impressively cursive ink swimming in her eyes. Lord, what kind of gods-damned person would write so beautifully - and irritatingly hard to read!?

That’s right, the Kreideprinz.  

She didn’t like Albedo very much, nor his assistant Sucrose for that matter. That wasn’t to say she did not respect their work, they and their research were very much invaluable to the Order - but they still unnerved her. At least Albedo was more upfront about his abnormality, Sucrose, however.

The young lady was incredibly polite to her whenever they crossed paths, to the point where Jean would dare say afraid even. And yet when she once visited Sucrose’s lab she found the young lady giggling unnervingly, hunched over a workbench - jars of pickled organs adorning the shelves and bones and skulls strewn about the desks.

Jean left without being noticed, and resolved to never go there again.

Sighing, she closed her eyes and leaned back to fade away the migraine, before hunching back over her desk and taking a better look at the letter.

It was a request - when the Dragon of the East’s wing was first retrieved, it was incredibly volatile. As such, the mage companies had extracted all the Anemo energies from it to make the wing inert. Now, all that excess Anemo was sitting around collecting dust - well, that was inaccurate, the mages were actually running experiments with the Element, but most of it still went unused.

So the Kreideprinz was requesting some of that Anemo be sent to his own alchemist companies so that it would find better use.

Jean retrieved her six-winged seal, rolled, and sealed the order with approval, before moving the parchment to another basket for collection.

Next was a request from the Church to begin stockpiling materials for the upcoming Windblume Festival. Well, it was less of a request, more that they were informing her they were going to start doing so - but her approval would make the process much easier. She stamped it and rung the bell at her desk.

After a few moments, a page rushed in, saluting.

“Present, Grandmaster.”

“Take this form to Sir Albedo,” she passed them one parchment, “And take this form the Dame Hertha for certification.”

She passed them the Church’s request. Dame Hertha was in charge of all logistics, if the Church wanted materials, they would have to ask her - she only stamped the paper to prove the she had acknowledged the whole thing.

“Understood, Grandmaster.”

“Dismissed.”

Jean waited until the doors were shut, before bringing out the next parchment.

Ah, the official request from Dawnton asking for additional men to help against increasing bandit - Fatui - raids on Windic commerce. She would accept, if Dawnton allows the Knights back in the city - she wasn’t one to miss the chance of reestablishing chivalric order in Ragnvindr lands. Of course, Diluc had already accepted beforehand, but she needed to make it official.

After writing it down, she stamped the parchment and moved it to the side, assigning five-hundred knights with all their squires and pages to the task. The Church would surely protest once they heard, but the Church protests at just about anything the Knights do.

Next was a request for an expedition to Dragonspine. Jean nearly scoffed, an expedition to Dragonspine, in the middle of winter? But then she scanned the contents to make sense of the foolhardy request, and make sense she did. Fatui bands had grouped together and escaped into the depths of the mountain, posing a threat to the inhabitants of Lagersberg - a sizable town located at the base of Dragonspine, and regional capital.

Jean paused to muse over the issue, before coming up with a solution.

Dipping her quill in ink, she signed an executive order to the Knights’ branch in Lagersberg; surround and block all exits out of Dragonspine . It was the middle of winter, let the Snezhnayans starve or freeze to death; their bodies would feed the animals there after the snow thawed. Any who somehow survive the season could be sweeped out after winter ends.

She rolled up the order and sealed it, calling in another page.

“Bring this to Sir Gerhard,” she passed them the order to go to Dawnton, “And send this to the ravenry, the destination is Lagersberg.”

“Understood, ma’am!”

“Dismissed.”

Nodding in satisfaction, Jean waited until they left before pulling out the next parchment. 

A request from Dame Lawrence to use lethal force against the Fatui- what?

Jean nearly leapt from her seat, but instead composed herself and rang the bell at her desk.

After what felt like an agonising eternity, but was more likely a few short moments, a squire entered her office.

“Present-”

“There was a page who just left here, headed for the ravenry,” she told him, “Catch him, and bring him to me!”

The squire immediately snapped to alertness at the urgency in her voice, immediately snapping off a wordless salute and rushing out of the door.

In the meantime, Jean massaged her temples as she read through Eula’s request. The knight captain had even cited the Codex; any attack against people of our land must be considered an attack against the state. She demands that retribution be dispensed forthwith, and tells of her knights eager for battle, awaiting orders.

Jean wanted to conclude the affair as peacefully as possible - because they had the upper hand. Zapolyarny Palace relies on Windic grain to feed their people - if the Union and Snezhnaya were forced to the negotiating table, she could demand exorbitant compensation for losses incurred by the Fatui. However, if they counterattacked with physical force, then all that negotiating power would be nullified.

It could even start a war neither nation could afford.

To the eyes of most, the Windic Union was a squabbling, disparate union of individual nation-states incapable of any united military affairs. But Snezhnaya knows better than most; in the Sixth Crusade, some eighty-thousand men marched into Snezhnaya and laid waste to leagues upon leagues of Snezhnayan settlements, farmlands and even cities. The war was so ruinous that the land which they razed was now known as the Northern Wastes.

All because of a single attempt by Zapolyarny Palace to invade the Land of Wind and take a certain Black Castle on the border.

It was the single greatest unifying event in the Land of Wind since the Union was even founded - and since then, three more crusades have been fought. Two of them were failures, admittedly, with the Seventh Crusade in particular being such a massive disaster that it led to Lord Barbatos descending and taking command of what armies remained, leading to the victorious Eighth Crusade which wiped Khaenri’ah off the map.

Grandmaster Arundolyn, who led the Seventh Crusade, was a polarising figure - and Jean was one of those people who could not decide whether he was a bumbling fool or a great hero.

In any case, she was trapped between a rock and a hard place. For all her wish for a peaceful outcome, it wasn't to say violence was necessarily a terrible decision. Eula was clearly standing at a noble’s point of view, because for she spoke of rebelling against the aristocracy, she was a born and bred aristocrat herself. 

Eula Lawrence was proud.

And pride dictated they must gouge out an eye for an eye. If the Order retaliates against the Fatui with bloodshed, then they will carve a place for themselves on the continental stage - it will be a statement; we still have our teeth, do not expect us to bend over so easily.

The other nations would surely side with the Union in the case of political conflict. Zapolyarny Palace has thus far relied on a policy of aggressive - even extortionate - diplomacy, and that has made them many enemies. The Union, meanwhile, has been an amiable business partner to all - Snezhnaya, Liyue and Natlan all import grain from the Land of Wind’s vast, fertile farmlands. 

Either way, there are benefits and drawbacks.

However, Jean was ignoring one massive factor - the people. The people crave vengeance, the aristocrats crave vengeance, the Church and the Knights crave vengeance. They had just evicted the Fatui from their cities, and now they must want to evict the Fatui from their lands entirely.

The door opened, and the two squires walked through.

“Hand me the letter meant for Sir Gerhard,” she ordered.

“Ah- ah! Yes, of course, ma’am.”

“Alright, now go.”

“Huh-?”

 “You are dismissed, squire,” she repeated, “The both of you still have tasks to complete no? Do not let me retain you, leave.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Yes, Grandmaster!”

Jean watched as they left, before bringing the sealed letter to a candle and burned it. 

She brought out a fresh sheet of parchment, dipping her quill in ink. She must be thorough, there was no better time than now to cleanse Mondstadt from the roots. If they were to follow through with violence, then they must prepare for any response Snezhnaya might have. 

And that meant ripping out every hook Zapolyarny Palace has in them - every merchant, every spy, every informant, and every traitor.

Jean leaned back and opened a drawer, pulling out a sheet of parchment Kaeya had sent to her on her return. As the Quartermaster, he was in charge of all internal affairs in both Mondstadt and the Knights - and from time to time, he would give her a list of names. 

There is no better enemy than one close to the heart - her mother told her that once - because you could stab them as easily as they could stab you.

She hasn’t forgotten.

How do you clean a building of rats? First, you get a cat.

Jean penned an executive order to every Knights’ branch in the realm, to every captain currently in the field - and one more for Dawnton. 

Second, you find their rathole.

Jean penned an order to Kaeya and Albedo, for their departments were most suited for this order.

Third, you set their dwelling alight.

Jean penned a letter for the Church. Their open secret has been kept at bay for too long, and wild hounds will chafe with a leash on - time to let them hunt. Furthermore, she has no doubt that the following events will be in stark contradiction to the Codex Favonius - the Church and the Knights must put their differences aside to fully purify the Land of Wind.

She has no doubt the Church will agree.

Lastly, and most importantly, you must block their exit.

Jean penned a letter to Amber, for the outrider now must ride longer and harder than she has ever ridden before. She has no doubt the young lady would be up to the challenge.

The Lionfang Knight rang the bell, and a squire rushed in.

“You are… Noelle, yes?”

“That’s me- I mean, yes, Grandmaster!”

“Mm,” she hummed, before handing her the basket, “These small letters are to be sent to the ravenry, there are nine of them. These two letters are for Sir Kaeya and Sir Albedo. This one is for the Church, and this one is for Dame Amber.”

Noelle mumbled under her breath as she recounted all her orders, “Ravenry… Sirs Kaeya, Albedo… Church… Amber. Yes, understood, Grandmaster!”

“Good,” she nodded, “Deliver these directly into the hands of the recipients, no one else, understood? The letter for the Church must be received by a cardinal, understood?”

“Understood!”

“Under no circumstance should any other person other than yourself and them even touch these letters, understood?”

“Understood!”

“Good girl,” Jean smiled, “Dame Amber should be with Dame Eula. After you have completed this task, join Dame Eula’s company- allow me a moment.”

Jean hastily penned another letter for Eula, before rolling it up, sealing it, and handing it to the trustworthy arms of Noelle.

“Give her that when you join her,” she told the girl, “If Dame Eula acknowledges that you have shown exemplary performance on the field, then she has my permission to knight you on the spot.”

Noelle’s eyes widened, and she nearly dropped the basket then and there - but hastily recovered her bearings. Jean noticed that the squire was gripping the basket so tightly her knuckles were stark white.

“Understood?” Jean asked slowly.

“U-Understood!” 

“Good, dismissed.”

She watched as the squire all but ran out of the room to carry out her tasks. Noelle was a capable hand, but whether that was enough to be a knight… well, she would trust Eula’s judgement on that matter. 

Sighing deeply, Jean leaned back in her seat, feeling refreshed yet nervous at the same time. 

The die was cast, and there was nothing more to be done about it.

Zapolyarny Palace has made their move by the hand of a Harbinger. Now, it was the Favonian Order’s turn, and there would be the Lord’s justice dispensed.

In this, the Lionfang Knight would suffer no compromise.

Sara arranged the last slices of meat onto the tray.

"Cold cut platter!" she hollered.

"Oh- that's ours!"

She hefted the platter onto a palm and went around the counter to the patrons, and slid the tray onto the table. Extending a hand, the patrons dropped a few mora to pay for their meal. Sara nodded in satisfaction and pocketed the mora, returning to the counter.

"Boss, we got a sweet madame here!" a voice from the kitchen called.

"Hand it over to Hans, it's his shift now!" she shouted back.

Sara leaned over the counter, watching her clients enjoy their food. The Good Hunter was an open-air restaurant located at the end of the main street, right on the side of the central plaza. As such, they had good business, catering to both locals and foreigners - many foreigners, in fact, who come to try authentic Mondstadter cuisine.

On a good day, every seat and table would be filled. The Good Hunter also serves as a gathering point, since tables are open to anyone - even if clients aren't in a group. As such, when the Sun falls, those who dislike the atmosphere of taverns usually come to the Good Hunter.

And yet, business was falling. Sara could see many empty tables - even now, after the evening bell, at peak hour. It was not as if she could do anything about it anyway, the entire city has been gripped by an odd bout of tension.

Anxiety filled the air everywhere she walked, the languid, relaxed Mondstadt she knew was now a thing of the past.

A fortnight ago, the Lion's Gate was shut for the first time in five centuries. The entire city was locked down, and if the rumours were to be proved true, then Mondstadt was not an exception. All across the Land of Wind, cities were shutting their gates - not allowing any person to enter or leave.

Back then, everyone was nervous about the new predicament. Because even the knights were anxious, not even they knew what was happening - only following orders. Now, however, neighbours were looking at each other with suspicion, friends have become enemies. Nobody knew who they could trust.

Because anyone could be a traitor to the state.

Just  a sennight ago, a strict curfew was imposed by the Knights. All must be in their homes by the midnight bell, or they would be arrested. Sara was not the only person who expected the Church to protest, but to their collective surprise the Church actually supported the Knights.

"Hey, have you heard?" Sara's attention snapped to a nearby table, where two clients were conversing in hushed tones.

"What is it?"

"Last night, Marjorie was arrested because she was suspected of treason."

"What? The same Marjorie from With Wind Comes Glory?"

"Yeah, apparently her neighbour reported her because she was suspicious."

"So that's why her shop wasn't open today… hells, who's next?"

"Well-"

"Oy!" Sara roared, "The both of you shut your gods-damned traps now! If you want to talk about this, do it somewhere you won't implicate any of us!"

The two men jerked in their seats, swivelling their heads around in panic. Patrons around them were leaning away, as if afraid that just by hearing them talk they could get arrested too - and Sara wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.

When the town crier first announced that there were spies and traitors in the city, no one took them seriously. Until the next day, twelve men and women were arrested on charges of treason. After that, six women working in a brothel were arrested as they were foreign spies.

Then, the entire establishment was forcefully shut down for having less than savoury business, and the owners imprisoned.

Suffice to say that after that, everyone in the city was on high alert. It was considered an uneventful day if less than ten people were arrested by the evening bell. People were reported for just about anything - even saying the wrong thing - and the knights would drag them off with no questions.

Sara would not risk the Good Hunter for two drunk men with loose lips. 

She knew the current acting Grandmaster, Jean Gunnhildr. When Sara was a child, she would see the then-knight bring her friends to eat at the Good Hunter on their breaks. Even after Jean was promoted, she would sometimes visit the restaurant for a nostalgic meal.

Sara would not consider them friends, but she was quite certain she knew who Jean was as a person.

Which was why she was so shocked - even horrified - at just how merciless the Knights have been. Though she had to admit, Jean had always been a thorough, single-minded person - if she was to complete a task, she would carry it through the end, and not a single detail would be missed.

In fact, there was quite the spectacle the other day - which she had the pleasure of witnessing with her two eyes. The Quartermaster’s men had stormed the Adventurer’s Guild, forcing all the lower ranked adventurers to be laid off and slapping chains on the officials. She was there - just outside in the crowd - when squads of knights dragged out crates upon crates of paperwork.

She hadn’t realised why they did so until later, when she found out the Guild was founded in Snezhnaya. That was when she realised that all of this had something to do with the Fatui.

Sighing with closed eyes, Sara felt a red glow through her eyelids, and opened them to see the Sun beginning to dip below the horizon. Curfew will be in place as it gets dark, and she still has to close up shop and clean everything up.

Well, this was nothing new now, all of them had gotten used to it. Already, the restaurant patrons were cleaning up their plates and bringing them to the counter. 

Nodding her thanks, she scooped up the silverware and brought them into the back, where her employees were already cleaning up. 

“Jacobs, these are the last silvers,” she dropped the plates into the tub of water.

“Got it, miss!”

“All of you get back home early, I don’t want to wake up tomorrow finding out any of you have gotten yourself in the gaol for messing about after curfew.”

“Yes boss!”

“Miss, I’m leaving now,” one of their part-timers called.

“Alright, have a safe trip back.”

“Ernest, close up shop once you’ve cleaned up,” she ordered, “Lock the door after you leave.”

“Yeah yeah.”

Sara took off her apron and hung it on the coat hanger at the back of the kitchen. Turning around the corner, she came across the flight of stairs that would lead into her home. The Good Hunter was a family business, and with her parents retired, she was left alone to run it - inheriting the house as well. It was no real issue, she had been working in the restaurant since she was a child, taught by her mother.

As she reached the final step, she entered the landing and unlocked the partition door, slipping inside. After taking off her shoes, she walked to the dining table and placed the leftovers on it. Crossing the floor to the bottom of the stairs leading to the third floor, she peered up the flight, noticing a faint light from the top.

“Mom, dad, I’m back!” she hollered, “Dinner’s on the table!”

“Thank you, dear!” her mom shouted back down.

Alright, she thought, time to draw up a bath.

Sara threw some logs into the fireplace and hopped over into a side room where the well was. Since Mondstadt was built on top of a lake, with windmills constantly bringing up fresh lakewater, water was not a luxury. Most buildings had their own internal wells - noble or not - and was a comfort not seen in any other city. Except maybe for Fontaine, but she has never been there, so what did she know?

She began filling up a wooden bucket with water, and while it was being filled, she dragged a brass tub over to the fireplace and sat it upon the flames. Rushing back to the well to see the bucket overflowing, she hastily shut the lever and hefted up the pail, groaning in exertion. Hobbling over to the fireplace, she dumped the water into the tub.

Well, several more times to go.

As she made round trips from the well to the fireplace, Sara noticed her parents coming down the stairs and begin digging into their dinner.

“Are you not eating with us?” her dad asked.

“Later,” she replied, “I gotta bathe and also think of a new menu.”

He shrugged, “Suit yourself.”

“Be careful not to sleep too late, dear,” her mom reminded.

“I know, mom.”

Pouring the last bucket of water into the tub, Sara huffed in satisfaction before turning around, heading into her room. It would take some time for the water to heat up, and then cool down - she would use that time to cook up some new meals for next week. 

A rotating menu is essential for any good restaurant, because if not, then your cuisine will get stagnant. That is not to say a completely bad thing, an eatery with a stable menu will most certainly retain certain customers in the form of regulars - and that creates a more knit community. However, the same will drive away potential new customers, and that means lost business.

And lost business is unacceptable, especially for a family-run establishment like the Good Hunter.

Sara stewed at her desk into the night, scribbling new ideas into a journal. It was the most enjoyable part of running a restaurant, in her opinion, to create new dishes. As a chef, it was her delight to see her customers delight from eating her own original creations. So she sat at her desk and wrote, so immersed that she only snapped out of it hours later when her parents called her.

“Sara, how long are you going to stay in there!? Your bath is getting cold!”

“Oh, right!” she called, “I’ll be out in a moment!”

“We are going back up, good night!”

“-night!”

Sara groaned as she stood, stretching her back and feeling her bones pop in relief. She ran out of her room and found her bath sitting on the extinguished fireplace. Cursing, she dragged out the tub onto the floor and threw more logs into the hearth, before relighting the fire. The faint ringing of the midnight bell could be heard, swinging from the cathedral belfry.

She wriggled herself out of her clothes before lowering herself into the now-lukewarm water, sighing in contentment. Retrieving the hemp sponge, she began scrubbing herself down, ridding herself of all the sweat, dust and oil accumulated over an entire day in a blazing kitchen. Once she felt sufficiently clean, Sara climbed out of the tub and got dressed, wringing the water out of her hair. Walking around the tub to the dining table, she found the dinner left for her on the table. 

Just as she was about to pull out the chair and sit down, a cold gust of wind blew into the house. Sara shivered, feeling the wind brush across her wet skin. Turning to look for the source of the breeze, she found out that the veranda door was wide open.

Cursing under her breath, Sara quickly strode forwards to shut the door. But as she reached for the handle, she swore that she caught a glimpse of something- a shadow, on the rooftop of the building opposite the plaza from hers. Someone breaking curfew? Or some rebellious youth climbing to the roof for some fresh air?

She snorted, it wasn’t her problem anyways. 

But then the shadows multiplied, from one, to half a dozen, to over a dozen shadows flitting in and out of the darkness. Curiosity taking over her, she stepped out onto the veranda to take a closer look. Straining her eyes, she spotted a cloaked figure swinging down from the rooftop and landing onto a balcony before sneaking through an open window.

Suddenly, she heard shouts from the distance, and Sara’s eyes snapped to the origin - a massive manse in the upper city. The mansion had suddenly lit up like a star, windows glowing with intense yellow light. With the faint illumination, Sara spotted more figures crowding around the mansion - on the roof, climbing on the walls, breaking through windows and doors. 

That’s the Lawrence residence, she thought numbly.

With the Lawrence manse acting like a beacon, she could make out more figures on the neighbouring noble mansions - until the lights were abruptly shut off, and the upper city went dead quiet. Sara swallowed anxiously, she was certain she had just witnessed something she wasn’t supposed to.

Sara hastily turned around to retreat back inside the safety of her own home, but jerked to a halt when something thudded against the wooden floor. She couldn’t make out the object through the darkness.

Shaking, she bent down and picked up the object - which was firmly planted into the wooden planks. She lifted it to eye level - a throwing knife - and cold sweat ran down her back as she slowly looked up to the roof.

There was a woman there, lounging on the overhang, legs swaying over the side. With the stars shining down upon them, she could faintly make out the woman’s figure. Dressed in a black habit and scapular, reminiscent of one’s worn by Church sisters - except, this outfit was crafted of hard leather. She looked like a nachzehrer through the darkness, her skin so deathly pale it seemed to glow white, her face and eyes were tired - but sharp and cutting all the same.

Church Executor.

She might just die here, Sara realised, for the angel of death has befallen her. The temperature dropped, noticeable even in the winter cold, to below freezing levels. Hoarfrost crept across the wooden floor, and the windows glazed over. Sara shivered, feeling the cold dig into her bones.

Freedom through Blood - that was the Executors’ creed, this was known. They were a secret branch of the Church, their purpose to carry out clandestine and covert operations - mostly to eliminate anyone or anything that opposed the Church’s ideals. Despite the ‘secrecy,’ she would be hard-pressed to find anyone in Mondstadt who didn’t know of their existence.

Sara looked down, inwardly preparing for her death.

Instead all she heard was a hush, and when she wearily looked back up, she saw the woman staring down at her with a single finger over her lips. Then, the Executor stood up and prowled off into the night, not even a single footstep to be heard despite walking on the clay-tiled roof.

Sara nearly collapsed then and there, but gathered herself enough to dash back into the safety of her house and slam the door shut behind her. She drew the curtains over the windows and impulsively extinguished any light source nearby - even picking up the bucket and scooping up water from the bath tub and throwing it onto the hearth.

The sudden cold snapped her back to her senses, and she slumped onto the floor in shock. Breathing heavily, Sara could imagine it was all just one bad dream - but felt the hard, freezing steel still tightly grasped in her shivering hands.

The knife.

This was no dream at all, but a living nightmare. And she had just looked death in the eye.

For the first time in a long while, Sara felt no appetite to eat her dinner.

Chapter Text

Interlude II: «Ständchen»

“The meandering whispers in the blood are like thorns buried under the skin. Hear that mighty rumble of fate approaching, weeping in the twilight. Hear that «Serenade», the finale of the movement.”

- Ebenholz, Lord of Utica

With divine eyes, Barbatos watched as the Land of Wind descended into chaos.

As Lord of Wind, his authority was immeasurable, spanning across the continent - he sees all the wind sees, he knows all the spirits know. And he knows it all, even of the Cryo Archon’s cunning designs. 

So the child wants his Gnosis - or needs - and he was perfectly willing to give it up. 

Gnosis - hah - an empty, worthless crown. So what if he was Anemo Archon? He was already the Rank Six, the Lord of Wind, the Duke of Hymnic Tempests. The old gods knew how worthless the title of Archon was, a mere drop of water in a lake of power. Gods were gods, and they ruled reality as mortals knew it - the Seven Elements were just another facet of it.

It would be no great loss, and whatever the Cryo Archon was planning for Celestia - well, he would have no qualms with it. The Light Realm was getting stagnant anyway, the Mortal Realm on the other hand, was much more interesting - always interesting, for humans were never ones for idleness. He was sure old Morax would agree. Barbatos only ever visits the Light Realm on the night of Walpurgis, for it was the only event that ever caught his interest - so let the Cryo Archon have her fun with Celestia, and he would see how she overturns the status quo.

But then a pair of starspawn broke through the False Sky, and fell to Teyvat.

That alone shan’t be as great a curiosity as it should’ve been - usually starspawn just get up and leave straight away. But this time, old Paimon and Asmodeus had cooked up a pretty little game - one that would make whatever the Cryo Archon was planning obsolete. 

Not that she would know, too focused on her own reality to see the wider worlds. That was the problem with new gods, Barbatos found, they were arrogant. They were heirs, born with an entitled crown on their heads and expecting the world to revolve around them. They were divine in body, but mortal in mind.

And now, there were only three old gods left in Teyvat - three gods who fought in the Archon Wars. Of course, there were others left behind - Andrealphus in Wolvendom, Furfur in the Sea of Clouds - but that was besides the point. He, Morax, and Beelzebul were once insignificant spirits who warred their way to their crowns - and the only new god who could say the same is the Pyro Archon.

Perhaps it was arrogance in of itself to be proud of his origins, but Barbatos still considered the new gods to be false deities. They placed too much weight in being Archons , and not enough in being gods. They think a Gnosis is everything, the source of their powers.

So it was no surprise to him when the Cryo Archon sent her Fair Lady to draw him out in an attempt to take his Gnosis. Did she think that by sending a Mondstadter - the Fair Lady especially - he would be lured out by some sense of guilt or grief? 

Barbatos would admit, it was a shame, the failure of the Seventh Crusade - just as it was a shame the Fair Lady’s young lover fell in battle in the same war. But did he not avenge them? Did he not finally act after centuries of silence?

Did he not raise the largest army the Land of Wind has ever hosted and burned Khaenri’ah to the ground?

And now, he watched as Snezhnayan blood was spilt on pure white snow - and watched as the Fair Lady paid for her folly.

“After all,” he murmured, “That child’s plans have no use now, am I right?”

Barbatos felt as a great chill tore into his back, ripping through his skin and worming into his bones. Then, as quickly as it came, the sensation disappeared just as fast. Ah, the freezing, burning innervation of being too close to the void - how he had not missed the experience.

“Indeed,” the Lord of Void appeared beside him, “Has the starspawn’s potential appeased you?”

“Potential for what?” he laughed, “Apocalypse? Oh aye, it had. I will throw my weight behind you in the House of Lords.”

“Perfect,” Paimon drawled, “Though… couldn’t you have chosen a more respectable place to meet?”

Barbatos looked down, they were standing on a particularly large branch, the great city of Windrise sprawling beneath him. Under the Moon, thousands of twinkling flames made the city look to be a garden of shimmering lights, mortals living their lives in the midst of glowing blooms - small as insects.

“I find it quite fitting,” he mused, “Is this not the tree at which Venessa ascended?”

“Indeed,” she sighed, “I will uphold our pact, your Falcon will be freed once I am Overseer.”

“Mmm, that’s good,” he hummed, “In turn, I will convince my faction to support you - Beleth, Zepar, Belial… but you still need Morax’s faction to achieve a majority in the House.”

“Where do you think the starwalker is headed?” she asked wryly.

“Hah!” he laughed, “Good luck convincing the old man - that god is as unmoving as the earth he rules over, and cares less for Celestia’s games than even me.”

“Then the solution is simple,” Paimon smiled unnervingly, “An event must occur, something large enough to move even him from his place.”

“You cosmic deities are always as mad as your parents,” he sighed, “If your business here is done, leave me be.”

He glanced at Paimon from the corner of his eye, watching her depart in the same way as she always did - collapsing within herself in a great void vortex.

Barbatos heaved deeply, breathing through his mouth, before lowering himself to sit on the branch. He raised a hand to the skies, feeling a passing zephyr caress his arm - whispering what it knew in his ears.

…No matter, he was long lived, and master of all the winds of the world besides. 

If the great storm comes as foretold, he would simply have to soar over it.

Eula raised a hand when the village finally entered her sight, her horse stopping in its tracks.

As the entire platoon slowly came to a halt, she inspected the settlement in front of them. It was a small fishing village on the banks of Starfell Lake, no more than two dozen dwellings. The houses were arranged in a manner reminiscent of a horseshoe, with the open end facing the lake. In the centre was a small chapel, its belfry spire rising high above the low thatch roofs surrounding it - and in front of the chapel was a small village square.

She breathed in the crisp winter air, and breathed out - mist escaping her mouth. The snows were already beginning to thaw in the south, but this far north the cover was still thick enough to go up to a horse’s knees. 

If it weren’t for the fact that the snow beneath their feet had already been packed and frozen solid by the cold night prior, they would have been bogged down.

“This is the place?” she asked her lieutenant, Lukas.

“Aye,” the man rode up beside her atop his horse, “Dame Amber reported this village as suspicious on her way north, but because she was riding against the hourglass…”

“She wasn’t able to investigate,” Eula finished, “Alright, forwards! Keep an eye out, men!”

She whipped the reins and her steed started forwards, her men joining behind her. They cantered into the village, banners bearing the six wings of the Order flying above them. As they rode into the square, a horn was blown - prompting the villagers to gather around them in curiosity.

Eula noticed that some saw her personal banner - the Lawrence’s Glacial Seal - and backed away nervously. Well, it was to be expected; the Order was one thing, but the aristocracy was quite another - especially the Lawrence Clan from which she hailed from.

Trotting her horse in a small circle, she shouted, “Bring out your elder!”

She watched as an older man with greying hair pushed his way out of the crowd, walking before her horse. Eula swung herself off her horse, prompting her men to do the same. As she moved forwards to meet the man, her knights eyed the crowd with hard gazes, a hand never far from their swords. 

Good , she thought in satisfaction. 

These were her men, her personal retinue within the Order. Since she had joined the Knights, the Lawrence Clan had unofficially disowned her, revoking her authority to command the household troops. The only reason they haven’t officially disowned her is because she was still a high-ranking Lawrence within the Favonian Order, or in other words, a foothold. Not that she would ever obey those old men.

No, after joining the Knights, she had risen through the ranks and was given command of a squad - then a platoon, then a battalion and now she was at the head of the entire Fourth Brigade of the Knights of Favonius. Granted she was the rank of captain, but ‘captain’ was a nebulous rank within the Knights anyway, as the head of any unit larger than a platoon was a captain.

No, what that meant was that she commanded over five-thousand men spread across the entire Land of Wind. The Fourth Brigade; “ Aufklärung” - and her personal retinue, made of men from the very first unit she was assigned to, the Forty-third Battalion.

They were her most trusted brothers and sisters-in-arms, they had fought together for years, her men.

“You are the village elder?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I am… err, Lady Lawrence,” he spoke, nervously eyeing her Glacial Seal banner, “My father had recently passed, and now I take his place. Uh, what can we do for you?”

“I see, you have my condolences,” she said, before quickly moving on, “Do you know why we are here?”

“I’m afraid not, milady,” he shook his head.

“Hmm,” she hummed, glancing around the square, “It came to my attention that a band of Fatui had… infiltrated this village.”

Turning to look back at the elder, she met his eyes, staring intensely. The man sweated intensely, and yet bore a confused look that couldn’t be faked - she knew from her years growing up in the upper-echelons of Mondstadter society. All nobles must learn to be adept in mastering their expressions, as well as in digging under the expressions of other nobles.

“I’m…” he licked his lips, eyes darting about, “Not sure what you refer to, milady. But I assure you, this village would never take in any enemies of the Order.”

“I understand,” she replied soothingly, “As the village elder, it is your obligation to trust all of your constituents. I am afraid, however, that one of your villagers might have gone behind your back to harbour the enemy.”

“Con… constitu-tuents…?” he tested the word on his tongue, “I- I mean- no- yes, by all means milady, you may investigate this village without me getting in your way!”

“That is relieving to hear,” she smiled.

“Yes- yes! If I can help in any way…”

“Oh, there’s no need for that,” she assured, before turning around and nodding to Lukas.

“Search the homes!” he roared, “Keep all villagers in the square, call a headcount!”

“If any of you would like to admit something you know, do it now!” another knight warned the villagers, “‘Lest the punishment be even more severe!”

Eula patted the shaking elder on the shoulder, before walking off - stalking around the crowd and looking for any signs of suspicion. There was a man looking down with his arms crossed, a young girl holding her mother’s hand tightly, a woman who looked irritated at being held up, and many more weary faces.

“Will you damage any of our belongings?” one man asked.

“Worry not, we will only be searching through your houses without touching anything,” she answered, “If you have nothing to hide, then you have nothing to fear.”

She waited as her knights searched through the village, pacing back and forth as the residents waited for a conclusion. Eula paused as a knight walked up to her, leaning forwards as he whispered into her ear.

“Captain, we have one family missing from those present in the square - three people.”

“...How did you find out?”

“One of the villagers told us.”

Eula nodded sharply, “Find their house and surround it!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

With the quick efficiency she had expected of them, her battalion separated - some remaining to keep an eye on the detained villagers while most broke off to surround the house in question, a small wooden dwelling sitting at the edge of the town, further from the lake. 

“What- what is happening?” the elder asked, “Have you found the…?”

“One family is missing,” she told him, “Do you know who lives in that house?”

Eula pointed to the building, and the man’s eyes widened.

“Oskar lives there…” he murmured, “A family man, I must doubt that he is harbouring Fatui.”

“We’ll be the judge of that,” she shook her head, “Come, you must witness this.”

Eula led the elder towards the house, which her knights had surrounded - weapons drawn and shields raised in front of them. Walking up to a distance away from the front door, she kept the elder behind her as she questioned her men whether there was any movement from inside the building - to which they responded negatively.

“Oskar!” she shouted, “If you are in there, come out at once!”

At the lack of response, she asked the elder where Oskar was last seen - to which the man replied that he was usually in his house at the time, eating luncheon with his family. Eula huffed upon hearing that, musing over how she could bring him out. 

If there were Fatui in the building, which she suspected there was, then the situation was incredibly precarious. While she hated to admit it, their technology far exceeds that of the Orders - and if they have their Delusions or magitech firearms with them, she could potentially be sending her men into a slaughterhouse if she were to order them storm the building.

“Mages,” she called, “Prepare pyromancy spellcircles! Loose on my command!”

The air hummed to life as the mages lifted their staves - and runic circles formed of flame shimmered to life, rotating as the temperature suddenly increased. Eula slowly walked forwards, feeling the squelching of wet grass as the snow thawed beneath her feet.

Suddenly, she felt a hand grab her arm - and turned around to see the elder grasping it, breathing heavily.

“Milady-!” he gasped, “Please… I beg you to reconsider! We- we don’t even know if he’s guilty!”

Eula stared intently at the man, then turned away to look at the crowd of villagers watching the spectacle. Some of them were glaring at her, others were looking away and shielding their eyes, while others were staring at Oskar’s home in disbelief.

She shrugged off the man’s grasp, ignoring his pleas, and continuing forwards.

“Oskar!” she roared, “Or Fatui! Come out at once, or I will burn down you and your home to cinder!”

There was a brief pause - a moment of silence where all waited in anticipation. At the lack of response once more, Eula sighed and raised a hand. The slow flowing breeze warped, vibrating as a dozen sorceries burned with power, like savage dogs just waiting to be unleashed. She could feel the sweat run down her back as the winter chill was hounded away, and felt as if she was in the height of summer.

Abruptly, the front door was forcefully kicked open from inside, and several figures rushed out. She spotted the man, Oskar, coming out with his hands in the air - a knife at his neck, held by a large-set blonde man. Following behind him was his wife and daughter, all of which were being held at knifepoint by different foreigners. After them, another five people walked out, two of which were women.

All three family members were accounted for, that meant eight Fatui. 

“We don’t want any trouble!” the Fatui’s leader called, “Let us go unharmed, and we will let them go! If not, we’re going to kill them!”

Eula slowly lowered her hand, hearing a faint hymn come to her ears as someone started singing behind her. A small shift in wind signalled the use of mana. She palmed the pommel of the sabre at her waist as she met the eyes of the leader, daring him to make his move.

The man’s eyes widened and he grit his teeth - and just as his muscles tensed to cut through the neck of Oskar, the Fatui was suddenly knocked to the ground by an invisible force. Suddenly, the singing intensified, as half a dozen voices joined the chorus - and the Fatui dropped like flies, slamming into the wooden porch, pushed down by an unseeable weight.

Gradually, the spellcircles died down, and the cold of winter washed over them once more.

“Apprehend them,” she ordered, “Good work, spellsingers.”

Her men rushed forwards, confiscating all the weapons and forcing the Fatui to stand and be frogmarched into the town square. Not leaving Oskar and his family, they were also tied with rope and marched behind the Fatui.

The crowd was silent as they were shuffled through the mass and into the clearing, unable to say anything. The singing stopped, and the spirits giggled as they dispersed into the winds.

“Noelle!” she called for the squire, “Bring out the block!”

“Understood, ma’am!” the girl saluted before rushing off.

Noelle was a lowborn, but a hard worker who earned her place. Her dutiful nature and incredible strength and stamina meant she would be well-placed in Eula’s own Fourth Brigade, but also the First, Sir Varka’s “Ordernsritter.” She would also be a good fit in Jean’s own Second Brigade; “Edelfrei” - if it weren’t for the fact that she had no clan and the Second mostly recruited noble scions. Even Sir Kaeya’s Third Brigade - “Garnison” - would be glad to accept her into their ranks, since she was intimately familiar with Mondstadt’s alleyways and people.

Hells, the girl was even a Vision Bearer, which raised her own worth exponentially. Eula knew Lisa’s Eighth Brigade - “Hexerei” - was always open to accepting Vision Bearers for their worth in furthering research on the arcane arts.

Suffice to say, just about every brigade in the Order was fighting over the girl - and the Grandmaster clearly had high aspirations for her as well. But first, Noelle had to be knighted, which was why Jean had pawned the girl off on her - she hadn't seen much fieldwork yet, and they all wanted to know just how far Noelle’s duteousness went.

Eula walked over to Noelle’s horse and pulled her claymore out of its saddle sheathe, checking its edge for acceptable sharpness. After she was satisfied with her findings, Eula walked back to the centre of the village square, where the squire had already placed down a wooden block on the dirt. Her knights pushed the Fatui forwards, right before the block.

Colour drained from their faces when they realised just what was going to happen to them, and one of the women suddenly started pleading for mercy.

“Please, I have a younger brother back at home!” she screamed.

Meanwhile, some of the older men - including the leader - just looked down in resignation, already prepared for their fate. They muttered something under their breath, likely a final prayer to their god - and she would not deny them that.

Eula nodded to her lieutenant, and the Fatui leader was pushed forwards and forced to kneel at the block. Instead of going herself, she beckoned Noelle over, and handed over her claymore.

The girl suddenly looked anxious, staring at the blade in her hands.

The female Fatui from earlier had all but broken down now, pleading for mercy and hanging limply in the arms of the knight holding her. Two of the other men were silently weeping, tears streaming down their faces as they looked down at the ground.

“M-Me…?” Noelle nervously glanced at the Fatui, “I-I don’t think- why can’t we give them mercy…? The lady says she has a younger brother to take care of!”

“Noelle, you gave the Grandmaster’s order to me,” Eula stated sternly, staring into her eyes, “You know what was written, I asked you to read it to me, correct?”

She swallowed, “Y-Yes…”

“What did it say?”

“P-Purge the Fatui from our lands, and… and run down any who do not submit to custody…!” suddenly, the girl looked up with new light in her eyes, “But these men and women have submitted to custody, why can’t we-!”

“And the rest?” Eula interrupted, lightly glaring as the rest of her knights looked on.

Noelle flinched, stumbling over her words.

“And the rest?” she urged.

“Give… give no quarter to defiance,” she stammered, “Give no mercy… give no mercy to dissent…”

“Lastly…?” Eula pressed one last time.

Noelle sucked in a deep breath, before forcing the words out in one go.

“In this, suffer no compromise.”

The squire was heaving now, shoulders visibly rising and falling as she struggled to control her breathing, as if just uttering the order had sapped the strength from her body. Eula gave her a moment to gather herself, and when the girl looked back up at her, she found a hard determination in her eyes.

Eula smiled thinly, before nodding at the man on the block.

Noelle grasped the handle of her claymore tightly, stalking over to the Fatui.

“...Any last words?” she asked.

The man was silent for a while, before finally- “May you serve your god just as I had served mine.”

The squire silently lifted her heavy blade with ease, and brought it down. With a thud, the man’s head hit the ground, marring the white snow with blood. A pair of knights came forward and dragged the corpse away, before the next man was forced to the block.

“Captain,” Lukas came forward, “What should be done with Oskar and his family?”

“What does the Codex say?”

“All who commit treason, or are complicit in the act - are to be sent to the gallows.”

Eula turned her head to stare at the family - Oskar had closed his eyes, likely expecting the same fate to befall him. His wife was watching the executions in horror, a hand covering the eyes of her daughter, who she held tightly to her side.

“Do you know why they did it? And who else is involved?”

Lukas wetted his lips, “The Fatui offered them a large sum of money, enough to change their lives. As far as concerned, no one else was involved or had any knowledge of the event. It appears Oskar was approached in the middle of the night.”

She nodded decisively.

“We don’t have the time to set up a gallow,” she said, “Behead Oskar and his wife, and let us be done with this.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but paused when they heard the sound of steel carving through flesh and bone - and the distinctive sound of a head hitting the ground.

“...And what should be done with the daughter?”

“Have the Four-thirty-fourth Company send a platoon back to Mondstadt with the girl.”

“She is to join the Order then?” he asked, “In accordance with the Codex?”

Eula nodded, “Yes. I shall suffer no future hero .”

She watched as another head hit the ground - and the weeping finally stopped.

“Excuse me- excuse me!”

“Hey, watch where you’re stepping!”

“Oh- oh, so sorry!” she cried, “Please, pardon me!”

Sara pushed her way to the front of the crowd, staring up at the wooden structure standing ominously in the shadow of the Favonius Cathedral. It was just past the morning bell, and the Sun was still rising in the east, blocked by the cathedral. This made the illusion of the grand building being framed by a halo of golden light looking down upon them.

And yet, the Statue of Barbatos was turned away from them, its back cast in shadow as if it couldn’t bear witness what was to follow. It made her think, was this the judgement of the Lord, or of the Church?

There was no answer, only the brisk winds carrying the scent of dandelions from afar.

Gallows had been erected at the base of the stairs leading up to the Cathedral, surrounded by a square of knights five men deep. The acting Grandmaster stood besides the structure, staring up at the listlessly swaying ropes - the Quartermaster was standing next to her, still as a statue. 

For what Sara imagined was the first time, she noticed Sir Kaeya’s face was grim and smileless.

At least several thousand people had gathered in the great plaza, swarming and packed together as they struggled to look at what was happening. Finally squeezing through the last group of people at the front, Sara was no more than thirty feet away from the gallows, and she could clearly see who was standing there.

There were some she recognised, mostly knights - or former knights now - who used to visit the Good Hunter during their breaks, but most of them were unfamiliar to her. Yet, from their faces, she could tell most of them were aristocrats, nobles who lived in the upper levels of the city and had clan names. To think they were traitors was… surprisingly easy to believe; while the nobles have always said that they have accepted their past was over after the Revolution, some must have never given up.

A far cry from their haughty attitudes and pompous clothing, the former nobles were a sorry sight. It was clear that they had been tortured in the depths of the Great Keep, their ragged clothes doing little to hide the lash marks and broken fingers.

Sara tuned her ears to the whispers of the crowd - some were shocked and horrified, most looked on in vindictive satisfaction and justice was done, no doubt compounded by the fact most of the guilty were aristocrats. 

When the Grandmaster walked to the front of the platform, the crowd quickly hushed. 

“On this day, these men and women,” she half-turned to gesture at the prisoners lined up, “Will be executed for high treason against the Order! They have undermined the authority of the Lord, and have conspired with foreign agents to return us to the tyranny of the old aristocracy!”

A wave of shock moved through the crowd - even Sara was surprised. Gasps rang out as the extent of their treachery was revealed. All reviled the old aristocracy, and for these men and women - some of them even commoners - to plot to bring back the old order was sacrilegious at best.

The Grandmaster then turned towards the prisoners and addressed them, “For these crimes, the Favonian Order sentences you to death. No final words shall be heard.”

She stepped off to the side and nodded to Sir Kaeya, who cleared his throat - bringing his eye to the scroll he was holding.

“For the crime of high treason against the Order, the following men and women are sentenced to hang - Theodor of the Kruger Clan, Anton of no clan, Roland of the Hanning Clan, Melissa of the Holtmann Clan, Gunner of the Ehrmann Clan, Viola of no clan, Eleonora of the Ragvindr Clan…”

Sara closed her eyes and drowned out the noise as the Quartermaster continued rattling on. She recognised some of those names, she thought numbly, Anton was an official who would eat at the Good Hunter on weekends, Gunner was a kindly knight, Viola was a prostitute’s daughter who assisted in the pleasure district.

Opening her eyes a little, she watched as the accused were brought to the gallows and had ropes brought around their necks. Some were silent, some closed their eyes, some weeped - and Sara couldn’t bear to look anymore when she saw Viola was one of those crying silently.

Twenty-five names passed, and Sir Kaeya nodded to the executioner. A lever was pulled, the ground opened beneath the prisoners and twenty-five Mondstadters died of a broken neck.

Thousands stood before the cathedral, and yet not a single sound was uttered - not a breath, not a breeze, not a call from birds flying overhead. Knights came forward to untie the corpses as soon as the last one stopped twitching in death, letting them fall down the hatches into waiting baskets below.

Then, the second row of prisoners were pushed forwards. Sara read their desolate faces one after another, hoping against hope to not see another person she knew.

“For the crime of high treason against the state, the following men and women are sentenced to hang - Viktor of the Lawrence Clan, Schubert of the Lawrence Clan, Amelie of the Lawrence Clan, Hugo of the Gunnhildr Clan, Edgar of no clan, Yannik of no clan…”

Sara averted her gaze as the lever was pulled and the sickening sound of snapping necks reached her ears.

Twenty-five names, another twenty-five deaths - and the third row was pushed forwards.

Even as the Sun rose to its peak high over them, the names did not stop being called, and the corpses did not stop falling.

And the bodies began to pile.

Noelle breathed out, cupping her hands together to warm them up.

Feeling the full force of the cold season, she shrunk further into her fur-lined cloak in a forlorn attempt to warm herself up. Looking around, she saw that many of the Forty-third Battalion was in the same situation as her, sitting hunched over on fallen logs and pulling their cloaks onto themselves. 

Their horses snorted, kicking the snow off to the side - she envied the great beasts, hard and hearty, born and bred in Windrise, they are uncaring of even the worst of winter’s chill. Instead, here she was, freezing in her bones and rubbing her hands together in order to ward off the cold. There was no fire, Dame Eula had forbidden them from creating one so as to not give away their position.

So here they were, waiting at the base of a snowswept hill for something to happen.

Noelle buried her face in her gloved hands, feeling her reddened skin blister. Yet through the squall of wintry wind, she could hear the distinct rolling of ocean waves ringing out, loud and clear. It did not befit their location, deep in the Stormbearer Mountains and hundreds of leagues away from the coast.

And yet, she continued to listen to the sound of waves crashing against the shore.

She knew the source of the noise - all of them did, for the sound of the spindrift was the very reason the Spindrift Knight was called so. Dame Eula was sitting on a log, idly blowing into her bone flute, miraculously playing the call of the sea. No one did know why she prefers to play the sound of ocean waves, for they all knew that the bone flute could play a variety of noises.

None complained in any case, the flute has become synonymous with the Spindrift Knight - and the Forty-third Battalion by relation. While Noelle did try to distance herself from rumours, she couldn’t help but learn that the flute was a southern tradition, from a rural province of Liyue. 

When she inquired, Dame Eula had informed her she was mentored by a Liyuean exile who taught her how to carve and play a bone flute. It was only later that the lieutenant secretly told her that the mentor was Dame Amber’s grandfather, who had founded what is now the Fifth Brigade; “Vorreiter.”

The captain was a tall woman, as tall as even the tallest of men in Mondstadt - with square shoulders and a hard body honed from years of fighting. Yet that didn’t take away from her fair looks - one that Noelle couldn’t help but envy - the lady was a special kind of cold, hard beauty that repelled as many men as it attracted.

Well, it was to be expected, she was an aristocrat after all - a Lawrence no less. It was no secret that the nobles near exclusively married only within themselves, so as to keep their distinctive looks and healthy builds. When an aristocrat weds a commoner, it is almost certainly because the commoner has an inheritable trait the aristocrats find advantageous.

While that tradition had fallen some after the old aristocracy, even millennia after some semblances of it still remained. She knew of Marvin Goethe, the son of Lord Goethe, who wishes to marry a Springvite commoner named Marla. Of course, Lord Goethe vehemently disapproves of the relationship, but because the aristocrats no longer held such power, that’s all the lord can do - disapprove.

Noelle tore herself away from her thoughts when she heard the ringing sound of the ocean begin again, and realised Dame Eula had started playing another tune. Instead of the calm, summer waves she had intoned before, now the bone flute sang of a raging winter storm, and oddly Noelle felt a glacial chill dig into her bones.

The knight captain wore the same armour as all of them - full, prayer-carved plate, only with a special pauldron which denoted her rank as brigade captain. The only thing that was different was her great ermine cloak draped around her shoulders, of which the thick fur set around her neck seemed like a lion’s mane. Unlike the rest of theirs, her cloak was a deep blue, emblazoned upon it the Glacial Seal.

Abruptly, the music stopped. 

Noelle raised her head to see the captain lowering her flute, staring intently at the hill shielding them from the worst of the wind - as if she could see right through it. As if on cue, a scout galloped down the hillside and into the makeshift camp the knight’s had raised.

“Report,” Dame Eula ordered.

“Just as you suspected, captain,” the scout gasped, “They’re coming!”

The captain nodded, before turning around and shouting, “Men, mount your steeds! The enemy comes to us!”

Hastily, Noelle lifted herself off her seat and ran to her horse - a Mondstadt bred rouncey who has been with her since she joined the knights. Lifting herself onto the mare, she shifted to make herself comfortable before gripping the rein tightly, slapping the horse lightly on its side.

“Come on, girl.”

Well-trained and familiar to her, the mare immediately started trotting forwards. Noelle urged the horse into a canter, following the rest of the knights up the hill. Since they were travelling up the leeward side, there was only a shallow snow cover up the hillside, allowing them to move quickly.

Cresting the top, Noelle moved her horse nearer to the front of the formation and stared down into the valley. This was the windward side, and this north the snowfall was particularly heavy - with the snow cover nearly up to a man’s waist. She had heard stories of the snowfall north of the Stormbearers from the knights, which they tell the cover was as high as a man was tall. She could scarcely imagine that, but she has never been north of the Stormbearers, so what was she to know?

“There…” she heard one of the knights speak, “You can see them against the snow, at least two-hundred.”

“Two-hundred?” Sir Lukas scoffed, “You need to work on your counting, Matthias - there’s at least double that.”

Indeed, against the valley of pure white snow - so white it was even blinding - she could sight a large mass of people slowly making their way southwards. They were Fatui, that much was obvious, with their distinctive garbs and insignias - only problem was, they were moving southwards, towards Mondstadt.

“Why are they coming this way?” Noelle asked, “Shouldn’t they be fleeing north?”

“Mmm,” Dame Eula hummed, “That’s right, you do not know of Amber’s mission.”

“Dame Amber?”

“Aye,” Sir Lukas laughed, “She was sent north by the Grandmaster, to Dornman Port.”

Dornman Port. Suddenly, all the pieces aligned in her head - Dame Jean had turned the Land of Wind into an inescapable prison. The only way the Fatui had to leave the realm was through Dornman Port, where they could seek refuge in the Snezhnayan Embassy located there and catch a vessel back to Snezhnaya. 

To the south was the Republic of Liyue’s fortress town of Stone Gate, which held close ties to Dawnton. All it took was Lord Ragnvindr requesting Liyue’s Northern Protectorate to close the Stone Gate to the Fatui to block their exit. This left only Dragonspine as the other way southwards, which would be a suicide mission to cross. Except, if anyone could cross Dragonspine, it would be Snezhnayans. Nevertheless, Noelle felt that anyone who was able to cross the great mountain in the midst of winter into Liyue deserved to go free.

To the east was the Brightcrown Mountains, which was largely uninhabited by any humans and considered impossible to traverse - even more so compared to Dragonspine. With no recent or accurate maps of the area, the likelihood of anyone crossing the mountains in the middle of winter was impossibly low - and the Fatui likely knew this.

To the north was the Northern Wastes - suffice to say, no one was crossing that alive, not in winter.

This left the west, towards the Great Sea. And the only major port in the southern half of the realm with access to it was Windrise, on the River Falke. The only other place was Dornman Port in the north.

If Dame Amber reached Dornman Port before the Fatui and convinced the local authorities to close their gates, then the Fatui were trapped in the Land of Wind for good - like fish in a bucket.

“I understand,” Noelle nodded, “But why doesn’t Dornman Port just capture them?”

“They are playing both sides,” Dame Eula answered, “The Dornmen still wish to maintain ties with Snezhnaya, they are trading partners after all. If they just close their gates and nothing more, they can tell Zapolyarny that they were forced by the Order to do so - yet also tell the Order that they blocked the Fatui’s escape. If they attack the Fatui, however, then they are implicitly siding with the Order, and Zapolyarny will cut ties with them.”

“That’s…”

“Two-faced?” Sir Lukas, “It’s politics, and also how the Union works. This is an alliance, remember, not a nation - the Order is just a thin string tying it all together.”

“Enough talking,” Dame Eula spoke, “We have been spotted, they are retreating.”

Noelle focused back onto the Fatui, who as Dame Eula observed, were in the process of turning around and fleeing. They were tracing their steps, as they path they came from had snow already pushed away. Except, they were already at the bottom of the valley, and if they wanted to leave in the opposite direction, then they would have to climb uphill in all of their heavy gear.

Snezhnaya boasts the most advanced technology in Teyvat, but it came at the cost of their sorcery. Even their so-called cicin ‘mages’ harnessed the powers of cicins instead of their own mana, and as such were essentially false mages in their eyes. This meant that what was heavy, stayed heavy.

With the Forty-third Battalion separated into its platoons and scouring the region, there was only some two-hundred men in all currently with them. The knights got into formation, a neat rectangle with Dame Eula at the front. Noelle herself was on the side to the rear, with the rest of the squires, for she was inexperienced and would get in the way.

“Lances!”

Noelle reached for the lance sheathed at her rouncey’s side, tucking the haft under her arm hefting the point into the air.

She raised her head, seeing the six-winged banner fluttering in the breeze through the visor of her bascinet, right alongside the Glacial Seal. She felt a stirring in her gut, a difficulty to breathe as her heart crept up her throat.

Noelle drowned it all out, the whistling of the wind, the snorts and whinnies of the horses, the crunching of snow under hoofbeats.

A horn was blown, loud and resonating through the air.

Once, twice, three times the call went out - the ancient bellow that the first Lionfang Knight used to herald the fall of the aristocracy.

All knights, charge.

Dame Eula’s horse started forwards, the mighty stallion breaking into a cant - and they followed. From a canter they quickened to full gallop, they thundered down the hillside without missing a stride, their horses riding atop the snowdrift as if it were solid ground.

The centre began to gain speed faster than the flanks, and in well practised efficiency the rectangle turned to a wedge. As one body of gleaming steel, they lowered their lances, killing points glinting in the sunlight.

The Fatui had turned around now, their retreat useless. They brought their heavy weapons to bear, Elemental firearms blasting bolts of Pyro and Hydro - Electro cicin mages unleashing their caged pets in a desperate attempt to slow them down. 

Elemental energy slid over their prayer-carved armours like water off a duck’s back, and they rode through the hail of fire unflinching and unscathed in their charge.

In a last ditch effort, the Cryo cicin mages raised translucent blue walls of Cryo to stop them in their tracks.

Noelle flinched when they impacted the walls - but then they rode through the barriers as if they were made of mist, sorcery-bound lances piercing the Element and shattering it like glass. 

They rode into the Fatui, scything them down as if they were wheat. Northern blood sprayed into the air and splattered across the snow as they trampled the Fatui into fleshy paste, warhorses’ steel-clad bodies crushing them under their weight. The Fatui screamed and cried, some dropped their weapons in fear or surrender, most fought back - they killed them all regardless. Give no quarter to defiance, give no mercy to descent.

Noelle plunged her lance into the body of a cicin mage, spearing her as if she was a fish in the sea. She tried to pull out her lance, but it was embedded too deeply - so instead she slammed the lance point downwards, pinning the mage to the ground. 

She then unsheathed her claymore, the blade long and capable of slicing downwards from horseback - and cleaved into the next Fatui in front of her. It sundered through the man’s armour and gear, before biting into flesh and bone and hewing straight through - bisecting the Fatui from shoulder to hip before he had a chance to retaliate.

As she watched the man’s body fall in two pieces, she felt a bump as her horse crashed into something, before she heard the crunching of bones and squelching of meat - and a cut-off scream - and realised she had ran over another Fatui and crushed them into pulp under her mare’s sheer weight.

Noelle winced, what a horrible way to go. She then looked back up to see no one ahead of her, and swung her ride around expecting to re-enter the fray - but realised it was already all over.

As her horse slowed to a trot and the heat bled from her veins, Noelle could admire in disgust what they had just done. The snow was churned into half frozen slurry, bits and pieces of meat and innards strewn across the plain, giving the once white snow a pinkish hue. The knights were going around, stabbing the intact corpses to ensure they were dead.

She cantered forwards, finding her lance still impaled through the chest of the cicin mage - and using her horse’s front leg to press down on the corpse, she tore out her lance and shook it free of blood and gore.

Dame Eula approached her from horseback, blood coating her once pristine armour, bits of intestines still hanging onto her horse’s legs. 

“How many, squire?”

“T-Three, captain.”

Dame Eula took both hands to her helm and lifted it off, shaking her hair free. 

“That’s more than any squire could boast on their first real tilt - get off your horse.”

Noelle did not hesitate to follow the order, immediately swinging herself off her rouncey - and raised her head to see the captain had done the same, helmet tucked under one arm, and sabre grasped in the other hand.

“Kneel.”

Her breath hitched as she took a half step back in shock. She met the captain's eyes, but all Dame Eula did was bore straight back into her, freezing blue eyes like flints of ice. Knighting ceremonies were supposed to be done before the Statue of Barbatos, or in the Favonius Cathedral - battlefield knightings were nearly unheard off in this day and age.

Noelle knelt, numb from cold or shock she could not reckon.

She felt the captain moving over her.

“Noelle of no clan, do you swear before the eyes of men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to obey your captains, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks laid upon you, no matter how hard, humble, or dangerous they may be?”

Noelle felt the eyes of all the knights and squires on her, and she took a shuddering breath. 

“I do.”

Dame Eula placed the flat side of her sabre on her left shoulder.

“Do you swear upon the Lord to uphold his tenets, to serve the people, to protect the innocent, to be relentless in the pursuit of justice, and to be unfaltering in the face of death?”

“I do.”

Then she moved the blade over to her left shoulder.

“Then rise, Noelle of no clan, for you knelt a squire, and now rise a dame of the Favonian Order.”

She rose, as saw a small smile grace the lips of Dame Eula’s cold face.

That night, they feasted. They found shelter at the side of a cliff that guarded them from the worst of the wind, and erected a sizable encampment. Venison and hare were cooked at large open firepits while stew was stirred in bronze pots. The knights welcomed her into their ranks, encouraging her to join their Fourth Brigade, even if she already knew she wanted to join the Third Brigade.

When she told them that, they smacked her upside the head and left her reeling on the ground. Noelle had a feeling they didn’t like Sir Kaeya very much, even Dame Eula stared at her with some sort of disappointment which left her strangely ashamed.

Her once-fellow squires did pick her up and cheer her on afterwards, however, sharing with her a large flask of mead - slapping her shoulders and congratulating her on her knighthood.

The jubilance, however, was interrupted by the sound of hoofbeats on frozen snow - as a rider galloped towards them at full speed, waving a white cloth.

They hailed him, and the rider cantered into their camp and dismounted, waving a sealed scroll at them.

“An urgent missive from the acting Grandmaster, Dame Eula!”

“Pass it to Dame Noelle,” the captain gestured to her, putting emphasis on the dame, “Noelle, read it out to me.”

The messenger smoothly changed his direction, instead striding to her and passing her the sealed scroll.

“I recognise you,” he smiled, “Congratulations.”

“My thanks,” she returned, before looking down at the scroll.

“The Lion’s seal,” she noted, “Unbroken.”

Noelle broke the seal, and unfurled the parchment - eyes widening as she scanned the words written inside. Some of the knights noticed her expression through the darkness, and leaned forwards in curiosity - even the messenger - while others bore grimmer looks, likely expecting bad news.

It wasn’t, quite the opposite in fact.

“Congratulations, Lady Lawrence,” and eyes widened when they realised that the missive was not intended for Dame Eula, but for Lady Lawrence. Now, she had the captain’s full attention.

“With the unfortunate passing of your father and all other immediate heirs, the Favonian Order has decided to appoint you the new head of the Lawrence Clan with all the accompanying rights and titles.”

There was a complete silence, only the crackling of fires and whistling of wind could be heard.

“The Favonian Order urges that you return to Mondstadt at all haste to take your seat,” Noelle breathed in, “Regards, Jean Gunnhildr. Acting Grandmaster of the Order.”

Chapter Text

Profile 1: Windic Union

Geography

Map of the Land of Wind

Location: The lands of the Windic Union is located in the general northeast of Teyvat. With the Great Sea to their east, the Union borders the Tsardom of Snezhnaya to the north, the Court of Fontaine to the west, and the Republic of Liyue to the south. At this central crossroad of nations, the cities of the Union have become thriving economic centres.

Climate: Blessed by the grace of the Anemo Archon, the Land of Wind is assuaged by fair weather and gentle breezes. Four seasons rotate in this land year round, of spring, summer, fall, and winter. As the epicentre of the Thousand Winds, it is known that all the prevailing winds of Teyvat gather here in the court of the Lord of Wind. 

But that isn’t to say that the Land of Wind is blessed by fair weather year round. This land also suffers some of the worst gales and storms in all of Teyvat, especially in fall and winter - where autumn tempests and winter blizzards can rip trees from the earth and even houses from their foundations. As such, the people have learned to cherish every moment they have, to drink and be hearty - for when winter comes, the land will change unsightly, and the people will have to change with it.

Terrain: The Land of Wind is dominated by a central plain known as the Valley of Kings - situated in the Mondstadt-Windrise-Dawnton axis. This plain hosts most of the Land of Wind's bountiful farmlands, orchards and vineyards - fed by the tributaries of Cider Lake, a great inland sea in the heart of the Land of Wind. You may find here endless fields of golden wheat and vast verdant pastures for grazing animals. This is also where the vast majority of the population lives.

However, this heartland is protected by rugged mountainous terrain on three sides, with the Great Sea to the east. In the north there is the Stormbearer Mountains, and befitting of the name, the people of this area endure regular harsh winds and tempests year round, protecting the southern heartlands from the worst of the storms. Further north, past Dornman Port, you will find the Northern Wastes of the frigid Land of Ice.

To the south there is the Vindagnyr Mountains, including the great peak of Dragonspine. Stretching from Eagle’s Gate in the east to Qingce in the west, this mountain range marks the Land of Wind’s border with the Land of Rock. A single landway crosses this range, protected by the Stone Gate.

Finally, to the west there is the Brightcrown Mountains, the ancient homeland of the Windic peoples. This mountain range marks the Land of Winds border with the Land of Lochs. 

Natural Resources: The Land of Wind is widely regarded as the breadbasket of the continent, only to be rivalled by the Land of Lochs. The land’s special climate allows for the mass production of staple crops, along with their famed orchards and vineyards. However, even with all of the importance of food, for some odd reason the Windics seem to take more pride in another resource they have.

Alcohol. The Land of Wind is the continent’s largest producer of alcohol, for orchards and vineyards thrive in this temperate land. Along with grain, alcohol is the Land of Wind’s largest export. Fruits native to only to the Land of Wind include valberries and wolfhooks, both of which make for interesting wines well sought after abroad.

Then there are the natural minerals and ores in the earth. Iron, white iron, coal, and other common metals are widespread throughout the Land of Wind’s mountainous regions, where quarries dig them out. Aside from this, Dragonspine’s unique leyline conditions also produce a special mineral known as starsilver, which is widespread in Windic blacksmithing.

Society

Ethnicity: Considering the system of which the Windic Union works, citizens usually consider themselves nationals not of the Union, but of their home city-state. All with their different unique cultures, ideals, traditions, and even languages.

That being said, a great Windic identity does exist among the people, especially when dealing with foreigners from outside the Land of Wind. Ethnicities include; Mondstadter, Dawntoner, Windriic, Dadaupan, and Dornman.

Language: The official language of the Union is Reitz, with four predominant dialects; Upper Reitz, High Reitz, Low Reitz, and Dornish.

Upper Reitz is mostly spoken around Cider Lake, in Mondstadt and neighbouring settlements. This language was mostly spoken by the old aristocrats of Mondstadt, but after the Revolution the tongue was passed down to the commonfolk.

Low Reitz is the most common dialect, spoken largely in the Valley of Kings on the Dawnton-Windrise Axis. High Reitz is spoken largely in the more mountainous south, at the marches of the Vindagnyr Mountains on the Lagersberg-Eagle’s Gate axis. A mix of High and Low Reitz is spoken in the Stormbearer Mountains, and some scholars contemplate officially calling it another dialect. 

The last dialect is Dornish, spoken north of the Stormbearer Mountains around Dornman Port - with an untrained ear, Dornish might sound like a completely different language from Reitz altogether.

Class: Society within the Union can be divided into three social classes; the smallfolk, the nobles, and the clergy - though note that these classes can be further subdivided. These classes are divided not by wealth, influence, or status, but instead by clan. Clans might be the single most important factor in Windic society, and to summarise it briefly - every clan is a family, but not every family is a clan. There is a distinct difference between a family name, and a clan name - for clans can encompass numerous families.

The smallfolk are the Union’s largest social class by a far margin, and include every person born without a clan. Also known as the commonfolk, this class includes farmers, labourers, merchants, tradesmen, and immigrant families. 

The nobles can be further divided into three groups; the landed nobles, the petty nobles, and the edelfrei. The landed nobles are the highest class in Windic society, and any and all who belong to landed clans belong to this class. Famous names such as the Gunnhildrs and Lawrences belong to the landed nobles. 

The petty nobles include people who belong to an unlanded clan, usually hailing from families who were awarded a clan name through acts of valour or other achievements from the Favonian Order. Lastly, the edelfrei are the ‘military’ nobles, made up of second and third sons and daughters who have otherwise no future in noble society and thus join the Knights of Favonius. These sons and daughters will rejoin their clan after retirement, or will go on to found their own branch clans - by pledging their future children to service within the Knights.

The clergy are the smallest social class, made up of clergymen of the Favonian Church. As clergy titles are not hereditary, clergymen hail from from both noble and smallfolk backgrounds, even immigrants. However, they are the ruling class of the Union - checked only by the Knights of Favonius.

Religion

Deities: Several deities are worshipped in the Union. Note that these are deities, not gods, as not every deity worshipped is a god. Deities include; 

• Barbatos, Lord of Wind, God of Freedom, and Anemo Archon,
• Astaroth, Lord of Time, and God of Order,
• Andrius, Lord of Blizzards, God of Kin, and Wolf of the North,
• Dvalin, Dragon of the East,
• Venessa, Falcon of the West.

Main Faith: Though other faiths exist, the Favonian Church, or the Church of Favonius, has long declared them heresies, with active efforts to stamp them out. The Church is a fundamentalist, theocratic and liturgical faith that worships the God of Freedom, Lord Barbatos, and the tenets of the Codex Favonius. Headquartered in the Favonius Cathedral in the city of Mondstadt, the Church has spread its faith far across the Land of Wind through exhortation and blood, until it solidified its status as the premiere faith in the Land of Wind.

All clergy titles belong to the Church, including deacons, priests, bishops, and cardinals. The Head of Church is known as the Cardinal of Daybreak, and commands all Church operations across the Windic Union. However, the Head of Faith is the Lion of the South, who is also the Grandmaster of the Order.

Tenets: The tenets of any religion are the pillars on which the foundation of faith is built upon and justified. These are the tenets of the Favonian Church;

• Ecclesiarchy – “Our holy sites are more than just sacred places - they are the very seats of power from which our religious leaders rule.” 
• Religious Law – “The border between theological and legal arguments is thin, and spiritual qualities can and should be considered in secular settlements.”
• Unrelenting Faith – “Our convictions are strong, and we will gladly fight and die for our faith. No matter how badly the odds are stacked against us, we shall never surrender.”
• Hedonism – “The Lord filled this world with a bounty of pleasures for us to indulge in and enjoy - to not partake of such things is to snub the very work of creation itself.”

Doctrines: The tenets justify the doctrines by which the Church governs over its authorities. Written in the Codex Favonius, these laws are absolute and uncompromisable.

• Fundamentalist – “Our faith is the one true faith, our word the one true word. Any deviation from the Codex Favonius is inherently blasphemous.”
• Theocratic – “Only sanctioned priests can be entrusted with upholding our faith's doctrines and, by extension, with managing and caring for our sacred places.”
• Temporal Head of Faith – “The spiritual and the physical are intrinsically bound together, whole and inseparable. It is foolish to have two different leaders for one realm.”

Holy Sites: Pilgrimages are not compulsory, though highly encouraged by the Favonian Church. These sites include;

• The Favonius Cathedral and Statue of Lord Barbatos in Mondstadt, 
• Venessa’s Oak in Windrise, 
• the Temple of the Falcon in Bacharach, 
• the Temple of the Lion in Vorsfelde,
• the Temple of the Wolf in Altenberg.

Holy Orders: The Knights of Favonius, the Church Executors.

Government

System: The Windic Union is considered a loose confederation of city-states under the authority of the Favonian Order. Founded by the demigod Venessa, the Favonian Order is formed of two institutions - the Knights of Favonius and the Church of Favonius. While each city-states’ succeeds power through autonomous methods - some with elections, others through hereditary rule - the Favonian Order is led by the Grandmaster of the Order.

However, the Windic Union also hosts a deeply rooted feudal society. Much of the lands in and outside of cities are ruled by feudal lords, holdovers from the old aristocracy. The lords collect taxes from their tenants, and must then pay a share to the Order in order to retain their lands. These lords must also comply with whatever the Order demands of them in exchange for their titles.

The title of Grandmaster isn't succeeded through an election, but instead by appointment. It is the duty of the sitting Grandmaster to pick and groom their successor by appointing them Deputy Grandmaster. After the Grandmaster dies or retires, their successor will replace them and the cycle will repeat. 

The title of Cardinal of Daybreak is succeeded through an election. After the death or retirement of the previous Cardinal of Daybreak, every cardinal in the Church will convene to elect a new Cardinal of Daybreak from their own ranks. On certain occasions, archbishops and bishops may also be elected.

Executive: Executive power lies entirely within the Knights of Favonius, in the seat of the Grandmaster of the Order. While the Cardinal of Daybreak is considered the head of the Church, the Grandmaster still ranks over them by value of consequently being the Lion of the South, which comes with the title. The Grandmaster rules from the Great Keep in Mondstadt, and commands chapters of the Order located across the Union.

Legislative: Legislative power lies within both the Knights and the Church. Once one side drafts a new law, the draft is passed on to the other side for evaluation by a committee, usually made of leading authorities and figures. After agreement, the two sides will convene in a council to craft the new law, before enforcing it throughout the Union.

Judicial: Judicial power lies nearly entirely within the Church of Favonius, excluding special cases when the Grandmaster and Cardinal of Daybreak deems a joint jury is necessary. The Church is responsible for enforcing the tenets and laws of the Codex Favonius, as well as other laws. Notable excursions include autonomous laws, which are enforced by local authorities, as well as military law, which are enforced by the Knights.

Internal Policy: The Favonian Order largely focuses on centralising its influence through soft power. Currently, their doctrine is to tie the city-states of the Union closer together through economic and military treaties - an effort spearheaded by the recent reintroduction of Dawnton back into the Union. This marks a dramatic shift in internal policy - for the Order was largely complacent beforehand, yet is now taking centre stage in ensuring all city-states are on the same page.

Furthermore, the Order is now drafting a new treaty to officially introduce the first hilichurl townships into the Windic Union, in a combined inter-species effort to rid the Land of Wind of the Abyss Order. For the first time, hilichurls will be considered citizens of the Union, albeit only those who sign the treaty. With the sudden outbreak of the 10th Crusade, the future of the Union is up in the air.

Foreign Policy: Similar to the Union’s internal policy, its foreign policy has undergone a dramatic shift in recent years. Before, the Union has made a point of being an amiable party to all neighbours - accepting diplomats, scholars, and free trade into its borders. The Union’s command over the continent’s agricultural market means that all nations prefer to remain on the positive side of the Order, allowing the Union to take a neutral stance in all international affairs.

Now however, thanks to some nations viewing the Order’s complacency as weakness and thus grossly overstepping their bounds, the Order has forced a radical shift in policy. Now, only limited trade is allowed within its borders, and only merchants with official permits are allowed to conduct business. Furthermore, the Union has tightened its grip on the continental markets, stemming the exportation of agricultural produce in order to prove its point. Of all neighbouring nations, only the Union’s relationship with the Republic of Liyue has gone mostly unscathed - but fears grow on both sides that the 10th Crusade will mark an end to the two nations’ century long peace.

Economy

Currency: With the departing of Morax, the Geo Archon, the production and minting of mora has ceased. As such, after prolonged dialogues between officials from every city-state in the Union, the new official currency in the Union is the schilling and mark. Standardised by weight, both currencies were minted coins, with schillings made of copper and marks made of silver and gold - silbermarks and goldmarks respectively. 

16 schillings is equal to 1 silbermark, and 48 schillings is equal to 1 goldmark. 3 silbermarks is equal to 1 goldmark. 

To facilitate easier trade with the Union’s primary trade partner, the Republic of Liyue, both nations have signed a treaty to standardise their currencies by weight in order to simplify conversion rates.

Industries: The agriculture and winemaking industry dominates the Windic economy, and most commonfolk serve in this industry. It also produces the Union’s largest and most profitable export

The second largest industry is smithing, which includes blacksmithing, weaponsmithing, and runesmithing. Due to the Windic’s storied martial tradition, the Union is the only nation on the continent to have mastered the production of full-plate armour - which it exports all across the continent at ludicrous prices. The only other nation to have mastered this art is the Court of Fontaine, but due to a new industrial revolution in the region, production of this armour has fallen. 

The Union is also famous for its runesmiths, well-known for carving runes and prayers into everything from armour to building materials. However, due to the nature of Windic prayer-carved armour, despite being well sought after in potential foreign buyers, they are not exported due to their significance in Windic culture. Furthermore, they are extraordinarily expensive, and also no better than normal plate armour in the hands of a non-believer.

The third largest industry in the Union is horse-breeding. Also in relation with the Windic’s martial tradition, horse-breeding is a massive industry in the Union, as every city-state has their own autonomous authority over this economic sector. Windic horses are known all over the continent for their different remarkable qualities, and it is said that you can find a special breed for every occasion in the Union. 

Imports: Steel, white iron, coal, and other unrefined metals. Gold, jade, silver, and other precious minerals. Silk, cotton, linen and other textiles.

Exports: Grain, maize, wheat, and other staple foods. Wine, beer, liquor, and other alcohol. Armour, arms, horses, and other martial goods. Runecarved goods.

Military

Pride of Favonius; by Sayid the Sumeran

Depicting Eula Lawrence, Lady of Bacharach, riding to war on the outbreak of the 10th Crusade, circa 2585 years after Lord's Depart

Branches: The Union’s military is not a single force, but instead formed of numerous autonomous forces. These include the Knights, the Church, noble bannermen, and volunteer levies.

The Knights of Favonius make the backbone of the Union military. They are a standardised, professional fighting force of men and women trained from a young age to fight and die for the ideals of the Favonian Order. While volunteers are accepted, they are considered auxiliaries until they prove themselves or catch the eye of their unit leader. Most servicemen hail from military clans, who pledge their descendants to service in the knights. Orphaned children are also adopted into the Order to be trained as knights. Approximately 40,000 men and women serve in the Knights.

The Church of Favonius also commands their own semi-autonomous military force. However, this force is made up of volunteers from the Knights of Favonius only allowed to serve the Church by official permit - as much, many consider Church forces as a part of the Knights. The Church of Favonius is not allowed to conscript anyone, and their forces only serve in defensive capacities as the guards of holy sites. However, there is said to be another unit of the Church, known as the Church Executors - formed of men and women who were adopted by the Church from when they were young children and raised to be trained killers. Approximately 5,000 men and women serve in the Church.

Bannermen are a mixed bag of semi-standardised, semi-professional soldiers sworn to various noble clans. While officially autonomous, the Favonian Order holds every authority to call the noble clans to raise their banners in order to fight for the Order. However, this rarely occurs, and only happens in times of national crisis. Otherwise, bannermen are entirely funded and cared for by the clans they serve. Approximately 80,000 men and women serve as bannermen across the Union.

Levies are rarely ever conscripted, though volunteers are not uncommon. Levies can come from noble or commonfolk backgrounds, and are expected to equip and fund themselves using their own resources. Levies also include sellswords and mercenaries who were hired by individuals or clans, for the Order doesn’t recognise mercenaries. The number of levies raised depend on the occasion, but approximates put the number anywhere from 50,000 to 200,000.

Doctrine: The Union’s military is primarily a religious and territorial defence force. They are considered the first and last tool to enforce national and religious security, and rarely act outside the borders of the Land of Wind. The 10th Crusade marks the first time the armies of the Union have left its borders in nearly three centuries.

Enemies: The Tsardom of Snezhnaya, the Abyss Order, the Dark Sea, and lawless hilichurl and bandit tribes.

Thaumaturgy

State Sorcery: Gwynt Sorcery is the state sorcery of the Union. Practitioners are known as spellsingers, after their hallmark of singing to call upon minor deities such as wind spirits - entrancing them to do their bidding. The methodology of doing so includes reinforcing the throat and lungs with mana before chanting hymns of psalms to attract wind spirits. Thus, near complete mastery of one’s meridians is necessary, along with genuine and ample belief in Barbatos.

Other Sorceries: Other sorceries practised by Windic mages include:

• Elemental Magic – The art of manipulating natural elements through meridians. Elements include fire, water, wind, earth, lightning, and wood. Note: These are elements, not Elements. Only Vision Bearers can manipulate Elements.
• Formalcraft – The art of manipulating the physical world through environmental mana, usually practised by mages with weak or few meridians. Spellcircles, runes, and blood sacrifices are a hallmark of this circle of sorcery. Thaumaturgical knowledge is a strong requirement.
• Runecraft – The art of manipulating the physical world through runes. Windic runesmiths primarily use futhark runes, which are well-known for being able to change the physical properties of objects such as mass.
• Alchemy – The art of manipulating the flow of living and non-living matter. Unlike other circles of sorcery, alchemy places more focus on research rather than application. 

Regulation: Sorceries are regulated by the Council of Fall Equinox, formed of the greatest thaumaturges of the Union. It is held once a year on the Fall Equinox in a rotating list of cities, during the largest gathering of scholars and thaumaturges in the Land of Wind. 

Currently, there are little regulations placed on the conduct and study of sorceries. Of note:

• Black Magic is not outlawed.
• Witchcraft is not outlawed.
• Necromancy is allowed only with an official permit.
• Sentient experimentation is not outlawed.
• Human experimentation is allowed only on death-row criminals and prisoners-of-war. 

Chapter Text

ACT II: SHATTERPOINT

Act 2, Chapter 1

22nd of the 1st Cycle

If one wants to cross the border between the Republic and Union, one must cross the Stone Gate.

Just beholding the colossal fortress, Aether could easily fathom how the Republic was able to ward off two northern Crusades and three other invasion attempts. At the same time, he could only question the sanity of Mondstadt’s aristocrats at the time, for they must not have been of sound mind to smash their heads against the fortification over and over.

For to take the Stone Gate, you must take an entire mountain. The fortress was built into a natural archway in the southern mountain range spanning from Dragonspine to Qingce. Constructed of quarried stone, from a distance it appears that the fortress was carved from the mountain rock. 

Well, in truth, the Republic has not been founded yet during the Fourth and Fifth Crusades - it was an old civilisation known as the Guili Assembly that first raised the Stone Gate to ward off Windic attacks. Ironically, their downfall did not stem from the north as they had expected, but instead from the east, when a sea god flooded the Bishui Plain and submerged most of the nation underwater. 

Now, the Bishui River is a massive body of water closer to an inland sea, covering a massive area where the Bishui Plain was once located - with only small pieces of land still above water, in an area known as the Dihua Marsh.

Nevertheless, the Stone Gate had served purpose for thousands of years without fail - the fortress has never fallen, and it was easy to see why. Built into a mountain range, the Gate was impossible to surround and besiege - and its one north-facing wall was twenty feet thick and twice as tall. The wall face seemed to be carved from a single block of stone, with no grooves that would give away the use of bricks. 

There was only one way to perfect such construction that he knew of, and that was through the use of Carnelian Sorcery.

A second, south-facing wall also used to exist, but was torn down after a Protectorate General declared himself king of the Gate. Since the Stone Gate was a vital bottleneck for both trade and military operations, both the Republic and Union formed a hasty alliance to besiege the Stone Gate. After years under siege, the soldiers of the Gate finally mutinied against the rebel general once rations had been exhausted.

After that, the soldiers handed the general over to the Republic on the south side, and the Millelith entered the fortress to occupy it. Of course, the Union felt betrayed by the action, and a small diplomatic spat occured, but knowing no good will come from warring with the Republic, their forces retreated back north. After this incident, the Millelith tore down the southern wall to ensure the Stone Gate could never be turned against them again.

The massive gate was large enough for four carriages to travel abreast, with three portcullises. Aether pulled his cloak over him as he waited in the queue, feeling the winter chill noticeably lessen the closer he got to the great fortress. The tide of merchants travelling north to Dawnton has long passed now, and the rush of travellers fleeing southwards to escape the cold has also subsided.

This meant the queue was quite short, and in little time the Stone Gate was bearing over him like a great beast. 

“Hail, traveller!” a Millelith guard called, “Your purpose!?”

As far as he knew, the Gates weren’t so actively guarded before - and so he chalked up the new procedures to their efforts in blocking Fatui fugitives from escaping to Liyue.

But this also posed a new issue for him. If he told them he was escaping the cold, they likely wouldn’t believe him - that time has long passed the moons before, after all. Furthermore, since he was not a merchant, he couldn’t justify travelling south for trade purposes.

Fortunately, there was another legitimate reason - one that he had researched and prepared beforehand.

“Hail!” he returned, “I am travelling south to catch the Rite of Descension!”

“You’ve started that journey quite late, most travellers start in fall!” the guard laughed, “What proof do you have of your legitimacy? My apologies for this, but lone riders must be thoroughly checked.”

“Oh- no, of course I understand,” Aether returned, before digging through his sack and retrieving a sealed scroll, “Here, will this suffice?”

The guard took a glance at the red seal, before his eyes visibly widened from behind the open helmet.

“The Ragnvindr seal… unbroken!” the guard quickly passed the scroll back to him, “My apologies sir, please - welcome to the Republic!”

“My thanks!” he laughed, before spurring his horse on forwards.

Quickly, the darkness of the gate tunnel enveloped him, the only sources of light being orange-flame torches on the walls. Looking around, he couldn’t help but snort at how the Northern Protectorate had decided to decorate the tunnel.

Besides the great many murderholes, pitfalls, and arrow slits, were just as many broken shields. Shields and banners, hundreds of them, hanging from the walls and ceiling - cracked, torn and shattered, marred with dried blood and dirt. They bore the sigils of every army that had tried to assault the Stone Gate and were driven back - Aether spied the falcon of Ragnvindr and wolf of Imunlaukr, the great oak of Windrise, the windmill of Mondstadt, the Glacial Seal of Lawrence, the butterfly of Lohefalter, the white star of Goethe, and dozens more minor clans.

He even spotted the sigils of clans long extinct, the tower of the Castells and acorns of the Eichler - both clans dating back to the Tower. He saw the black lion of Rosenbach, yellow cross of Botzheim and a shattered shield bearing the heraldry of Venningen - all clans of Augenstadt. Here was the graveyard of armies, the end of dynasties.

Tearing his gaze away, Aether spurred his horse onwards and removed himself from the tunnel - shielding his eyes from the sudden sunlight. The Sun was setting now, dusk light blocked the towering mountains on either side of him, casting a great shadow that covered the entire settlement. Realising he would not get far in darkness, Aether resolved to stay the night. But first, he would have to navigate through the town.

Behind the Stone Gate’s great wall was a sizable town, burgeoning from the new influx of weary travellers and merchants after the end of continental wars. Buildings were constructed on either side of the main road, crawling up the mountainsides like creeping vines - in a step-like manner - with many half-sunk into the rockface. Upon closer inspection, he spotted small blinking firelights emanating from small holes in the mountainside, as well as opening where thin lines of smoke escaped from. The entire mountain had been turned into a living space, Aether realised, for all he knew, the Stone Gate was not just a town but an entire subterranean city.

Looking back, he realised his initial inspection of the Stone Gate was vastly incorrect - the Gate was not just simply a wall, but an entire keep fitted in between the two peaks. It was a vast thing, it had to be, serving as the seat of the Northern Protectorate. Above the gate was a great wooden plank, carved into it the words ‘镇北都护府’ - Protectorate General to Pacify the North. If Aether recalled rightly, there was a western counterpart as well.

These Protectorates essentially serve as military governments separate from the central government in Liyue Harbour. Considering the Republic’s vast territory, it was sensible to allocate military resources to local authorities so as to not overstretch and thin the central government’s own authority - trusting the Protectorates to act as an extension of their power. The system worked for the most part, but the threat of a Protectorate becoming too powerful was always an omnipresent threat.

Aether quickly found a passerby and asked for directions to the nearest inn or homestay, and the kindly person pointed him to a nearby building directly adjacent to the road.

The inn was squat and homely, with beautiful red columns and green-tiled curved roof. The sound of laughter and clinking porcelain could be heard from inside as he stepped onto the porch, ducking underneath the paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling. A bell chimed when he opened the door and walked in, drawing some curious gazes to his obviously foreign face.

Inside, there were mostly Windics and the flat-faced Liyueans - eating and sharing tables with each other. 

At the counter was a tired, yet lively looking young woman - he strode up to her.

“Hello,” he greeted, “How much is a room for a night.”

“Sixty mora, do you want breakfast in the morning?”

“No thank you, could you get someone to tend to my horse outside?”

“Sixty-five mora.”

Aether reached into his pack and dropped sixty-five mora into the innkeeper’s hands. After counting, she pocketed the money and smiled - before reaching below the counter and retrieving a key.

“Up the stairs, third room to the right,” she told him as she handed him the key, “Enjoy your night.”

“Likewise.”

26th of the 1st Cycle

Winter was far more tame south of the Stone Gate.

Thanks to the mountain range obstructing the boreal winds from the north, and the ever present warm sea-winds blowing from the Qiongji Estuary in the east, the cold was incredibly mild. So mild, in fact, that he was forced to take off his heavy fur cloak that he had gotten used to - and he had to admit, the sudden lack of familiar weight on his shoulders was discomforting.

Nevertheless, he was also grateful for the winter, for while the wet chill was an irritation at best, it was still cold enough to freeze the Dihua Marsh over - allowing for painless travel. The entire Bishui Plain used to be the heartlands of an ancient civilisation dating back to the Archon Wars, but a destructive war ended up with the entire plain submerged underwater. What’s left is a vast inland sea, and a great swampland right in the centre of it.

As he was travelling in a caravan, he was able to overhear some merchants talking about how fortunate they were to be on the road at this time. Apparently, the Dihua Marsh is a living hell to travel through in the warmer months, when the water would get stagnant and plague becomes a real threat. To facilitate trade, the government - the Liyue Qixing - had funded the construction of a massive stone causeway spanning the entire marsh, but in recent times the causeway had come to a depressing state of disrepair.

This meant that most merchants preferred to travel in the beginning of winter, when the ground had frozen over and the cold still wasn't too terrible - allowing for convenient movement. Aether thought back to the Liyuean merchant he had met in Dawnton, who explained that they crossed into the Union in advance in order to catch the first spring harvest. He must've also started his journey in the beginning of winter.

It was certainly ironic, Aether mused, that the curse of winter so prevalent in the north was more of a mild blessing in the south.

There were three main islands in the marsh, and the caravan came to a rest at the northernmost island - where there was a small trade outpost built around a Statue of the Seven. The outpost used to be a small resting point for traders coming up and down the Stone Road, but after centuries a small permanent town was raised in the location by locals to make money off the travelling merchants.

As such, nearly every house in the town was a homestay, and there were many more inns and taverns than any other kind of business. 

As the caravan began to disperse, Aether steered his horse away from the main mass of buildings and made his way to the Statue near the western edge of the town.

As he approached the structure, he could tell it was well cared for - the stone was smooth and polished, the plated gold trim glimmering under the setting Sun. A far cry from the Statue he had encountered at Starfell Lake, certainly, which was well in disrepair and crumbling away.

Once again, upon the gold plaque he could make out the inscribed words;

MORAX

GEO ARCHON

Another land, another god indeed. This time, the sculpted figure depicting the Geo Archon was a well-carved man with a linen shawl and loincloth. He sat upon a solid stone throne, grasping in a hand a glowing cube of bronze.

Aether placed his hand on the plaque, closing his eyes and drawing forth his powers. Creating thin veins of starlight, he reached deep into the Statue and began feeling around for the same manner of distinctive Elemental energy he had come across in the Statue at Starfell Lake. Just like the last time, he was swiftly able to sense and grasp the feeling, wrapping around the energy and attempting to pull it out of the Statue.

Unlike Anemo, which had flowed out without resistance, the energy which he presumed was Geo remained static, as if anchored to the Statue. 

Aether had to wonder, was this simply due to the manner of Element? There was sense in thinking that Anemo would be free flowing and assentive due to its nature, and that Geo would be static and immoving for much the same reason. Yet, he also couldn’t help but think that perhaps the Archon had a role to play as well.

The Anemo Archon was a character as languid and drifty as the Element he ruled over, and perhaps was why Aether was able to attain Anemo from his Statue so easily. However, if the Geo Archon held much the same attributes as the Element he ruled over - Geo - then perhaps the Archon wasn’t so keen on surrendering the energy over to Aether. After all, Aether had first wondered why Barbatos so easily gave him the power inside the Statue when he first attained it.

Inwardly, Aether bemoaned never asking the god about it when he had the chance.

And now he was left with a dilemma; should he attempt to force out the energy which he needed - which he needed to unseal his powers - under the assumption that it was a natural matter that Geo would resist his coaxing? Even if there may be the chance that this isn’t a natural occurrence, and that he was actively being stymied by the Geo Archon - who he may severely anger if he attempts to force out the energy?

Aether wasn’t the kind of individual who thinks in advance - he usually leaves the planning to his sister - but currently, as weak as he is, he has no choice but to go through the worst case scenario before he does anything considerable - especially, especially, when it comes to the divine. 

In the Land of Wind, he did not think of anything beyond defending himself when he was warding off the Dragon of the East - a mistake he could’ve paid with his material form. Granted, in his defence he had no prior knowledge of the cultures and people of the Land of Wind. 

Unfortunately, the answer was simple enough - he had no choice. Aether cannot wait around hoping the Geo Archon would come to him so he could explain himself - no, his first and foremost objective is to unseal all of his powers. If that meant antagonising the Geo Archon, so be it.

Aether wrapped his threads of starlight around the formless mass of energy once more, and pulled . 

A golden river of energy poured out of the Statue and onto the ground, where it coalesced into a manner of bronze cube. Picking it up with a hand, Aether found it to be hard and solid - yet brittle - so he crushed the cube in his palm and let the Geo be absorbed.

He waited - waiting for the energy to settle inside him so he could feel the telltale sensation of a seal breaking. The Geo came into contact with the Anemo already present, coming together like two old friends - and then the seal broke.

And it all went wrong.

Aether choked, feeling his second heart palpitate at dangerous speeds, his chest cramping. In a flash of bleary realisation, he realised just how exactly the seals worked - they did not stop his power entirely, simply stop him from receiving the cosmic energy. The seals were like a dam, and now the dam was suddenly broken and all the restrained energy he had been producing unconsciously was flooding into his physical system in a tide too large and powerful to control. 

And it was overwhelming him.

Starlight flooded his veins, his organs, his brain. For the first time since arriving in Teyvat, Aether hastily removed himself from his body so that his mental faculties wouldn’t be disrupted by his failing cerebrum - entering his astral form. He watched in an out-of-body experience as his material form collapsed onto the ground, skin fracturing like overheated clay - streams of golden starlight leaking into the air. His veins were visible through his skin as well, shining bright gold - and his entire body was lit like a lamp.

There was no denying it, his material form was breaking down right in front of him - disintegrating right before his formless eyes.

And all he could wonder was - why the second seal? Why was the second seal individually retaining so much energy? Shouldn’t all seven seals be retaining the same amount? Was it a conscious decision by the god who did this, or was it related to Geo and the Geo Archon?

Aether snapped himself out of it, he could muse over theurgy at a later date - his first priority should be saving his body before he found himself without one.

His astral form dove back into his body - and his mind was immediately enveloped in chaos and turmoil. His gut roiled and his senses swam - he heard all the colours of the cosmos as his heart beat so quickly that it burned.

It burned.

Aether released a silent scream as his nerves were scorched to less than ash as pure, unfiltered starlight - sunlight - burnt straight through every system in his body. 

“Gaahhhh…” he moaned, trying to wrestle his faculties back into a manageable state.

He may be a cosmic being, incapable of feeling heat or cold - but his body was most certainly mortal , and he felt everything his body felt.

Aether worked his jaw, blinking rapidly as he spat snow and dirt out of his mouth - his face was planted firmly into the ground, he realised. Wrestling a disintegrating arm into control, he lifted himself into all fours, heaving greatly.

Think, he internally screamed at himself, think! How do you get out of this situation?

If the seal was a dam… then his body is a river - a currently flooding river. And how do you lower the water level of a flooding river? 

You divert the water somewhere else.

Aether forced the starlight into six streams out of his back - gritting his teeth as he felt the searing heat slowly perforate through flesh and muscle, before finally breaking out of his skin and erupting in six gouts of golden flame. Closing his eyes, he began to mould this excess energy into another ability he had sorely missed - his wings.

Slowly - gradually - the six geysers began to weaken and smoothen, the flames losing its licking plumes and fashioning into a more definite shape. 

Feeling satisfied at the diminished burning sensation, Aether pushed himself back into his astral form to inspect how his body was faring from a more clinical view. Circling around his hunched over form, he saw that the six geysers of flame had been formed into six splendid glassy wings in the similar manner of a dragonfly’s.

But it was not enough.

His wings were acting as a conductor for the excess energy to bleed into the air, but it was not enough. His body was still dying - albeit slower - but it was still dying, Aether had only bought himself some time.

Sinking back into his body, Aether began to scan through all of his physical systems. He needed another outlet as soon as possible, one where it wouldn’t cause too much damage - and if possible, another beneficial location, such as his back.

Legs… chest… head… head!

Ears, mouth, nose… no- eyes!

Aether sucked in a deep breath, then pushed all the starlight into his closed eyes. He waited as he felt the pressure quickly begin to build behind his eyelids, before opening his eyes- and the world went white. Blinding, burning white.

And he felt something break. 

Was there another seal over my eyes?

But there was not time to think- the excess starlight was pouring out of his eyes like a tide, blinding him in the process, yet he could feel relief building as the energy began to drain from him. Gradually, his internal systems began to work again as the pent energy was removed.

He knelt there, on all fours, for what seemed to be eon - just waiting for the energy to drain out of him, like pouring water out a kettle.

When it finally stopped, Aether heaved, breathing in the very warm air - and taking in the scent of ozone lingering in the air.

He opened his eyes - and saw. 

For the first time since arriving in Teyvat, he felt like he could see , as if there was a blindfold- as if was blind until now.

He saw the energies, the elements, and the Elements all around him, lingering in the earth and air - the building blocks of an artificial world. He saw past the Sky- and beheld the False Sky far above, the great dome retaining mortal ignorance. It was a sight he had only seen once upon arriving in Teyvat, at the peak of the Tower. And he saw the corpses, corpses of mortal and divine nature, their draining life force feeding the land and flourishing.

Aether clambered to his feet, brushing a hand over his cracked and steaming skin - lathering a layer of starlight mixed with Geo in order to mend it. He experimentally flexed his wings, and found them too weak to take flight - he reckoned that he still had a seal over his wings, and was only able to bypass the barrier in a fractionate amount.

He huffed, releasing the energy that kept his wings formed - dispersing the appendages on his back.

Blinking wearily and rubbing his eyes, Aether pulled back his hand to reveal molten gold upon it - it seems he had been weeping. 

A thought struck at him - what had just transpired certainly wasn’t subtle. Even now, he could see the snow melted all around him, and frozen ground turned back to marsh. The air boiled, and golden motes of light still lingered - not to mention that nary a few moments ago his body was glowing like an oil lantern.

And yet, there was no one around him.

It was not that dark either, the Sun was still setting upon the horizon, only half dipped. 

So while he felt relieved at not having to explain himself, he couldn’t help but wonder - where was everyone?

It was silent, too silent. There was not the whistle of the wind, the chitter of insects nor the chirping of birds. A tension began to build in him, one that slowly began to peak as an unexplainable sensation overcame him.

Aether stared at his right palm, pushing a few streams of starlight through his skin and coalescing in his palm. To give it shape, he tapped into his newfound Geo energy, mixing it with the starlight - muddying the once pure gold glimmer into a duller kind of bronze. He willed it to elongate into a long haft, before topping it with a sharpened head of Geo and Anemo. 

In his hand, where there was once nothing, was a six feet long spear.

Aether spun around, pointing the spear at the figure behind him. 

The figure pointed his own spear back at him, the green jade edge directly under his chin and at his throat - drawing golden blood.

“I’ve heard of the illuminated beasts,” he mused, “But you aren’t just any illuminated beast, are you?”

“State your intentions, outlander,” the god growled.

Chapter Text

Act 2, Chapter 2

22nd of the 1st Cycle

Aether skidded over the ice, bringing up his spear to knock aside a blow before countering with a jab.

The yaksha leapt over his head, flipping and thrusting his own lance downwards to strike at his head. Aether hastily brought up an arm to slap the strike out of the way - tearing his hand apart in the process as the jade edge sliced into his flesh. As his own golden ichor sprayed down on him, Aether brought his spear wide and swung at the yaksha’s landing point in a wide sweep - catching the yaksha in the gut and sending him flying.

His opponent twisted himself mid-air, landing on his feet and spearing his lance downwards into the ice to bleed his momentum. Aether did not give him any moment of relief, dashing forwards and launching his spear out of his hands like a javelin before drawing Aphelion into his hands.

The yaksha hastily spun his jade spear in a circle - knocking Aether’s javelin aside - before leaping upwards. Aether raised his head to catch the barest glance of the yaksa in the air, the white Moon behind him - seemingly much more massive than before - green Anemo energy splayed behind him in the faint manner of a pair of wings.

And then the yaksa descended with all the force of a falling star - slamming his jade spear into the ice like a hammer - and the frozen sea erupted beneath his feet. 

Massive chunks of ice were hefted into the air by the sheer force, great plumes of black icy water blown out of the ruptured ice. The once completely flat frozen lake had been turned into a rough, chaotic plain of frozen hills and crags - great spikes of glowing blue ice raptured from the plane and spearing the air. 

Aether felt himself lifted upwards - flying shards of ice tearing at his skin - before leaping onto a downward slope of frozen water. As he began to slide downwards, he noticed the yaksha in the centre of the crater - and leapt off the slope, sword primed to strike at the yaksha’s head. 

The illuminated beast stared up at him through his demon-like mask, cerulean gaze piercing his soul. Then, the yaksha leapt upwards to meet him in the air, jade spear ready to impale him.

Aether materialised his wings at the last moment, swiftly manoeuvring to the side - but the yaksha snarled behind his mask and brought an open hand forwards - before clenching the hand into a claw, and tugged at something invisible.

Immediately, Aether felt a force pull him forwards and towards the yaksha - as if the winds themselves were at the beast’s beck and call. 

He realised the fatal mistake he made too late - Aether desperately brought his blade forwards to intercept the yaksha’s spear, but to no avail - the beast’s jade spear punched straight through the side of his midriff, hewing open a wound the size of a melon. 

Aether lost control of the right side of his body, involuntarily dropping Aphelion into the icy depths below. Unwilling to surrender, he continued to grasp the yaksha’s shoulder with his left hand - pushing the beast downwards. 

The yaksha attempted to wrestle him off, but his grip was solid - and Aether bore his wings. He was still too weak to take flight upon his own volition, but he could most certainly go down.

The two of them soared downwards, green and gold fusing to create a trail of brilliant vapour - slamming into the ice field and punching straight through, falling into the frigid waters below. 

The black waters shimmered with newfound light, and in the distance Aether could see several shafts of moonlight from the broken holes in the frozen top. Focusing back on his foe, Aether locked the yaksha’s spear to his side, rendering the deadly weapon useless due to its length.

Then, he punched the yaksha directly in his mask.

Aether withdrew his left fist to see it bleeding gold, the ichor mixing into the black waters and exuding a slight glow. Aether punched the yaksha’s mask again, and again, and again. On the fifth attempt, the yaksha caught his fist with his free hand, attempting to crush it with inhuman strength.

But Aether was inhuman himself, and broke free - before pummeling the mask again, this time validating his efforts by shattering off a piece - revealing a baleful gold eye underneath, burning with fiery rage.

The yaksha wrestled himself free, pushing Aether off, before jabbing upwards with his spear. Aether hastily skirted to the side, grabbing the spear shaft before the yaksha could pull back - and spun the spear around him - launching the spear and the yaksha downwards to the lake bed like a slingshot.

A thump was heard, reverberating throughout the inky blackness as the yaksha slammed into the lake bed, kicking up dust and sand. 

“▂▂▃▃▅▅▇██▅▇▅█▇███!”

A wordless scream of rage followed, forcing Aether to wince at the demonic noise.

He hastily brought his left hand over to his wound, pushing his intestines back into his body before healing the gaping hole with starlight and Geo.

Just as he was done, Aether looked back down to see a single spot of golden light ascending up at him - then he was launched upwards, frigid water rushing past his senses before he slammed into the ice cover above and punched through it, propelled into the Sky. 

The yaksha was right there with him - ethereal wings flared under the moonlight - and Aether didn’t even have the chance to widen his eyes before the yaksha smashed the flat side of his spear into his gut - hurling him towards the jagged ice below.

Aether attempted to twist himself into a landing position, but found that he could not - just about every bone in his body had been shattered in his ascent. Helplessly, he could only feel his innards press upwards as he fell - before landing on a particularly sharp icicle - and he was speared through the chest by glimmering crystal.

Hacking up gold, he attempted to snap off the top of the icicle, but he found himself either too weak, or the ice too thick to do so. Nevertheless, he did struggle to free himself even as hoarfrost crept over his innards - slowly freezing him from the inside. 

Meanwhile, the illuminated beast had landed back on the ground. Aether noticed the yaksha standing before a massive crag of ice that had been uplifted from the lake surface. Curiously, he watched as the yaksha moved into a stance, where the tip of his spear was pointed downwards, the blade horizontal to match the earth.

The yaksha shoved his spear into the ice, jade edge easily punching through the surface.

Then, the yaksha launched his spear into a skyward sweep - using it as a lever - and three curved scythes of Anemo clawed upwards. 

There was a deep, echoing rumble - a great reverberation that shivered through his bones - then a great crack- and suddenly the colossal crag of ice was launched hundreds of feet into the air. Aether could only watch in shock and horror as the veritable mountain of ice and snow - as the colossal iceberg hung stationary in the Sky for the briefest moment, blocking out all the light of the Moon and stars - a circling aura of Anemo at its pointed bottom, lifting the mass in the air.

The yaksha leapt upwards, and it was a near comical sight - a massive mountain of white and the smallest fleck of green and black right beside it. 

There was a flash of emerald, and then Aether could only watch as the yaksha used his spear as a racket - batting the entire iceberg at him as if it was merely a ball.

Aether heard the world roar as the mountain fell upon him, as he desperately struggled to free himself before he was flattened beneath tonnes of ice, snow, and rock. He pushed as much starlight into his arm as he dared, strengthening enough to snap off the icicle like a stick - before pushing himself off, feeling the chilly air blow through his chest by the gaping hole.

It was too little, too late.

The great shadow fell upon him, the world darkening as all light was blocked from his senses. Looking up wearily, he watched as the dark mass approached him - seemingly at a snail’s pace, and yet from the howl in his ears and the rushing gales, he knew that the mass was coming unto him with all the might of a falling star.

In a last ditch effort, he drew upon all the energy he had, bleeding his body of life as Anemo, Geo, and the light of sun and stars bled out of his palm and coalesced into a thin shield directly in front of him.

Then-

BOOM

31st of the 1st Cycle

He woke with a gasp, jerking upwards into a sitting position.

Wearily, Aether opened his eyes and found himself in a brightly lit room with hardwood walls. Lanterns hung from the ceiling, and the floor was polished and carpeted. He patted the soft bed beneath him, and found it to be a well-crafted feather mattress. 

Kicking the blanket off him, Aether swung his legs onto the ground and stood up, inspecting himself.

His wounds were mostly healed - the hasty repairs he made mid-battle clearly visible, as the Geo gave the faux-skin a more brownish hue, leaving noticeable scars across his body. He was also no longer wearing the same outfit he arrived in Teyvat with, the attire likely having been too badly damaged to be salvaged. Instead, he was wearing simple linen bedclothes - and noticed a more proper Liyuean outfit hanging from a hook near the door, along with his northern cloak.

All his internal workings seem to be functioning well, surprisingly, albeit still drained from the massive ‘spell’ he had casted in the last moment he could recall. 

Aether cautiously touched his head, feeling a bandage wrapped around his crown - and removed it. Deciding he had not the time to properly braid his hair, he instead used the same bandage to fashion a hasty knot and ponytail.

As he was doing so, a breeze swept over him, drawing his gaze to an open wall - where there was a sliding door leading onto a veranda. Drawn, he approached the veranda and pushed the lightly billowing curtains out of the way, stepping onto the balcony and leaning on the railings.

Below him, a massive, sprawling city extended as far as he could see through the morning mist. The shouts of vendors selling their wares and the hammering of blacksmiths reached him, as did the clattering of carriages on cobbled stone, the cawing of birds flying at his level, and the overall clamour of a city waking up to dawn.

The city was large, larger than even Mondstadt. A great sea of red and green tiled roofs illuminated by countless golden lanterns was laid out before him, neatly quartered by grey cobbled roads and intermittently dotted with verdant green courtyards filled with lush flora. There were several towers - pagodas - rising in the distance, piercing the skyline like spearheads.

Aether looked to the sides, attempting to fathom the sort of building he was in. Luxurious, to be certain, with its vibrant red walls well polished and cared for - not to mention the massive curtain wall surrounding the complex, built of red clay and topped with covered ramparts. A massive gatehouse interrupted the otherwise continuous barrier, the size of the gatehouse large enough to be a Windic noble mansion alone.

Aether was shaken out of his thoughts when he heard the door open behind him.

“Where am I?” he asked without turning around.

There was a step and pause, before a female voice returned.

“You are in Wangshu, sir.”

Wangshu, the largest city in the northside of the Republic. With a storied history, the city once used to be the capital of the Guili Assembly - and was one of few places in the Bishui Plain saved when the Bishui River flooded, whether through fortuitous luck or divine interference he did not know. Nevertheless, the city was abandoned for greener pastures in the south, and it was only centuries after the founding of Liyue Harbour was Wangshu revived as a trading outpost along the Stone Road.

Now, the city has become a booming commerce hub due to its economic significance as a waypoint between the Stone Gate and Liyue Harbour.

Not to mention, it was a few days south of where he last recalled - which meant that time has passed, time in which he was unconscious.

“Where am I in Wangshu?”

“Wangshu Inn, sir.”

Aether scoffed internally - this place, an inn? What kind of inn had a palatial estate, a fortress complex, and thick curtain walls capable of withstanding an army numbering in the tens of thousands?

“Inn?” he questioned.

“Yes sir, it used to be a palace back during the Archon Wars… until it was abandoned,” the lady trailed off, before swiftly adding, “It has since been renovated.”

A mighty fine renovation indeed.

“...Should I inform the mistress you have awoken, sir?”

“The mistress?”

“Yes sir, the mistress of this inn, Verr Goldet.”

“Verr Goldet… doesn’t sound Liyuean,” he muttered to himself, before speaking up, “No need, I will inform her - and thank her myself.”

“I will wait for you outside, sir.”

Aether turned around just in time to see the lady place a basin of water with a washcloth on the desk before leaving the room and closing the door behind her. He quickly moved back inside the room and slid the veranda door closed behind him, before reaching for the basin and splashing water onto his face.

After dressing himself, he pulled his cloak over him and exited the room - seeing the attendant waiting for him outside.

She bowed in greeting, before leading him through a twisting maze of corridors - then up a flight of stairs. As they climbed, Aether noticed that the left wall was not smooth, but instead a rough, natural rock surface.

“How did they build this wall?” he asked.

The attendant glanced at the left wall briefly, before turning back forwards.

“They didn’t. The old palace was built around a great stone spear that Rex Lapis unleashed upon an enemy army from Chi Qingce who were attempting to invade the Guili heartlands in the south. In a sense, the boulder serves as a tombstone for tens of thousands.”

“I was under the impression that the Bishui Plain was the Guili heartland.”

“Incorrect. The Guili Plains in the south were, the Bishui Plain used to be the northern frontier for the Assembly during the Archon Wars. It was only after defeating Chi Qingce did the Assembly move north, building Wangshu as their new capital in celebration of their victory.”

“Then the Stone Gate was built,” he surmised, “After the frontline moved further north.”

“Correct.”

Aether ran his hand along the rock face as they continued the clamber up the stairs, somewhat mesmerised by the faint Geo energy emanating off of it. 

Upon arriving at the next floor, he was led into a large antechamber with a connecting door. The attendant opened the door slightly and peeked her head through, before swinging the door open and leading him in. Crossing the threshold, he entered a cavernous hall that he imagines was likely used as a ceremonial avenue back when the inn was a palace.

The hall was circular in shape, with a cut out section at the far end leading to an open-air balcony where he saw several guests conversing with each other. To his right was a counter where several attendants stood behind, talking with more guests - likely for booking rooms.

He immediately singled out Verr Goldet - she was a distinctive figure as the only non-Liyuean, and he strode towards her to demand answers. As he approached, he realised she had a Windic air about her even while wearing a red Liyuean garb - her broader nose and high cheekbones led him to believe she was a northerner.

She quickly noticed him and bowed lightly, hands overlapped in front of her.

“Who brought me here?” he cut through the pleasantries.

“General Jinpeng did, sir,” she smiled unnervingly, “He has paid your tab as well - if you wish to speak with him, he would be upstairs. You can go through the balcony.”

“...My thanks.”

Without waiting for a reply, Aether took off, walking out into the sunlight and looking around for a staircase. He found one to his right, wrapping around the hall upwards towards a rooftop terrace. There was also a great tree growing out of the rock, its branches grown over the rooftop into a parasol-like appearance.

As he moved towards the staircase, one of the inn attendants attempted to interrupt him - but curiously backtracked upon seeing his face. Dismissing it, Aether clambered up the staircase and stepped onto the terrace - in the centre sat a small gazebo - and the entire place was empty of souls.

All except one - a short figure sitting on one of the tree branches.

Who also ignored him.

“So,” Aether drawled, “What made you decide to keep me alive?”

The yaksha silently leapt onto the roof, before dropping down to his level.

“I could kill you,” he growled, “But you wouldn’t die.”

He was a shorter man with dark teal hair, long enough to reach his shoulders. He had a sharp face with piercing golden eyes, with irises reminiscent of a bird of prey. There was a small gemstone embedded into his forehead, and a curious cerulean tattoo that went down his right arm in the vague shape of a bird.

“I have hunted your kind before,” the yaksha rasped, “Petty creatures who let your corpses fester and rot.”

Fester and rot. Aether could now see why the yaksha had avoided killing him out of fear of rot. 

A god’s body may be just a shell, but they were still bodies. And when a body turns to a corpse, it inevitably begins to rot. When a mortal corpse rots, it releases a pungent smell and attracts scavengers and flies, and plague festers.

So what happens when a divine corpse rots?

Much the same, in that regard, but on a far, far larger and severe scale. So much so that the miasma released infects the land and people, the flora and fauna - and those infected would be affected in different ways. Some would rot alive, others would succumb to insanity, some would mutate into beasts - the land would be filled with fester and decay.

The plague released could destroy entire mortal nations if left unattended to - which was why Morax had contracted the yaksha into ridding the land of the rot before it could truly take root.

However, if every god slain in the Archon Wars festered, then all of Teyvat would be a living hell, unsustainable to any kind of life. Most gods destroy their own bodies on the way out as a sign of gracious defeat, with only the pettiest leaving their corpses behind as a lingering hatred. There were ways around this too, Morax was famed for sealing gods in stone - caging them in their own bodies so that they could never unleash their dying rage - turning immortality into a curse.

Idly, Aether couldn’t help but wonder why the Land of Wind never faced such an issue - or that he knew of. Perhaps the gods vying for the seat of Anemo Archon were simply more gracious than those vying for Geo Archon - or perhaps Barbatos sweet-talked all of them out of it. A much more likely option, he thought amusedly.

Nevertheless, divine corpses were a significant issue - but it pales in comparison to cosmic corpses. Because by nature, the gods of Teyvat are native to Teyvat, and the worst they could do are things the land has and always could experience. But cosmic deities are foreigners, and just like adventurers bringing plague to before-untouched lands, the results of a cosmic corpse festering would be disastrous to say the least.

“Do not place us all in one basket,” Aether returned, “I, for one, respect your prowess as a warrior - though I have to admit, I cannot quite fathom a being such as you serving a god.”

The yaksha stared at him, before turning away to look at the rising Sun.

“I am an adeptus, I serve the god of this land just as you would serve yours.”

“Adeptus?” he questioned, “You are a god, a deity. And not like wind spirits or angels or dragons - you are a god. ”

“Even gods can be chained - and I was one,” he spoke quietly, “Before my liege broke me free and contracted me into his service. So I serve, for I owe him a debt yet to be repaid.”

Aether sighed, running a hand through his hair, “ Contract , you say. All I hear is that you have chained yourself once again - is that anyway to live? To fight for a debt you can never repay- do you know what that is called?”

“You live a blessed life, starwalker - able to live freely amongst the stars. You treasure your freedom, let me treasure mine own manner of it.”

Aether found himself unable to reply, for all he could say next would make him a hypocrite. Looking around in exasperation, a small platter with tofu and two cups of tea placed on the gazebo railing caught his attention.

He walked over and picked up the two cups of tea, both long cooled down.

Turning around, he moved over to the yaksha, who was now leaning against the outward railing.

“Even the attendants take care of you,” he said, offering one cup to the yaksha, who accepted it after slight hesitation.

“They are contracted to - here, we all are.”

There was a comfortable silence as they sipped the lukewarm tea and stared out at the city of Wangshu, now long since waking and bustling with life.

“...Aether,” he finally introduced himself, “We were never given names, so I named myself.”

The yaksha glanced at him briefly, before turning back to watching the city.

“Jinpeng is what I am, and I am the only one of my kind - so that is my name.”

“That doesn’t seem to be all.”

“...I was given the name Xiao by my contractor, so you may refer to me as such if you so wish,” Jinpeng looked down at his cup of tea, “Though, you seem to dislike the idea - so I doubt you will.”

“You are right, binding oaths are… too binding, for my liking.”

Aether thought humorlessly of a binding oath he had made in the not so distant past.

“To let someone else give you a name… is a most humiliating thing, I find,” Aether continued, “For it means to let someone else define what you are - one day, you should find out who you are yourself, and give yourself your own name.”

“Aether…” Jinpeng rasped, “Just like the Sky - you are a lofty, fleeting thing.”

“I do try.”

“Why have you come, Aether? For I must wish you remove yourself from this land as soon as you can.”

“Another contract, hm?” he chuckled lowly, “I come in hopes of breaking a seal placed unto me - which I have done right before you attacked me. Now, however, I must try to find my sister - or not find her.”

“Your sister… another of your kind.”

“Indeed - and I do fear I may have angered your liege.”

“I will not aid you in that regard,” the yaksha eyed him, “But I will assist in your search, if only to remove another potential starwalker.”

“Thank you.”

“I find myself unable to intrude upon mortal spaces,” Jinpeng growled, “Find yourself in Liyue Harbour, and ask the Qixing to aid you. I will scour the rest of the land.”

Jinpeng reached into the folds of his clothes, and brought out a jade block. Aether received the block, and found it to be a seal - one carved into bearing a stylised bird of some sort.

“Proof,” was all the yaksha offered.

“It seems I find myself owing you a great debt,” he laughed, “Is it not ironic?”

Jinpeng turned away and walked back to the gazebo, downing the rest of his tea as he went - before picking up the plate of tofu off the platter.

“Consider the debt repaid when you leave this land.”

Aether downed the rest of his tea as well, walking over and placing the cup down on the platter.

“I will consider it,” he waved as he left the terrace, dearly hoping his horse and pack were also brought over to Wangshu.

Chapter Text

Act 2, Chapter 3

6th of the 2nd Cycle

The Guili Plains were a vast expanse that stretched as far as the eye could see.

A light dusting of white snow covered the ground, staining the earth a dirty white-brown. Perhaps, once up a time, this land was verdant and fertile - as it should be, bordered by the Luhua River to the west and Bishui River to the east - but the great flooding of the Bishui River in the Archon War had swept all the topsoil off the Guili Plains, leaving behind a rocky, craggy earth unsuitable for any kind of agriculture.

Which was why, despite the settlements of the Guili Plains having survived the war, Morax decided to rally the survivors of the Assembly and travel south to Mount Tianheng anyway.

Despite that, the great plain was still a sight to see. The land rolls as it always has, as if it feels that time and space are one thing, that it rolls through the ages as much as to the horizon. Ridges and cragged bluffs interrupted the otherwise rolling hills, sharply punctuating the yellowish land with piercing grey. Over it is laid a path, one that branches through the open landscape, perhaps once well-cared roads now fallen to disrepair - leading to the skeletal corpses of once-magnificent cities.

The Assembly was also known as a divine triumvirate, one formed between three neighbouring gods to forge a pact of safety. In the north were the ruins of Tuzhong, ruled by Marchosias, the Lord of Soil. In the west was Hudong, on the banks of the Luhua Pool - the first city of the Assembly - founded by Gusion, the Lord of Dust. In the south, built upon higher land, was Shangyan - the first city of Morax’s, the Lord of Rock.

And raised in the centre of the three ruins was the sprawling, bleached stone skeleton of Guili, the first capital of the Assembly. 

Aether had long since been travelling alone - whether the caravan was in front or behind him he could not yet reckon. From time to time, he would pass by other travellers on the road, but since there was little purpose in travelling the Stone Road at this time of year, bypassers were few and far between.

As his horse - which was unfortunately a new horse, since Jinpeng had not the courtesy to bring his old belongings to Wangshu - trodded down the road, he took his time marvelling at the ancient ruins of Guili to his left. Most of the city was hidden behind the massive curtain walls that surrounded the settlement, with all that were visible the heights of crumbling towers peeking above the barrier.

But that was not enough to take away the grandeur of the once-powerful city. The walls were built in the Liyuean manner - or perhaps he should say that the Liyuean manner was adopted from the walls of Guili - a massive barrier of smooth red clay, as tall as Mondstadt’s own walls but much thicker. 

The facade had long faded away, the once-vibrant red turned ashen from lack of care. There were a great many arches and columns carved into the wall to give it depth, but disrepair had caused them to crumble over time. Atop the wall were the remnants of a covered roof, with the few sections still remaining showing the sloping and curved tiled structure Liyue was famed for.

Interspaced regularly were monolithic watchtowers, each veritable keeps - that all paled in comparison to the western gatehouse. It was a fortress of its own, ejecting out of the wall into a thicker rectangular shape - and built above was a massive complex with three floors, each with their own wrapping roofs and intricate columned facades.

Below were three gates - not the kind of portcullises seen in the north, but studded double doors built of bronze. The central gate was at least twice the size of the two smaller gates flanking it, with one door fallen over - allowing him a glimpse into the abandoned city inside.

Aether was about to turn away and continue on his path when he noticed something curious - a thin line of smoke rising into the Sky, originating from within the walls of Guili. 

An adventurer, he presumed, or a treasure hunter - or perhaps one of those treasure hoarders from Fontaine.

Deciding that it could not hurt to indulge in his own curiosity, Aether tugged at the reins, changing directions and approaching the massive gatehouse.

As his horse clopped up the stone stairs, he noticed two intricately carved stone statues flanking the central gate - depicting two ape-like figures wielding swords. Their eyes seemed to follow him as he moved past them, but he ignored them in favour of kicking his steed into a canter, quickly moving underneath and through the central gate.

Entering the ancient city, he saw that most of it had been worn away. All he could see were the crumbling facades of ancient mansions and palaces - built atop stable foundations that have survived the tests of time. Most ordinary houses were long gone, leaving behind only stone foundations and structures. A breeze swept through the empty city, whispering through the ruins and facades like the hushed voices of the long dead.

He saw a mighty building near the central city, a great fortress-palace with towering spires and crowned battlements. Moving through the empty, still-defined streets, he noticed that Guili was of a planned build, with neat, orderly blocks and quarters in stark contrast to Wangshu’s mess of avenues and alleys.

Approaching the straight road to the fortress-palace, he realised it was an inner ward - a walled citadel - with walls even greater that those surrounding the city. And much like the outer walls, the barriers were still high and mighty, standing firm despite millennia of disrepair and erosion. 

Some sort of sorcery, Aether surmised, whether it be mortal or divine - these walls were built to withstand divine wars, mere time wouldn't be able to bring them down.

Tearing his gaze away, he looked to the Sky to see the column of smoke much closer than before. Deciding to travel on foot, Aether dismounted and led his horse to a nearby dilapidated column, which he tied the reins around.

Swiftly striding down the streets, he turned several corners - making sure to remember the path he took as he went - before reaching the entrance of a large clearing. Seeing the ruins of an empty fountain in the centre, and the mosaic ground covered in a layer of dust and soil, Aether assumed it was once a plaza of some sort. 

Nevertheless, what truly caught his attention was the small campsite raised at the edge of the plaza, right underneath the barren wall of a building. There was a single tent and campfire, and a horse tied to a wooden stake - but no person to be seen.

Aether approached the campsite, glancing in the tent to see some bags and bookstacks - as well as a bedroll. 

“I’m certain I left it around here somewhere…”

He froze for a fraction of a moment, before slowly backing away - turning around to see the person approaching.

She was a tall woman, wearing a rough but rugged leather outfit - and a grey scarf wrapped around her head and neck into a hood.

“Left what?” he asked.

The lady jerked, suppressing a shout while swiftly drawing a long knife on him.

“Who are you?”

Aether eyed the knife in her hand, before dismissing it.

“Aether - and who are you?”

“...Bao’er,” she said, before scanning his form, “You don’t look like a local.”

“Good eye,” he agreed, “I’m not.”

They stared at each other for a while, before Bao’er slowly sheathed her dagger, walking past him to look inside her tent - likely to ensure there was nothing missing - before turning back around to address him again.

“What are you doing here?”

He nodded at her campfire, “You can see that smoke from a league away - there isn’t much in the plains to block it.”

She stared at the campfire, before closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose.

“So…” he returned, “What are you doing here? Treasure hunting?”

“I’m an archaeologist!” Bao’er snapped, “I got my hands on some artefacts but misplaced the somewhere…”

“A terrible archaeologist, then.”

She was likely a treasure hunter, he figured, using the cover of ‘archaeologist’ to keep the Millelith and people like him off her back. Well, it wasn’t any of his business - he didn’t know what laws the Republic has regarding treasure hunting in any case - and he had already satiated his curiosity nonetheless.

“Well…” he mused, glancing around her camp, “Guess I’ll be on my way, then.”

“What? You came here just to investigate my camp?” she asked, incredulous, “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Not really,” he admitted, “I’m on an… extended vacation.”

“What-!?” she palmed her face, “You know what- no, nevermind - off you go.”

Aether obliged, turning around and making his way back to his horse - hearing Bao’er go back to muttering to herself about the artifact - or more likely treasure - that she had lost.

What a waste of his time, he thought amusedly.

15th of the 2nd Cycle

Aether stood on the cliff north of the city, overlooking the Sea of Clouds - overlooking the City.

He had come across many a Liyuean on the Stone Road, and whenever he heard them mentioning Liyue Harbour, they would refer to it as ‘Chengshi’ - ‘the City.’ And the moment he was finally able to set his sights on Liyue Harbour, he completely understood why they did so. Because if there was one city on Teyvat that deserved the title, it was this one.

The span and scale of Liyue Harbour dwarfed any that he had seen before - Mondstadt and Dawnton were towns in comparison, it put Wangshu to shame, it was larger than even the city of the Tower. It sprawled across the entire bay, a sea of colours and lights - of red and green topped roofs and glittering streets of gold. To any merchant, Liyue Harbour was synonymous with wealth and prosperity - it was the centre of the mercantile world, and it flaunted its wealth.

Liyue Harbour was loud - loud enough to even be heard from the mountaintops - loud enough to seemingly be seen - a cacophony of people, brightness, colour and voices that drowned out his thoughts. Of endless sights to feast his eyes upon, of buildings in every shape and size, shops and business running day and night, of flowing goods and traders from every corner of the continent.

It was the city that never sleeps.

The city was not confined to land alone - for the Sea of Clouds was a sea of ships - hundreds, thousands of vessels hailing every inch of Teyvat - so many that they blocked any sight of the sapphire waters below. Carracks and galleons from the Windrise and Dornman Port, longboats from Natlan, dromonds and swanships from Sumeru, caravels from Fontaine - even steamships, hailing from Fontaine or Snezhnaya he could not fathom.

And the distinctive junks of Liyue, with their rectangular hulls and bamboo sails. But all of them were cast in the shadow of the Treasure Ships, mammoth junks with five decks and eleven masts - five-hundred feet from bow to stern, they were floating cities capable of ferrying hundreds. They carried precious stones and exotic goods, spreading the influence of Liyue far and wide - they were the physical manifestations of the Qixing’s wealth and power.

Aether sucked in a breath as he took in the sight fully - and choked on the harsh smell of salt, fish and brine that struck him like a speeding horse. It truly did strike him then, that he was no longer in the Land of Wind, where the pleasant smell of dandelions and wine carried aloft by the winds were ever-present. No, there was none of that here.

He turned his horse away from the cliff, returning back to the Stone Road. Indeed, the Stone Road finally ended here, at a winding stretch of land that meandered down the mountainside to the northern shore of the Feiyun Sound, where a great bridge allowed access to the open gates of the wall-less city. Because Liyue Harbour had no need for walls - surrounded on three sides by mountains and one side by sea, there were only three landways into the city, all of which were narrow passes guarded by overlooking fortresses.

Indeed, to the north was Daoxiang Pass - which he had just passed through the day before - formed by a natural stone archway commanded by a watchtower-keep on the nearby mountainside.

In warmer seasons, this mountain road would be packed with thousands of people going to and coming from the north - but now, it was empty. The city usually received the greatest influx of visitors in the fall, when people from all across the Republic and beyond would come to witness the Lantern Rite in the following year - thus arriving in the city before the snow closes the roads. 

After the Lantern Rite on the first full Moon of the year, most will leave the city - but at the same time many will stay to witness the Rite of Descension in the following moon, which he had now come for. 

Continuing down the road, Aether felt the prevailing winds once more - blowing north, towards the Land of Wind, where all thousand winds converge. Looking south, he was forced to squint lest the harsh gust sting at his eyes - but he was still able to make out Zhandou-yan - Battle Rock - a small peninsula with a craggy bluff situated at the very end. 

On top of the bluff was raised a monumental stone lighthouse with stepped layers - and at the very top was a massive cage housing an immense blazing fire the size of a house. At the foundations of the lighthouse was a square fortress of unadorned grey stone - with thick crenellated walls bristling with concealed ballistae and onagers ready to rain hell on any attacking fleet in the bay.

As the Sun began to set in the west, Liyue Harbour gradually lit up as countless lanterns and fires were set alight - turning the curved bay into a golden glowing strip. Aether did not stop until he found the last wayhouse on the city approaches, situated on the landward side of the cliff, right in the shadow of the mountain. Curiously, he spotted another horse tied to a stake outside the wayhouse, and figured there was another traveller who decided to rest there for the night.

Slowing to a halt, Aether swung himself off his own ride before tying it to the stake - before moving over to a nearby haystack and refilling the trough with water and hay.

After that, he retrieved his pack from the saddle and approached the wayhouse, knocking on the front door before entering.

Inside was barren but warmly lit, with several beds for staying travellers. There were also several desks, and on at one of the desks sat a young woman with her back turned to him - she had a long curtain of dark hair draped down her back, still wet from a bath of some manner - and dressed in a robe tied at her waist.

She seemed to be engrossed with something on her desk, so Aether quietly took off his cloak and outerwear before hanging it on a hook - right beside an immense witch hat, ostentatiously adorned with some golden metal and clearly masterfully embroidered.

“Hail!” he called, “Pardon me.”

Aether threw his pack onto an unoccupied bed before the lady turned around, revealing a round face and pale green eyes. She was clearly not of Liyuean descent, he noted, but perhaps Windic or Fontainean.

“Ah,” she pointed at him, “You are Aether, yes?”

“You know who I am?”

“Of course!” she sniffed, “I am Mona Megistus - and as usual, my predictions are correct! Our meeting was ordained by fate!”

“...”

“Though… you came far later than I had first predicted,” she scratched her chin, “I still need to hone on my skills, clearly.”

Aether cleared his throat, drawing her attention, “When you say fate… do you mean fate, or Fate ?”

He clearly emphasised the second ‘fate,’ which led to Mona narrowing her eyes and standing up.

She looked him in the eye and held his gaze, before clearly enunciating; “Fate.”

“Well,” he sighed, “I’ll be damned - an astrologist, then?”

“Hmph! That’s right - and though you are late, I’ll be willing to overlook it if you do me a favour!”

“Which is…?”

“Well, I need you to guide me to Mondstadt! I am on a mission from my master to retrieve a certain box from-”

“Denied,” he bluntly interrupted, “You speak fluent Reitz, clearly you are Windic - why can’t you go there yourself?”

“Well, that’s because I was only born in the Land of Wind,” Mona replied, clearly irritated, “I was raised in Fontaine - and as you know, I said Fate , it isn’t like I have a choice!”

Aether collapsed onto his bed - staring at the wooden ceiling - too tired to deal with the astrologist.

“Hey, are you listening to me!?”

“I hear you, lady,” he groaned, “Trust me, I have more experience with Fate then you ever will - you’ll be fine.”

“Yes, but unlike you ,” she pointed at him accusingly, “I’m only mortal, and if I go wrong here, I will be swimming in a dark sea for the rest of my life!”

“Well, I just came from Mondstadt!” he countered, “I’m not going back there so fast!”

“...”

Aether raised an eyebrow at the lack of response, lifting up his head to glance at the lady - who was staring at him with wide, confused eyes. Suddenly, she crossed her arms and looked down with furrowed brows, muttering to herself as she started to pace the room.

“So… It is not that you are late, but I am too early?” she murmured, “You were supposed to be leaving the city when you run into me, not coming to…”

“Uh…” he tried.

“But I am certain my divination was correct…” she ignored him, “Both of us were supposed to be here on this day… so what if neither of us were wrong, but the timeline…? No, that’s preposterous, how could the time be wrong?”

“Hey…” 

Suddenly, she spun her hands in the air and something on her desk glowed - which he realised was a Hydro Vision - and an astrological chart appeared in front of her, formed of glowing Hydro. Mona was quickly engrossed with fiddling the chart and consulting it, to his consternation.

“Hey!” he shouted, and she finally flinched and looked at him.

“Will you stop that?” he continued, “Fate is finicky - and unfortunately for you, you managed to be unlucky enough to hit a snag there, so tough luck about that, but-”

“Luck does not exist,” she interrupted him, “At least not for us mortals - we are all chained to the road Fate paves for us.”

“Well, then what do you call this?”

Mona gave a half-smile, “Fate.”

Aether stared at her for a while, before suddenly sitting up, “Oh no - you are not going to- no way, no way in seven hells you are going to-”

She disregarded his protests and shrugged.

“Looks like I’ll have to follow you around until you get to Mondstadt!”

Chapter Text

Act 2, Chapter 4

16th of the 2nd Cycle

That morning, Aether woke up early in an attempt to escape Mona before she realised.

Unfortunately, she was somehow roused from her bed mere moments after Aether did so - swinging her legs off and standing up as if there was nothing amiss. He didn’t quite know what to make of it - if it was mere unfortunate coincidence or some manner of sorcery he could not perceive.

Inwardly giving up, Aether silently left the wayhouse to check on his horse before washing his face with a bucket of water. The mountain air was chilly, but not unmanageable - so as he slowly allowed the murkiness to drain out of him, he took his time admiring the magnificent view of Liyue Harbour and the Sea of Clouds.

After fully waking up, he returned back inside the wayhouse to see Mona dressed in an odd, tight clothing. It was clearly specially-crafted, masterfully weaved of some exotic fabric in blues with gold trim. 

“What in seven hells are you wearing?”

She turned around to stare at him, before placing her hands on her hips.

“Well,” she sniffed, “I have a Hydro Vision, and I am primarily a hydromancer - so doesn’t it make sense that I must wear water-resistant clothing?”

“...Please don’t tell me you’re wearing that outside.”

Mona gave him a flat stare before walking past him to the hooks, snatching off a long blue-black coat and draping it over her shoulders and buttoning the front - before taking the witch hat and fitting it to her head. Then, she raised an eyebrow.

“It’s cold outside, did you know?”

Aether pinched the bridge of his nose, before gently pushing her aside and taking his own cloak from the hooks.

“Of course, of course.”

Not long after, they were back on the road, making good progress down the mountainside. As they proceeded, Mona brought her horse beside his - deciding to make conversation.

“What are you going to Liyue Harbour for?”

Aether shrugged, “Witness the Rite of Descension first, then see if I can find my sister.”

“ Then see if you can find your sister? Is she not important to you?”

“She’s the most important person to me,” he replied, “But she can take care of herself, I’m really just doing this so she won’t harp on me when we reunite.”

“You’re a terrible brother.”

“I do try,” he smiled halfedly.

“So…” she drawled, “After that, are you returning to-”

“Definitely not,” he interrupted, “From here I’m catching a ride to Inazuma.”

“The Shogunate?” she asked in surprise, “Do you have a death wish?”

Aether paused for a moment, rolling the question over in his head.

“No,” he finally decided, “Why?”

“The Shogun had enforced the Sakoku Decree a while back, no one is getting in or out of Inazuma - not with that storm surrounding the entire nation.”

“...”

Storm, he thought exasperatedly, again? What was it with gods and storms? 

“I will assume,” he mused, “That there will be no ship going to the Shogunate in Liyue.”

“Aside from some mad smugglers?” Mona shook her head, “You won’t find any - best chance you have is to buy your own ship.”

“I don’t have the mora for that.”

“Tough.”

Aether remained silent as they approached the great bridge spanning the Feiyun Sound. As they crossed, the black Sky slowly began to lighten as the Sun finally peeked over the towering mountains in the east - allowing him to catch a better sight of the entrance to Liyue Harbour.

It sat on the end of the bridge, a colossal gateway arch known as a paifang - two stone pillars rising out of the earth and topped by red-painted wooden beams and an intricately decorated roof. The stone pillars were carved with depictions of mythical beasts, a wood-carved serpentine dragon topped the red-tiled roof - and masterful calligraphy drawn over the wooden beams.

There was a squad of Millelith guards standing under the gate, leaning against the pillars disinterestedly - but snapped to attention when they noticed them approaching.

One of the guards approached them, stowing his spear on his back and beckoning them forward. As they were directly under the gate, the guards stopped them.

“Purpose?” the man asked Aether.

“Visiting,” he replied as he shuffled through his pack, looking for the letter Lord Ragnvindr gave him - before realising it was left in his old pack.

Discarding that, he finally took out the jade seal Jinpeng handed him, showing it to the guard - who took it and inspected the block.

“What is this?” the guard asked.

Aether paused, before realising that Jinpeng specifically told him to hand it to the Qixing - as the commonfolk likely wouldn’t recognise it, nor even realise that that yakshas were more than mere stories.

“Show it to your superior,” Aether tried.

The guard stared up at him, but after Aether encouraged him by giving a sharp nod, the man sighed and walked off with the block in hand.

“What was that?” Mona leaned over and asked him.

“Just wait.”

A few moments later, the guard returned to them - followed by another Millelith, one higher ranked considering the decorations on his armour. The head guard was holding the seal reverently with two hands, and bowed as he offered the block up to Aether. He retrieved the seal gratefully.

“My apologies for holding you back, sir,” the head guard apologised, and the lesser guard bowed - likely informed the significance of the seal, “Welcome to Liyue Harbour!”

“Thank you,” Aether slightly bowed his head in response, “My companion here is also with me.”

“Of course - miss?”

Mona retrieved a medallion from the inside of her coat, showing it to the guards. Aether leaned over to catch a glimpse of the medallion, but was only able to make out a faint hexagon carved on it. He was able to see the guards’ eyes widen fractionally, however, and raised an eyebrow - for it meant Mona was a more important figure than he thought.

“Welcome to Liyue Harbour, miss!”

She nodded in response, and they spurred on their horses and entered the city. Liyue Harbour was originally founded on an islet in the bay known as Chihu Rock - but has since expanded onto the mainland due to the ever expanding population, with a new city centre in Feiyun Slope. 

From the northern gate, they were greeted with the bustling streets of Feiyun Slope. This was Mondstadt’s upper city equivalent in Liyue Harbour, except those who lived here were not born of blue blood and noble bloodlines - no, they were merchants and traders who made it to the top through their own efforts, sweat and tears. 

Feiyun Slope was bright and well-lit, with clean cobbled streets and a joyous atmosphere lingering in the air. When most people think of Liyue Harbour, they envision the prosperity of Feiyun Slope - the well-established stalls and shops harbouring wonders on their shelves. The bustling streets filled with bystanders and rushing carriages, the noisy crowds, and the enticing smells and scents of luxurious food from the most prominent eateries.

Here, the lights are bright and never go out.

“Well, where to now?” Mona asked.

“Do you know when the Rite begins?”

“On the morrow,” she replied, “If my memory serves me right.”

“Then let’s go get luncheon, before asking around for a ship to the Shogunate.”

“I already told you,” Mona sighed, “There is little chance-”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to try.”

They were interrupted by a speeding carriage, and quickly moved their horses out of the way to the angered shouts of the coachman - nearly hitting some nearby pedestrians. Apologising profusely, they hastily made their way to a less crowded area - to a large, open plaza where dozens of street stalls were set up with hawkers calling and plying their trades.

To their right was a large building, which Aether recognised as the Feiyun Commerce Guild, and to their left was a massive staircase called the Scarlet Steps leading down the slope - towards the Military Wharf. A massive closed harbour flanked by two towers - which had a chain net able to be raised out of the sea to block passage - the Military Wharf was home to the grand fleet of the Republic.

Since Liyue Harbour was protected from land by mountains, that left only the sea as the most apparent threat of invasion. Thus, Qixings from generations past had continued to build up and modernise the ever expanding fleet, with the Military Wharf home to some of the best shipwrights on the continent.

“Best we head to Chihu Rock,” Mona told him after looking around, “Not like we can afford anything they’re selling here - and all the commercial wharfs are at the Rock anyway.”

With that, they hastily rode down the main road, soon crossing the stone bridge over onto Chihu Rock. The moment they set foot on the island, it was as if they stepped into a completely different city. 

Whereas Feiyun Slope smelled of flowery perfumes, Chihu Rock smelled of a cacophony of damp wood, sea salt, fish, and a hundred different street foods clashing together. Much lower to the sea, the cobbled roads were always wet and slippery from sea spray - and whereas Feiyun Slope was neatly organised and quartered, the Rock was a mess of wynds, crisscrossing alleys, narrow streets and markets.

There were thousands of street stalls lining the roads, selling all manner of goods - food, clothes, trinkets and jewellery, toys, fresh produce and seafood - everything under the Sun. Feiyun Slope was refined - but this was the beating heart of Liyue Harbour that pumps vitality into all of the Republic. 

When a thousand ships lay anchor in Liyue Harbour, they lay anchor here, in the two ports located at Chihu Rock - Hukou Port, where only Liyuean vessels can dock, and the Golden Port, where all mercantile ships came and went. Unlike what the names would suggest, the Golden Port was rougher, dirtier and noisier than Hukou Port.

After finding a suitable inn and reserving a room, they left their horses at the in-built stables and left to find food. They quickly came across the Third-Round Knockout, right by the main plaza, and settled in for luncheon.

Soon enough, a waitress came to ask for their order.

“Give me what you recommend for this time, please,” Aether told her.

“And you, miss?” the waitress asked Mona.

“The same as him,” she replied.

In response, the waitress just stared at her with a confused smile - blinking several times. 

“...Pardon.”

“I want the same as his,” Mona pointed at him, repeating herself.

“...The same… as his food?” the waitress asked again, pointing at him.

“...?”

“Yes, yes,” Aether cut in, “She wants what I’m having, thank you.”

“Oh, my apologies - of course,” the waitress smiled, before asking Mona - “You’re from Fontaine, right?”

“...Fontaine…?”

“She’s asking you if you’re from Fontaine.”

“Oh, yes I am!” Mona’s eyes widened, “How did you know?”

It was clear to him that the waitress did not fully understand what Mona was saying, but got the gist of it from her tone and reaction. So instead of talking to her, the waitress addressed him instead.

“I think the lady is speaking in Chamao-hua,” she told him, “That’s spoken near the border with Fontaine - in Qingce and Qiaoying. In the coastal areas, we speak Yushe-hua.”

“Oh, I see,” Aether smiled apologetically, “Pardon us.”

After the waitress smiled and left, Mona turned to him.

“What did she say?”

“You were speaking the wrong language,” he told her amusedly.

“Oh, wrong dialect huh?”

“Yeah-” Aether was interrupted when two waiters came by and began laying out silverware on the table - forcing him to lean back so he wouldn’t obstruct their work.

Fine porcelain bowls and plates were laid out, with a steaming cup of tea. Then, they placed the cutlery - a pair of chopsticks and a porcelain soup spoon - wrapped in a warm, wet towel on the table.

“So,” he asked after they left, “Enlightenme, how did you divine my appearance before you?”

“I didn’t divine you, ” she corrected, “I divined me, and found you.”

“Every sapient being in Teyvat is born under a constellation in the Sky,” she continued, “They are the story books of your life - your fate, your destiny, it has all been pre-written.”

“Not in the Sky,” Aether mildly corrected.

“Pardon?”

“What, you think every insignificant mortal in this realm deserves a place among the stars?” he asked, “What makes Teyvat so special compared to hundreds of other realms?”

Mona stared at him incredulously, as if he had grown a second head - then her eyes widened, as if realising something she had missed. Then, her eyes narrowed into sharp slits, boring into him.

“So you’re saying… that Teyvat has a-”

“I never said anything,” he interrupted her, “If you truly are an astrologist, you can prove your hypothesis yourself.”

There was a pause as none of them spoke - and in that time the waitress returned with a pork claypot, a large pot of jewellery soup, and two bowls of rice. Aether thanked her before taking the ladle and filling his empty bowl with soup.

“Well… I suppose so,” Mona slowly said as she took some pork and put it in her rice, “As I was saying - as an astrologist, I can read these constellations.”

“But not well.”

“Most definitely not,” she spoke after chewing, “For an accurate divination, I need to be familiar with the person and familiar with their constellation - else I’ll be reading a summary, or more likely just a few words at best.”

“You’re a fool, you know that?”

Mona shrugged, “I knew what I was getting into when I took up astrology.”

Aether shook his head in exasperation. There was a saying - ‘ignorance is bliss’ - and that is most true when it came to fate. An ignorant mortal would go about their lives, living it as fate told them to - but the moment they knew of their fate, then they must do everything in their power to follow it. Because this was a one-way street, and the moment you step off the path laid out before you, then well, you’re on your own.

You’ll end up swimming in a dark sea not knowing which way was up, constantly drowning but never dying because your death is now completely up in the air. Barbatos once spoke of the dead living among the stars - in their constellations - but those who defy their fates no longer have any constellation to return to, and will be trapped in a state of oblivion for the rest of their nonexistence.

What comes from the sea will always return to the sea - that applies to the watery depths, yes, but it does apply to the endless sea of void above. As a starspawn, Aether had his own constellation - one which he was born from and will return to after his death - his fate was fluid, because he was the master of his own stars.

But Teyvatians? Their constellations were false, faux-stars inlaid a False Sky. The moment they diverge from their own fate, their constellations would wink out of existence.

“In any case,” Mona continued, “I only know that you will be with me at the gates of Mondstadt - nothing more. So as long as I follow that… I should be fine!”

“You treat fate as if it’s a rulebook filled with loopholes,” he told her, “And I am unsure of whether to be impressed or insulted.”

“Insulted?”

“Mm, Fate is my aunt, after all.”

“Talk about a dysfunctional family.”

16th of the 2nd Cycle

“Hah! No one here will be willing to take you to Inazuma, boy!”

“I figured.”

Waving farewell to the old captain - the fifth captain he’d met - Aether shook his head as he made his way back to the meeting point he and Mona had agreed upon beforehand. Running a hand through his hair, he realised Mona was decidedly correct about the fact that there was no vessel going to Inazuma at this time.

As he continued to deliberate over ideas on how to cross the Great Sea in his head, he noticed Mona was already waiting for him near a stack of crates - with a girl by her side.

“Who’s this?”

“Ah, you’ve returned,” she said with a knowing look, “So? Was I correct, or was I correct?”

“You were correct,” he agreed, “Who is this?”

“This is Atsuko - an Inazuman,” she introduced, “She has been living in Liyue Harbour for some time, and has learned the language.”

Atsuko was a young miss with ebony hair tied back in a bob - she had a pale face once, perhaps, but now her skin was darkened from all her days under the Sun. She bowed to him in greeting.

“I’m Atsuko, nice to meet you.”

“Aether,” he returned, “Likewise. How did you cross the sea?”

“It was back during the early days of the Sakoku Decree,” she explained, “Back when no one knew what to make of it. Because of that, smuggling was common, and I managed to buy passage on one of the ships.”

“Is that ship still around?”

Atsuko tilted her head, “I haven’t a clue, but I doubt it. These times aren’t the same as before, no one dares cross the Kamikaze now, it’s too risky.”

"Kamikaze?"

"Ah- that's what we call it," she scratched the back of her head sheepishly, "Kamikaze - the Divine Winds."

“Alright, I see,” he smiled, hiding his thoughts, “Thank you for the information.”

“No no,” she waved her hands, “I’m sorry I wasn’t of any help…”

Mona silently shook her head, before conveying an inquisitive look.

“So, what is your plan now?”

Aether turned around to look back at the Golden Harbour, where hundreds of ships were continuously moving in and out. It was as if he was watching a never ending hourglass, where the ships were individual grains of sand, dropping from the sea to take port - but only to disperse back into the ocean horizon once more.

If Chihu Rock was the ever-pulsating heart of the Republic, then the ships were its lifeblood. Endless in their number, neverending in their flow.

“Well, we’ll simply have to acquire a vessel of our own, no?”

“Forgive me,” Atsuko hesitantly spoke up, “But I don’t think you’ll be able to purchase any ship large enough to brave the Divine Winds, they are terribly expensive. Not to mention, you also need to find and hire a willing crew.”

Aether did not deign to reply, not for a long while. So after some time, Mona seemed to have had enough of his silence - taking Atsuko by the arm and dragging her away.

“Continue concocting whatever schemes you have,” she told him, “Atsuko, you’re coming with me!”

“P-Pardon? Why?”

“I don’t know the Inazuman language, I need you to teach me.”

“I-I don’t think you can learn Inazuma-go in such a short period of time!”

“I know,” Mona smiled cunningly, “Which is why I created a translation algorithm with my Vision, I just need you to fill in the blanks…”

As their voices faded away, all Aether could think of was - Visions work like that too? He supposed the explanation that Visions was fueled by sheer will was true in some sense of that. Shaking his head, he turned around and began walking in the other direction, towards the main plaza - and then crossing the bridge to Feiyun Slope.

Walking down the cobbled roads alone, Aether marvelled at the buildings rising on either side of him - all gleaming with wealth and splendour, first floors built of smooth stone seeming hewn of the mountain without cutting, and the upper floors built of stacked wood. Lines crossed overhead, tied from rooftop to rooftop - carrying flags, banners and paper lanterns.

He was surrounded by wealth and influence - wealth and influence he needed to acquire a ship and crew.

“Pardon us sir, but you seem to be troubled somewhat.”

Aether was snapped out of his thoughts by a trio of people - two young men dressed in opulent yet elegant clothing, one in blue with a feminine face, the other in white - bearing a longsword sheathed on his back. The third was a young lady with blossom-shaped pupils and draping brown hair tied in two tails.

“Well, I suppose I am quite troubled,” he decided to humour them, “My name is Aether.”

“My family name is Xu, given name Xingqiu,” the blue-dressed boy greeted, “It’s a pleasure.”

“Ling Chongyun,” was all the boy in white said to introduce himself, his piercing ice blue gaze striking at something deep within Aether.

He subtly shifted away from the boy, feeling somewhat uneasy around the energy he gave off. Maybe it was the chill always lingering around him, or maybe it was the strange pressure that made it hard for Aether to breathe. Whatever the case, he knew that the boy meant trouble for him.

But it was the strange girl with blossom-shaped irises that made him the most uneasy, for though she wore a pleasant smile the stench of death crawled over her skin. And so while he waited for her to introduce herself, all she did was stare unwaveringly.

“Hey… hey Hu Tao!” Xingqiu poked her, “You’re being rude!”

“Huh… oh!” she suddenly jerked, shaking her head, “My family name is Hu, given name Tao! Nice to meet you!”

“Likewise, how can I help you?”

“Oh no,” Xingqiu waved his hand, “How can we help you ?”

Aether mused over whether he could trust them - but then noticed the Visions hanging off their clothing, glinting inconspicuously in the shade of buildings. He supposed there was no harm in telling them - as long as he doesn’t leave this conversation with another debt owed, then he would consider it harmless, at least.

“I am searching for a ship that will take me to Inazuma,” he admitted, “Though I can find none - which leads me here, attempting to acquire both a ship and crew that will take me there.”

“From nothing?” Xingqiu asked, “That will take a lot of money and influence, you know? The ship is easy, but you can’t just form a crew from nowhere.”

“I know, but I doubt any large organisation will be willing to sponsor such a trip.”

The young man scratched his chin, deep in thought - while the ice-eyed man continued to look disinterestedly around. Before Xingqiu could speak again, however, Hu Tao shoved a hand over his mouth.

“I have an idea,” she grinned.

“Well, I’m all ears.”

“The Rite of Descension is tomorrow, and the Lady Tianquan is officiating the ceremony,” she explained, “It’s the best chance you have to seek her audience, and convince her to sponsor you.”

“I feel as if that is much easier said than done.”

Hu Tao’s grin widened, “Pao Zhuan Yin Yu.”

Aether paused, mulling over the words in his head but not quite understanding them. Some sort of saying, perhaps, that he was not familiar with.

Xingqiu cleared his throat, “She’s telling you to use the Seventeenth Stratagem - Toss a brick to lure jade.”

He stared at the young man, before his eyes widened in understanding. Oh yes, that could work indeed - and he already had his brick; Mona. 

Aether put his hands together and bowed in gratitude, following the Liyuean custom - only for Xingqiu to grab him by the arms and lift him back up.

“No need for that!” he laughed, “We were just helping.”

“I thank you nonetheless,” Aether returned, “Will you be present at the Rite?”

“I will be,” Xingqiu replied, “And so will Hu Tao. Rex Lapis is going to foretell the coming business year, and the both of us will need to be ready for it. Chongyun, are you coming?”

“Nope.”

Aether had already bid them farewell - though Xingqiu and Chongyun didn’t seem to notice, bickering with each other, for only Hu Tao waved goodbye. As he began making his way back to the inn, his head was embroiled in a dozen ideas coming together and falling apart.

Toss a brick to lure jade. Yes, if he could convince Mona to sell her skills in thaumaturgy and astrology to the Qixing - which will be hard, considering she has a discipline not to - then, they may be able to gain the Qixing’s, or at least the Lady Tianquan’s sponsorship.

Oh yes, it was indeed coming together quite well - but first, he had to convince the brick.

Chapter Text

Act 2, Chapter 5

17th of the 2nd Cycle

Built into the mountainside was the third district of Liyue Harbour, Yujing Terrace.

Far away from the bustling harbour and lively lower districts, Yujing Terrace rises along Mount Tianheng, carved out from the mountainside into what was essentially a colossal balcony overlooking the entire city. 

It was colder up here, where the chill mountain air was only amplified by the winds - quieter too, for there were little commercial areas in the Terrace. No, here was where all the greatest enterprises of Liyue were headquartered, along with government institutions. Because in Liyue, trade and government are so intertwined that it was impossible to tell one from the other. 

In fact, the leaders of the Republic, the Liyue Qixing, were chosen from the wealthiest, most influential, and most powerful merchants and business leaders from within the commerce and trade sectors. As a result, every election was as cutthroat as they come - with proxy gang wars in the streets, violent lobbying from powerful businesses, backdoor deals, assassinations, and of course, vicious politics.

Everything the Qixing does, it was to further their own influence, enrich their own businesses - because as it goes; what was best for them was the best for the Republic as a whole. Every facet of Liyuean society was meant to churn out as much money as possible, to ensure every sector was as efficient as possible to make as much money as possible. Money was the law in the Republic.

And that wasn’t even just a saying, it was a literal truth.

Aether stared up at one of the halls of the Eight Trades - the eight largest commerce institutions under the Liyue Qixing. The result of Qixing elections were largely decided by who the leaders of the Eight Trades decide to vote for, because they can sway thousands of ordinary citizens from their word alone. Problem was, the Qixing weren’t barred from becoming the leader of a Trade.

The building Aether stood before was the Heji Hall, the personal institution of the Lady Tianquan - overseeing all matters involving the law of Liyue, and the judicial capital of the Republic. Indeed, even the law has been commercialised - and most certainly, the Lady Tianquan has used this power to ensure she never gets voted out of office, and to ensure she always comes out on top of any legal argument.

Turning away, Aether continued down the avenue towards the Yiyan Temple - which was the greatest place of worship for devouts of the Geo Archon. Much like the Favonius Cathedral in Mondstadt, Yiyan Temple was a place of pilgrimage and worship, drawing thousands upon thousands a year. The entire structure was half-sunk into the mountain face, with tall, smooth stone walls - the hallmark of Carnelian Sorcery.

Along the way, he noticed more of the Eight Trades - including the Huishan, Shenglu, and Yinyuan Halls, as well as the Wangshan Hall. All of them were commercial headquarters, yet also government institutions.

Then there was the towering Yuehai Pavilion, a massive pagoda-like structure that rose like a mountain peak of its own. In there, all seven of the Qixing worked their trade, held meetings, and governed Liyue. Or at least, that was the official purpose. In truth, the Qixing had many enemies - hundreds of rivals who crave their position and would do anything to take it for themselves, even assassination. As such, the Qixing rarely even show their faces, preferring to work in the shadows in secret locations.

The only time when the Pavilion was in use would be during solstice meetings, where it was compulsory for all members of the Qixing to attend. Of the seven, only the Lady Tianquan and Lady Yuheng were public figures - for they were also Vision Bearers, and thus there were few who dare cross them.

Aether crossed under another paifang to enter the plaza in front of the Yiyan Temple, were a massive Geo-carved table was placed in the middle off, filled to the brim with succulent foods and offerings - a veritable feast - along with a huge bronze censer worked in the depiction of a pagoda.

There, he found Mona already waiting - though Xingqiu and Hu Tao were nowhere to be seen - and she seemed to be deep in thought, hand on her chin, staring contemplatively at the offerings. She was not alone, thousands had gathered to witness the Rite - all of them merchants and traders, hailing from every corner of Teyvat. Because what Rex Lapis says here would affect Liyue’s economy for the coming year, and Liyue’s economy would affect the entire continent.

Suddenly, he felt a tap on his back - and swivelled around to see Xingqiu and Hu Tao behind him. 

“Just in time, huh?”

“Just in…” Aether trailed off when he saw all the exits being blocked by Millelith - surrounding the entire plaza.

“Is this normal?” he asked.

“Of course!” Hu Tao exclaimed, “Look at that crowd, hundreds of assassins could be in there, and the Lady Tianquan’s head is going to be right in front of them!”

Xingqiu sighed in exasperation, palming his face, “Don’t… don’t put like that, can you?”

“I don’t see how that will help prevent an assassination, though.”

Hu Tao snorted, “Of course it won’t, but the assassin will be caught - and that’s what matters. How many Qixing do you think have died officiating the Rite?”

“I haven’t a clue - perhaps half a dozen?”

“Close,” she smiled mischievously, “Two score and six.”

“That’s enough of that!” Xingqiu said loudly, “The Millelith are going to hear you!”

“So? They know I’m a funeral director - burying Qixing is my job!” she laughed, “Do you know how much money I make from their deaths?”

“I’m guessing you’re here to see if the Lady Tianquan-” 

“Of course not,” she interrupted, “The Lady Tianquan is a Vision Holder, many have tried in the early days of her business - but now? Not only is she blessed by Rex Lapis, she has also made herself too big to fail.”

“Too big to fail?”

Xingqiu nodded solemnly, “It’s a saying, here. The Lady Tianquan has her fingers in every pie in the Republic - the moment she’s assassinated, her business will collapse, and the entire Republic will enter an economic depression. It’s not that no one wants to kill her, it’s that no one can. ”

“That’s why this Rite in particular is going to be the largest in years,” Hu Tao nodded, “The Lady Tianquan is officiating - what Rex Lapis says today can secure her place in Liyue for the next seven years, or it can break her in a single afternoon.”

“What does she hope for, then?”

“I believe…,” Xingqiu scratched his chin, “She is hedging her bets on the idea that Rex Lapis would look favourably on her because she is a Geo Vision Bearer. With his support, she will finally be able to abolish the Geo tax.”

Aether’s mind lit up, because this was information. Information that he needed in order to get into the Lady Tianquan’s good graces and earn her sponsorship. He had managed to convince Mona the night before - she had argued that she does not sell her skill out of principle, for the moment she does she will be no better than any streetside fortune teller or diviner - but he managed to convince her that if the Lady Tianquan does sponsor them, she would be able to purchase as much astrological equipment as she so wished.

But first, the Lady Tianquan had to sponsor them - and that meant they had to know what she wanted.

As such, he asked Xingqiu about what he knew of the Lady Tianquan - and learned that abolishing the Geo tax had been her foremost agenda since the moment she took office. It placed an astronomical tax on any Geo-made goods being sold or bought, but that wasn’t her agenda - her agenda was in the construction sector.

See, Geo was a special rock - it was made from pure energy, and thus had really no use except looking pretty, storing Geo energy, and construction. Because Geo crystals were basically condensed energy, they were incredibly light and tough, making for perfect bricks. The problem was, Geo couldn’t be shaped or formed by anyone other than Geo Vision Bearers - and the Geo crystals formed naturally were too small to be used as bricks.

Since the Lady Tianquan was a Geo Vision Bearer herself, she was essentially the face of all Geo Vision Bearers in the nation - if she manages to abolish the tax, then she can rally the Vision Bearers to build entire cities out of Geo without bankrupting herself a hundred times over. Everyone else knows this, which was why she was fighting against the rest of the Republic to abolish the tax.

Apparently, the last vote to abolish the tax was one to six within the Qixing. Even her allies within the Qixing, such as the Lady Yuheng and Lord Tianshu oppose her in this matter - because allowing the vote to pass would make the Lady Tianquan essentially the undisputed ruler of Liyue.

Currently, the foremost construction method in Liyue was through Carnelian Sorcery. Practitioners of the art - known as earthbenders - manipulate the latent mana within the earth to shape the earth itself, allowing them to create magnificent structures without the need for quarries. The walls of Wangshu and Guili were made this way, as well as most large buildings. 

However, Carnelian Sorcery had one weakness - it was terribly ineffective on weak soil. When the walls of Wangshu were first raised, they began to crumble only a year after they were built - the reason being they were made of weak, swampy earth. To rectify this, thousands upon thousands of runes were carved into the walls to harden them - and the reason this isn’t a large solution was because unlike in the Union, runecraft was incredibly expensive in the Republic.

As such, quarries were still needed - and conventional ways of construction was still a profitable business.

And all of this could be turned on its head if the Lady Tianquan got her way and made Geo into a viable building material.

So, if they managed to aid the Lady Tianquan in this, she would surely sponsor them - the only problem was how. Aether began to mull it over, but before he could get far - a commotion from the crowd caught his attention.

Looking up, he noticed the Sun reaching its zenith in the Sky. 

Then, the stone doors of Yiyan Temple groaned open and the Lady Tianquan strode out with a column of attendants and guards. 

“There she is…” Xingqiu murmured, “The Lady Tianquan…”

She was a tall woman, taller than most Liyueans in fact - with fair skin, ruby eyes, and long white hair. Wearing an ostentatious ceremonial dress of white and gold, and with no small amount of glittering gems bedecking her affects, she was the very image of prosperity and power.

The Lady Tianquan craned her head to the Sky, blocking the glare of the Sun with a hand.

“The hour is upon us!” she announced, and a hush fell over the entire crowd.

Her Geo Vision gleamed, and a great exultation of Geo energy spawned from her form - coalescing into four Geo crystals. Following this, the crystals flew into the four corners of the censer - pointing in the four cardinal directions - and the censer was lit, sending a great beam of Geo energy into the Sky.

Dark clouds began to roll in from every direction - and as they were atop a mountain, the clouds appeared nary three score and ten feet above their heads. The clouds swirled into an ashen mass, blocking out the Sun and casting darkness upon the entire city - golden lightning flickered behind the ceiling of clouds, and a great roar reverberated throughout the mountainside.

“Rex Lapis!” the Lady Tianquan called, “Grace us with your presence!”

Morax descended in the form of a great dragon -  long serpentine body and the antlers of a stag - but he descended too fast. The clouds dispersed, and they watched in horror as the Lord of Rock slammed lifelessly onto the offering table, cracking the Geo and the floor beneath. 

There was a moment of shocked silence where the Lady Tianquan stood still as a statue.

Aether knew why - for this to happen on her watch, it was disastrous to say the least.

“Seal the exits!” she roared, “Bring everyone in for questioning!”

Admirably, the Millelith surged forwards without hesitation - even after watching their god be murdered before their very eyes - then plunged into the crowd, apprehending every onlooker regardless of their status or career. 

“How could this happen?” Xingqiu whispered, staring at the corpse.

But Aether did not respond, simply looking off into space. His mind was already churning with thoughts to make use of this situation best as they could.

“A sham,” Hu Tao sighed, “That’s what this is.”

“A sham?” Aether repeated pensively, looking back at the corpse.

Corpse.

Oh, he suppressed a smile to not seem suspicious, but he was joyous nonetheless - this was just about the most advantageous scenario that could happen. Not only that, but open closer inspection - the corpse was no corpse at all, something Hu Tao likely recognised. No, it was a corpus.

“Sirs, miss,” a squad of Millelith approached them, “We will have to bring you in for questioning.”

They offered no resistance.

17th of the 2nd Cycle

Aether stretched his limbs after he was finally let free.

Feeling his bones pop, he sighed in relief - after being cooped up inside for so long, anyone would feel tense. The corpus had long been taken away by now, and the Sun was long gone - the Moon was rising over a city in mourning.

The plaza was now deserted, the remnants of the offering table cleared up to leave behind a desolate stone surface. The censer too, was nowhere to be seen - likely brought back inside the Yiyan Temple. Despite this, there were still some people lingering about the area - noticeably the Lady Yuheng and a squad of Millelith, who had cordoned off the entire plaza with wooden stake-barriers - but also Mona and Hu Tao, who were standing near the archway gate entrance.

“Hail!,” he called as he approached them from behind, “Sorry for making you wait.”

Mona glanced back to see him, “Oh, you were finally let out?”

“I had a feeling they were suspicious of me because I’m an outlander,” he replied, “Speaking of which, why were you let out so early?”

In response, Mona reached into her coat and pulled out a medallion - the same medallion she had shown to the guards at the gates of the city - and this time he could see it more clearly. About the size of a palm, it bore a runic hexagram on the polished surface - it clearly denoted her affiliation to a powerful establishment, but he was unfamiliar with the symbol.

“I’m a member of the Hexenzirkel,” she explained, “A powerful circle of mages based in Fontaine.”

“So… influence, then,” he sighed, “Why are you here, anyway?”

Hu Tao spoke up, “We were trying to investigate, but the Millelith stopped us from approaching.”

“We? Oh, I suppose you had met just now-,” Aether shook his head, “Besides that, where is Xingqiu?”

“Him?” Hu Tao giggled, “He’s part of the Xu Clan, they control the Feiyun Commerce Guild. Power has its downsides too - the entire Guild is currently being investigated, so he was taken away.”

“And you?”

“I’m just a lowly undertaker,” she smiled softly, “I’m likely to receive an order for a divine funeral soon, it’ll be a first for me - for my entire clan, really.”

Her blossom-shaped irises seemed to glow in the dark, piercing the gloom. Mona coughed into her first, however, distracting them.

“Isn’t this the best chance we have to ingratiate ourselves with the Qixing?”

“It is,” Aether agreed, “Give me a moment.”

As he opened his pack to dig through it, Hu Tao peeked inside curiously.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“We can offer our services,” he responded, “Or more accurately, Mona’s services. Morax was murdered, so there must be a murderer, yes?”

“Rex Lapis,” Hu Tao corrected, “Call him by his courtesy name - and don’t let any Liyuean here you call him Morax, especially now that he’s dead.”

“Courtesy name?” Mona asked.

“It’s considered rude to call someone by their given name, especially if they’re not close to you. Well, that tradition had died off a long time ago - but most of the old clans still keep it. The Geo Archon’s courtesy name is Yanwang, or Rex Lapis as you say,” she said ‘Rex Lapis’ in heavily accented Reitz, “It’s also why nobody refers to the Lady Tianquan or any of the Qixing by their given names.”

“But we call you Hu Tao,” Mona aired, “You don’t have one?”

“Oh, I do,” she laughed, “Mine is Miaoyi, I got it when I was fifteen. But call me Hu Tao - No one uses courtesy names down there anymore!”

She pointed down to the lower city, at the array of golden lights of Feiyun Slope.

“Anyway,” Hu Tao waved, “You want to investigate, right? I’ll join you, I’m quite interested in what happened too. But first, we need to get to the Lady Yuheng.”

Aether stared at the plaza, at all of the Millelith guards patrolling the grounds. Several were looking at them suspiciously, but others were more cautious - likely already having blocked Hu Tao and Mona before he arrived. Now they were just staring at them, as if daring them to try to enter the plaza again.

He took the dare, and strode forwards.

“Huh… hey, where are you-!”

“Come on,” he beckoned his companions to follow him, “Trust me with this.”

As he approached the Lady Yuheng, the Millelith reacted immediately - rushing to intercept him and brandishing their spears. Undeterred, Aether continued walking, noticing Mona close behind him with Hu Tao dragging her feet - and then the Lady Yuheng realised his presence, and frowned.

“Stop right there!” a guard shouted, dashing in front of him and raising a palm.

“Relax a little,” Aether tried, “I just wish to speak with the Lady Yuheng.”

“You can apply for an audience at the Yuehai Pavilion,” the guard insisted, “She will get back to you.”

“Yes, I can,” he agreed, “But right now, she’s right in front of me.”

“You-!”

“What’s going on here!?” the Lady Yuheng’s piercing voice cut straight through their argument.

“My apologies, Lady Yuheng!” the guard bowed and stepped aside when the woman came to them, “This man and his companions have been trying to-”

“I have eyes, sergeant,” the Lady Yuheng snapped, before turning to him, “You, what do you want?”

The Lady Yuheng had a fair yet sharp face and piercing violet eyes - with an expression that seemed to be set in a frown constantly. 

She was also quite blunt, Aether thought, for a merchant - a member of the Qixing especially. How did she rise to rank at such a young age, with such a brusque demeanour? Nevertheless, there was always the chance that she was just tired, or putting on an act - you can never dismiss the chance of a politician acting, it is quite literally their job. Furthermore, she was still a member of the Qixing - so she was as cutthroat and ruthless as the rest of them.

Perhaps she controlled some powerful gangs in the city, Aether mused, and strong armed her way into the Qixing.

“I can be trusted,” he said, offering her Jinpeng’s jade seal.

She received the seal with a raised eyebrow, but her eyes widened incrementally upon seeing the seal in detail - and her gaze immediately snapped upwards to meet his, her eyes narrowing. Aether felt as if he was being stared down by a mountain lion, eyeing him to see how fit he was to be prey.

“... He didn’t inform us of this…”

“I doubt Jinpeng informed many people of what he does, to be fair,” he returned, and her frown deepened when she noticed how he had referred to the yaksha.

“What do you want?” she asked bluntly.

“The three of us,” Aether gestured to the three of them, “Wish to aid the Qixing in investigating the manner of Rex Lapis’ death and bring the culprit to light.”

“And you want money and influence in return,” she drawled, “Yes, I have heard this one a thousand times - what makes you different?”

“Not me,” he placed a hand on his chest and shook his head, “I’m just muscle, I’m referring to them. ”

Mona immediately got the cue, walking forwards and showing her medallion to the Lady Yuheng, who took it for closer inspection.

“Hexenzirkel…” she murmured, snapping her fingers for a spark of Electro form - shedding light on the medallion.

“And you?” she turned to Hu Tao, “Wait… you’re the director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, aren’t you?”

Hu Tao smiled brilliantly, as if she was never hesitant in the first place, “That’s me! I mean, if I’m going to prepare a funeral for a god, I better figure out how he died, right?”

The Lady Yuheng pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, clearly thinking hard. Aether could figure out why - the Lady Tianquan and all her allies were likely reeling right now, trying to douse fires left and right - this was an unprecedented disaster after all, one the Lady Tianquan had officiated. 

As one of the Lady Tianquan’s allies, the Lady Yuheng was in the same boat - and thus investigating the manner of murder and vindicating the Lady Tianquan’s name was her current priority. However, hiring a third party to investigate would make the Qixing seem ineffective and weak.

Or, he mused, she was trying to use this chance to drag down the Lady Tianquan - she was a business leader, after all. If the Lady Yuheng could frame it in such a way that the Lady Tianquan would seem responsible, and then figure out the culprit, a massive power vacuum would form - one she could fill using the prestige she gained from a successful investigation.

That being said, if it comes out that she used a third party to carry out the investigation, it could cause a massive scandal.

Either way, there were both benefits and drawbacks - and as a merchant, it was the Lady Yuheng’s job to weigh the options.

Finally, she seemed to have decided, “I will have to consult my peers first.”

…What? Just how honest was this woman!? Aether thought incredulously, how did she become the Lady Yuheng if she wore her heart on her sleeve like so? She did hail from an ancient and illustrious family, he did know, but she was also anything but a traditionalist. All of the Lady Yuheng’s policies have been pioneering and forward-thinking, almost too forward thinking - making her little allies.

Which once more adds to the question, how did she become Yuheng?

“Well,” Aether bowed, “We will wait with bated breaths.”

The Lady Yuheng bowed in return, “Do not place too much hope, lest you will be disappointed.”

Deciding that that would be the best they got, Aether bode her farewell and turned around, beckoning Mona and Hu Tao to follow him. It was now completely dark, the Moon rising high over them providing what little light there was.

“Hey…” Mona walked up beside him, “How am I supposed to find the murderer, huh? I’m a thaumaturge and astrologist, not a detective!”

“You’re looking at this the wrong way,” Hu Tao skipped alongside them as they crossed under the arch, “Did you know, yesteryear it was the Lady Yuheng who officiated the Rite of Descension?”

“So?” Mona’s frustration was visible.

“She caused a massive uproar, you know. Asked Rex Lapis straight to his face; You have watched over Liyue for a millennium. But what about the next millennium, what about the next ten, next hundred millennium? How long should we expect this status quo to last? ” Hu Tao laughed, “You should’ve seen it, it was silent , so silent you could hear the wind! I half expected Rex Lapis to smite her there and then!”

“But she wasn’t struck,” Mona flatly stated.

“No, she wasn’t,” Hu Tao smiled, spinning around and walking backwards to keep pace, “Do you know how Rex Lapis responded? He laughed , laughed so hard it shook the heavens and earth. Most people thought he was laughing at her, so they joined him - and in the following year she was the laughingstock of Liyue, her businesses dropped, her very status as Yuheng was constantly at risk.”

“I think differently,” she continued, “I think… I think the Lady Yuheng was onto something. We are terribly set in our ways, coddled by Rex Lapis for millennia - we don’t want to change, we fear it, even. I think… something had to be done to shake the status quo, something that could tear down the old guard and bring in fresh faces - something large had to happen.”

“You’re saying…”

“I’m saying your job isn’t to find a murderer, but to find out whether or not I need to organise a funeral.”

Chapter Text

Act 2, Chapter 6

18th of the 2nd Cycle

The Wangsheng Funeral Parlour was a sizable building with several floors.

Built at the end of the bridge between Feiyun Slope and Chihu Rock, it sits at a crossroads in the middle of the city - any who cross from the Rock to the Slope will inevitably see the dreary halls of the building, and any going the other way tend to keep on the opposite side of the road to avoid being too close. There was a yard before the main door, where a plum tree grew out of a grass patch, as well as a board with wooden tiles hanging from it.

The yard was desolate, a slight breeze blowing the dead leaves on the stone floor. 

Aether trudged forwards, walking under the tree to pick up a fallen plum half-buried under leaves. He brought it to eye-level, inspecting the shiny dark exterior and squeezing it to reveal the juicy glistening flesh beneath. 

It was winter, and plums wouldn’t be in harvest for several moons.

“What are you looking at?” Mona asked as she came up to him.

Wordlessly, he handed her the fruit in his hands, and she took it carefully - face twisting in distaste as the sticky juices stuck to her hands. But after her initial reaction subsided, her eyes widened when she realised she was holding onto a ripe plum in the middle of winter - slowly looking up to see the plum tree both in full bloom yet dying.

“What…”

“You shouldn’t eat that.” 

They flinched at the sudden voice, swivelling around to see a tall, pale woman standing outside the closed doors. She looked like a ghost, her white skin contrasting greatly with her midnight dress and overcoat - decorated with gold lining and woven depictions of red equinoxes. Gloves covered her hands, and her hair was tied into a bun. 

Aether swore that there was no one in the yard when they arrived, and yet here this woman was - silent as a spirit - he hadn’t even heard the door open. And from the looks of it, Mona hadn’t heard anything either.

“Once you eat the food of the dead,” she continued softly, “You will never be quite alive again.”

Mona dropped the plum as if it scalded her, hastily wiping her hands on her coat.

“S-Sorry-!”

“Welcome to the Hall of Rebirth,” the lady bowed, “The director has been awaiting you.”

“Uh- may we know your name?” Mona tried, “I’m Mona Megistus, and this is Aether.”

“I am merely a ferrylady, there is no need to pay any attention to me,” she smiled thinly, “Not while you still live.”

The ferrylady turned and pushed open the door, which swung inwards silently. Cold air poured forth, sinking to the ground and Aether could feel the chill pool around his ankles. He and Mona shared a look, then followed the ferrylady into the funeral parlour.

What awaited them was a waiting room, where there were several low tables and cushions lying about. There was also a counter connected to a feature wall, where two passages flanked the wall in the backrooms. Several oaken doors lined the wall to their right, leading to other side chambers.

The place was deserted, and the counter was unmanned too. 

Suddenly, Hu Tao appeared from behind the feature wall, walking around the left passage. She was sighing, removing bloodied gloves from her hands and placing them on the counter - before she noticed their presence.

“Oh!” Hu Tao exclaimed, “You’ve arrived! Good, good - just in time!”

Mona eyed the bloody gloves on the table, “Apologies if we are intruding on something…”

“Oh! No no, I was just finishing up,” she dismissed her, before addressing the ferrylady, “Meng Jiang, why are you awake? It’s not your shift!”

“We had guests, director,” the lady bowed.

“ My guests,” Hu Tao chided, “Go get some rest, I’ll handle them.”

“Understood, director,” she bowed again, before leaving through one of the side doors.

“She is… a character,” Mona hesitantly said.

“Meng Jiang’s a widow,” Hu Tao corrected, beckoning them to follow her, “Came here begging to help prepare her husband’s body, and has stayed ever since.”

They walked around the feature wall to find another door behind it on a partition wall, and when Hu Tao opened it - Aether felt as if he was back in the middle of the Land of Wind. Inside was freezing , much colder than the waiting room. Stepping across the threshold, he found out why - the backroom was a single cavernous hall, and on the roof several massive zhuanshu runes. 

Unlike Windic futhark runes, which consisted of symbols formed of straight lines and sharp edges, Liyuean zhuanshu runes appeared calligraphic, made of flowing lines. The zhuanshu runes inscribed onto the roof blew icy air downwards, filling the hall with a frigid chill - for good reason.

There were dozens of tables in the hall, organised into columns and rows. While some were empty, most had bodies lying atop them - either covered with a tarp or being worked on by groups of undertakers. Hu Tao led them to the side and up a set of stairs onto a mezzanine, where they could get an uninterrupted view of the entire preparation area.

“...Is Wangsheng always this busy?” Mona asked softly.

Hu Tao glanced back at her, before turning back forwards.

“Do people ever stop dying?” was all she replied with.

A moment later, they came across a wooden door which led into a sparsely decorated office. Besides a low table and accompanying cushions, there was a potted plant - a group of equinox flowers - and a painting hung on a wall. It was a curious painting, not depicting a person or landscape, instead there was a symbol - a flower with three petals and a large receptacle, except the petals were facing downwards. 

Truthfully, Aether was unsure if the symbol depicted a flower at all - but the same symbol was adorned on the clothing of all of the funeral parlour’s employees, including Hu Tao herself. He figured it must be the sigil of the House of Hu, of which Hu Tao was a descendant of.

“Take a seat,” Hu Tao waved towards the cushions.

He and Mona slowly knelt on the cushions, slightly wincing at the strange sitting manner. Hu Tao meanwhile, went to a shelf and took a glazed jar along with several wooden cups, before coming back and putting the cups on the table and the jar on the floor.

“So, why have you called us?” he asked.

“Hmm?” Hu Tao hummed as she took a wooden ladle and scooped up the clear liquid in the jars and poured into their cups, spilling nothing, “Well, we will get an answer from the Qixing here - the Lady Yuheng recognised me, after all.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Mona said, before slowly picking up the cup and bringing it to her lips.

Aether followed suit, taking a sip of the liquid - and finding it to be rice wine.

“This stuff is good,” Mona muttered, downing the rest of the wine.

“Don’t drink too fast!” Hu Tao laughed, refilling her cup, “This is strong stuff.”

“How do you know we will get a response today?” Aether asked her.

“It’s the Lady Yuheng,” Hu Tao told him, “She doesn’t care much for bureaucracy and stuff like that. I bet that she immediately informed the Qixing last night of our offer, she isn’t one to waste around.”

“And if you bet wrong?”

“Then we can still use this time to plan, hmm?” she smiled, “Speaking of which, what have you found out?”

“Well,” Mona hummed, “I cannot do anything more than theorise without direct access to the corpus.”

“We need to convince the Qixing if we are to get access to the corpus,” Hu Tao pointed out, “That means convincing them our theory has merit.”

“Who should we aim to convince?” Aether queried, “I highly doubt we will be able to convince all of the Qixing.”

“We need to get four out of seven on our side,” Hu Tao shot back a cup of wine, before picking the ladle and refilling it, “Our highest chances are with the Lady Tianquan and her allies, the Lady Yuheng, and the Lord Tianshu.”

“We still need one more,” Mona mildly observed.

“The rest are antagonistic to her,” Hu Tao sighed, “But the Lord Kaiyang is one of Rex Lapis’ devotees, he will surely support us if we frame it right.”

“Well, that doesn’t seem too difficult,” Aether mused, “Three of them are already inclined to aid us, and one will as well after some convincing.”

“But there’s one more,” she warned, “She isn’t part of the Qixing, but her word may just carry more weight than all of them combined.”

“Combined?” Mona’s eyes widened, “Who-?”

“Jiangzhong Tianhua Zhenjun - the Perfected Lord who Tears Down the Celestial Heavens,” Hu Tao downed another cup, “One of the Mighty and Illuminated Adepti, she earned her name back in the Battle of Lingju Pass during the Archon Wars, when she shattered the Sky and dropped it on an army invading out of Tian Qiu.”

Aether leaned forward, “Literally?”

“Don’t know, but that's how the story goes - Li Yue was still an emerging power, recently founded after the fall of Guili. The Qiu Dynasty of Tian Qiu wanted to nip them in the bud, so a massive army of a hundred-thousand departed southwards led by their god,” Hu Tao sucked in a breath, “Back then, the Qixing hadn't been founded yet, and Li Yue was ruled by the Yue Dynasty. Rex Lapis led both the mortal forces under the Yue and his new adepti to a mountain pass between Tian Qiu and Li Yue to meet the Qiu army there.”

“The adepti were a new thing, and this battle was meant to be their proving ground,” she continued, “Rex Lapis made the mortals and the adepti sign a contract; the Divine Law - Lingju - which is what the pass there is now named after.”

“They won the battle,” Aether guessed.

“Mmm… they won outnumbered three to one,” she nodded, “But they nearly lost, because the defences weren’t built fast enough and they were nearly overrun. So, to slow down the Qiu army, Jiangzhong Tianhua Zhenjun tore out a part of her soul and fixed it to an arrow, before shooting the Sky. She nearly died, but the falling heavens slowed down the Qiu army enough that the final defences could be raised.”

“I feel like that story has a great bit of embellishment,” Mona dryly stated, “How are the falling heavens only enough to slow down an army?”

Hu Tao shrugged, “That’s why it's just a story. If you want to know the full truth, best just ask her - she was a founding member of the Qixing, and has served as the General Secretary for millennia. These days, she goes by her courtesy name - Ganyu.”

“What are her views on Rex Lapis?”

“The same as any adepti, I suppose - a devout believer,” Hu Tao tapped her chin, “If I recall rightly, she only barely tolerates the Lady Yuheng because of her sceptic views.”

“You’re saying if we convince the Lord Kaiyang, then Lady Ganyu will also support us?”

“If we convince Lady Ganyu, then the Qixing will support us,” she corrected, “Because Lady Ganyu is Rex Lapis’ representative within the government, and now that he’s dead…”

“Her words will be as good as his,” he finished.

“That’s right,” Hu Tao clapped, “So then, what are our theories? I’ll start, Bianjie hasn’t undergone any change at all.”

“Bian…jie?”

“The border between life and death, basically purgatory,” she clarified, “Unlike Diyu - the underworld - which was created by Lord Ronove in conjunction with Rex Lapis, Bianjie was created solely by Rex Lapis. The fact that he has died, and the border still remains intact is suspicious to say the least.”

Mona frowned, “Couldn’t it be that Bianjie was created to be self-operating?”

“Unlikely,” Hu Tao shook her head, “Bianjie was created for one reason only - so that the dead can continue to fight for the living. During the Archon Wars, Li Yue was the dark horse, constantly outnumbered in every battle. Bianjie was essentially a waiting room, and Rex Lapis would temporarily bring the recently deceased back to life for short periods of time to continue fighting his wars.”

“If Rex Lapis was to stop maintaining Bianjie,” she continued, “Then the realm would collapse, and all the dead would immediately pass onto Diyu without first entering Bianjie. But this is not the case - the border is still active, and the dead still wait for their turn to enter the underworld.”

A silence swallowed them as they mused over the information. Truthfully, Aether had no choice but to take what she said at face value - he knew nothing of Liyuean death rites, after all. But, if it were true, then it would come a long way to help them in proving Morax had faked his own death for whatever reason he may have heard.

Yet, there was another thought that came to him - how did Hu Tao know of the status of Bianjie? She said it herself, the realm was a border between life and death - how can anyone learn of its status without being dead themselves? Aether eyed the young woman, to which she noticed, but only tilted her head in response.

Was it her Pyro Vision, or was a House of Hu secret?

No matter, that was not the issue at hand.

“What do you think, Mona?” he asked.

Mona jerked, snapping to attention as she was shook out of her thoughts.

“Pardon?”

“What do you think?” he repeated.

“Right,” she coughed, “Here take a look at this.”

She brought her pack onto her lap and opened the flap, shuffling through its contents for a moment before taking out a worn journal. While the book was clearly well-used, it was also clearly well-cared for. The leather cover was rough, but the brass adornments were still reflective. 

Mona placed the journal on the table and flipped it open, shuffling through worn pages - some clearly showing water damage. 

“Here,” she licked her finger, “This is my recording of the Sky on the fourteenth of this moon, take a look.”

Aether leaned over, with Hu Tao mirroring his action. On the parchment was the illustration of an incredibly detailed starchart, filled to the brim with notes and annotations. The illustration as a whole took both pages being shown, the string binding allowing the pages to form a flat surface without any dip.

Hu Tao wetted her lips, “I can’t read this.”

“Well, I suppose that was to be expected - you aren’t an astrologist after all-”

“No, I mean,” she cut in, “I literally can’t read this, I don’t understand Chantant.”

Aether blinked, and quickly understood what she meant. Mona’s handwriting was barely legible, an incredibly small cursive - likely made a habit from writing in cramped pages - only further jumbled from the flowing script of Fontainean Chantant. The words swam on the page before his eyes, giving him a headache from staring too intently - forcing him to blink and look away.

“O-Oh! My apologies,” Mona sheepishly laughed, “No- no need to read anything, just look here.”

She pointed at a small group of inked dots on the parchment, connected by thin graphite lines into a vaguely diamond shape.

“Saxum, Petra, Giada, Chrysol, Creta, and Aurum - the six stars that form Lapis Dei, the constellation of the Geo Archon,” she pointed to each dot in order.

Mona then flipped to the next page, revealing what seemed to be the exact same copy of the previous starchart - or at least so it seemed to Aether’s untrained eye. 

“It’s… the same?” Hu Tao asked, visibly confused.

“I drew this last night,” Mona said, “Look here - the six stars of Lapis Dei are still visible in the night sky. If Rex Lapis has died, then it must be expected that something happens to his constellation, no?”

“But nothing happened,” Aether surmised, “The exact same thing with Bianjie.”

“Correct,” Mona adjusted her hat, which she still wore even indoors, “There has been an incredibly long debate within astrological circles regarding whether divine constellations are connected to the corpus or the god themselves. Either way, however, both are intricately tied - in a symbiotic manner almost - so whatever happens, the constellation must be affected either way.”

“I don’t really understand,” Hu Tao said, “But it sounds convincing enough for me. How about you, Aether?”

He shrugged in response, “These things… really aren’t my forte.”

“Come one!” she exclaimed, “You gotta have something!”

Before he could really insist that he doesn’t, there was a knock at the door. Mona reacted first, her hand snapping forwards to slam her journal shut and shoving it in her pack, looking warily at the door. Hu Tao meanwhile, groaned in annoyance before standing up - stretching all the while - and walking towards the door and opening it slightly and peeking out.

“Who- oh, come with a visitor have you?”

She opened the door to reveal two men, one Liyuean and the other with more northern features. The first man who stepped through was taller than the other, Liyuean, with striking amber eyes and a stern expression. He wore a long waistcoat over black trousers and a dress shirt - a stark departure from the Liyuean fashion.

He stared at the man for a moment, to which the man met his gaze. For a long while, neither of them spoke a word - but Aether broke eye contact first, drawing his gaze to the second man. 

Messy ginger hair framed his sharp face and dull yet keen blue eyes. He wore a flat grey jacket and a pair of grey trousers - with a noticeable Hydro Vision adorning his belt. On his right shoulder was some manner of golden-sable adornment, connected to a long red sash that crossed over his chest and over his left shoulder. 

Aether wrinkled his nose - the stench of death surrounded the man like an ephemeral aura. Oh, the stench of death surrounded Hu Tao as well, but it wasn’t the same - she smelled of bittersweet farewells and peaceful passages. The man, on the other hand, reeked of rot and slaughter, of brutality and screams - and an unrecognisable scent that Aether couldn’t quite parse, and yet felt strangely familiar to him.

Suddenly, Hu Tao slapped her forehead, “Oh, let me introduce you! This is Zhongli, our resident consultant. And this is his friend… who are you?”

“You can call me Childe,” the man smiled, “I’m from Snezhnaya. I’m afraid I have some business here, if you could give me a moment of your time…”

“...Most certainly!” Hu Tao’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Can you two please leave for a moment?”

Aether and Mona shared a glance, before collectively obliging - gathering their effects and leaving the room. As the door closed behind them, he could see Hu Tao leading the two men to their cushion-seats.

“Those men…” Mona murmured.

“Shh,” he quietly hushed her, before leaning against the door.

Below them, several bodies were being loaded into coffins and carried out of the hall into a neighbouring room - only for new tarp-covered bodies to immediately be rolled in and occupy the newly emptied tables.

“...can I help you?” he could hear Hu Tao speak.

“I was hoping you would help us in a matter…”

“Who’s us?”

“...No need to be coy, you know I’m with the Fatui.”

“Hmm… I see,” Hu Tao paused, “And what matter do you refer to?”

“As you know, Rex Lapis had recently died,” Childe said, “I’d like to know how his funeral is to proceed.”

Hu Tao laughed lightly, “You think too highly of us, sir. We haven’t received any request for such a funeral!”

“Is… is that so? My apologies then… how about this?”

Aether heard the man slide something on the table.

“Hmm… I do not ever recall Wangsheng offering these services.”

“Excuse me?” Childe chuckled, “We have requested similar services before, and you have always kept your end - we pay extremely generously, if you recall.”

“It appears my memory is failing me. But believe me, Wangsheng does not betray our customers - you can trust us. Is that all?”

“Well… about the funeral rites-”

“I have already said, sir, that until we receive a commission for such, I can speak of nothing.”

The man sighed, “I understand, that will be all.”

“Thank you for your patronage!”

Aether walked forwards to lean on the railing, staring down at the embalming processes below - just in time for the door to open and for the two men to walk out. Just then, an employee of the establishment was walking past them with a stack of wooden tiles in their hands.

“Just in time!” Hu Tao called, making the employee flinch, “You, please guide Sir Childe to the exit - Zhongli, I’d like you to remain for a moment. And the both of you, come back in!”

Zhongli paused, before bidding farewell to the Snezhnayan and turning around on his heel to walk back into the office. As Aether and Mona followed the man back inside, he could hear the employee speak as they guided Childe towards the exit.

“Right this way, sir…”

The door shut behind them, and Hu Tao beckoned Zhongli over.

“You two, stand there for a moment,” she told them, “Zhongli, come come, sit!”

“Of course, director,” he calmly sat down, “How can I be of service?”

“So…” Hu Tao smiled dangerously, and the temperature began to rise, “Can you inform me since when we had ties to the Fatui?”

“Since the fall of yesteryear, director.”

“I see, I see…” she hummed, “And tell me since have we offered assassination services?”

“Since the fall of yesteryear, director.”

“Alright,” she nodded, “And who received the Fatui’s payments?”

“I believe it was Sir Longwei, director.”

“Thank you, you’re dismissed,” Hu Tao waved her hand, “And bring me Longwei, if you would.”

“Of course, director.”

He and Mona slid out of the way as the man left through the door silently, nary sparing them even a glance. Meanwhile, Hu Tao was leaning against the back of her palm, elbows resting on the table - her blossom-shaped irises seemed to burning with a manner of furor even as she continued to smile. 

As the moments wasted away without any of them speaking a word, Hu Tao seemed to snap - abrupt scooping up her cup of rice wine and downing it in a single gulp, before standing up. Both he and Mona pressed themselves against the wall in an attempt to move themselves out of the way of her silent rage - though it was unneeded.

For the young lady silently strode over to the side of the room where there was a particularly long lacquer chest placed against the wall, shaped eerily like a coffin. She crouched down and gripped the lid with both hands and lifted the lid, carefully leaning it against the wall. Then she picked up a long staff out of the box - with a length of polished yew and golden fittings connected to a red staffhead shaped in a pair of fiery wings.

Hu Tao stared at the staff in her hands for a moment, before using her feet to close the chest lid.

Suddenly, the door opened and a short, heavy-set man walked in, dressed in dark clothes lined with gold trim.

“Hu Longwei,” Hu Tao called his name, “Explain to me how we had become… familiar with the Fatui?”

The man froze in his tracks, “...Pardon me, director? I’m afraid I have no idea what you are mentioning.”

“Is that so…” she ran a palm down the yew shaft of the staff.

Longwei bowed deeply, “That is so, director.”

Before Hu Tao could reply, a young woman dressed in undertaker clothing peeked through the open door - her eyes widening when she collected the scene inside.

“P-Pardon me, director,” she bowed, “Someone from Yuehai Pavilion is outside.”

“Perfect timing,” she hummed, “All of you, follow me.”

The five of them silently walked down the length of the mezzanine and down the stairs, before entering the waiting room once again. The counter had an attendant now, who suddenly jerked from their seat when they noticed them in the room, hastily bowing.

“Where is the messenger?” 

“She’s waiting outside, director.”

Hu Tao strode over to the doors and pulled, swinging them open, before walking out without missing a step. They followed her outside onto the yard, where a sole person waited - a young woman with messy fur-like hair and reptilian eyes. A pair of bony horns extended from the back of her head, half-hidden within her mess of hair.

But the most striking thing about her was her skin, mostly pale and fleshy like all humans - but there were also scales running down her skin, noticeably at her thighs down to her feet, as well as her neck, chin, and arms - ending with claw-like fingers.

“Yanfei,” Hu Tao greeted, “A surprise. From Yuehai Pavilion, are you?”

“Yes, miss,” the half-beast bowed, “I will be the witness, and the lawyer drafting the contract between your party and the Qixing. They await you at Yuehai Pavilion.”

“Good to see,” Hu Tao moved over to the plum tree and picked a plum from the ground, “Give me a moment, will you? I need to deal with something first.”

“Please be hasty, miss. It is not good to keep the Qixing waiting.”

“Of course, of course,” she took a bite out of the plum in her hand, before squeezing the juices out onto the head of her staff - the liquid coating the red finish, making it glisten in the sunlight.

Then, she threw the fruit away and looked back up - up at Longwei, “Do you still have no recollection of your meeting with the Fatui?”

Yanfei’s eyes widened slightly as the man unconsciously took a step backwards.

“A-Afraid not, director.”

“Then I suppose I’ll have to find that memory for you,” she hummed, idly spinning her staff.

As Hu Tao approached him like a stalking predator, the man hastily backtracked, holding his hands out in front of him.

“Wait… wait!” he cried, “You can’t do this-!”

“Can’t I?” she dashed forwards, sweeping her staff low and knocking the man’s legs out from under him - forcing the man to his knees.

“Can’t I?” Hu Tao repeated, looking at Yanfei.

“Huh…? Oh-!” she jerked, “Since the House of Hu are counts, this matter falls under the Wujue Integrity Act. All matters of a noble clan involving clan members, granted in the context of a clan-run business not involving non-clan employees, is no matter of the state.”

Hu Tao stared back down at the now shivering man, bringing her staff close to his face - before the staffhead ignited into a blaze of Pyro, the sweet scent of plum juice quickly permeating the air.

“So,” she repeated, “Do you still have no recollection?”

“...Mercy… mercy!”

The director snarled, withdrawing her staff away from the man’s face before slamming the flat side into his back - the Pyro burning straight through his clothes and digging into his skin and flesh, causing it to bubble and boil - the scent of roasting flesh mixing with the scent of plums in the air.

“GYYAAAAGHHH!!!” his screams resounded through the cold air.

“Speak!”

“T-They misunderstood our business!” he keeled over onto the floor, whimpering, “They… they thought we dealt with- and… and!”

“And!?”

“And I accepted their deal!” he blabbered, “That’s it, that’s it! I swear!”

“That’s it?” Hu Tao ever-present smile grew sharper, “Assassination is that’s it? ”

“I just- I just wanted the money!” the man whimpered.

“Money!” she giggled, leaning down to talk into his ear, “Embezzlement, lobbying, corruption! The House of Hu are no paragons of virtue, Hu Longwei, we have done it all before! But we draw the line at dealing with life and death, do you know why? ”

“Because… because-!”