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Chapter Text

His weary eyes snapped open, shaking away what felt like centuries of disuse. The familiar sensation of endless flames tearing away at his very soul was…completely gone. The shadowy kiln that had been his self-imposed prison was nowhere to be seen.

More urgently, the familiar weight of his armor was also missing.

He sat up quickly, as if life had been breathed back into his fallen corpse; his muscles grinding as they engaged themselves for the first time in what felt like an eternity. The soft feeling of fabric beneath him was unfamiliar but easily identifiable: a bed. How odd, to not awaken on top of some cold stone bricks.

Alert eyes scanned his surroundings, revealing that he was in an infirmary of some sort. But it wasn't one he'd ever seen before. Clean walls, polished wood, fresh air, and the lingering scent of medicinal substances all greeted him as one. It was such a far cry from the dilapidation and ruin that he was accustomed to that he was momentarily stunned.

Where was this place?

His sudden movement had also alerted the sole other occupant of the room. His darkened citrine irises met a set of curious, glittering, sapphire ones. They belonged to a young woman wearing the oddest religious habit he'd ever seen. Said outfit was white and blue primarily, with gold highlights, but appeared to be far more elaborate in design when compared to what he commonly associated religious wear with. In short, while not particularly scandalous, the rather cute outfit was far from the conservative hooded dresses of the faithful that he'd known in the past. And finally, he noted that her ashy blonde hair was tied up in twintails, the hairstyle also completely new to him.

Overall, the girl standing before him gave off such a foreign impression to him that she may as well have been an otherworldly being.

They stared at one another in silence for several seconds, before her expression shifted to a cheerfully welcoming smile. "Well, good morning sleepyhead! I'm glad to see you're awake and alert. How are you feeling?"

Her apparent friendliness did much to assuage his wariness. As such, he went ahead and answered politely.

"I…am well, erm, Sister?" He wasn't sure if this person was a healer or a nun of some sort. And even though his own voice sounded foreign to him, he was just glad its tone managed to remain steady.

Just how long had it been since he'd last conversed with someone properly?

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Barbara, Deaconess of the Church of Favonius. You're currently within our cathedral's infirmary." She gave a small curtsy, tugging the edge of her dress slightly and showing a bit of her white stockings.

"A pleasure, Sister Barbara." He bowed his head respectfully. "My name is Cyril, of Astora. If I may ask…was there something wrong with me? Why am I in this infirmary?"

"It's nice to meet you too, Cyril. As for your question…" Barbara smiled sweetly at his polite introduction before putting a finger on her cheek in thought. "Well, you caused quite a stir when you were brought in. The person that found you said you were probably suffering from severe burns on account of you being aflame when they came across you! Not to mention you weren't responsive at all! But once we took a look, we found out you were just suffering from severe exhaustion. That armor of yours must be pretty fire resistant."

As she spoke, she gestured at the corner of the room by the bed he'd awakened in. Much to his relief, his armor sat there in a neat and accessible pile. After that comforting realization though, he was left to puzzle after his arrival in this strange place.

First of all, he had no idea what this 'Church of Favonius' was. Some branch of Thorolund's complex institutions? Or something else entirely? The new term only reinforced the feeling that he'd been thrown into entirely unfamiliar circumstances.

"I…see." Cyril wasn't sure what to say. "My armor is indeed quite reliable…but I must admit, I currently feel somewhat disoriented."

"You sure look like it." She huffed in light-hearted amusement. "No one recognized the style of your armor, so I was told to bring you to meet the Acting Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius after you wake up. Big si-, I mean Acting Grandmaster Jean should be able to answer your questions and get you sorted out."

"A meeting with the leader of your order, is it? Very well then." It made sense that he would be brought before some kind of leadership if they couldn't identify him. It did already say a lot about their people's generosity that they would treat and care for a complete stranger, though.

He decided he should at least thank her, "You have my gratitude for taking me under your care while I was indisposed."

"Please, it's no trouble at all." Barbara was quick to wave him off, before leaning in with an admonishing tone, "Still, to be as exhausted as you were, you must've been pushing yourself way too hard. You better take more care from now on, alright?"

"Err…I understand." He suddenly got the feeling it would be best to comply. Healers were stubborn sorts, after all.

"Great!" She gave him a cheerful wink. "I have to check up on some other matters, so please get dressed in the meantime. I'll be back to take you over to the Knights' Headquarters, okay?"

Cyril gave himself a quick look-over. He was dressed in a plain white tunic and thin pants that almost certainly did not belong to him. Had Sister Barbara or another healer undressed him? The thought made him feel more embarrassed than he thought it would.

He managed to maintain his composure though, and gave a proper response, "Understood. I will prepare myself accordingly."

After Sister Barbara departed, he went about donning his armor once more. Though worn and ragged, it was still functional. Not to mention it was a reminder of his long lost homeland, this particular design was only ever worn by the elite-ranked knights who hailed from Astora.

It consisted of chainmail worn under a blue surcoat adorned by the Astoran coat of arms laid in gold. A variety of belts held the armor together, and it was accompanied by a full-face helmet, one full pauldron and a half pauldron for the shoulders, a metal gauntlet and leather glove for the hands and forearms, and thick plate greaves to protect the legs. It was somewhat mismatched, but served its purpose well. The final components of his equipment set were his sturdy crest shield and reliable straight sword.

As he dressed himself, he tried to make sense of his current situation. At the end of his long journey across the lands of Lordran, he'd chosen to sacrifice himself to extend the Age of Fire. His soul should've served as kindling for the First Flame…yet here he was, whole and healthy.

No.

More than just being in good condition, even the curse that had afflicted him for an eternity had weakened greatly for some unknown reason. Yes…the Darksign no longer clawed at the edges of his consciousness, that endless hunger for others' souls and the forceful drain on his sanity that he'd kept at bay for so long had now become dull and muted.

There was no doubt he was still an Undead, though. A fact that he was unsure his hosts knew of in the first place. If they did, and went out of their way to show care for one of his kind then…well, he didn't know what to think of that. Kindness towards them was rare. There was a reason most of the Undead had been corralled to the accursed Undead Asylum, or left to rot all across the whole of Lordran.

Thinking of that asylum…Cyril remembered well what his time there was like. The rotting stone and damp moss. The endless days of nothing but the steady drip of water and the groans of the hollowed to keep him company. The gnawing feeling of hunger and thirst…but no prospect of death coming to lift it.

Then came Oscar, a fellow man of Astora and a full-fledged knight at that. The adventurous man had freed Cyril from his putrid cell, giving the languid former squire a chance to grasp at freedom.

It should've been him, not a trainee like Cyril that survived the escape from that accursed jail.

But alas, it was Oscar's body that lay broken by the guard demon's club, and Cyril who stood victorious over the very same demon's corpse not even a day later.

He shook his head. The past was in the past. Besides, even if he'd only been a squire when the Darksign marked him, he'd more than earned the right to wear the armor of the elite knights by now.

His thoughts returned to the present as he finished his final checks. Right on time, too, as Sister Barbara returned to the room right after he was done.

She stared at him for a moment, her eyes widening slightly. "Oh my, you cut quite the intimidating figure don't you?"

She really did appear to be somewhat daunted as he turned to face her, his eyes hidden behind the emotionless visor of his helmet.

For his part, Cyril had never been told something like that before. Given the kinds of nightmares the average resident of Lordran could run into on a daily basis, he was hardly even noteworthy in appearance.

Having been caught off-guard, the only thing he could say in response was…"Erm…My apologies?"

Perhaps it was the awkwardness in his tone, or something else he wasn't aware of, but Barbara raised an eyebrow at his off-beat response, before she broke into an amused fit of giggles.

Still completely lost, he could only watch with befuddlement as she worked her way through her sudden mirth. He found that it was a…refreshing sound. A tone untainted by dark memories or overtones of despair. A pure vocalization the likes of which he'd never heard across his travels.

He only had one question: …What exactly was so funny?

Barbara Pegg was a busy girl.

Not only was she the most skilled healer within the Church of Favonius, she was also a budding celebrity singer who performed live music for the citizens of the City of Mondstadt. The reason for her double profession was simple: she wanted to care for both people's bodies and their minds, spreading happiness wherever she could.

But across all her fans and patients, nothing had prepared her for her latest patient: the stranger that introduced himself as Cyril of Astora (and she'd never heard of a place called Astora before).

It had started even before he'd awoken.

Once she'd removed his armor, she'd been appalled at the state of his body. His obvious exhaustion was one thing, but the physical scarring was another thing entirely. She'd seen all kinds of injuries in her time as a healer, but even though her patient wasn't currently hurt in any way, she still felt sick when she conducted his physical.

Jagged tissue across both his front and back denoting a history of savage gashes and gaping wounds…pale lines along limbs and extremities suggesting the possible severance of said body parts…she didn't even want to think about the fact that those same lines also ran along his neck.

His face, though, was surprisingly unmarred, with only a single faded line of discoloration running across his right cheek. His pale visage was framed by wavy, dark hair, such that he could be considered rather handsome, once properly cleaned up. But that tidbit of information hardly even registered in Barbara's mind.

Just what had he gone through in the past? And how had he survived? And also…what kind of person was he? Was he a grizzled veteran or a traumatized victim? She couldn't deny that she already felt somewhat anxious about him even though he'd been unconscious since he was brought in.

But eventually, he did wake up. She'd put on her best smile and greeted him with her characteristic cheer, even though internally she was panicking a fair amount. But he didn't behave in any of the ways she'd expected.

Though they'd only exchanged a few words, she already got the impression that he was polite, reserved, and remarkably composed. Truthfully, his conduct was pretty endearing, with a certain sense of genuineness that conveyed that this was his normal behavior, rather than a formal front of some kind.

Not to mention now the light air of bewilderment around him had immediately stirred up her desire to take care of him. She felt bad thinking of him in such a patronizing way, but the straw that broke the camel's back was the fact that his politely confused tone contrasted completely with the imposing figure he cut while in his full armor.

Her earlier anxiousness, subsequent relief, and growing amusement all mixed together and exploded at once, and she ended up laughing much more than she should've as he looked on with his helmet tilted in an unspoken question.

She felt silly. Just what had she been so afraid of?

Cyril continued to watch as Sister Barbara's laughter began to die down.

"I-I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me…" She shot him an apologetic smile that still carried a hint of mirth. "I'll be honest…I was a bit tense before, having a foreign stranger in the infirmary…"

"Ah." He gave a nod of understanding. Suspicion and caution were the name of the game all across Lordran, though he didn't understand why she felt the need to apologize. "I promise to conduct myself in an admirable manner."

She shook her head at that, "No, I didn't mean to imply anything. I'm sure you'll behave like a proper gentleman."

The sheer surety of her statement made him stop and want to ask what gave her that impression. But he had the oddest feeling she'd somehow gained some kind of insight about him through their brief interaction thus far. Certainly, he had no plans to cause trouble, but the forthright affability in her eyes was quite surprising. Those kinds of eyes were more than a rarity, closer to an impossibility in Lordran.

Something to ponder later…

Instead, he just gave another nod. "Then, you'll be taking me to meet this Acting Grandmaster?"

"That's right!" She nodded, her twintails bobbing along with the movement. "Please, follow me."

She led him out of the small infirmary and into a wider hallway. He had to admit, the intricate design of the building was close to the level of the City of Gods, Anor Londo in design, albeit on a much smaller, more human-like scale. Still, the idea of any man-made buildings in pristine condition was enough to impress Cyril.

He let out a small breath of appreciation when they emerged into the main hall, filled with pews and a stand for the church's speaker. There was probably more unbroken furniture in this room alone than all he'd seen across the human settlements of Lodran. The polished floor, tall pillars, and colorful glass windows were also suitably impressive.

"Do you like it? The Favonius Cathedral is the pride of Mondstadt." Barbara's smile brightened, having picked up on Cyril's appreciation.

"The construction is very solid, and the decorations are meticulously crafted." Cyril nodded, noting in his mind the name of a possible city or nation. "It's quite a beautiful sight."

He could tell his words had pleased his escort, as there was an additional spring in her step now. In truth, he wanted to ask more about their organization, but figured it would be best to remain silent for now. He could now tell that this was no small sect secluded somewhere just by looking at the resources it must've taken to construct this place. To ask who they were or what Lord they worshiped may invite unnecessary suspicion.

More pressingly, there was a startling number of staff members walking about. Did this place truly have the manpower to spare for this many religious personnel? Did the undead curse, the Darksign, not spread as deeply here? Before he could voice the question, Barbara had already led him out the tall front doors of the cathedral.

And the sight that greeted him stole his breath away entirely.

A large city lay spread out before him. But those words alone didn't even come close to doing the view justice to him.

The well-maintained roads and buildings were one thing, but the people…so many people. From guards to merchants…from children to the elderly…individuals from all walks of life filled the streets right in front of Cyril's eyes. It was a shocking sight, one he never thought he'd see even in his undeath.

The tall windmills and imposing walls had hardly registered in his mind, though Barbara seemed to think that's what had him speechless. "Ah, you were out cold when the knights carried you through the city. It's beautiful isn't it? Welcome to Mondstadt!"

"Yes…thank you." Cyril attempted to compose himself and keep his voice steady, though his heart was still in turmoil. He could tell just from a glance…that the people of this city are lively and content. This was a land of relative peace…and this level of prosperity hasn't existed in any place he was familiar with since the Darksign ravaged the continent.

Just where in the world was he?

He'd resided in Lordran for what must've been countless lifetimes already, so his memories of Astora were faded and distant. The only thing recalling those memories normally did was evoke a feeling of slight nostalgia that he could shove aside with relative ease.

But…as he looked out across this place called "Mondstadt", he could only think that maybe…Astora was once like this as well. Maybe it was a land that shone bright once upon a time, with happy faces and a gentle wind cushioning it all. Just that mere thought was enough to tear his heart in two.

Barbara seemed unaware of the surge of emotions he was experiencing, curiously asking, "Say, Cyril, what kind of place is Astora? I've never heard of it, but I assume that faded insignia on your chest is its symbol?"

"It's a ruined kingdom," Cyril's mouth answered faster than he could think, making him instantly regret using the bitter tone that stopped the girl in her tracks. "I…I apologize for that. Though the kingdom itself is no more, it was a place that greatly emphasized knighthood, nobility, and duty."

Barbara had been startled by the depth of the emotions Cyril had suddenly displayed, but kept up her positive demeanor, "That doesn't sound all that different from us and our Knights of Favonius. Acting Grandmaster Jean is a wonderful person and leader too."

Cyril could only detect pride and confidence as she described her people's knights, which eased his nerves for reasons he didn't quite understand. "I see. I look forward to this meeting then."

The pair fell into silence as Barbara led the way towards a keep-like building relatively close by that she identified as the "Knights of Favonius Headquarters". He had much to think about in the meantime.

Barbara could now tell, even with his face hidden by his helmet, that Cyril had been heavily affected by the sight of Mondstadt. She was only passingly familiar with foreign affairs so she hadn't thought anything of his stated place of origin, but now she sorely wished she knew what to say to comfort him.

A ruined kingdom…

She racked her mind, going back to the senior nun's classes, for any knowledge of a nation that had a monarchy. That style of government was quite rare, after all. The Archons varied in the influence they had over their respective countries, and she knew that none of the 7 major nations was called "Astora", so she could only imagine that it was a small nation that hadn't been ruled by an Archon. Then…what was Cyril doing here? Had he fled a war? She didn't want to ask, lest she touch upon something she shouldn't. Hopefully her big sister, Jean, would be able to help more in that regard. Foreign diplomacy was the realm of the Knights of Favonius, after all. And no one was a better leader than her big sis!

But…did she just want to rely on Jean? There was a troubled person right here next to her…and she couldn't do anything about it? That wasn't right, not at all!

She glanced at him, seeing him still silent and lost in his own thoughts. It wasn't an awkward silence per se, but it still felt kind of tense. Or maybe it was just her imagination? Regardless, she wouldn't be Barbara, Mondstadt's one and only idol, if she didn't at least try to cheer him up somehow!

She took a quick glance around. Morning mass had concluded little over an hour ago, so the area around the cathedral was sparse, the majority of citizens having returned to the lower levels of the city. The few people that remained were either other members of the clergy, or patrolling knights.
In short, she could risk it.

"Um, would you…like to hear a song?" Barbara asked Cyril, feeling a bit self-conscious. It wasn't often that she offered to sing for someone when she wasn't on stage, after all.

From the way his helmet swung to face her, she could tell her question had caught him flat-footed. She fought off a surge of embarrassment, of course he didn't know that she was a singer, so the question must've seemed very random from his point of view.

"I-I do a bit of singing, you see," Barbara explained, a bit more humble than usual. "You seemed a bit down so I just thought…you might like to hear a little tune?"
She wrung her hands in anticipation, unsure if she might've offended him or weirded him out. After all, it was a pretty abrupt offer.

Cyril temporarily forgot about the bustling city around him as he stopped and scrutinized SIster Barbara. She seemed to genuinely wish to cheer him up, which warmed him a little. He then tried to remember the last time he'd heard any form of music, but alas, no such recollection surfaced from his mind.

Still a bit blindsided, he nonetheless answered, "I would love to hear a song from you, Sister Barbara."

Judging from the way her face lit up, he'd responded favorably. She took another brief glance around them, likely checking to make sure she wouldn't disturb any passerby.

Then, she sang.

It was a soft lullaby, but the power in her voice was unmistakable. It was as if a gentle breeze was caressing his ears while still confidently reassuring him that everything would be alright. Cyril was no poet, being raised to squirehood from low birth, but there was no other way to describe her tones.

He could recognize the combination of talent and effort. She was someone who strictly practiced, who honed an art to a razor sharp edge. In the span of just a minute or two, Cyril had been struck speechless twice by the young girl before him.

There was no forgetting that he was still stuck somewhere he did not recognize and surrounded by people he didn't know. But, hearing the song Sister Barbara sang for him, his spirits were lifted, and his inner turmoil seemed to fade away. In truth, he was quite surprised. Despite her apparent youth she had assumed the mantle of healer, sister, and now a skilled singer as well.

The rest of the short walk between the Favonius Cathedral and the Knights' Headquarters passed in a flash. Barbara's soft yet invigorating tune began trailing off as they entered earshot of the two armored knights guarding the door to the building.

"That was very impressive," Cyril complimented her with full earnestness. "In my travels throughout Astora and Lordran, I'm not sure I've ever heard a voice as breathtaking as your own."

Not that he really remembered Astora clearly, but Lordran certainly didn't have such musical talent available anywhere.

Refocusing on his unfamiliar situation though, he could tell that Barbara hadn't recognized the name of Lordran either. Never hearing of Astora was already a stretch, but to not know the lands of the Lords themselves? It was looking more and more likely that he'd ended up somewhere utterly divorced from his original lands.

"Thank you!" Barbara beamed at his praise, a bit of pink dusting her cheeks. "And I see you're feeling better, too. I'm so glad!"

Cyril had to agree. The short song she'd shared was not only a welcome reprieve, but also helped him realize the bright side of his arrival in this strange new land. A land full of life and vigor. His eyes scanned the sturdy walls and crowded streets in a new light.

The City of Mondstadt no longer just reminded him of what Lordran and Astora used to be, it also became a monument to what he hoped his sacrifice would've accomplished. If the curse of the Undead had truly been lifted, could his lands have become like this once more? He'd like to think that was the case.

Over the endless years, he'd forgotten what a city was supposed to be; how one was supposed to look, sound, or even smell. But Monstadt had restored those concepts with simple ease. One could say he was already beginning to feel a budding affection for the foreign city.

"Yes, I'd forgotten what peace and prosperity could do for people." Cyril shook his head lightly, saying with a small smile, "You were right, Sister Barbara. This is a beautiful city, indeed."

Her already wide smile got even wider, her expression displaying contentedness at a goal properly accomplished. "Isn't it? I might not have traveled much in my life, but I know I love this place. From the moment I was born all the way until now."

Cyril couldn't quite relate, given his own estrangement to Astora at this point, but he felt he could at least comprehend the sentiment. "And the city is all the more fortunate to have you as a loyal citizen."

She flushed a bit at the praise, before gesturing for him to wait as she stepped away to talk with the guards. They exchanged a few words, but this whole occasion must've been expected as she just as quickly returned to him.

"Um…it was nice meeting you, Sir Cyril, but I'm sure the Acting Grandmaster is waiting. If you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to visit the Cathedral, okay? I'll do anything I can to help." Barbara stated seriously.

"I understand. And if I wish to just hear another song?" Cyril grinned with more than a little cheekiness.

Her eyes widened at his words, before she beamed with happily narrowed eyes, "I'll think about it. But only if you don't end up in the infirmary again too quickly, mister!"

She gave him a cute little final wave before turning back in the direction they came from. The two knights gave Cyril a curt nod, which he returned respectfully.

"Please, come this way." One of them opened the door and gestured for him to follow. The other remained at his post.

"Of course," Cyril agreed, keeping his hand far from the hilt of his sword.

The entrance opened into a large foyer, with many doors lining the sides and a set of large stairs in the back. His escort led the way silently, something Cyril appreciated as he prepared himself for a meeting with the unknown.

Somehow, the more utilitarian construction of this building put him more at ease. There was still a sense of ornamentation in its design and decor, but it was nowhere near the extravagance of the cathedral. And, importantly, it still felt human, which was more than what he could say about the glistening spires of Anor Londo.

After a short walk, they arrived at a nondescript wooden door. He'd been expecting the office of a leader to stand out, but perhaps that just wasn't how things were done here. With polite silence, he watched as the escorting knight approached the door and knocked crisply.

"Come in." A muted woman's voice called from the other side.

His escort turned to him and nodded, before stepping aside to let him through.

Stepping forward, Cyril took a deep breath and suppressed a sudden surge of apprehension.

He placed a hand on the door and pushed…

Chapter Text

The office of this "Acting Grandmaster'' was a rather humble affair, at least by Cyril's concept of leadership. In the center of the room sat a polished desk with matching chairs, along the walls lay crowded bookshelves, and a large window behind it all to allow sunlight inside.

It was the illumination of this window that seemed to make the woman in the room glow as she turned to face him. Pale blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, a face that spoke of kindness but tempered by discipline, and ocean blue eyes filled with appraisal. Though he'd lived through countless lifetimes, the young woman before him seemed as if she could see right through him.

But that wasn't the only thing that caught his eye.

Sister Barbara had been rather pretty, in a girlish way that was rare in the lands he knew. But the woman before him now was beautiful with a radiance only seen in those with the blood of Lords. And maybe it was just him, but did he see a bit of familial resemblance between Sister Barbara and the Acting Grandmaster?

His shock certainly wasn't helped by the fact that she wasn't dressed in armor like he assumed she would be. Unlike her knights, she was wearing form-fitting white pants and an intricate blouse with a pristine blue cloak draped over her shoulders. Not a piece of protective gear in sight.

But he couldn't afford to gawk at her. This was not the first time he found himself before a stunning vision of beauty, after all.

"Greetings. I am Cyril, of Astora," Cyril introduced himself and took off his helmet, as politeness would dictate. "I am thankful for your people's hospitality in caring for one such as I."

Her gaze softened once no longer confronted by his faceless visor, answering him with a more welcoming expression, "I'm Jean Gunnhildr, Acting Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius. And you hardly need to thank us for caring for an incapacitated man."

He smiled wryly in response. "In my experience, I'd have expected to wake up in a ditch somewhere with naught but an empty pack. Not an uncommon occurrence in Lordran."

"Then those lands sound treacherous." Jean raised an eyebrow, before honing in on the names he'd used. "I'm sorry, but I've never heard of Astora or Lordran. I thought you might be foreign from your armor, but…"

"...I feared that would be the case." Cyril sighed. "What would you say if I were to declare that I've never heard of a place called Mondstadt until today?"

"I'd say that's a bad joke." Her expression was studiously flat as she paused, then gave him a serious look. "But you're not joking, are you?"

"I am not. It feels much the same for me, you see. To have not heard of Astora is unlikely but believable. But to not know the name of the Land of Gods, Lordran, is inconceivable," he explained.

"Land of Gods?" Her brow furrowed in consternation, "This Lordran is ruled by an Archon?"

"I have no idea what that is." Cyril gave a straightforward reply.

The silence that followed his statement was one of plain disbelief. It was what he expected, but he was never one for beating around the bush. Besides, these people have at least earned this level of honesty for their hospitality.

He waited patiently as Jean stared at him analytically for several more seconds. Finally, she made an expression of acceptance. Still wary, but understandably so.

"Hm…then the next question I should ask is…how did you end up unconscious outside our walls?" She narrowed her eyes as she spoke. Cyril approved of her focus on the more pressing matters, as it wasn't hard to tell she was actually curious about the lands he'd mentioned.

He frowned lightly, as he would like to know the answer as well. "If I'm to be completely honest…then I have no idea."

Jean only raised an eyebrow at that. Her skepticism was warranted, he had to admit. He claims to have no knowledge of her home, yet ended up outside its walls, then additionally stated that he hailed from lands she'd never heard of herself.

He took a deep breath and simply continued, "By all accounts, I should probably be dead."

Her eyes widened in alarm. "What do you mean?"

She was concerned, which was only natural when given a shocking statement like that. Death normally meant some pain and a setback or two for an Undead like Cyril, however this time he'd expected his soul to burn in the Kiln of the First Flame.

A final resting place, denied to him for some mysterious, cosmic reason.

Yet the thing that really caught him flatfooted was that he could detect some genuine worry from her in regards to himself. He hadn't even elaborated on his circumstances, yet Acting Grandmaster Jean had taken his words quite seriously.

It was novel, receiving such an expression from someone he'd only just met. Even among those he could call his friends, they rarely had time to truly worry about one another. That way of thinking had led to…consequences, ones that he didn't want to recall at the moment.

But that was enough of that. Lady Jean was waiting for an explanation.

"I do not know of the nature of these lands, but the Lords, our gods, established Lordran as their headquarters from which they ruled and influenced all other nations, including Astora. But nothing lasts forever. Wars, time, any number of factors eroded away at their establishment. And eventually there were none left, most either deceased or departed for greener pastures." Cyril grit his teeth a bit. Much of the history was still unclear, even to someone as well-traveled as him, but he got the distinct feeling that humanity had been made a fool of by the end. By whom exactly, and for what purpose still eluded him. He was still mostly loyal to Lord Gwyn, but the blind fanaticism of his youth had long faded away. Especially after Thorolund.

For her part, Jean listened, a vague sort of understanding present in her expression. Perhaps the gods of Mondstadt and the other nations of this place had similar roles or histories?

Taking her silence as a signal to continue, he moved on with his explanation, "Without the gods the lands began to die. Rivers dried up, plants withered, and a pall was cast across the continent. These changes led to nations collapsing and chaos reigning everywhere. No one truly knows whether it was because the gods left, or if they left because this had been inevitable. And it's far too late to ever know the true answer now."

He must've been making a particularly bad expression as Jean reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder in a show of comfort. She still looked rather confused, but it wasn't enough for her to shed her empathy, it seemed.

"We weren't content to just accept it, though. The time of prosperity ushered in by the Lords was called the Age of Fire, named after the source of their power, called the First Flame," he explained, unable to stop some reverence entering his tone. "Apparently, the most powerful of the Lords, Lord Gwyn, had sacrificed himself to the Flame long ago in order to keep it burning and extend the Age of Fire, but now it was truly in danger of dying out. A mere ordinary human would not be able to perform the rite in the same way Lord Gwyn had. As such, I challenged the trials necessary…and eventually chose to offer myself to the First Flame as well."

He kept his explanation concise and omitted any mention of the Darksign and its curse, but he had told no lies. He was still unsure if his hosts knew of his nature at all, but if they didn't, revealing it now would only complicate things.

Jean's eyes went wide, "You…sacrificed yourself?"

"Well, that was the plan. The last thing I'm able to recall was being in immense pain as the Flame consumed my very essence. Then, I woke up here. As you can likely surmise, I'm quite lost at the moment." Cyril smiled in wry humor, "As I stated earlier, by my knowledge, I should be dead."

Jean wanted to deny it, she truly did. It all sounded absurd, alien, and even pagan in nature. No Archon she heard of performed or requested rituals of human sacrifice, at least she hoped so.

But even though Jean usually admitted to being uncomfortable with common social interactions, she had learned a little about how to read people. It was something she'd picked up from being a leader for many years, from her ongoing role as the Dandelion Knight of Mondstadt to now being the Acting Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius.

And Cyril of Astora, she could tell, was no liar. In fact, she felt he wasn't dissimilar to herself in conduct. Knightly, honest, and direct were the words she'd use.

But what he'd said about his dying home…and his sacrifice. That would make him noble beyond words. She got the feeling that this wasn't the whole story of Lordran, but she could tell that what he'd shared he believed to be true.

But what sealed the deal were his eyes; they told her more than his words ever could. They spoke of weariness, pain, and sorrow…but also an unwavering will and dedication to his beliefs. They were eyes that she could respect, if not trust quite yet.

She suppressed a shudder. A land abandoned by their gods. She knew the other nations often referred to Barbatos, the Archon of Mondstadt, as an "absentee ruler", but the people felt his presence every day.

Not to mention she personally knew what form he currently took…

She cast a sympathetic eye towards the foreign knight. She couldn't imagine what it felt like to be abandoned by their gods, left alone to struggle through the collapse of everything they knew.

He had a light scar across one side of his face, but his youth showed though. If she had to hazard a guess, he was likely around her own age. But there was a certain weight in his disposition, like an aura of a veteran.

She decided that while his story was fantastical, he truly had no idea how he ended up in Mondstadt. If that's the case, then it was only right to extend an offer of hospitality. Not to mention…she was certain he knew how to use the sword at his waist. More possible manpower was also something to be appreciated.

But first, she had to figure out his own planned course of action, "Then, what do you plan to do now?"

"Truthfully?" He cocked his head with a rueful smile, "I'd like to take a walk around your city. The colors and sounds of Mondstadt are a far cry from the dreary lands I've become accustomed to. There are few places where the trees aren't gnarled or the grass isn't mottled. What few bastions of beauty that exist are jealously guarded by beings more deadly than I care to confront. Even the very air is crisp and cleaner here."

Jean felt a rush of pride at his praise, but also a small bit of embarrassment at failing to convey her intentions clearly. "I, um, don't really see an issue with that…but I wanted to know more about your longer-term plans."

"Ahh, my apologies," Cyril's eyes widened in realization. "I've not given it much thought. Perhaps I'll look for work? I admit I'd like to explore these lands, but I assume I'll need funds to do so."

Jean nodded, that was well within her expectations. "Then for now, I'd like to offer you a room in our barracks."

He looked surprised. "Truly? That seems rather generous."

"As long as you swear not to harm Mondstadt or its citizens, we will welcome you with open arms." She smiled warmly at him. "There's always work to be done, and more manpower is always welcomed."

"Then…" Cyril furrowed his brow for a moment before relaxing. "I will accept your offer with gratitude. I swear I will adhere to the laws of this land for as long as I reside here."

She caught a hint of relief on his face, which made her feel like she'd done the right thing. It did help that if she horridly misread him, then he would be among the Knights more often than not, and they could deal with the threat more expediently.

She got the feeling that that wouldn't happen though, just a certain hunch that he was a man of his word.

He was humbled by the trust and kindness they were willing to offer a stranger like him. Such things were rare in Lordran for obvious reasons, and the people he could say he trusted even a little bit could be counted on his hands alone.

"I'm glad to hear it," the Acting Grandmaster paused, pursing her lips in thought, "Is there anything else you feel I should know at the moment?"

He paused for a moment.

This was a chance to elaborate on the true nature of his existence. It was looking more and more like there were no Undead here, or if there were then they were a distant thought. As a result, they likely assumed he was a human like them.

But…looking at the dutiful compassion in Jean's expression made him hesitate. For a brief moment he imagined it replaced by a disgusted or horrified expression. Would that imagined vision become a reality if he told them the truth?

For now, he'd wait. It wasn't like he planned to prey on the living like his more distasteful fellows would've.

"Nothing I can think of. Though I must reiterate my thanks for your accommodation of my situation…" Cyril mustered up a genuine smile, shoving his darker thoughts away.

"No more of that, it's only the right thing to do." Jean shook her head. "Then, do you have any questions for me?"

"Hmm…do you perhaps have an archive or library I may peruse later on?" He asked. "I'd like to learn more about these lands."

"Of course, I'll make sure the guards and our Head Librarian know you have my permission." She nodded easily.

"Thank you very much, Acting Grandmaster." He inclined his head respectfully.

"Please, just Jean is fine." Jean looked a bit embarrassed, "It doesn't feel right to have a guest refer to me like that."

"That wouldn't be proper at all," Cyril raised an eyebrow, "Especially if I'm to reside here for the time being."

"I must insist." Jean remained adamant.

"Then…Lady Gunnhildr?" He replied tentatively.

"I ask that you don't call me that again." She looked even more put off.

"...Lady Jean, then." Cyril said with a note of finality.

"Well…that's acceptable." Jean huffed and shook her head lightly..

Cyril gave a short good-natured huff of his own, then turned towards the window. In the direction he'd seen the windmills and towers of Mondstadt. "I cannot understate how wonderful it is to see a land so prosperous. It means more to me than you know to allow me to experience living here, even if it ends as a temporary arrangement."

"..." She was silent for several seconds. "It's not entirely peaceful…but if you come to love this city as much as we do, I don't see any issue with you deciding to stay."

"I…that would be nice," he admitted. "I did not become a wanderer by choice, after all. Still, if the other nations of this land are as beautiful as Mondstadt, I would like to see them as well."

Jean made a noise of agreement, before smiling at him. "Though we're getting a bit ahead of ourselves. Don't be surprised if you end up being questioned by some of the Captains. I plan on sharing everything you've told me with them, but they may come up with questions I did not."

"Of course, I will do my best to answer them satisfactorily," Cyril replied with a nod.

"Good." Jean looked relieved at that. "If you want to take a walk around the city you're more than free to do so. In the meantime I'll have the maids prepare your room."

"Very well." Cyril nodded, anticipation lighting up his eyes. "I wish you a good day, Lady Jean."

With that, he prepared to go take a closer look at the lively city.

Rather than the crowded streets, bustling stalls, or number of people, the thing that surprised Cyril would be considered mundane by nearly anyone else. It was that there were children running about playing games or doing other childish activities.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a happy, innocent youth. It was a…moving experience. Lordran was part of a dying world, the presence of new life was nearly nonexistent. The most he got were nests of nasty wildlife or saplings of new trees. But humanity…its time had come to an end there.

He banished away those dark thoughts once more. Pessimism and melancholy didn't suit him.

He did attract some stares as he wandered about, but none were hostile. Curiosity was the most common emotion he perceived, though there were some people that seemed intimidated, likely due to his armor and faceless helmet.

"Hey mister! Are you a knight?" A particularly inquisitive young boy ran up to him, staring up in fascination.

"Hello young one." Cyril knelt down to address the boy directly, "I am a knight, but not from Mondstadt."

"Ohh! That's why I've never seen your armor before!" The boy nodded sagely. "Well, are you here to join us then? We have the coolest knights in the world!"

Something about the boy's youthful exuberance melted Cyril's heart entirely, making him reach out and ruffle his hair. "I'm certainly thinking about it. But they'll have to make sure I'm a good enough knight first, right?"

"I get it now!" The boy's face lit up in understanding. "Well, good luck then mister!"

Cyril chuckled lightly to himself as the boy bounded away, joining a couple that had been watching tentatively, but now gave him slight smiles after seeing his interaction with their son.

He wandered down a few more streets before he was accosted once more.

"Mysterious stranger spotted!" A melodically androgynous voice called out towards him.

His helmet turned towards its source, and a young, boyish bard greeted him. His deep blue hair, green outfit, and oddly unfathomable eyes gave off the impression of permanent joviality and/or mischievousness.

"Greetings." Cyril inclined his head politely. "I am Cyril of Astora."

"Cyril, huh? Can't say I've heard of a place called Astora before!" The bard grinned cheerfully. "Ah, that's right. I'm Venti, the number one bard in all of Mondstadt!"

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Bard Venti," Cyril replied.

This Venti gave off a certain ethereal impression that Cyril hadn't seen in any other Mondstadter so far. And he'd learned about many kinds of people across his travels. He was no sorcerer, his skill in magic being rather low, but due to his curse he could tell that this Venti had a powerful soul, much like other notable individuals like Sister Barbara or Lady Jean. But it was still somehow…different.

He couldn't quite place it, but for now he'd just have to make note of the odd soul before him.

"Hehe, I heard there was a big guy in weird armor walking about so I had to go see! You look like the kind of knight bards would like to sing about!" Venti eyed him appraisingly. "Bet you've got some stories to tell, huh?"

"Perhaps," Cyril shrugged noncommittally, a bit uncomfortable due to the suddenness of this conversation.

"Ooh…strong and silent type huh?" Venti leaned in, peering at him curiously. A bit close for comfort, to be honest.

Cyril said nothing, though it was not out of unfriendliness. He just didn't know what to make of the character before him. Perhaps sensing his hesitant awkwardness the bard shook his head before giving him a welcoming smile.

"Well, I hope you enjoy your stay in Mondstadt!" Venti reached up and clapped his armor several times in a friendly way. "You know, if you ever wanna see me perform or chat over some drinks, just stop by the Angel's Share!"

Like a whirlwind, the bard headed off in another direction with a final wave and wide grin.

Cyril could only shake his head at that. The strange bard was definitely hiding his true strength and nature, but his conduct had been affable so Cyril saw no reason to pursue it any further. This place truly did seem to be welcoming, even to an odd stranger like himself.

But the bard had brought up something he hadn't thought about yet, what exactly did the alcohol of Mondstadt taste like?

Venti wasn't sure what to make of the man that smelled of ash and fire. He was undeniably powerful, likely stronger than Venti in his current state. But he couldn't sense any maliciousness from him.

In fact, he just seemed so very…tired.

Even from beneath his helmet and his polite tone, Venti could feel the sheer age and weight of exhaustion that emanated from the foreign knight. He hadn't ever heard of a place called Astora, which was already strange in of itself, but regardless of his story, Venti was willing to just keep an eye on him for now.

It helped that he could only detect awe and happiness as he observed Cyril take in all the sights Mondstadt had to offer. Venti hoped he could find the peace he sought, it was always a bit painful seeing someone in such a state, even if they hid it well.

But enough of that melancholic line of thought, he had a tavern to entertain and drinks to enjoy!

Cyril found himself climbing a set of stairs, making his way across one of the elevated plazas that dotted the city.

The particular plaza he'd arrived at was nearly empty, the bustle of the city more distant. It made sense, as the sun was nearly gone by this point. Instead, the sound of a nearby windmill creaking as its blades rotated slowly was what filled the air.

"Truly wondrous," Cyril muttered to himself as he stared out over the City, illuminated in the orange light of the fading sun.

The colors bathing the Mondstadt would normally remind him of Anor Londo, a city he had mixed feelings about to say the least, but now instead the glow seemed astonishingly enchanting to him. It was strange that this smaller, less ornate city somehow complemented the sunset in an intimate way that he never felt when staring at the spires of Anor Londo.

Though the day grew later and later, many businesses were already lighting up, prepared to continue operations into the night. He could only continue to marvel at how alive everything felt. Industrious liveliness seemed to fill every individual in his line of sight.

Inevitably, his thoughts returned to Astora, the homeland he retained much knowledge of, but few personal memories of. Just like he did earlier when he first emerged into the city with Sister Barbara, he couldn't shake the thought that maybe Astora had once been a land like this. It was likely his own biased projection, but it only served to endear Mondstadt to him more.

As night began to set he continued to stand and watch over the city. As he stood silently, like a solemn sentinel, another thought began to bud within his mind.

He had arrived in Mondstadt abruptly, so the gravity of the situation was just now beginning to set in. He was fascinated by this new land, enthralled by its beauty, and warmed by its prosperity. He was a man without a home. Lordran? He had accepted the duty that the serpent Frampt had thrust upon him in order to stave off the ever-present threat of hollowing, but he could never say that it was a land he loved. And of course Astora was long ruined, like all the other human nations.

So he began to think…to think that this new land…just maybe…could be a place he'd be willing to call home in the future. Whether it was Mondstadt or another nation, he was sure he could grow to love living here.

And that was enough, for now.

Chapter Text

It was the day after Cyril had awoken in this wonderfully foreign land.

He took a moment to stretch, realizing that he'd taken off his armor to sleep. It wasn't something he often did back in Lordran, given how quickly things could get dangerous, but already he was beginning to get caught up in the peaceful atmosphere of Mondstadt. He couldn't help a small, amused smile from appearing on his face.

Still, he had no intention of venturing outside his quarters without his armor on.

Speaking of his accommodations, the room he'd been given was actually rather nice (though he didn't have a particularly high bar for that). The construction was the simple but aesthetically pleasing timber-focused style that most of Mondstadt's smaller architecture used, with solid wooden beams and polished flooring. As he prepared for the day he took a moment to ensure he looked presentable in the mirror, just in case he needed to remove his helmet, before beginning to strap on his armor piece-by-piece.

For now, Cyril had two immediate desires: finding work, and bathing in Mondstadt's atmosphere some more. He had to quash both of those though, as it was becoming more and more apparent that despite some surface-level similarities, this land was as alien as can be.

Yesterday, he'd glanced at a map in a bookstore he'd passed, and recognized absolutely none of the locations depicted, as he'd feared from his conversation with Lady Jean. A quick conversation with another merchant claiming to sell "elemental crystals" of some kind revealed that magic as he knew it either didn't exist or was completely unrecognizable from what he was used to. Apparently to use magic here, one had to be blessed with a "Vision", whatever that was. It was truly baffling to him that no one seemed to use pyromancies, sorceries, or miracles. It was as if he'd traveled to another reality altogether! Which, in all honesty, wouldn't be all that surprising.

So he was a fish out of water, so to speak. Therefore, his goal this morning was to go to the library Lady Jean had informed him of. The previous day he'd also noticed something interesting: despite being in a completely unknown land (or world, as he was beginning to suspect), he had no issues with reading signs or communicating with the citizens of Mondstadt. Which is all the better, given his lack of scholarly skill. Though he was as educated as a knight of Astora would've been expected to be, having to learn an additional language still would've been daunting.

The knight guarding the library seemed to recognize Cyril, and let him pass with no issue. And while the library itself certainly wasn't as grand as something like the Duke's Archives, it was more than enough for someone like Cyril.

It'd probably been an eternity since he'd navigated his way through a library to actually look for books, but luckily for him, the Knights of Favonius were well-organized. Within several minutes, he was making his way to an empty seat with a small stack of books. He'd retrieved a general encyclopedia for reference, what looked like a simple history book, and a traveler's guide.

He soon lost himself in learning about the land, which he found out is called "Teyvat". Teyvat is divided into several countries, each ruled apparently by a god, known as an "Archon". Each Archon was a master of a specific elemental attribute, and magical abilities were also derived from the elements. Interestingly, they didn't seem to have an exact equivalent for miracles or sorcery, but many powers listed had similar effects, such as hydro elemental techniques being used for healing.

Among mortals, some are granted "Visions" by the gods to amplify and hone their elemental skills. It sort of reminded him of how Lord Gwyn's miracles were passed down to followers of his covenant. Strangely, there seemed to be no set pattern or criteria for being granted a Vision, but Cyril knew the whims of beings that called themselves "gods" were unpredictable.

As he began to read more concrete information about the current state of Teyvat, he realized that despite the many marked scars and ruins from the so-called "Archon War" along with lighter conflicts since, there didn't seem to be any land or country that was in as dire of straits as Lordran and its surrounding lands had been. That was a very good thing, of course.

And he had to admit, the descriptions of places like Liyue and Inazuma were intensely fascinating, and he wouldn't be averse to traveling to visit them either. As he continued to read he was filled with a certain sense of wonder, and maybe just a bit of envy, that a whole realm like Teyvat was as prosperous and full of people as it was.

"Well, well, if it isn't our mysterious new friend?" A man's voice roused Cyril from his reading. He looked up to see a tan man with long dark blue hair approaching him. But the man's most distinctive feature was the eyepatch over his right eye.

Idly, Cyril also noted that the man's appearance likely made him more than a little popular among the ladies. And now that he knew what to look for, he spotted the cryo Vision on his person immediately. It matched the design of the ones he recalled seeing on Sister Barbara, Lady Jean, and Bard Venti as well.

Internally, he pondered half-jokingly about whether the gods favored those with good looks, or if their good looks came because they were favored. He'd only seen four Vision users thus far though, so further conclusions would have to wait.

"Greetings. I don't believe we've met. I am Cyril of Astora." Cyril stood and bowed slightly in respect. His helmet was already off and sitting on the table next to him (it wasn't very conducive to smooth reading), so his face was already exposed.

The man looked him over several times, focusing intently on his face, before cracking a sly smile. "I'm Kaeya Alberich, the Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius."

"Sir Kaeya, then." Cyril nodded in return.

Kaeya's one visible eye widened, before he let out a short string of amused laughter. "C-Can't say I get called that all too often. A guy could get used to that kind of respect though."

The knight from Astora tilted his head questioningly. "Are you not commonly addressed in a manner befitting your station?"

"Befitting my station?" The odd knight of Mondstadt's mirth only seemed to increase at that. "No, we tend to be a bit casual around here. Even our great acting boss Jean doesn't keep an iron grip on us. Though we do make sure to behave ourselves depending on the situation."

Kaeya shook his head, the amused smile lingering on his face, before taking a seat across from Cyril. "Speaking of, Jean's told us Captains a bit about you. Far from home huh?" He asked with undisguised curiosity.

"Yes, very far if these books are any indication," Cyril admitted. "We called our gods Lords, not Archons. And I've never heard of any of these places or their gods themselves, either."

Though Cyril was pretty sure Lady Jean would've informed her trusted subordinates of all he'd said, a look of surprise and skepticism still made its way onto Kaeya's face. It did make sense to react as such, given how fantastical his circumstances were.

"Hm, that's some curious news indeed." Kaeya rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "But hey, origins aside, I wanna know more about the man in the armor, if you know what I mean. Jean's not the type to pry, but I'm more than a little curious about your circumstances. If you're willing to share."

The reason for the sudden visit was becoming apparent: information gathering. Cyril took no offense, rather, his opinion continued to rise. His hosts were doing their due diligence while still being open and welcoming enough to be accommodating of his situation.

And while Kaeya did not look like he was going to press Cyril for answers, he was certainly already appraising him, watching him with a trained eye. For his part, Cyril was willing to entertain the Cavalry Captain's interest. There were certain things he would keep close to his chest, but honesty had always served him best in the long run. Even if he did sometimes find himself on the backfoot due to it.

"Ask whatever you wish," Cyril replied, pushing his books aside for the moment.

Kaeya's smile turned a bit more friendly. "Great! I guess we can start with your homeland. Is that armor of yours common there?"

Cyril shook his head in response. "I suppose the answer is yes and no. Anyone from my lands would recognize this armor as being that of an Astoran Knight. However, this particular design is only afforded to the elite, those who have been through rigorous and selective training or accomplished great feats. Though I suppose nobles have their ways of getting their own set without much effort…"

Kaeya gave his armor another look. "Looks sturdy enough, even if your set is a bit worn. Your home have a history of knightly traditions?"

"It is what we are most known for," Cyril explained with some amusement. "Knights aren't uncommon across the various nations of our land, but Astora's knights were considered in a league of our own. Some detractors may say we lack speciality, but versatility is a strength in itself."

"Won't argue there, though now you have me curious to see you in action." Kaeya gave a small shrug and smirk, before his eyes turned more serious. "I noticed you speak in past tense. And Jean mentioned some turmoil…"

"Hmm. Turmoil would be putting it…lightly to say the least." Cyril's expression became distant. "I may have understated the plight when conversing with Lady Jean as I didn't wish to overwhelm her with a stranger's woes. In my time, there was little to no governance. Most people had been forced to become nomadic, or retreated and became fiercely reclusive. I myself wandered the lands aimlessly, fighting vagabonds and living off of the land for many years."

Kaeya looked surprisingly understanding as Cyril explained. "Damn. Sounds pretty bad out there. But then you found something you wanted to fight for, right? That's what led you to that old ritual and landing yourself here, somehow."

"Mm," Cyril acknowledged. "I'm unsure what I managed to accomplish in the end, but I hope that my actions did even a little bit of good."

"Do you plan on going back?" Kaeya asked with an intent look.

"..." Cyril paused, but came up with an answer quickly, "Honestly, I have no intention of doing so at the moment. I earnestly hope my actions contributed to something…but I have no love for Lordran. And the Astora I knew is no more."

"So Lordran is another place, right? The one run by your Archons? Ah, your people call them Lords…" Kaeya inquired.

"Yes, a separate land, and the place where I spent the majority of my life," Cyril confirmed. "As I said many nations had collapsed. And Lordran was only marginally better in some ways. In the end, I can't say I wish to return at all."

"...Some might get the wrong impression from that kind of answer," Kaeya pointed out.

The implication of disloyalty or cowardice was certainly there, and it wouldn't be far-fetched for a random listener to reach that conclusion.

"Ha, when they have fought and seen the things I have then their words shall have weight. In the meantime, I will do what is necessary to prove myself worthy of your peoples' kindness and trust." Cyril raised a gauntlet fist to his chest.

"Well, I can definitely say I approve of that kind of attitude." Kaeya laughed. "I guess that's all I wanted to hear for now. Don't be surprised if you end up in a spar or two sometime soon. We're understaffed but we won't just give out jobs to anybody. Of course you're free to take on work from whoever you like, but Jean seemed optimistic about you."

"I will prioritize the tasks the Knights of Favonius wish to bestow upon me," Cyril replied dutifully. "It's only right to repay the faith they've shown a stranger like myself."

"It's really not that big of a deal…" Kaeya's response was wry in tone. "But do whatever you want, I guess. Hey, if you're ever looking for a night of relaxation come join me at the Angel's Share, alright? I'd love to hear more about your secret homeland."

"It's hardly a secret…" Cyril trailed off as a familiar name had come up. "That is the second invitation I've received to the Angel's Share."

"Oh really? Wait, don't tell me. Hmm…you've run into Venti?" Kaeya guessed.

"Yes, how did you know?" Cyril shot him a look of surprise.

"Well the owner would never invite you himself. And the only other regular that would just waltz up to your intimidating and shiny self and invite you would probably be a social butterfly like me or Venti," Kaeya replied with a grin. "But that means you definitely have to show up at some point. It'd be rude to turn us both down, right?"

"I suppose so…" Cyril made a face. But then he realized he was being led on a little. "Haha, once I'm able to pay for my own share of drinks I will accept your offer."

"Good enough for me. Sadly I can't spend all my time chatting, so I'm off for now. Enjoy your reading, Cyril." Kaeya gave a short sigh before he stood up and stretched.

"Ah, of course. A good day to you, Sir Kaeya." Cyril nodded.

The form of address got another laugh out of the Cavalry Captain, who gave one last languid wave before disappearing around the corner.

Taking a moment to collect himself after that involved conversation, Cyril shook his head with a small smile and returned to the books he'd been reading. He had much to learn, after all.

It was nearing noon when Cyril decided he'd gotten a decent grasp of the common knowledge he'd probably be expected to know. One of the main things he'd found interesting was the existence of "monsters", separate from the wildlife that inhabited the world. Creatures born from the natural elemental energy of the world, with many defining characteristics that separated them from something like a boar or deer. It seemed there were quite a few jobs geared around hunting said creatures for materials which had various uses in all kinds of fields.

Now those kinds of jobs were something he could probably adjust to doing rather quickly. Taking mental note of books he still planned to check out later, he dutifully returned his borrowed books to their original locations.

Just as he finished, Lady Jean entered the library, accompanied by another woman that he did not recognize. The new woman was, at this point unsurprisingly, also stunningly beautiful. Her hair was a fair bit longer than Lady Jean's, colored a light brown that framed her emerald eyes nicely. She wore a rather form fitting dress with a purple theme that left little to the imagination; but her most noticeable accessory was the wide-brimmed, floppy hat that topped the outfit.

Though they looked nothing alike, the hat alone was enough to make Cyril remember his friend and mentor, Big Hat Logan. He felt a pang of grief at that, one that he did his best to push away, lest even darker memories surface.

He quickly found something else to latch on to.

The unknown beauty also had a Vision, an electro one, if he was recalling correctly. He mentally marked down another unnaturally attractive person as a Vision user. It was looking more and more like the gods were a bit biased in these lands, Cyril thought to himself with growing amusement.

Returning to his attention to the pair, he noticed something was off.

Lady Jean was frowning, though it seemed her displeasure was aimed somewhere else, while the mage/witch had an indulgent expression on her face. Once Jean spotted him her frown melted away, and she greeted him cordially.

"I see you've already jumped straight into your studies." Jean nodded approvingly, before presenting her companion. "This is Lisa Minci, our librarian."

"Hi there~! You put the books you were reading back where they belong all by yourself? Hmm, you're already my new favorite visitor." The witch, Lisa, giggled melodically.

"Erm...thank you." Cyril replied unsurely, before remembering his manners and continuing, "My name is Cyril of Astora. It's nice to meet you."

"The pleasure's all mine, dear." Lisa smiled with a demure response.

"Sorry to trouble you so soon, but a problem's come up concerning your ability to take up assignments from the Knights of Favonius." Jean looked unhappy as she explained.

"Ah, I understand. I will endeavor to prove my skills and character to earn your trust, such that I may be entrusted with the Order's requests." Cyril nodded instantly. He'd had a feeling that they were being much too lenient with a stranger like him.

"What? No, it's nothing like that." Jean stared at him for a moment, before giving a short laugh. "It isn't like the work we put up is that critical or severe. Those kinds of assignments we would handle by ourselves."

"Oh. Then...what is the issue?" He tilted his head curiously.

"Well, in short, because you're not accredited at all, one of our knights argued against my proposal to allow you to receive assignments." Jean sighed. "While I have the final say in the matter, he brought up some good points. You don't have a reputation among us yet, nor are you a registered member of the Adventurer's Guild."

"And while getting you registered with the Adventurer's Guild is an option, you'll have to do your work through them. They don't like it very much if you go around their system and start taking paying jobs on your own. Though I suppose they make exceptions at times," Lisa added helpfully.

"So that's the problem…" Cyril frowned thoughtfully. "Do you have a solution you wish to propose?"

"Actually, the knight that protested provided one himself: he wants to test your skills in a sparring match," Jean said with more than a little exasperation.

"That sounds simple enough," Cyril replied, satisfied with the idea.

"I was worried you'd say that." Jean grimaced. "I wouldn't go as far as to request you take it easy on him, but...I honestly have a feeling that you outmatch him."

"How would you know that without seeing me in combat?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"The history you informed me of is one thing, but also your body language easily identifies you as a veteran to anyone else with experience. I have the utmost faith in our knights, but it is true that most of them are lacking in terms of practical exposure. You see, most of our skilled members are out on an expedition…"

"Don't you think you're being too hard on them?" Lisa spoke up, "Most of them are only assigned guard duty, after all. There isn't exactly much for them to do besides train or patrol."

"Yes, you're right..." Jean trailed off, a somewhat helpless expression on her face.

"This land is peaceful, then? I gathered as much from my readings, but to think it was to the extent that your more skilled hands are better utilized farther away…" Cyril mused at the unfamiliar concept.

"Most of the time, yes. We've had some close calls at times, but there are still many reliable individuals we can lean on to help," Jean replied.

"What Jean doesn't mention is that she picks up most of the slack," Lisa added teasingly, earning a flush from the blonde knight.

"That is good, then. Even in peace, a strong leader can serve as an example to strive for." Cyril gave a single nod of satisfaction. His words only seemed to embarrass her more.

"Ahem...back to the sparring proposal, though, I take it you have no problem with it?" Jean asked.

"None."

"Very well, we'll hold the spar outside, near the dummies," Jean announced. "I'll go inform him of your acceptance."

"Understood."

"Oh, I can't wait to see you in action~," Lisa's tone was playful, but she did seem genuinely interested in his capabilities.

"I hope to live up to your expectations, Lady Lisa." Cyril opted to call her in the same manner that he did for Lady Jean. Judging from her smile, she didn't seem to mind. As Jean left, he thought of one last question to ask her, "Ah, is the use of magic prohibited or allowed in the coming match?"

"Hm?" Both women scanned his person briefly, likely looking for a Vision but finding none, before Jean answered, "No magic. The knight you're fighting, Swan, lacks a Vision."

"Good, if I'm being honest, a regular test of arms is my preferred method of combat." Cyril allowed himself a confident smile.

Jean nodded in acknowledgment and turned to leave. "Wait here, I'll ensure everything is prepared first."

Now that they were alone for the moment, silence descended upon them. The purple-clad witch seemed to ooze a mature charm that, honestly, threw Cyril for a loop.

"Please don't be too hard on poor Swan. He's just a stickler for rules and regulation," Lisa said. "Even more than Jean is, honestly. He'll back off as soon as you prove you're capable."

"Do not worry, I understand where he is coming from. I will not cause any undue harm," Cyril promised.

"Happy to hear it." Lisa giggled.

He tried to think of something further to say, but words eluded him at this moment.

"Hey~, I can't sense a Vision on you," Lisa suddenly said. "Are you actually able to use magic without one? Natural mages are pretty rare and require a lot of training."

"Ah...in my homeland, we did not have Visions," Cyril explained. "Magic stems from the soul, given form, then shaped to the wielder's purpose. In all honesty, finding out about Teyvat's magic system was quite a revelation."

"Oh, that sounds...fascinating! You're the second person I've met who can use magic that isn't a trained mage or vision user…though it looks like your situations are completely separate." Lisa's eyes lit up intensely for a moment, before she seemed to clamp down on her excitement. "I'd love to hear more, maybe after the spar?"

"I am no expert, but I will do my best to pass on what knowledge I have." Cyril saw no reason to keep it a secret, and he was actually quite interested in finding out the differences and similarities in their magic systems.

"Great! It's a date, then," Lisa declared cheerfully.

Before Cyril could ponder what a "date" was, Jean returned to the library. "Cyril, it's time. Let's head out to the training area."

With a nod of acceptance Cyril fastened his helmet and headed out the door with Lisa following closely behind. They'd apparently cleared a small space outside the building for the spar, given the training dummies and targets shoved over to one side.

The knight, Swan, was...well, he wasn't very intimidating. He had neatly combed brown hair and wore the standard uniform and armor of the Knights of Favonius that a majority of the guards seemed to wear.

Despite his apparent protest of Cyril's prospective work, the knight greeted him politely, "Greetings. I apologize for the trouble, but the Favonius Handbook strictly outlines which assignments are meant to be handled by a full-fledged knight. I simply can't condone trusting an unproven outsider without proper cause."

There was a small gathering of other guards, but it seemed Lady Jean wished to keep the spectacle to a minimum, which Cyril was glad for. He did not wish to incur any bad will in the coming battle.

Also glad to see the lack of hostility, Cyril simply nodded. "I understand completely. Will we fight to disarm? Or to first blood?"

Jean interjected, "Both are win conditions, the first to achieve one will be declared the winner."

The two combatants looked at each other and gave a nod of acknowledgment.

"Then, begin on my signal." Jean stood at the ready.

Swan drew his sword which, like most of the blades Cyril had seen here in Teyvat, was ornate but looked to be well-made for combat. Cyril, for his part, drew the Astora Straight Sword he'd had for for as long as he could remember. Noting Swan's lack of a shield, he adopted a two-handed stance, leaving his Crest Shield slung on his back.

"I can't believe Swan picked a fight with a guy that looks like that…" He overheard one of the knights mutter to another, who gave a nod in response.

"...Begin!"

The spar started calmly. Swan had assumed a standard stance for one-handed sword fighting, but Cyril could only think that it was much too orthodox. Content to let the younger knight make the first move, Cyril simply watched him intently.

"...Hah!" Swan stepped forward quickly with a sharp thrust towards Cyril's torso. It was a solid textbook move that showed how much he'd practiced. It also showed how little experience he had in live combat.

Cyril matched Swan's step forward, shoving the thrust aside with his own blade and then driving his pommel into Swan's chest, sending him staggering back. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a few winces among the audience.

Swan recomposed himself, before launching into a series of swings which, while flowing together quite well, were remarkably easy to read. Cyril parried each blow, waiting patiently for an opportunity to end the fight cleanly.

After a few more ineffective attacks, Swan finally slipped up. He went a bit too high on an overhead swing, leaving himself open to a counterattack. Cyril capitalized quickly with a rising underhand swing, turning his blade at the last moment so the flat of the blade slammed into Swan's wrist, hard. The younger knight let out a yelp of pain, dropping his sword instantly and allowing Cyril to retrieve it with no trouble.

"And match!" Jean signaled the end of their spar.

With a respectful bow, Cyril returned Swan's sword, hilt first.

"Th-Thank you…" Swan was still rubbing his wrist gingerly. "You handled me like I was a trainee…There should be no issues with you acting on behalf of the Knights of Favonius."

"Thank you for your confidence." Cyril nodded, smiling from underneath his helmet.

The younger knight gave a last bow of acknowledgment, then walked off towards the Cathedral, likely to get his wrist checked by a healer. The few knights that had watched also began to disperse, talking amongst themselves.

"That looked like less of a sparring match and more like a student challenging their teacher," Jean remarked as she approached Cyril.

"It was only a gap of experience. He has a good grasp on the fundamentals," Cyril replied.

"Yes...that seems to be the main issue among the remaining knights." Jean sighed. "Thank you for indulging him. You handled that very well."

"I had no wish to brutalize an earnest young man. His loyalty and desire do credit to all the people of Mondstadt."

"There are always exceptions to the rule, but yes, I'm proud of this city and its people," Jean agreed with a warm smile. "So, with that, you're free to join us or take on any assignments from one of our captains. I look forward to working with you, Cyril."

"The pleasure is mine, Lady Jean." He inclined his head respectfully.

Her smile widened, and she patted his shoulder briefly before excusing herself to handle her other responsibilities.

As she left, Cyril felt a light tap on his pauldron. He turned to find Lisa looking at him expectantly. He blinked in surprise, and they stared at each other for several moments in silence.

"That was very impressive, Mr. Knight~," she finally said, leaning in with a mirthful smile on her face. Had she perhaps picked up on his earlier discomfort around her? Cyril sure hoped not. He got the feeling she was the mischievous type.

"It was nothing." Cyril took a step back, attempting to maintain a comfortable distance.

"If you say so…" She took a step forward, "So, we have a date, right?"

"Erm, I did say I would discuss my homeland's magic with you, yes."

"Great! Let's go to the library." Lisa grabbed his arm firmly and began pulling him along.

"Wha-, Lady Lisa, I can walk on my own," Cyril protested as he followed her lead, to no effect as the beautiful witch remained latched onto his arm.

Apparently she was even more interested in his magic than he'd thought. She ended up pulling him the whole way to the library, sitting him down in the seat he'd previously occupied while she sat down across from him.

"So, you mentioned that your magic comes from the soul? How exactly does that work?" Lisa asked immediately.

"Um…" Cyril organized his thoughts as quickly as he could, "To start with, the manifestation of magic can be categorized into three broad categories: the primal pyromancies, the structured sorceries, and the faith-driven miracles…"

He gave a quick overview of the key differences between the three forms of magic, making sure to stress that unlike the people of Teyvat, who derived all their power from the elements wielded by the gods, only miracles were a direct link to his land's gods, namely Lord Gwyn.

Lisa seemed to find their talk intriguing, despite Cyril's lack of expertise. As time went on, he grew more comfortable conversing with the purple-clad witch, and before they knew it, night had fallen.

Cyril retired to his room afterwards, but not before Lisa squeezed two promises out of him: Another "date", this time to discuss the lore and mythology of his land, and also an actual demonstration of what little sorcery, pyromancy, and miracles that Cyril knew so that she could see them in action.

All in all, his first full day in Mondstadt was both hectic and enlightening. He looked forward to many more to come.

Chapter Text

It'd been a little over a week since Cyril found himself in Mondstadt. In that time, he'd begun taking on work on behalf of the Knights of Favonius, and his characteristic appearance in full plate and mail armor was becoming a familiar sight on the streets of the City of Freedom.

As for the kind of work he'd been doing…

"There he is!" Cyril's current companion, Amber, shouted as she pointed at a black cat running away from the two of them. She was a young woman with long brown hair and lively amber (how fitting) eyes, along with a red outfit reminiscent of both the Favonius uniform and an outdoorsman's clothing.

Amber was apparently a type of Knight of Favonius called an Outrider, the last member of that sub-order, but that fact didn't seem to bother her in the slightest. Indeed, in the days he'd known her, she'd been nothing but energetic and hardworking. She also seemed to take a liking to Cyril quickly, earning some curious comments from some of the others about how Amber was like a "magnet for travelers" or something. He had no inkling of what those comments meant, or who else they could be referring to.

But right now, they had a cat to catch.

With a single nod between the two of them, Amber took off, scaling the wall and jumping from rooftop to rooftop as she tracked the runaway cat. It was Cyril's job to chase the cat down a predictable route, while Amber would cut ahead and get in front of the cat's path, pincering it for the capture.

This was the second time this week they'd done this particular task, and they were determined to use their struggles and experiences from the first time to end the task quickly this time around.

"Now!" Cyril shouted, as the cat made a turn into an alleyway that only led to a dead end. With a triumphant yell, Amber jumped down into the alleyway and scooped up the startled cat.

"Got 'im!" Amber cheered as she walked up to Cyril. The cat, perhaps resentful of being caught by Amber specifically, squirmed free and jumped into Cyril's arms, no longer eager to be on the run.

"Good work, Lady Amber." Cyril adjusted his grip so that the cat was resting comfortably in the crook of his arm.

"Same to you, Cyril!" Amber's smile was one of the widest he'd ever seen; the girl just seemed to radiate positivity in general. It was one of the main reasons he found himself in her company more often than any of the other Knights of Favonius thus far.

The Knights of Favonius handled all kinds of tasks apparently, ranging from retrieving runaway pets to performing patrols for national security. A more belligerent, prideful person may have chafed at being given such "demeaning" tasks, but Cyril found the various jobs quite refreshing, actually. He'd been on several patrols and had seen some combat, but he also helped with many jobs that other knights considered "community service".

"What a little rascal," Amber shook her head, though she was still smiling, "Why don'tcha stop running away from home, little guy? You're gonna give your owner gray hairs!"

She reached out and gently petted the cat, earning herself a mild glare from the fluffy creature. The cat shifted about, digging itself deeper into Cyril's arms.

"How odd. In my experience most animals don't like being around me," Cyril winced underneath his helmet, remembering how hostile the wildlife of his homeland was to the Undead.

"I bet it's the treats you gave him last time," Amber laughed, "He's a spoiled little Prince."

"Perhaps," Cyril agreed as the pair began to make their way back to where the cat's worried owner was waiting, one hand idly stroking the purring creature as they walked.

They turned the corner to find a small plaza where a family consisting of both parents and a son were flying a kite. According to Amber, due to gliding routes, kites could only be flown in certain parts of the city. As a result most recreational kite flying took place outside the city walls, but Cyril had seen the occasional family doing the same thing as this one.

"Cyril?" Amber was peering at him curiously. With a start, he realized he'd stopped walking and had been watching the kite intently.

"My apologies," He shook his head and resumed walking.

"You said you hadn't seen a kite before coming to Mondstadt, right?" Amber asked.

"No. I may have stumbled across the remnants of one, but I had no idea it was an object with this sort of use for entertainment," Cyril cocked his head slightly as he searched through some positively ancient memories.

"Well, what do you think of them now?" Amber turned her head to look at the small kite struggling against the wind.

"They embody the spirit of this land quite well," Cyril replied with a smile in his tone, "I can think of no better representation of freedom than the act of flying."

Amber nodded in full agreement, before grinning mischievously, "Then why don't you take me up on my offer to give you gliding lessons already?"

She giggled as he tensed up considerably. It wasn't the first time she'd asked, and she found it kind of cute that he was so wary of heights, but she knew not to push too far. He was far from the only person to have such reservations, after all. But the only reason she prodded and teased him about it was because it was fairly obvious he was interested; only that said interest had yet to exceed his caution.

The way his helmet subtly turned, showing that he was averting his eyes from her with as little movement as possible, only made her mirth grow more.

Though they'd only known each other for a short while, Amber had had no trouble picking up on Cyril's body language and vocal cues.
Part of that was how straightforward of a character he was, but she couldn't deny being just as curious, if not more, about him as she had with Lumine, the traveler-turned-honorary-knight that had passed through a few months ago.

Perhaps it was because he was a study in contrasts. He cut an imposing figure, was a deft hand with his sword, and was formal and polite almost to the point of stiffness. But at the same time he was amazingly kind considering the history he'd shared, was filled with near childlike wonder and curiosity, and was surprisingly talkative when prompted.

It was…fun, for lack of a better word, to learn more about the mysterious knight from a faraway land.

Fortunately for him, he was saved from further teasing as they arrived at the location where the cat's owner was waiting.

"Oh, thank you so much!" the young lady beamed once the cat was in her arms once more. Said animal looked content to be back home, but also seemed to be staring at Cyril with a certain sense of longing. The knight from Astora got the feeling that this wouldn't be the last time the cat escaped…

"It's no problem!" Amber smiled as she was handed the paperwork that denoted they'd completed a citizen's request properly.

"Oh, another knight came by while I was waiting," the girl put a finger on her cheek thoughtfully, "He said that Acting Grandmaster Jean has something she wants to discuss with you two when you're finished."

"Hm?" Cyril tilted his head slightly, "Did this knight elaborate on the occasion?"

"No, sorry, he just asked me to pass on the message."

Amber and Cyril exchanged a look, before Amber shrugged.

"Well, message received. Thanks for telling us!" Amber gave the requester one last smile before dragging Cyril towards the Knights' Headquarters.

"I can walk on my own, Lady Amber," Cyril's voice was exasperated as Amber tugged him along by the arm.

"Yeah, but you always walk so slowly! Don't wanna keep Jean waiting." Amber stuck out her tongue.

Cyril didn't reply, knowing she had a point. He tended to get distracted by the small things, things that most citizens would likely take for granted. As a result the sight of his armored form standing still and taking in random scenery was already a common occurrence in the public consciousness.

He didn't know it, but Amber (and a fair few others) found that part of him endearing in an odd sort of way.

Jean was filing some paperwork when the two of them streamed into her office.

"Cyril, Amber, it's good to see you," She greeted them with a warm smile, the expression coming naturally to her as she saw two of the most hardworking individuals she was acquainted with.

Cyril had been astonishingly helpful ever since he'd taken up residence with the Knights. He helped around the city whenever possible, he gave pointers to the more inexperienced knights, and just by being him even the more lax knights were getting their act together so they didn't look bad in comparison. It was a matter of national pride at that point.

"Lady Jean," Cyril bowed respectfully.

"Hello Jean!" Amber stood at attention with a wide grin, holding out the paper she'd received from the cat's owner.

"Oh, thank you," Jean tucked the paper away somewhere among the rest of her documents. Amber, and even Cyril, knew that if they had been busy doing some other work and no other knights were available, then Jean herself likely would've gone out to chase the cat. Such was the depth of her stubborn work ethic.

"So what's going on?" Amber asked.

"I'm sorry to throw more work your way, but we've just finalized the details for a joint operation with the Adventurer's Guild," Jean sighed apologetically, "The manpower involved includes pretty much every knight that isn't already scheduled for a patrol tonight."

"A rather large undertaking. What has happened to require such a response?" Cyril inquired seriously.

"It's not as severe as it sounds, it's just that a hilichurl tribe has been pushed out of their original territory, and their newly settled area overlaps with a major trade route. We combined reconnaissance efforts with the Adventurer's Guild to find their camp after they raided several caravans," Jean explained, "Now that their base of operations has been found, we plan to lure their main forces out with a dummy caravan. I'll be handling that. I want the both of you to meet up with Eula and the Adventurer's Guild representative to strike their camp while it's under-strength."

Cyril had yet to meet this "Eula", but he was aware she was another captain within the Knights of Favonius. He could only assume that she was of the same caliber as Lady Jean herself or Sir Kaeya and Lady Amber.

As for himself, after showing Lady Lisa some of the limited magic he knew and participating in the Knight's sparring sessions, she had informed the rest of the knights that she was reasonably confident that along with his physical prowess he could easily keep up with the Vision-wielding captains and other elite knights.

It was damningly high praise, considering he had no Vision of his own. Already he'd heard rumors spread about him through both the Knights and the citizenry. Part of the reason he'd begun taking such an active role in the daily drills was to ground such rumors in facts over fiction (little did he know his prowess was only made more apparent).

Still, the fact that Lady Jean had selected him for this meant she was willing to trust him enough to assist a Captain and a skilled knight like Amber in their mission.

"I understand," he nodded solemnly, "I will do my utmost to carry out this task."

"You can count on us!" Amber added resolutely.

"Great," Jean gave them a relieved smile, "It's a medium-sized tribe so I'll have my hands full coordinating the less experienced knights in order to occupy their main forces. I'm relying on the four of you to strike and the heart of their operations. Eula and the Adventurer's Guild representative will meet you at this location."

Jean pulled out a map with the entire plan drawn out, likely the one she used or planned to use to brief the knights as a whole. The camp was marked clearly, and a small circle indicated their rendezvous point.

She provided them with a few more details before seeing them off.

Once the two of them were on the road, Amber turned to Cyril excitedly, "You haven't met Eula yet, right? She's one of my best friends, and I'm sure the two of you will get along great!"

"Is that so? Any friend of yours is sure to be a praiseworthy individual," Cyril smiled at her, his helmet held under one arm as they walked.

"She's great! But…she can be a bit cold and weird to people who don't know her. She's actually really nice though!," Amber rambled a bit as Cyril listened attentively, "Oh, and you can finally thank her too!"

"Thank her?" Cyril furrowed his brow, searching his memory.

"Oh, she's the one that found you. Did we never tell you that?" Amber looked sheepish.

"Ah." Cyril stopped for a moment, "The one that reported that I was passed out and on fire?"

"Yeah…oh. I hope someone told her what happened after she brought you back," Amber's eyes widened, "Well, I'm sure Jean already told her the important stuff."

"It appears I do indeed owe her a debt of gratitude then," Cyril nodded with plain thankfulness in his eyes, "Who knows what might've happened if I'd been left in the wilds."

"Yeah!" Amber agreed with a sage look, "She'll probably have a bunch of questions for you, but she means well. Oh and she might swear vengeance on you too, but she doesn't mean it in a harmful way, I promise!"

Her words made Cyril pause again. Just how was vengeance meant to be unharmful?

The sun had just set, marking the beginning of night as Amber and Cyril approached the location they were supposed to meet with Eula and the Adventurer's Guild representative. The plan was to meet up a little ways from the hilichurl camp, finalize the plan of attack, and then execute it as swiftly as possible.

They arrived at a small clearing in the woods, the walls and fires of the hilichurl camp visible in the distance.

"Fufu...so, the final harbingers of fate have finally arrived! Come forth! And receive the blessings of the Immernachtreich!" A high, lofty voice called from one of the treetops. Turning their gazes up, they saw a darkly-dressed blonde girl with an eye-patch (that makes two people with such accessories now) looking down upon them.

Cyril glanced at Amber, clueless as to who this was.

"Er...I've seen her around town, she's an investigator for the Adventurer's Guild. She must be the representative," Amber paused, thinking for a moment, "I think her name was-"

"I am Fischl, Prinzessin der Verurteilung, here to punish those who would dare to bring harm to others during my watch!" The girl descended from the tree branch she stood on.

"Yeah, that's right." Amber nodded, as if remembering something, "I heard she can be a bit strange, but she's very skilled and trustworthy."

"Wha-! To dare to refer to me, Sovereign of the Immernachtreich, with such familiarity, you should beware, Marksman of Flame!" Fischl replied indignantly.

Amber simply blinked, uncharacteristically stunned and unsure of what to say.

"Now now, Mein Fraulein, they simply haven't been granted the opportunity to witness your peerless prowess yet." A deep voice chided the excitable girl, revealing itself in the form of an ethereal purple bird composed of electro elemental energy.

"What in the name of Gwyn…" Cyril, who hadn't had the opportunity to speak thus far, gaped at the talking bird spirit.

"That bird is manifested by her Vision." Another voice spoke up, this time from right next to him. He turned to find a breathtakingly elegant blue-haired woman in flowing, aristocratic clothing.

Amber gave the newcomer a quick wave of greeting and, having recovered from the initial disorientation of meeting Fischl, now moved to engage the flamboyant blonde animatedly in some sort of conversation about bows. Apparently, they were both archers. Of course, Cyril was aware of Amber's weapon of choice, but because of the fact that Vision users summoned their weapons he didn't know the other two's weapons of choice at first glance.

He was beginning to realize what a game-changer Visions could be from a military standpoint. Vision users could conceal their weapon until needed, perform basic manipulation of their weapons without physically wielding them, and could imbue their weapons with elemental magic. All things that he'd have to take into account if he ever found himself up against a hostile one. And now, some had the capacity to manifest spirits? What were the limits of these divine devices?

"Interesting, aren't they?" The woman, who he figured was Eula, Captain of the Reconnaissance Corps, was watching him intently, "I've heard a fair bit about you from Jean and Kaeya."

"Ah, yes. My name is Cyril, of Astora. It's a pleasure to meet you." Cyril took off his helmet like always, introducing himself politely.

"No burns, either. Just like the reports said…" Eula scanned his face with a practiced eye, "No matter. I'm Eula Lawrence, the Spindrift Knight. Though Amber might've told you that already."

"She did," He nodded in confirmation, "I look forward to working with you, Lady Eula."

"Ha. Just as polite as they said, too." Eula smirked lightly, "I'll have to take that into account when determining the form my vengeance against you will take."

"Vengeance?" Cyril remembered Amber mentioning something along those lines, but didn't expect it to come out so soon and so blatantly.

"That's right. Collapsing out in the wild, looking like you'd been set aflame; making it seem urgent that you be brought back to town with all haste. Quite a clever ploy." Eula's voice was flat and sharp, but Cyril could swear there was a hint of amusement present.

"I see. I can only offer you my thanks for the trouble. Out of all the debts I owe, the one I have to you may be the most important…" He bowed deferentially.

"Hmm~," Eula eyed him speculatively, "I'll remember that. You might regret declaring that you owe a debt to someone from the Lawrence Clan."

"Clan?" Cyril wasn't sure what she was talking about.

"Oh, you don't know? You should do more reading then, I heard you've been holed up in the library a couple of times already. Though honestly, you could ask any random citizen and they'd tell you all about the Lawrence Clan."

"Ah...I see…?" Cyril felt there was something deeper to her words, but couldn't discern what it might be, "Regardless of what owing the Lawrence Clan may mean, I believe my debt is owed only to you, Lady Eula, and no one else."

"..." He caught a flash of surprise before Eula's face broke into a slight smile, and she giggled softly, "I like that answer. For now, though, we should get back to business."

The two of them looked over to Amber and Fischl, who were finishing up their own conversation.

"Hey Cyril, Eula!" Amber waved cheerfully, "Turns out Fischl's really smart, once you can figure out what she's saying!"

"Hmph. You've only caught a glimpse of my majesty! Remember that all the world's secrets are naught before my omniscience!" Fischl struck some kind of pose that Cyril didn't know the meaning of. Judging from the looks on Eula's and Amber's faces, they didn't know what to make of it either.

"...It's good that we have an experienced adventurer with us," Cyril said diplomatically. Fischl gave a nod of satisfaction, before giving him a closer look.

"The night has whispered to me of your exploits, warrior of a distant land!" She said in a way of greeting.

"She means to say that she's heard about you around town, Sir Cyril. I am Oz, by the way. Faithful servant of mein Fraulein," The bird interpreted with a wry tone.

"Well met, to the both of you," Cyril nodded, "It seems you already know, but I am Cyril of Astora. As you said, my homeland is far, likely beyond my reach, but I hope to lead a fulfilling life here among the people of Teyvat."

"How fortuitous is it that the winds of fate have brought not one, but two who share the same destiny as I!" Fischl seemed excited all of a sudden.

"She's saying nice to meet you." Oz supplied helpfully, before floating closer to whisper to Cyril, "Forgive her if she says anything presumptuous, we know little truth of your history beyond hearsay from the Knights."

"I understand." Cyril whispered back, nodding in acknowledgment.

"Ahem, well, now that we're all here and ready to go." Eula began, "Both Fischl and I have confirmed the presence of a Lawachurl in the camp, likely the leader. Judging from the markings and its hide we're reasonably certain it's a Stonehide Lawachurl. Everyone here knows what that means?"

"A Lawachurl imbued with geo energy, granting it a natural armor of stone, correct?" Cyril knew Eula was likely asking for his sake, given his lack of experience.

"That's right." Eula nodded approvingly, "I'm the one with the heaviest weapon, so ideally I'll face it down while you cover me."
Cyril recalled that unlike other elemental energies, which countered one another, geo was unique in that it was resistant to the other elements, which made it an excellent defensive classification.

"So you'll be keeping the Lawachurl's attention while the rest of us handle the regular hilichurls and mitachurls, right?" Amber chimed in.

"That seems to be the best course of action. Cyril and I will be fighting at a close range while you and Fischl provide support as necessary." Eula gave his armor a once over, something Cyril found amusing as she herself had a distinct lack of it.

Everyone nodded at her words. Keeping it simple and leaving second-to-second decisions up to the individual was a good plan, so long as everyone could handle themselves. Cyril didn't think they had anything to worry about though, despite the youth of the fighters present. Amber was well-regarded among the Knights, Fischl was a bit more unknown but as a full-fledged adventurer one could assume she has the necessary experience and skills, and Eula was a Captain, all of whom were quite skilled thus far in his eyes.

"To start, we'll have you two take out the sentries once Cyril and I are close to the entrance to their camp. Then we'll engage them in earnest." Eula directed, earning determined nods from the two archers.

"Cyril, how confident are you against these hilichurls?" Eula asked seriously.

"The Lawachurl is the only unknown, but even then I am sure they will be no match for me." Cyril replied with absolute faith in his own skills. And with good reason, considering what he'd been through.

Apparently the shift in his tone from a soft-spoken knight to battle-ready confidence caught them off guard, as they stared at him for several moments.

"I would normally advise caution, but you don't seem like the type to get overconfident." Eula frowned, "I'll be trusting you to watch my back, understood?"

"Without fail." Cyril answered.

"We've got both of your backs! Right, Fischl?" Amber grinned, patting Fischl on the back energetically.

"I-Indeed! None c-can escape from my gaze!" Fischl agreed, her voice shaking due to the force of Amber's pats.

"Okay. Then let's get started." Eula gave the group one last look around, "Cyril, follow me."

With a single nod, Cyril refastened his helmet.

The two archers split off, likely to find good vantage points to oversee the battle from, while Cyril and Eula began creeping towards the front of the hilichurl encampment. This was the first time Cyril had encountered an actual hilichurl base, as his earlier skirmishes were against their raiders and patrols.

But the camp layout wasn't particularly complicated. There was a simple wall that surrounded several simple huts and tents, and the entrance didn't even have a gate. The most noteworthy thing was the presence of some raised platforms, which had several hilichurl crossbowmen on them. But Fischl and Amber should be able to dispatch them with relative ease, given the lack of cover on the platforms.

Once they were close, Eula signaled him to ready himself. Acquiescing, he shouldered his shield onto his arm and drew his sword quietly. Once she saw he was prepared, she held her arm up high. Moments later, two arrows streaked over their heads, slamming into the sentries atop the platforms.

"Go!" Eula gave a curt shout.

Not missing a beat, Cyril targeted a hilichurl near the entrance that was scrambling for its club and shield. He rushed forward, running the hapless creature through the chest with his blade. It died instantly.

Withdrawing his sword, he turned and blocked a wild swing from another hilichurl with contemptuous ease. Shoving this new adversary's club aside he kicked it in the stomach, hard, forcing it to its knees. One casual swing later, and a now headless corpse flopped to the ground with a wet thud.

With a second of breathing room, Cyril took stock of the situation. The hilichurl defense was scattered and disorganized, courtesy of their surprise attack and the excellent marksmanship of Fischl and Amber. Regarding that, it was the first time he'd seen archery enhanced with Vision abilities, and the purple sparks and red flames that erupted as the arrows made contact with their targets made for a beautifully deadly sight.

As for his fellow melee combatant, Cyril was treated to some of the most acrobatic combat he'd ever seen. Eula dashed between opponents, dissipating and re-summoning her large claymore at will as she cleaved through them, leaving behind glittering streaks of frost and crystals of ice. It was a fighting style he could never hope to emulate, but he did wonder a little bit if the theatrics were truly necessary. Then again, dazzling the opponent could be considered a method of distracting them.

As the fodder died, however, the larger and more experienced mitachurls were forming up and preparing to counterattack. Behind them, the Stonehide Lawachurl watched with a hateful glare from underneath its massive mask.

"This is troublesome." Eula remarked with a grimace, "It looks like the Lawachurl did some basic drilling with the mitachurls. They normally wouldn't be that coordinated."

"That shouldn't be an issue." Cyril raised his shield and approached the mitachurl formation. There were only 4 of them, two shieldbearers and two axe wielders, along with the Lawachurl behind.

"Wait, Cyril-" Eula was about to try and stop him, but he suddenly broke into a sprint before she could.

There was a simple method to get past the shieldbearer mitachurls that had stepped forward to block his approach. With his own shield strapped to his left forearm, his hand was free to palm his Sunlight Talisman, which allowed him to use miracles. Once he was within range, he raised his hand, and a large shockwave of white energy launched forward, smashing the mitachurls aside and knocking them to the ground, leaving them vulnerable.

That was the "Emit Force" miracle.

To her credit, Eula only stared for a split second before jumping in to finish off the disoriented shieldbearers. With the two axe wielding mitachurls eyeing him warily, Cyril decided it was time to land a hit on the enemy leader.

Next on his repertoire was "Sunlight Spear", the famed miracle based off of Lord Gwyn's very own lightning bolts. The three remaining enemies only stared as he channeled the raw energy of sunlight and faith into his hands, forming an elongated lance of light that he sent flying straight into the Lawachurl's chest.

A mostly successful cast.

With a wince, he realized that he hadn't prepared himself properly, and had lost control of the channeled energy for a few moments. He'd be feeling the effects of that in his throwing arm for some time to come.

Still, at least he threw the spell with proper precision. As for the effects of the spell...

It turned out he'd overestimated the strength of the famed geo armor of the Lawachurl, to his surprise. All the parties involved in the battle froze, their attention drawn to the crackling, twitching body of the Stonehide Lawachurl, pierced by Cyril's spear and collapsing into a boneless heap.

Before the two remaining mitachurls could even process what they'd seen, they were engulfed in a wave of freezing wind, courtesy of Eula. She approached them casually, shattering them into little bits with two quick swings.

That would mark the end of a surprisingly easy battle. Not that Cyril had been expecting a major challenge, but it was still a bit disappointing to him. At least at first thought.

As memories of some of his previous battles surfaced, he quickly decided he enjoyed these easy fights much more.

"I see your self-confidence wasn't misplaced." Eula came up to him, her voice dry and thick with understatement.

"That. Was. Awesome!" Amber came bounding into the camp in her characteristic manner, her eyes alight with excitement. Following closely behind her was Fischl and her avian companion.

"I honestly didn't expect it to be that effective…" Cyril admitted, feeling somewhat self-conscious.

"To think that my meticulous plan would go to waste...with my prey stolen, to boot." Eula pouted, an expression that was very cute in Cyril's eyes, "Mark my words: I'll remember this slight."

"...My apologies?" Cyril scratched at the cheek of his helmet awkwardly.

"Hmph. For now, I'll go confirm our surroundings." Eula turned away, heading to check the perimeter of the camp.

"She says that, but she's honestly happy that no one was hurt." Amber stepped in and whispered conspiratorially to him.

"I-I see…"

"As expected of a fellow traveler of worlds! There's no way the skeins of fate could select a mere plebian to stand alongside myself and the Traveler!" Fischl looked inordinately proud for reasons Cyril did not comprehend, but he at least understood she was happy with his prowess.

"Your marksmanship was quite a sight to behold as well, Miss Fischl." Cyril returned the compliment with one of his own.

"But of course! I am the eye that pierces the night, after all!" She puffed out her chest boastfully, though the slight flush on her cheeks ruined the image she was attempting to evoke.

"You too, Lady Amber. Your flaming arrows were on the mark."

"Hehe, thanks Cyril!" Amber grinned in response, before gesturing at the body of the Lawachurl, "Seriously though, was that some of the magic that you wowed Lisa with? That was crazy!"

"It was one of the more powerful miracles I can wield, yes. It would be best if I didn't use it often, but I thought the strength of the Lawachurl might warrant a spell of that caliber. Apparently, I was wrong." Cyril laughed, letting out a small sigh of annoyance as he attempted to move his arm in a gesture of sheepishness.

Pain was nothing new to him, but it was an inconvenience being unable to move his limb as he wished. But his flinch did not go unnoticed.

"Wait...are you hurt?" Amber's expression turned to worry instantly. Fischl had honed in as well, looking at him intently.

"It's nothing major. A misjudgment during the casting process." Cyril waved his other hand dismissively.

"...Wait a moment, I smell burns," Fischl made a face, her eyes narrowing as she stared at Cyril with worry.

"Cyril, take off your gauntlet." Amber's voice turned serious.

"Is this really necessary?" Cyril made a token protest, but he had a feeling Amber wasn't going to back down. He briefly cursed himself for not attuning himself to a healing miracle the last time he was at a bonfire. He also briefly contemplated chugging an estus flask, but decided since there was no easily accessible bonfire nearby that they should be conserved for truly dire situations.

Upon the severe look he was getting from the normally bubbly girl, he sighed and gingerly pulled off his gauntlet. The flesh underneath was burnt and blackened, with sections peeling off. A consequence of his improper use of the Sunlight Spear.

"!!!" Fischl looked away, unused to seeing such things up close.

"That's…" Amber grimaced darkly, "Cyril, that injury looks pretty bad."

"It looks worse than it actually is. Most of it is likely on the surface alone." He explained with a steady voice. As he tried to think of what else to say, Eula returned from her exploration.

Her normally cool expression turned concerned when she laid eyes on the injury Amber was examining, "What happened?"

"He said he messed up while he was casting that last spell." Amber answered for him.

"Electro-based injury?"

"Not quite, it's like he was burned really badly too...kind of like an overload reaction."

"Okay, we can do some basic treatment with that in mind, but we'll probably need to take him to see Barbara or another healer." Eula was all business now.

"It's really nothing. It should heal given time," Cyril waved his uninjured arm dismissively, "I can handle it myself."

"Not when you were about to hide something like this from us." Amber said, her tone more than a little incensed.

Eula had ignored his words and was pulling out what looked like a field aid kit of some sort.

"C-Can I assist?" Fischl had managed to compose herself, still looking a bit sick.

"Please do." Eula poured some kind of solution, likely meant to cleanse the wound, onto his damaged arm, "Pull out some non-cotton bandages and gauze, we'll cover the wound until we get into town."

Fischl obediently did as she was told, handing over the requested supplies as Amber and Eula worked on wrapping up his arm. A short while later, they had finished their first aid treatment of his injury. He didn't really see what the big deal was, but understood and appreciated the concern they were showing towards him.

It was proof that they trusted and cared for him as an ally; which is why as they returned to town, he was currently weathering the upset glares he periodically received from Amber, or the stone-faced looks from Eula. Even Fischl was uncharacteristically silent compared to her earlier behavior.

"Chin up, everyone." Cyril attempted to lighten the mood, "The task Lady Jean has given us was accomplished, and aside from my own carelessness it was an overwhelming victory in our favor, was it not?"

No one replied at first, making him feel rather awkward.

"...Answer this, Cyril." Eula met his eyes with dead seriousness, "You seemed pretty used to that kind of injury. Does that happen often?"

"I wouldn't say it's common, but it is the most likely result of attempting that kind of miracle without proper preparation or skills." He answered immediately.

"So you used a spell you weren't proficient at, without any particular reason?"

"Well, not exactly. I'm quite well-practiced at using a handful of miracles, even if I don't use that specific one often. I simply made a mistake, one that I will endeavor not to repeat. And it did strike down the enemy quite effectively…"

"..." Eula sighed for reasons he didn't quite understand, "Why didn't you just follow the plan we established beforehand? You may have sped up the fight, but none of us were in any danger whatsoever."

"Ah. Hmm..." Cyril paused, "To be honest, I was caught up in the moment. I saw the opportunity to strike, and took it. I am also far more used to fighting alone than with allies…"

"So it was a bout of impatience then." Eula replied flatly.

Cyril frowned at that, "I fail to see how capitalizing on a target of opportunity is-"

"She means it would've been better if you hadn't gotten hurt...!" Amber's sad words stopped the budding argument in its tracks, "How are we supposed to be happy when you burnt your entire arm to a crisp…?"

"..." Cyril fell silent. The reason for their displeasure was becoming clear to him now. In Lordran, injuries were simply a fact of life, along with death, of course.

But this was no longer Lordran. It would seem that despite his efforts to adjust to his new life, his sensibilities still tended to reflect the time he spent back there. Though the people here were not lesser warriors by any means, they were still able to care for one another, and worry about their comrades more than even the staunchest of allies in Lordran would ever bother to do.

"Promise me you'll be more careful next time, okay?" Amber asked, a painfully earnest expression on her face.

"...I will. I apologize for acting rashly." His words made Amber smile, albeit a weak one.

His words seemed to mollify Eula as well, as her tone lost its previous bite, "As long as you understand."

Fischl was still looking a bit down, glancing at his injured arm every so often. In an attempt to make her feel better, he used his uninjured hand to rub her head affectionately. It was something he did for the children that sometimes pestered him on the streets, though Fischl was a fair bit older than them.

As he realized that, he was about to apologize for his rudeness before he noticed the small smile on her face. It would seem that he made the right choice this time.

A little later, as they approached the city gates, Eula split off from their party, citing other business she had to handle as a reconnaissance captain. Of course, before she left, she gave him a look that said: 'You'd better take care of that injury properly or we will be having words in the near future'.

Amber perked up a bit as they walked through the city, giving him a teasing grin, "I'll go find Jean, her group should've gotten back earlier. Sorry about this~, but I'll have to tell her our group's only injury was the fault of the person who got hurt…"

"Urk…" In the past week, Cyril had had the chance to observe Jean's leadership in close proximity. She would not be happy to hear how he got hurt.

"Heehee, make sure you remember your promise~" Amber poked him in the chest before heading off in the direction of the Knight's HQ.

"T-Take care of yourself..." Fischl said her farewell also, needing to submit her report to the Adventurer's Guild. Cyril wondered if she was going to explain in detail how he messed up, but realized it was none of his business. The injury was entirely his own fault, after all.

That left him with the task of going to Favonius Cathedral to have his wounds treated. They should have healers on standby because of the night operation, but he'd hoped to avoid using their services.

He wasn't sure what the exact differences between an undead marked by the Darksign and normal humans were, aside from the obvious, but considered it a miracle the healers hadn't detected anything wrong with him when he was first brought in.

But he made a promise to take care of himself, so he would go.

He knocked on the door of the cathedral's healing ward, standing patiently outside.

"Oh, hello Cyril!" Barbara was apparently on duty, answering the door with a smile, " What can I- My goodness, what happened to your arm!?"

She took one glance at the extensive first aid work done to his arm and pulled him inside. It seemed she'd instantly gone into healer mode upon seeing his injury. And given what he knew of healers, he hoped she wouldn't be too angry when she learned why exactly his arm was injured.

His hopes were then dashed as she did her work and he explained the situation.

"You did WHAT!?"

"The miracle in question relies heavily upon visualization and belief in the tale being manifested," Cyril hastily explained, not entirely sure what he was saying, "I simply made a mistake because it'd been so long since I used that kind of magic…"

"So you're telling me you held a literal lightning bolt, except this lightning bolt was also somehow imbued with the power of the sun in your bare hand all without making sure you could do it safely?"

"Uh...that is...correct, yes. In my defense, it was not my bare hand: I was wearing my gauntlet at the time." He made an attempt at levity.

Unfortunately, she was not amused.

Chapter Text

As it turns out, Lady Jean was indeed not happy with the injury Cyril had accidentally inflicted upon himself during his assignment with Lady Amber, Lady Eula, and Miss Fischl. She didn't go so far as to reprimand him since he wasn't actually a Knight of Favonius, but she now refused to give him new jobs until his wounds had healed to an acceptable level.

Which would luckily only be a few days thanks to Sister Barbara's ministrations. However, let it also be said that the sister in question was not happy with him either, due to having him as a patient once more so soon after he was discharged.

It was honestly quite unfair how the healer had mixed puppy eyes and scathing admonishment into a combined attack upon Cyril's conscience. Layered on top of that were the strict but genuinely concerned words of Lady Jean as well. As a result, he had no choice but to capitulate to the sisters' (he'd been unsurprised when he learned they were related) demands.

And that was how Cyril found himself with little to do even though he had another, perfectly serviceable arm to use for work. He could use an estus flask (he still had a full set), but with no way to replenish them at the moment he was reserving them for emergencies. On that note, he had also wondered about what would happen should he face his demise here…perhaps since his soul appeared in this world there was already something like a bonfire anchoring him here.

Yet another problem to ponder over the coming days.

He'd spent some time in the library to further his knowledge this morning, though he eventually excused himself to escape Lady Lisa's attention. According to the other knights the librarian had a tendency to "tease" or "flirt", both things he wasn't very accustomed to. It wasn't uncommon for him to leave their conversations feeling somewhat bewildered or flustered.

He found himself wandering the streets of Mondstadt, his helmet tucked under his good arm. The little daily activities of the city's people continued to intrigue him, and he indulged in his habit of people watching as he walked.

That wasn't to say he didn't attract attention himself, as he returned many greetings and nods he received from many of the passersby.

Amber was off on a patrol of her own, though she had stopped by to wish him a speedy recovery. He didn't miss how her eyes lingered on his wounded arm, and he felt both heartened and a bit guilty at the worry she displayed.

His bout of self-reflection was interrupted when he came upon an odd sight: a young woman with long black twintails wearing a rather scandalous witch's outfit was currently sitting on a bench looking more than a little forlorn.

Without a second thought, he approached her to see if he could assist her in any way, "Greetings. Is something troubling you, Miss?"

She looked up, eyes narrowing in suspicion, before her expression changed to a surprised one, "You're…the new knight that's been helping around town."

"Yes. Though I am not a member of the Knights of Favonius. My name is Cyril of Astora, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," He bowed politely, giving her a warm and welcoming smile.

Something about his words must've caught her off guard as she stumbled a bit over her words, "I-Is that so? I'm Mona Megistus…and likewise."

She looked away, much to his confusion, though he could swear he caught a bit of pink on her ears. He worried she might've taken offense at being approached unprompted.

"I apologize if I'm overstepping my bounds, but I couldn't help noticing that you looked somewhat distressed, Miss Mona. Perhaps I can help?"

She didn't reply for a few moments, before she gave a long sigh, her earlier offense seemingly forgotten, "I suppose ruminating over it all day isn't being very productive. I had my lunch stolen from me by some pigeons…yes, don't hold back your laughter on my account…"

"I see. That sounds quite inconvenient," Cyril replied sympathetically.

Her head whipped around, her eyes searching his expression for any signs of mockery, "Hmph. I tried using my magic to get the food back, but then a young child berated me for attacking the birds! The nerve…the birds were the ones that took my sandwich! I wasn't even going to hurt them…"

Her shoulders slumped in defeat.

Cyril wisely did not suggest she buy another sandwich, as he somehow doubted she would be this despondent if she could easily do so. In a way, he certainly sympathized with her. If only he'd had enough souls to purchase all the survival gear he needed from the occasional merchant he encountered…then many of his deaths early on may have been avoidable.

"Then perhaps you'd like to join me for lunch, Miss Mona? I've not eaten anything yet today," Cyril suggested. He, of course, didn't need to eat at all. But he did enjoy the act of consuming food and drink, and he was commonly invited to meals by various individuals, "It would be my treat."

A flash of stubborn pride shot through her eyes, "I can pay for myself."

He held up his hands placatingly, "I didn't mean to insinuate otherwise. I just wish to make up for a small bout of misfortune, I assure you."

"..." After a few moments of scrutiny, Mona's eyes softened, "Then…thank you. I won't forget this."

He held out his hand, which she took gingerly before he gently pulled her to her feet. Her face turned a bit pink once more, making him think his instinctual chivalric act might've offended her again. She seemed to have an independent streak, if their short interaction was anything to go by.

As Mona straightened herself out he took notice of the water Vision on her person. His eyes unconsciously traveled to her face, taking in her ocean blue eyes and long eyelashes. She was quite beautiful, which only fed into his working theory about the gods of Teyvat, although her features seemed a bit distinct from the average Mondstadt citizen. Perhaps she was from out of town?

"...Is something wrong?" She asked, noticing him staring.

"Ah, no," Cyril replied, abashed, "I was just curious about your Vision."

"This old thing? Hmph, I suppose it's useful in a pinch, but honestly it's just a nice accessory," Mona looked down at it with dismissiveness, surprising Cyril greatly.

"That…seems rather irreverent compared to the Vision users I have met," Cyril pointed out.

"The fact that I'm able to use it means I might have the favor of someone out there…but honestly I received this vision from my old bat of a mentor so…" Mona blinked, surprised she'd said that much, "Never you mind, Cyril. Shall we go?"

"Of course, Miss Mona," Cyril allowed her to end the conversation, and the two began strolling towards the market/central plaza of the city.

"I have heard many rumors about you, the mysterious knight from another land," Mona was giving him an askance look as they walked, "I find some of them rather fanciful, but it is obvious that your armor is of a design I've never seen before. And I like to think I am more well-traveled than the average person."

"Hmm, perhaps I could clarify some of them for you? What do you wish to ask?" Cyril took her curiosity in good humor.

"You can use magic without a Vision, and it's been said your magic has no resemblance whatsoever to any system known throughout Teyvat," Mona recited without missing a beat.

"Yes, that is true. You could correspond with the Head Librarian of the Knights for confirmation, as I was asked to demonstrate what inklings of magic I know for her to analyze," Cyril nodded easily.

"...You would think to keep such knowledge hidden normally…" Mona sighed, "Aren't you worried you'll be approached by unsavory characters?"

"The Knights of Favonius all seem to be reputable individuals. Outside of that, those who come after me with ill intent may find themselves regretting it," Cyril's eyes turned ice cold for a brief moment, nearly stopping Mona in her tracks.

"I-I see…" Mona hesitated, before choosing a lighter topic, "Is it true you chase cats?"

"Only if requested," Cyril replied with a cheeky smile.

"Ha. I don't suppose you're being paid for your work?" Mona raised an eyebrow.

"I've been receiving a fair cut of the commission fee for any work I've done," Cyril thought back to the arrangement Jean had come up with for him, "Though as I've been performing routine tasks regularly they are looking at paying me at the same rate as a fledgling knight."

In fact they suggested paying him more, but he'd turned it down for now. The variety of commissioned tasks gave him more opportunities to meet new people and explore the town in a way patrols with the Knights did not.

"Hmm…sounds too tedious for me," Mona made a face of distaste.

"What kind of work do you do, Miss Mona?" He asked curiously.

"I am quite skilled at divination," Mona puffed her chest out, "Barring that, I do some writing for a faraway cyclical."

"Oh? Interesting," Cyril looked at her with renewed interest, "You receive visions of the future?"

"No, nothing like that," Mona shook her head, before explaining indulgently, "I use hydromancy to read the stars and determine particular certainties."

"Hydro magic, then," Cyril racked his brain for information, "I imagine it pays well?"

"...Not as much as I would like…" Mona muttered, "I make more than enough to get by…but I can't buy tools for my research!"

"Ah…" Cyril made a noise of sympathy, "There's never enough sou-, currency to go around."

Mona nodded, before thinking of something, "Actually, where exactly do you plan on eating?"

"A colleague of mine has brought me to the Good Hunter a few times now, is their food acceptable for you?" Cyril asked.

"Of course, that's perfectly fine," Mona's eyes lit up, apparently a fan of the food there.The pair drew some curious glances as they walked up to the counter of the Good Hunter, but no one approached them directly.

"What can I get for you?" The staff member smiled brightly at them.

"Hmm…I would like a bowl of the cream stew, if you please," Cyril requested politely, "And I will be paying for my companion as well."

"Ohh?" the young woman's eyes widened in surprise as she looked between the two of them, before realizing she shouldn't stare, "S-Sorry about that, what can I get for you, Mona?"

"I'll take an order of chicken-mushroom skewers," Mona replied, graciously ignoring the earlier slip.

Cyril raised an eyebrow. As far as he knew, that dish was usually just a snack or appetizer. Mona studiously avoided his inquiring glance though, so he figured this was just her way of choosing something rather cheap on his behalf.

That wouldn't do at all.

"Additionally, for our main entree I would like some Sticky Honey Roast, please," Cyril added before handing over the required coins. It then became his turn to ignore the suspicious glare Mona was giving him.

"It'll be right out! Would you like to eat here or take it with you?"

He glanced at Mona, who shrugged, "We will dine here."

"Understood! Please sit wherever you like inside or outside!"

Cyril led Mona into the restaurant, where they found a small table out of the way of the main flow of traffic.

"Ahh, I'm quite famished. I've heard much about the famous Honey Roast here, so I'm glad I have occasion to share it with another," Cyril pre-empted anything Mona was preparing to say.

"...You really didn't have to… " Mona murmured with a pout.

"Hm? What do you mean?" He asked innocently, perhaps with a bit too much emphasis on feigning ignorance.

"...Forget it," Mona harrumphed, "I'll find a way to pay you back."

"That's not necessa-"

"I insist," Mona cut him down then paused thoughtfully, "Perhaps I'll do a reading for you. Free of charge!"

"Surely your divination services are priced higher than a simple meal, no?" Cyril asked in surprise.

"I decide my own rates," Mona waved dismissively. It was apparent she had no intention of backing down.

"...Very well, I look forward to it then," Cyril gave up with a gracious smile.

"..." Mona blushed openly this time, looking away, "And…thank you. For the meal."

Cyril nodded, and the two lapsed into an amiable silence. A few minutes later the stew and skewers arrived, and they began to eat.

"Here," Mona handed him a skewer with a piece of chicken and a piece of mushroom left on it, "Try some."

"Oh, much appreciated," Cyril took it graciously, before looking down at his stew, "In return…"

He made sure to get a bit of all the major ingredients in his spoon, then held it out towards her.

"...Thank you," Mona took his spoon with some hesitation, but ate it obediently, her eyes lighting up, "It's good…!"

Cyril laughed softly, making her glare at him with pink cheeks, but there was definitely a hint of a smile on her face as well.

The sticky honey roast arrived shortly after, luckily already split into two portions, and the two of them dug in without hesitation.

"This… I can see why Amber spoke so highly of this dish," Cyril hummed in contentment. It was rare for him to get any food at all in Lordran, let alone food of this quality.

"It's definitely good…" Mona replied in between mouthfuls, her decorum temporarily forgotten.

"Ah, Miss Mona," Cyril picked up a napkin and held it towards her, "You have some of the honey glaze on your cheek."

"!!!" Mona snatched the napkin from him and wiped at her face frantically. After she was sure her face was clear, she studiously avoided looking him in the eye as she finished the meal at a much more sedate pace.

A little while later, the two of them left the restaurant in high spirits.

"I'm not actually that fond of sweet things, but the sauce they used on the roast was just right…" Mona sighed contentedly.

"It was more delicious than I could've imagined," Cyril agreed with an equally satisfied smile, "Ah, about the divination you are offering…"

"Yes, I have my hydromancy board set up at my home. If you don't mind accompanying me that far…" Mona said unsurely.

"It's not an issue," Cyril assured her, "Please, lead the way."

Mona smiled in relief, and the pair began walking once more. As they walked, Mona decided to ask about something that had piqued her curiosity earlier.

"By the way, what happened to your arm?" She gestured towards the wrapped and slinged up arm.

"Ahh…it is a result of my own recklessness, I'm afraid," Cyril shook his head ruefully. He gave her a brief summary of his escapades.

"Sounds like a powerful spell, assuming you can control it," Mona grimaced as she thought about the description of his wounds, "Still, you can add my opinion to be more cautious in the future on top of the scoldings you've likely received."

"Duly noted," Cyril replied with a good-natured huff.

As they walked the rest of the way, Mona explained the basic principles of her astrological readings. Most of it went over Cyril's head, but the gist was that she used the reflection of the stars on a body of water to read the future. This brand of magic was also apparently performable without a Vision, the mechanics of which eluded Cyril's understanding at this point in time.

"Here we are." Mona stopped as they arrived at one of the many residential buildings of Mondstadt. She unlocked the door and ushered him inside, "Take a seat. I'll get my hydromancy board ready and I'll do that reading for you!"

"Understood." Cyril sat down obediently and looked around her home. He hadn't been in many living spaces aside from his own over the past week, and it was strange how...alive the place looked. There were charts and telescopes and other objects that likely pertain to astrology all over the room. The space as a whole gave off an air of being "lived-in", something Cyril rarely encountered in Lordran.

He felt somewhat humbled and flattered that she was willing to allow him into a personal area like her home even though they'd only just met. Little things like this only further highlighted the difference between life in Lordran and life in Teyvat.

"There we go." Mona set up what resembled a large, flattened basin, but with several additional devices that he did not recognize, "Are you ready?"

"I am," he nodded easily.

"Then let's begin." Mona began casting magic, and he watched with interest as the basin slowly began filling with water. Once the water stopped increasing, the surface settled and a stunningly beautiful reflection of the night sky was displayed on top.

Noticing his impressed expression, Mona's smile took on a bit of a smug tint. She continued to cast magic, looking through a clear crystal ball of some sort periodically. As she continued, a frown made its way to her face.

"That's strange...it's completely dark…and I can't tell what constellation you were born under..." Her brow furrowed in consternation, "Wait...I'm seeing something. Is that...fire?"

Cyril's expression turned to worry as Mona became more and more absorbed in the reading. She seemed to be focusing intently, no longer noticing her surroundings.

That worry turned to straight panic when her hat began to smoke.

"Miss Mona?" Cyril attempted to get her attention verbally. By now her eyes had turned distant, and she didn't respond at all to his voice.

When the hat began to smolder with embers, Cyril decided to take action. He stood up quickly, grabbing the hat off her head to make sure she didn't get burned, and began shaking her shoulder urgently.

Luckily whatever trance she was under was a weak one, and she responded to the physical touch.

"Wh-What…!?" Mona shook her head side to side, clearing whatever vision she'd been experiencing away, "Cyril…?"

"Your spell was making you behave strangely." Cyril held up her charred hat hat.

"Ahhh! That's my favorite hat!" Mona cried out in despair, "What happened!?"

"I'm not entirely certain, but perhaps reading my fate through the stars has turned out not to be the best of ideas?"

"Y-Yeah…I think I agree with you..." Mona took the well-toasted hat from him, cradling it sadly.

"...Here." Cyril pulled out his coin purse, "Your hat was damaged because of me so allow me to reimburse you."

"Really…?" Mona reached towards the proffered mora before stopping, "No, this is too much. You already paid for my food earlier…"

"Don't be concerned. I doubt it was your fault to begin with. If anything, this malfunction was most likely caused by me or something that happened to me…" Cyril replied, thinking about all the spells and curses he'd been subjected to over the years.

"If you say so…" Mona grabbed the coins, before she met his eyes with fierce determination, "Listen, about the work you mentioned you were doing for the Knights of Favonius…if you ever need a helping hand, let me know. I'll join you!

"You will?" Cyril looked surprised at the offer.

"I will." Mona nodded, "I don't make it a habit of going out and fighting often, but I'm an accomplished hydro mage. I can handle myself in battle."

This was the first time someone unrelated to the Knights of Favonius was offering their help to him. Cyril wasn't sure what to make of it. It seemed like Mona wanted to pay back a perceived debt to him, but from his point of view, he had done nothing to warrant such a repayment. To be willing to fight alongside someone there must be some measure of trust. Of course in Lordran, sometimes you made due with what you had. But here they were under no such dire circumstances.

But he was still learning about how the people of Teyvat and Mondstadt behave, and decided to ponder the question more later. It wasn't like he was suspicious of her anyways, just somewhat bewildered at the offer as a whole.

"I see. Then, when the time comes, I look forward to fighting alongside you." Cyril put a hand on her shoulder, "Thank you."

"W-Well honestly, I should be the one thanking you for taking care of me today…" Mona averted her gaze.

Cyril could only shake his head in bemusement. Perhaps it was because her conduct was so different from the knights he'd grown close with, but he found interacting with Mona to be a fresh experience.

"What?" Mona noticed his smile, narrowing her eyes.

"It's nothing, I am glad to have made your acquaintance today Miss Mona," Cyril chuckled honestly.

"...What's that supposed to mean…?" Mona looked away, though he could tell she was pleased by his words as well.

They made a bit more small talk, before Cyril excused himself. Judging from the smile on her face, Mona was in a better mood as well. Looking back at it from her perspective, it'd been quite a rollercoaster for the young woman, from having her food stolen and her hat set on fire but also getting treated to a meal and becoming acquainted with a foreigner.

As he looked back at the young astrologist/witch, who was giving him a small wave and a smile from her doorway, he thought it was nice to be able to make new acquaintances so easily.

Mona frowned once Cyril had left her home

What were the chances of meeting another person from another world…but from a different world than the first? But her astrology didn't lie, so long as she abided by the heavenly principles that they were derived from.

And Cyril of Astora was certainly no native of Teyvat.

She shuddered. What little bit of Cyril's past, present, or future (she wasn't sure which) she'd been able to discern was far from pleasant. Nothing concrete, just feelings and vague impressions…but hardship and determination overwhelmed all other aspects of his life. But at least she could tell the man himself meant no harm.

He was painfully kind, if their earlier interactions were anything to go by, to be honest. That smile of his…

She tried and failed to stop the blood from rushing up to her cheeks once more. It was unbecoming of someone of her level of prestige to suffer from such a reaction.

Hopefully she'll get a chance to repay him for today sometime soon…

"Ahahaha!" Venti gave a hearty laugh that didn't quite match his slim appearance when he heard the story how Cyril was injured, "Do you want me to come up with a more suitably heroic tale for your woes?"

"Not particularly…" Cyril shrugged as he sipped his drink, injured arm cradled protectively at his side.

The pair were sitting in the Angel's Share on one of the quieter nights since the Cat's Tail was having some kind of big special at the moment.

"A brave warrior, struck by a powerful electro attack trap just as he was struck by a blazing crossbow bolt at the same time, undaunted by the resulting wound. Sounds awe-inspiring, doesn't it?" Venti grinned mischievously.

"It is also a complete fabrication," Cyril grumbled, "I would prefer that no fanciful stories about myself be told whatsoever, but if they are going to be told anyways then they should be grounded in truth."

"Alright, alright," the bard conceded.

They'd met up to drink like this together often enough for him to know that Cyril was a surprisingly humble soul, despite his obvious prowess and chivalrous demeanor. Most knights that reach that level of skill tended to be at least a little bit proud, if not arrogant.

"Speaking of the rumor mill, it looks like people have gotten used to seeing you around town," Venti mused, "Makes sense, you're kinda hard to miss. They'd have to get used to you eventually."

Cyril recalled that he drew many more stares during his first few days in town, but since he began joining the Knights on their patrols and helping out around the city he was no longer attracting as much attention.

"Mm, I am glad that the people of Mondstadt have been so welcoming," Cyril smiled warmly to himself, "In truth I found myself lost after waking up here."

"You sure looked lost," Venti laughed, "But it's great you're having a good time!"

"Well well, if it isn't everyone's new favorite knight and the bard with a penchant for drinking," a familiar, suave voice sounded. A second later, Kaeya sat down at the counter next to them.

"Sir Kaeya," Cyril nodded respectfully while Venti gave him a casual wave.

"Still going with the 'Sir', huh? I could really get used to that," Kaeya chuckled, "Heard about the injury from Amber and Jean. Still dusting off some rust?"

"You could say that," Cyril shrugged, "I simply wished to use a technique I hadn't in a very long time. I misjudged."

"I bet they weren't very happy at that," Kaeya grinned knowingly.

"...No, they were not," Cyril gave a slight shudder as he recalled Jean, Barbara, Amber, and well, everyone's reaction to his story. He would never underestimate the protectiveness of his new comrades again.

"Ah well, we all make mistakes," the eye-patched man winked, "Except me, of course."

Venti scoffed in good nature, "I think your smooth-talking has landed you in some hot water before."

"Pish-posh," Kaeya waved dismissively, "Forget that. It's time to drink."

"Now you're speaking my language!" Venti cheered.

Cyril looked a bit lost, but there was no denying that there was some comfort in having friends to relax with.

It was another good night in Mondstadt.

Chapter Text

Amber wasn't the type to get hung up on any kind of issue that easily. She held strongly to her convictions, sure, but was otherwise a pretty easygoing person a majority of the time. As a result, it'd been a while since anything had troubled her this much.

The issue in question? Cyril.

Or more specifically, the injury Cyril had suffered. Thankfully, Barbara had apparently managed to heal it fine, and he was back to 100% now…but it was still on Amber's mind, constantly. It wasn't like she hadn't seen people get hurt before, even if injuries of that magnitude were uncommon, but it was the way he reacted to it that bothered her.

That is to say, he didn't react to it at all.

He hadn't seemed to be in much pain, nor did he seem to care very much about the injury at all. His arm had been charred to a crisp, and the only indicator that he noticed was a nearly imperceptible wince and an annoyed attitude?

That just wasn't normal…

She still didn't know much about the mysterious knight, aside from what he'd told Jean, and his attitude tended to reflect a 'live-in-the-moment' mindset. It was something she approved of; part of why they gelled together so well despite only knowing each other for a short time. But now she found herself wondering what kind of things he'd been through that he could act dismissive with such a severe injury…

She didn't know, but now she was itching to find out.

Cyril thought it was his imagination at first, but after a few days, he'd realized that Lady Amber had taken to spending a lot more time with him than before. She'd accompanied him on most of his assignments, joined him on his walks through town, and even invited him to eat meals together.

He wasn't completely clueless as to why her behavior had shifted. She often glanced at his arm, as much as she tried to hide it. Apparently the way he handled his injury had caused her to become concerned about him.

He didn't really know what to do with this new attention she was giving him. He found the more in-depth tidbits about the city and its surroundings that he received from her to be quite fascinating, but while he wasn't a particularly secretive person, it was a bit tiring to keep up with her energy this much.

Still, he figured that eventually she would realize that he did not make it a habit of injuring himself and then pretending the injuries didn't happen. He'd just have to be patient. For now, he'd enjoy her company while it lasted.

Amber realized one thing about Cyril as she spent more time with him: He truly loved taking in the world around him. His well-known walks were one thing, but she'd never seen someone who looked so happy just...staring at random things. It didn't even take anything special to get him in one of his moods. One time, she caught him staring at the water fountain in the middle of town with a wistful look on his face. Another time, he was observing a bird's nest for nearly an hour straight.

Honestly...it was kind of cute. She imagined him in full armor, wandering around with small birds perched on his shoulders. Just adorable. And it was already pretty funny watching him chase cats with no complaint.

Unfortunately, the past few days of Cyril-watching hadn't really yielded any results. They'd become closer friends, for sure, but she'd learned absolutely nothing more about his mysterious past. It wasn't like she'd asked about it, but not even a scrap of information about him had come up. Perhaps he'd be inclined to answer if she just asked him straight up?

That just seemed kind of...rude, for some reason. If he didn't want to talk about it of his own volition, he might take offense at her just barging on to the topic. Regardless, she'd only been trying for a few days. She'd give it some more time first.

She was about to head over to his room to invite him to breakfast, but then she spotted him leaving the HQ. That was a bit unusual, as he tended to go on walks later in the day. Curious, she followed him outside.

She found him at the cliff behind the Favonius Cathedral, watching the sun rise higher into the sky. She was about to call out to him in greeting, but something stopped her. He looked...forlorn, as he stood there. As she slowly approached, she saw that he was holding something tightly in his clenched fist: a beautiful red feather.

"Lady Amber," He noticed her quickly, despite her attempt to keep a low profile, "Here to enjoy the morning view?"

"Um…" Amber stopped, deciding to be honest, "I saw you leave and followed you."

"Ah. I was feeling...somewhat nostalgic this morning." Cyril's helmet turned back towards the sun. Something in his voice felt...heavier than normal, and she wished she could see the expression he was currently making.

They stood in silence for several moments. Amber had to admit, the view was beautiful, one of many sights Mondstadt boasted for its citizens and visitors alike. But the atmosphere was distracting her right now.

"You've been worried about me, correct?" He spoke first, his helmet turning back to face her, "I trust I've proven I'm not a particularly reckless person, though?"

"No! I mean, yes! You're reliable…" Amber said immediately, before hesitating slightly, "But...I don't know…"

"Ahh. You continue to wonder about me. About why my reaction to the injury was so muted." Cyril stated.

"...Yeah, I mean...your arm...that was really bad…" Amber winced as she recalled the burnt flesh that covered his entire limb. She'd done it many times since that night, but the memory's vividness never faded. "You acted like it was nothing. But an injury like that...if you hadn't gone to Barbara like we told you to…"

"...Here, look." Cyril removed his gauntlet and showed her the hand and arm that'd been injured. The skin was smooth, to her relief, but then she looked closer.

She could only gasp.

Angry scars of all kinds could be seen from the top of his forearm all the way to his fingers. Some of them were particularly nasty, and she found her eyes drawn to some jagged lines that would suggest his fingers had been nearly severed. Or had they actually been severed all the way and then reattached?

"The truth of the matter is that I am more than used to sustaining injuries of that magnitude. Not just that, but they were actually rather common," Cyril said in an as-a-matter-of-fact manner, "Thanks to Sister Barbara no new scars joined these ones, but as you can see…"

"That's…" Amber reached out, touching his arm gently, "It isn't just this arm, is it?"

"No." Cyril confirmed, his tone softening, "My homeland and Lordran were not pleasant places to live. You can see why I much prefer Mondstadt."

She tried to imagine what kinds of people or monsters must've caused the injuries she'd seen on just his arm alone. After a few moments she decided that, yes, she could understand what he was saying.

"...Yeah, I get it." Amber nodded slowly, "Jeez. Just what kind of place is Lordran…?"

"A cursed realm. A former home, but..." Cyril answered with finality, looking into the distance, "I hope that for my deeds it was a slightly brighter place, but I'm glad to have left those lands."

It was apparent he didn't want to talk in more detail about Lordran, and Amber had no intention of making him recount painful memories. But still, she couldn't help but ask about what she'd seen earlier, "Um, I saw you holding a feather earlier…"

Judging from the way Cyril instantly froze, Amber realized she'd touched upon a sensitive topic.

"N-Never mind! I'm sorry-"

"It is fine, Lady Amber." Cyril relaxed, taking a deep breath, "That feather is a memento of a dear friend of mine."

"Oh…" Amber gulped and cursed her reckless insensitivity, "Listen, you don't have to say anything more…"

"It's alright." Cyril shook his head, "Talking about it may ease my thoughts."

"Okay…"

"His name was Solaire." He began, his tone distant, "Apparently, he also hailed from Astora, though we did not meet until our time in Lordran. The reason he was on my mind is because it was he who taught and guided me through the acquisition of the miracle I accidentally injured myself with. I'd even argue that he was my better when it came to the blade."

Amber's eyes widened in surprise. She'd seen Cyril fight several times now, he was something of a monster even without his magic. He wasn't particularly flashy, but instead was brutal and absolutely deadly.

"Haha, he saved my life many times, I was proud to call him an ally in that forsaken land." Cyril shook his head, some amusement in his voice, "He was the friendly sort, an optimist that would appear strange to anyone who met him. You remind me of him, in a way."

"H-Huh?" Amber stammered, unsure if being called a 'strange optimist' was a compliment or not.

"Oh, I meant no offense. Both of you are the type of individuals to brighten others' days with your presence, much like how the sun illuminates even the darkest corners of the land." Cyril glanced up at the sky as he spoke.

"Er...thank you…" Amber averted her eyes, embarrassed at the sudden praise.

"I only speak the truth." Cyril sounded amused again, earning a huff from Amber.

They fell silent, watching the sun together as they gathered their own thoughts. Cyril spoke up first, his voice turning nostalgic once more.

"I have to wonder what he'd think of me botching the casting of such a precious miracle. It's likely he'd laugh and tell me to practice more, but now I feel ashamed, thinking back on it." He shook his head, "I suppose living in this peaceful city has given me more time for thought. I was never the type to dwell on such things before."

Now that he mentioned it, Amber had actually noticed that Cyril seemed to have more things on his mind as time passed. Now she realized it was because as he got used to living in Mondstadt, he had the opportunity to reflect more on his past. Presumably without the pressure of his previous environment keeping him occupied.

"..." She opened her mouth to ask about Solaire, but stopped herself. The words 'A memento of a dear friend' played back in her mind.

"You wonder where he is now...or what happened to him, don't you?" Cyril read through her easily.

"I...do." Amber replied honestly, "But, really, you don't have to indulge me, Cyril."

"It's no trouble." Cyril turned back to her, "I consider you a close friend, so I'm willing to share this tale."

"Thank you…" Amber straightened up, her expression serious.

"Solaire was on a separate journey from my own, though there was enough overlap that we ran into each other often." Cyril began fondly, "He was a Warrior of Sunlight, an order that reveres the sun. I actually joined them, though for rather selfish reasons such as seeking the power of the Sunlight Spear that I used against the Lawachurl."

"To be fair, that spell seems like a pretty compelling reason to join…" Amber pointed out.

"Quite." Cyril agreed, "Solaire is...well, despite his optimism, he sought purpose beyond being a simple warrior. He called it 'searching for his very own sun'. As time passed, I could sense he was getting frustrated. Perhaps I could've been a better friend for him, but I was too worried about my own goals."

"…" Amber heard the self-loathing in his voice, but knew he was being too harsh with himself. Whatever he was doing, it was treacherous enough to give him those scars, after all.

"We parted ways after a particularly hard fight. He was less cheerful than before, but I had thought it was due to the harsh struggles we'd just experienced. I was a fool, thinking that eventually we'd cross paths again and fight alongside one another like we had so many times in the past." Cyril's voice became tinged with sorrow, "I can only imagine how Solaire felt, feeling that his purpose was forever out of reach. He journeyed to a region that was particularly hostile, even by Lordran's standards. There, he encountered a horrible parasite known as the Sunlight Maggot."

"Parasite?" Amber frowned.

"Yes, it latches onto the victim's head, almost like a twisted headpiece of sorts. Then, it begins to drain their life in order to emit light, like a miniature sun. I can see how Solaire would've been lured in," Cyril's voice was tinged with utter disgust, "In truth, it feasts upon the victim's mind, driving them insane."

"That's...horrible." Amber was utterly appalled.

"I agree."

"So then...you met him again after that…?"

"Yes. I also journeyed to this region, in search of something else. There, I encountered him once more. He...He no longer recognized me. He couldn't even form coherent statements anymore. He...attacked me. With nothing held back." Cyril's voice caught for a moment.

Amber stood wordlessly, her heart dropping like a stone as she realized where this story was going.

"I attempted to break the parasite's hold over him. But it was no use. And so, I defended myself...I...ended his life. With my own hands...with this very blade."

She gasped softly, hands over her mouth. What could she even say to that? She'd known something must've happened to his friend, but to hear that he'd been forced to fight and...kill him...that was just...

"And so his tale ended. With me." Cyril gave one last look at the sun before turning to Amber, "Do not make such a face, Lady Amber. This happened long ago. I was simply in the mood to reminisce this morning."

Wordlessly, she grabbed him in a hug. Her sudden action caught Cyril totally off-guard, though with their difference in size she hardly made him budge at all.

"L-Lady Amber…?"

"Idiot." Amber wasn't sure how much he could feel through his armor, but she kept the hug up anyways, "You're shaking…"

"..." He froze in surprise, then looked down at his hands and saw them trembling uncontrollably, "So I am. How odd."

"I...don't really know what to say. But you're here now, Cyril. And everyone's happy to have you with us, okay?" Amber stumbled over her words, "And...thank you...for telling me something so personal. You didn't have to go that far…"

"..." Cyril reached up, ruffling her hair and ribbon, earning an indignant squawk from Amber, "Teyvat and its people have been only kind to me. It may take some time, but I hope that one day I'll be able to walk under this beautiful sky with nothing weighing upon my soul."

Amber's eyes widened, "You mean…"

"There are other things I wish to keep hidden for now. I wish for this for many reasons, but...I do admit, I worry about how you and the others may view me after I reveal them."

"..." Amber thought about that for a moment, before she suddenly hopped up and slapped his helmet, making him jerk back in surprise, "I'll wait as long as it takes for you to feel ready...But no matter what happened back in Lordran, Astora, or wherever else, it won't change anything about who you are now, got it?"

And she meant it, too. The images of Cyril on his daily walks, of him laughing and playing with the people of Mondstadt, and of him taking up arms to help her and the other Knights all flashed through her head. In his time here, he'd already become something of a fixture in Mondstadt, and there was no way she'd let his past drive him away.

"...I understand. You have my thanks." Cyril's voice had turned warm, similar to how it normally was when he was relaxing around town. It looked like he was finally cheering up again.

Amber finally let go of him, giving him an affectionate glare, "Let's go eat breakfast. You messed up my ribbon, so you're giving me your bacon strips today."

"Alas, I have no choice but to give in to your demands." Cyril sighed lightheartedly. Amber simply stuck her tongue out at him in response.

In a much better mood, the two of them went to go eat their morning meal together. For the rest of the morning they talked of lighter topics, enjoying each other's company.

It was later, as she went about the day's patrol route, that Amber realized that Cyril had essentially confided in her. Among the Knights, Church, and general citizenry, he gave off the impression of being rather secretive about his own past. He was known as a "mysterious" knight for a reason, after all.

Something about the realization made her happy, but it also made her want to pay it back in kind.

But what could she do?

It'd been a few days since the morning that Cyril had spoken of Solaire.

Though Cyril was sure he'd assuaged Amber's concern about his self-preservation instincts, she did continue to seek him out for meals and missions. He didn't sense any pity from her, which he was glad for, as he had no intention of leveraging the tragic fate of Solaire to garner sympathy.

Perhaps in the same way he enjoyed her bright personality, there was something about him that she found strength in? It would be nice if that was the case.

Amber had asked him to join her on a mission tonight. She was taking it on behalf of the Reconnaissance Corps, meaning she was helping out Eula. Cyril had learned that it wasn't just Amber's propensity to make friends regardless of quirkiness, but that the two of them had known each other for quite a long time. As he thought about this, he realized that much like no one in Teyvat knew about him and his past, he knew little of his new friends' and comrades' tales as well.

Many of his fellow undead volunteered information about their situations, as in why they were in Lordran, but he knew little of their lives beyond that. Even friends like Solaire had their histories shrouded in mystery. Perhaps he should think about changing that in his interactions with the people of Teyvat...

The mission he and Amber were assigned was a simple one, the Reconnaissance Corps wanted to confirm the movements of a larger hilichurl tribe based in Brightcrown Canyon. Reports would suggest that they are simply preparing to migrate to another area of the wilds, but there was a risk that they were planning on raiding nearby settlements like the Dawn Winery Complex or Springvale. If that was the case, the Knights would need to be mobilized to intercept the coming attack. Which is where the Reconnaissance Corps would've come in, if Eula and her subordinates weren't busy tracking a recently active Abyss Order sect.

And what a surprise that was, Cyril did his best not to flinch during the briefing when he heard the word 'Abyss' come up. After a bout of frantic research and questions to the relevant people, he determined that this order of fanatics had no connection whatsoever to the Abyss that he was familiar with, the uncontrollable corrupting force that had destroyed the cities of New Londo and Oolacile in his realm.

Still, Cyril had to admit a certain distaste for them for their naming scheme alone. When he heard about their activities, that distaste had grown into straight hostility. Hopefully he'd be able to take some assignment to help the Knights deal with those scum sometime soon.

As for their current mission...it turned out to be a false alarm. Cyril stood at the edge of one of the many jagged cliffs overlooking the canyon, giving him vision over the hilichurl tribe in the distance. Even from here, it was apparent that the tribe was packing up everything, in preparation of a large move. If it was a raiding party, there would be no reason for them to be dismantling the entire camp.

"Looks like they're just migrating." Amber clambered down from a tree she'd climbed to get an even higher view of the camp.

"No need to mobilize the knights, then." Cyril replied. Amber nodded, before using a lantern to signal an all-clear message to the closest Knights of Favonius outpost. The knights manning the outpost would then signal the next outpost and so on until the message was passed to its intended recipient.

"It's getting pretty late, huh?" Amber looked up at the night sky, "Maybe we should camp out for tonight?"

"I have no issue with that." Cyril had slept in much worse conditions, after all.

"Great!" Amber shot him a cheerful smile, "I'll cook dinner, then. Could you start a fire while I get the ingredients prepped?"

Cyril was about to say she didn't need to go through the trouble, before realizing that unlike him, she actually required sustenance. He nodded his thanks and began working on their accommodations for the night.

As he helped set up their impromptu campsite, he removed his characteristic helmet and set it to the side. Finally, he cobbled together a basic campfire, setting it alight with a weak spark of pyromancy.

"I always get a little surprised when I see you do stuff like that without a Vision." Amber commented, laying out two juicy-looking cuts of steak and seasoning them with salt and pepper.

"I am a far cry from those who actually specialize in the magic of my land, such as full-fledged sorcerers or pyromancers. I suppose I am decent with miracles, but I am nowhere close to being considered a master." Cyril winced as he thought about the damage skilled magic users could do in Lordran.

"Really? That...lightning of yours was pretty terrifying." Amber tilted her head inquisitively, not having any information about Lordran's other magics to go off of.

"It is one of the more powerful miracles." Cyril agreed, "But miracles encompass a much broader scale than what I'm able to show."

"That sounds interesting, then." Amber said, "You think anyone else from Lordran might end up here too?"

"By the flame, I hope not." Cyril muttered darkly, "Few of them would be amicable…"

"Oh…" Amber remembered the scars covering his arm, falling silent.

Cyril, realizing his mistake, quickly moved to change the subject, "Er, those are rather fine cuts of meat. Are you sure you wish to use them for a simple camp meal?"

To him, such food would be a luxury in Lordran, perhaps even exotic given the scarcity of quality ingredients. It wasn't like the Undead really had the opportunity to chase such frivolities in the first place. It was why he enjoyed the various eateries around Mondstadt.

"Oho, you can tell?" Amber grinned smugly, "I've been saving them for a camping trip like this actually. It's the best time for an outdoor grilling session! Heheh, you'll get to taste my special Outrider's Champion Steak! Look forward to it!"

"A special meal?" Cyril tilted his head, wondering about the occasion, "Is it perhaps a holiday of some kind?"

"Uh…" Amber stopped, trailing off, "Well, no, it isn't. Haha, it's kinda embarrassing to say out loud but...I was kinda happy you trusted me enough to talk about your past so...I wanted to pay you back somehow…?"

"Oh." Cyril wasn't sure what to say about that, "If the reward for storytelling is quality steak, then perhaps I should change my vocation to that of a bard or scribe?"

Amber's eyes widened, before she giggled, trying to picture Cyril as a flamboyant bard or hunched over some paper with pen in hand, "Nope! Special occasions only!"

"A shame." He shook his head woefully.

"C'mon, you haven't even tasted it yet. Let me get to cooking first," Amber rolled her eyes and hopped back into preparing their meal.

"I look forward to it." Cyril settled himself down by the campfire, letting the warmth wash over him, the sound of Amber humming to herself as she grilled the steaks filtering through his ears.

He'd settled in a position very familiar to him, with one knee pulled up to his chest, arm resting over the knee as he watched the movement of the flames. As the smell of meat began to fill the air and the crackling of fat and oil replaced the sound of the gentle breeze, Cyril looked up, to find Amber staring at him.

"What is it?" He asked, bemused.

"Nothing!" Amber quickly looked away, "It's just...the way you sat down at the fire just now...it was like something out of a painting."

"..." Cyril blinked, before laughing jovially, "I suppose I'm used to watching the flames. There wasn't much comfort in Lordran aside from the warmth of a fire, after all."

"...Every time you say something about that place, I end up thinking it must be horrible living there."

"Well, it was rather miserable. Some of the sights are breathtaking, but I wouldn't recommend living there, no." Cyril mused, "Though at the same time, I wouldn't suggest traveling there for sightseeing either. I suppose it's a place best left forgotten."

"I see…I'll take your word for it, as the resident expert on Lordran," Amber shot a cheeky grin his way, before realizing her steaks were still cooking, "Oh! I think it's about ready!"

Cyril paused. He'd been idly observing the cooking process, and Amber had not flipped the steaks even once. It'd been a long time since he'd cooked anything, but he was reasonably sure steaks were supposed to be flipped as they cooked.

But should he say anything?

As he watched her cheerfully serve the steaks, grinning all the while, he decided that no, he was not going to say anything.

"Here we go!" Amber placed a steak right in front of him.

With an internal shrug, Cyril decided to dig in, "Thank you for the food, Lady Amber."

Cyril wasn't a picky eater. Actually, he didn't really know what kind of eater he was. He'd enjoyed pretty much any food he'd been served since arriving in Teyvat, meaning he'd be a terrible critic. However, despite the strange, uneven method of cooking Amber had employed, the steak was...surprisingly good.

"You like it?" Amber's face lit up as she watched him consume the steak with hearty gusto.

"I do. It's quite delicious, Lady Amber." Cyril nodded.

"Heehee," Her smile turned triumphant, before she shot him a look, "Y'know, you can call me Amber, right?"

"Hm?" Cyril turned to her, surprised, "That wouldn't be proper. You are a full knight, are you not?"

"Yeah, but you said we're friends, aren't we?"

"..." Cyril paused unsurely, earning an annoyed look from Amber, "Yes, we are…"

"So, call me Amber. Without the 'Lady' part."

"Ah...I understand. Then...Amber."

"See? That wasn't so hard." Her expression turned back to a cheerful smile.

Feeling somewhat self-conscious for reasons he didn't completely understand, Cyril just gave a quick nod of acknowledgment before digging back into his dinner. Amber seemed content not to press him either, and continued eating her own steak.

"You know, compared to the other skills I learned to become an Outrider, I only started training my cooking pretty recently?" Amber began, breaking the silence.

"Oh?" Cyril actually didn't know much about what being an Outrider entailed. He assumed it was similar to a high mobility unit, such as cavalry or something similar. The difference being that Amber used her glider as the mode of transportation.

"Yeah…" Amber paused, "I grew up watching the Outriders train, led by my Grandpa, so I knew what I needed to practice if I wanted to join them...but my Grandpa cooked for the two of us when it came to meals."

Cyril listened silently. This was the first he'd heard of Amber's childhood. He had to admit being interested in what she was saying too, as memories of his own family were hazy and disjointed after all the years he spent as an undead in Lordran.

"But one day he left...with no warning. I don't know where he went." Amber's expression shifted to one of sad reminiscence, "No one knows. But without him leading us...the Outriders didn't last. Now I'm the only one."

"So that's how it is…" Cyril said, "My first impression was that it was a singular position, maybe appointed by the Grand Master or Acting Grand Master. But then I realized that wasn't the case later on..."

"Yep! I'm the only Outrider, but...that means I'm also the best Outrider!" Amber smiled, though weaker than usual, "I do my best to honor everything he taught me, but...sometimes I realize I never really knew much about him. His past, I mean. Only that he was from Liyue, but something terrible happened to him on a job and he ended up settling here in Mondstadt."

"..." Cyril knew that feeling well. Keeping to one's self in Lordran was the norm, but judging from Amber's lonely expression it was likely she wished to know more about her grandfather. He, of course, could also relate with a sudden event changing one's life radically and quickly.

"There were some pretty nasty rumors...like how he'd deserted. I don't know what to think about that, but I decided that it didn't matter. That I'd do my best regardless." Amber's tone was filled with steely determination, before she softened up again, "So, yeah...um...kinda went off-topic there for a second, but that's why I'm still kinda new to cooking."

"I see. Thank you for sharing that with me." Cyril nodded gratefully, then remarked, "In Lordran, people's pasts tend to remain shrouded. It was just the norm, but now I'm beginning to realize how lonely of an existence that can be. Especially after arriving here."

"...Will you tell me more about Lordran?" Amber asked, curiously. She'd finished her meal, and drew both her knees up to her chest as she looked at him attentively.

"Hmm. We should rest soon...but perhaps I could tell you a short story." Cyril rubbed his chin in thought, "Well, I once met a man wearing the strangest armor you could ever see…"

Cyril spoke of his early meetings with Siegmeyer of Catarina. Of how the amiable Onion Knight found himself in strange conundrums, but maintained good cheer. Not wanting to dampen the mood after a fine meal, he kept to their early adventures, leaving the rest for another time.

Judging from her level of interest and engagement, Amber didn't notice and was content to listen to him speak.

There were few happy tales to tell of Lordran, but Cyril managed to keep his current tale both interesting and optimistic. More innocent times, one could say. Cyril was far from a pessimist nowadays, but when he compared his current demeanor to how he behaved early in his journey, he could only see the stark contrast between them.

But while he had no desire to return to his realm(s), he also didn't regret the outcome of his journey. Things could've gone better, but they could've gone worse as well. There was no point in thinking of such things. Perhaps it was this forward-facing attitude that allowed him to bring his tale to life, making one of his new friends happy and teaching her more about his old friends and himself along the way.

The two of them went to sleep under the stars that night, one remembering a dear friend, and another trying to picture the quirky and likable knight she'd heard all about. And as they drifted off to sleep, small, slight smiles lingered on both of their faces.

Chapter Text

"You…are curious."

Those were the first words that Chief Alchemist Albedo said to Cyril of Astora.

It was a chance meeting in the halls of the Knights of Favonius headquarters. Cyril had just left his quarters when he encountered Albedo striding through the halls, the expressionless visage of the alchemist doing little to conceal the intrigue hidden within his eyes once he spotted the knight of Astora.

"I am?" Cyril paused, unsure what he meant. After a moment or two, he decided it would be best to formally introduce himself. Luckily, he'd heard a description of Albedo from his friends before, "You must be the Chief Alchemist. I am Cyril, of Astora. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Likewise," Albedo nodded, his expression remaining unchanged.

"What did you mean by 'curious'?" Cyril inquired, still thinking that it was a strange first thing to say to someone.

"I've reviewed the reports that Lisa has compiled about the magic of the lands you hail from…manifestations of the soul, or at least an internal energy source untapped by the average resident of Teyvat," Albedo explained, "I believe that you are, based on the information provided, likely from another world."

"..." Cyril only looked briefly surprised, before his expression shifted to one of acceptance, "I was beginning to think something like that was the case due to the sheer difference between home and Teyvat...but for someone else to reach the same conclusion, do you have knowledge of such matters?"

"It's only because I've spent so much time chasing the mysteries of Teyvat that I can recognize when something or someone is foreign to it," Albedo admitted, "But according to Jean you lack knowledge of how you arrived here. That would suggest that traveling between worlds is not a common occurrence for you, I believe."

Something about that statement stuck out to Cyril, "You would be correct…but do you mean that you have encountered someone from another world that does commonly travel between them?"

"I've only conversed with them briefly about that particular topic, but yes. She mentioned something like that to me before," Albedo replied, "Any more than that I'm not at liberty to say."

"I understand," Cyril nodded, then shook his head ruefully, "I feel that I should be more surprised…but I am not. This world is just as fantastical as my previous one, in its own ways. That it is visited by travelers across the stars isn't so far-fetched."

"True," Albedo agreed with a nod, "But rather than the magic research you and Lisa have been doing, I'm more curious if you have any trinkets or items from your homeland? I'd love to study them if you're willing to part with any."

"Hmm…" Cyril rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a few moments before remembering something, "Ah, if you'd like…"

He reached into his bottomless bag and pulled out a familiar white soapstone.

"Oh? A writing implement composed of a soapstone?" Albedo gave it a look of idle interest.

"That's correct," Cyril affirmed, "It's a curious thing that no one I knew truly understood, but by inscribing my name and imbuing it with a bit of my power, others were able to use it to summon me temporarily."

He didn't go too detailed with how time had essentially been broken in Lordran, as he felt that the concept of temporary teleportation would be enough to pique the academic's interest. He was also interested to see if the natives of Teyvat could utilize it, as that meant he could continue to perform tasks and easily visit Mondstadt while traveling.

"Summon? Intriguing…tell me more," Albedo gestured for Cyril to follow him. They ended up sitting across from each other in Albedo's quarters, which were…surprisingly clean from what Cyril expected out of a scholarly type.

Apparently his expression was more obvious than he'd thought, as Albedo commented, "My lab is located elsewhere."

"Ah, I see…" Cyril chuckled sheepishly, "So, what did you want to know?"

"To begin with, I'd like to hear about the common use cases for this teleportation inscription…"

A little while later Cyril found himself sitting outside of the Knights of Favonius Headquarters.

"Cyril? What are you doing out here?" Lady Jean asked, recently returned from a patrol.

"Good afternoon, Lady Jean," Cyril greeted her politely, "Sir Albedo is performing an experiment with an item from my homeland. I do not know all the details of what his tests entail, but the item in question is a useful tool that allowed my allies to summon me temporarily to assist them with various tasks."

"Summoning? As in teleportation?" Jean looked at him with surprise.

"Yes, though as I said it is not permanent. It's more like summoning my spirit…as much as that may sound strange," Cyril laughed.

"That's…well, I'll have to hear what Albedo finds out about this item," Jean shook her head with a faint hint of wonder, "It seems your world is quite different from ours after all…"

He blinked.

"...I take it Sir Albedo informed you of his theory?" Cyril finally asked.

"Lisa and I began to suspect something strange after seeing the sheer number of differences in magic between our lands…Albedo's input was more of a confirmation than anything," she admitted, "I have heard you don't have any plans of returning, though?"

"Yes…I quite like it in these livelier lands," he sighed, "It feels disloyal of me, but I would argue few ever made it as far as I did in service to those realms."

"I can't say I blame you, based on what you've told us…" Jean nodded with a sympathetic wince, "But enough of that for now. Does this current project you and Albedo are working on have to do with your desire to potentially travel?"

"That is one of the perks, yes," Cyril replied, "If it works you would be able to summon me as needed to assist you all. I owe Mondstadt that much at least."

"None of us would think less of you for wanting to see the world, Cyril," Jean huffed good-naturedly.

"But I would not be satisfied otherwise," he remained stubbornly adamant.

Jean knew she wouldn't win this minor quibble, so she set it aside for now, "Do you have any idea where you'd like to go?"

"To be honest, I've yet to decide," Cyril shrugged, "I have no immediate plans to leave, after all, only that it remains a possibility. I've read of Liyue, which seems intriguing and is close by as well."

"Mm, Liyue is quite different from Mondstadt, but I'm sure you'd like it," Jean nodded, recalling her past visits, "So long as you remain as courteous as you've always been, you'll be surrounded by an environment and way of life just as unique as ours."

"I'll certainly keep your words in mind," Cyril smiled appreciatively, before he was suddenly enveloped in a bright white glow.

"Cyril!?" Jean made a noise of surprise.

"Ah, it appears Sir Albedo has managed to activate the item. I will be appearing in his quarters, most likely." Cyril shook his head with a smile before giving Jean a small bow, "It was a pleasure talking to you Lady Jean."

"Um, likewise…" Jean watched with a perplexed expression as Cyril essentially faded into motes of light.

That was strange…

Jean shook her head bemusedly and left to resume her knightly duties. If she'd stuck around, she would've seen the rather comical scene of Cyril startling the guards when he popped back up just a few minutes later when his summoning was canceled.

The next day…

Lady Sucrose was a bit more quiet than Cyril had expected for someone who was apparently a master in her field. In his experience, most such experts tend to be rather long-winded, and while she was happy to talk about her favorite subject matter, she was still more reticent than he expected.

The general idea of this "bio-alchemy" didn't sit well with him, as he was reminded of the Grand Duke's experiments. But he was willing to give the reservedly passionate girl the benefit of the doubt.

Certainly, her appearance was much more fair than the Pale Drake's. He just couldn't see such soft eyes belonging to someone who would cruelly defile the sanctity of life just to satisfy their curiosity. In fact, she seemed rather frightened of him, though he was unsure if it was him specifically or strangers that unsettled her.

That all changed once the small talk was over and he brought out the titanite shard and explained its origins. Her expression lit up with poorly concealed interest, and she all but snatched the valuable mineral from his hands to study it intently.

"This came from a living creature?" Sucrose held the titanite shard between her fingers gingerly, which honestly wasn't necessary considering the strength of the material, but he was glad to see her mindfulness. She was so busy examining it she probably didn't notice how smoothly her words were coming out now.

"Yes, we call them crystal lizards," Cyril explained, "They are small and reptile-like, but have large growths of metal and crystal that resemble tumors, in a way."

"Interesting. I guess the first thing that comes to mind are the materials you can harvest from geo-borne creatures mainly found in Liyue." Sucrose turned to him with an apologetic look, "I don't know much about that, I'm sorry. If you want, I can have this sample passed around our contacts to see if they know of any metal or material that matches it."

"That would be helpful for the maintenance of my equipment. Though it's not urgent, I have plenty in reserve and it takes quite a while before I need to use any." Cyril inclined his head thankfully.

"Okay, I'll get the word out." Sucrose carefully wrapped the shard up before she smiled shyly, "W-Was there anything else you needed?"

"Not particularly." Cyril shook his head, before returning a smile of his own. "In fact, I was wondering if you needed assistance with anything? I find myself devoid of any tasks for the day."

"Me?" She gave him a puzzled look with a hint of mild panic, "Um…"

He hadn't intended on flustering her, though he had to admit the reaction was somewhat endearing. She looked around in thought, a sense of urgency coming from her slim frame.

"Erm, it was just a passing inquiry, I can go ask others if they need help…" Cyril trailed off.

"A-Actually…what you said about the crystal lizards of your home was pretty interesting…" She paused, taking a moment to rally herself, "If you're okay with it…could you tell me more about the creatures of your homeland? I'd love to…um…hear more.'

"Of course, I don't mind at all." Cyril easily nodded and began gathering his thoughts. There were all kinds of interesting creatures he could potentially speak of.

Sucrose wasn't sure what to make of Cyril. He'd already gained something of a reputation for being a model knight, even if he wasn't formally part of the Knights of Favonius. People always talked about how courteous, kind, and skilled he was.

…And that was pretty much all the same things they said about Acting Grandmaster Jean!

How terrifying!

Sucrose still had a hard time looking her in the eyes whenever they talked…

So she couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated when the foreign knight stopped by to visit. Was someone like her really able to help him with whatever he needed?

Luckily he'd apparently heard about her beforehand (and wasn't that an embarrassing thought?), as he approached her with specific questions about living creatures and bio-alchemy. He'd also included a few scrawled notes from Albedo, who'd already taken a preliminary look at several of the items Cyril had with him, which definitely gave her a starting point and helped her organize her thoughts.

Of course, he then threw her out of her comfort zone (unintentionally) when he asked her if he could help her with anything. How was she supposed to answer a question like that? There was always something to do, like gathering materials or performing experiments, but she had no idea what he was capable of or willing to do. Or how much time he had available! She needed more time to come up with scenarios and characterize his skills and preferences!

So she ended up just saying the first thing that came to mind, which was to ask about other unique creatures from his home.

Gosh, that probably wasn't what he was looking for at all. He's a knight, they go out and do things…not sit and talk all day. But to her surprise, he was willing and even eager to share his knowledge with her.

As the conversation began in earnest they sat down at her desk (still cluttered with all kinds of paper and pieces, oh, how mortifying), and she found herself feeling surprisingly comfortable. Cyril was a calm and clear speaker, but he was also patient and understanding, taking into account her tangents and pauses.

In fact, she got the feeling he was more accustomed to silence than conversation, even though he was so good at it. And while she knew deep down that people like Acting Grandmaster Jean were also dependable and understanding, somehow she didn't feel as intimidated with him.

It was a weird feeling.

Also, it also helped that he had all kinds of stories and descriptions of creatures she'd never heard of. Nothing ever got her blood pumping than learning about the quirks of fauna and flora. So, even though it was someone she was just talking to for the first time, Sucrose actually found herself having fun.

She didn't even notice the small smile she had on her face.

"This is a sketch of a creature known as a basilisk." Cyril flipped through the pages of his field journal, showing it to Lady Sucrose. "Those large organs aren't actually its eyes, though they are still vulnerable to attack. The most dangerous aspect, however, comes from the fog it spews…"

The green-haired girl was listening with rapt attention as he explained everything he knew about various creatures he'd encountered.

"So if you're exposed to enough of that fog in one sitting you turn to stone?" Sucrose made a face. "That sounds like a horrible way to die."

"It is not pleasant, I must agree." Cyril nodded, remembering the few times he'd been caught flat-footed by the annoying beasts.

"S-Sorry, I didn't mean to bring up bad memories." She was likely thinking he knew someone who'd fallen prey to the basilisks, as his undead nature was still concealed from any native of Teyvat.

"Not to worry, I've just encountered the aftermath of their curse. None of my companions suffered such a grisly fate." Cyril explained.

"Oh, that's good then…I mean, not that it's good that other people got attacked, just that it wasn't your group. Of course I still feel bad about the people that did get hurt but...err…I'll just be quiet now." Sucrose turned a bit pink as she stumbled over her words.

Cyril couldn't help breaking into a slight smile. Her awkwardness reminded him in a way of Anastacia, though without the oppressive pall of sadness hanging over her. He'd eventually coaxed the firekeeper to speak with him more, though she remained ever reluctant and stilted in her speech. He had tried his best to lift her spirits whenever he was around, but nowadays he felt he could've done more…

Perhaps it would be best to drop that line of thought.

"I understand the sentiment you wish to convey," Cyril reassured Sucrose. "On another note, if you'd like, I don't mind lending you this field journal. I've no use for it here in Mondstadt."

"R-Really!?" Sucrose gaped at him with wide eyes.

"Yes. From our conversation just now I feel that you would be more comfortable reviewing the material yourself before coming up with questions to ask me, correct?" He asked.

She looked surprised that he'd figured that out. "T-That's true…" She took the journal from him while not quite meeting his eyes, "Um…thank you, I really appreciate it."

There was no hiding the bit of happiness she felt at someone else understanding her preferences. Cyril couldn't help feeling a bit glad that he'd read her right, as he was now constantly working to improve his communication skills. There hadn't been much occasion to practice them in Lordran, after all.

He watched idly for a bit as Sucrose began looking through his journal, her attention shifting completely as she got absorbed in reading. He was no expert scribe, and his notes were mostly about fighting, but he did record information about non-hostile creatures and plants he encountered as well. It'd been on a whim, but seeing someone get so absorbed made him happy that he'd put in the effort.

It was only after nearly an hour of relaxing in her quarters that he realized that she had forgotten his presence, so absorbed in his notes as she was. With a small smile and huff of amusement, the knight excused himself quietly and left her to her reading.

Scholars were the same no matter where you were, he supposed.

Some days later…

It came as a surprise when one of the knights passed on a message to Cyril stating that Lady Sucrose wished to meet with him, but he saw no reason not to comply.

After grabbing a bite to eat for breakfast (he'd started eating regularly to avoid scoldings from others such as Lady Amber or Lady Jean), he made his way to Lady Sucrose's workshop.

He found her with two notebooks in front of her, one of which was the one he'd given her. She looked up at the sound of his entry, a pensive look on her face that broke into a small smile when she realized it was him.

"Hello, Cyril. It's good to see you again." She greeted him with her characteristic soft voice, only able to maintain eye contact for a few moments before averting her gaze.

"Greetings, Lady Sucrose. Did you have something you wished to ask of me?" He inquired curiously.

"Ah, it's not a request or anything like that." Sucrose shook her head, "I…just had some questions about your field journal."

"I see. Then ask away, I am at your disposal." Cyril replied with a smile.

"For a few of the entries on more aggressive fauna, you made a few notes regarding the creature's common reaction to something called 'Hollows', but there isn't an entry for them in the journal, so I wanted to ask about what that term meant." Sucrose explained.

He froze. He'd honestly forgotten he'd written those notes.

As time had passed, he'd started considering revealing his true nature to his hosts. While he was still unsure how the people of Teyvat would react, he was at least confident that they wouldn't try to exterminate him outright.

Exile was a more likely option.

Regardless, he wasn't about to drop that bombshell on Lady Sucrose out of nowhere…but how could he explain a Hollow in a satisfactory way without giving away too much information?

"Hollows are…former humans." He began hesitantly, "As you've heard from Lady Jean, my homelands are essentially ruined. One of the factors that led to their decline was an increase in hollowing."

She looked more than a little disturbed, "Is…is it an ailment of some kind?"

"That's not an inaccurate statement, though the source was never discovered, nor did it spread with any rhyme or reason. In short, it was not a natural disease. But those afflicted can be described as soulless. They become akin to mindless puppets whose only drive is to hunt their fellow man." He unclenched his fist, attempting to relax as all kinds of unpleasant memories and thoughts ran through his head.

"...That sounds horrible." Sucrose gave him a worried look, "Was a treatment ever found?"

"...No, even among the greatest scholars of all nations…" He trailed off and shook his head sadly. "The solution that was reached was to put them to the sword. So that they could rest at last, and pose no further harm to innocents."

"...I see," She said quietly, her thoughts inscrutable. "I'm glad that you're okay then, Cyril."

He gave her a surprised look, before his expression turned warm, "Thank you for your kind words. Hollows are not pleasant to encounter…and depending on the individual, many retain their skills from before their affliction. It makes them quite dangerous. That is why I made note of what creatures are hostile to them on sight, as it meant that I could expect to encounter less of them."

"That does put some of your notes in context. Would you say Hollows were the primary danger there? Over any of the fauna that's in this journal?" Sucrose asked.

"Not the most dangerous, but certainly one of the most common." Cyril replied.

"Got it." She wrote something down before giving him an apologetic look, "I'm sorry if I brought up any unpleasant memories."

"No need to worry. As I said before, I am at your disposal," Cyril shook his head and spoke reassuringly.

He wondered if she realized he wasn't telling the whole truth, as the curse of undeath was indeed a mystery, but the reason for hollowing was known: loss of purpose, giving into despair. He'd just combined the two for now, until he could reveal the full truth at a later point in time.

"O-Okay then…" Sucrose averted her eyes once more, occupying herself with the journals, "It's a shame I can't get my hands on a live example of some of the flora or fauna you've written about. N-Not that I'm disappointed with you or anything!"

"It would help your studies along greatly with some hands-on experience, wouldn't it?" Cyril agreed. "Though since I do not know how I arrived, there is always a chance…I've had discussions in which I pondered if others from my homeland might arrive here in Teyvat as well."

"...You don't seem to like that idea very much." Sucrose pointed out the frown that had subconsciously wormed its way onto his face.

"Mm. I worry that someone unprepared may find themselves in harm's way. Still, there's no use agonizing over such things until they happen." Cyril straightened up. "Was there anything else you wished to speak about?"

"Actually, yes! So, I went over the notes that Lisa and Albedo compiled on your magic system, and I was wondering if any of the creatures' powers were somehow linked to the same energy source. Do you have any knowledge on that?" She tilted her head curiously, a rather endearing sight.

"Hmm…perhaps we can go over the creatures you have in mind one-by-one? I've not really thought about any connection between the powers they wield and the magic we used." Cyril suggested.

"Okay!" Sucrose nodded happily, before pulling out an extra seat for him to sit down on, "First, there's the obvious correlation between the lightning spell you've demonstrated and the lightning bolts that these imps you wrote about can cast…"

It was past lunchtime before Sucrose realized how long they'd ended up conversing for. More embarrassingly for her, the signal that informed them was the growling of her stomach, which caused her no small amount of mortification.

Deciding to spare her any further embarrassment, Cyril said his farewells and left her workshop while she packed her things before going to grab a meal.

He was about halfway to his personal quarters when he encountered Albedo once more.

"Ah, Cyril. How did your discussions with Sucrose go? I meant to follow up with you, but I was preoccupied with other work." Albedo greeted him with a stoic nod.

"Good day Sir Albedo. Our meeting went well, at least by my reckoning. She seems quite interested in the creatures and plants of my world." Cyril replied fondly.

"That journal of yours is liable to make her wish she could visit those lands," Albedo agreed. "I assume she suggested passing that 'titanite' material you brought on to our contacts for further research?"

"Indeed." Cyril nodded. "I informed her it's not very urgent as my equipment doesn't require maintenance often, and I have plenty of reserve materials available."

"Understood." Albedo paused, seeming to mull over something before a flicker of mixed emotions flashed across his face. "I don't wish to pry, but I have to ask, are all the humans of your world like you?"

"Hm? What do you mean?" Cyril frowned puzzledly.

"Forgive me for any offense, but I noticed something about you that marks you as plainly different from the average human of Teyvat. The discrepancy is…metaphysical in nature, as strange as that may sound. It's more apparent when you are casting magic, so perhaps it has something to do with the 'soul' you say powers your spells." Albedo explained.

"..." Cyril's expression flattened, though he wasn't able to hide his surprise, "You're quite sharp, Sir Albedo."

"I have a fair amount of experience studying humans, after all." Albedo shrugged, "It was just a passing curiosity. Though judging from your reaction…there is something deeper to it than a mere difference between an individual of Teyvat and an individual from your world."

"...Yes. I swear it is not my intention to deceive or mislead. It's just…something concerning my past and origins." Cyril sighed.

"I see. Then I won't say any more," Albedo replied. "Though if you'll take unsolicited advice…perhaps confiding in someone you trust will alleviate the weight you're feeling."

"...I've had the same idea, actually." Cyril smiled wryly. "Thank you for your words, Sir Albedo."

Albedo simply gave another nod and continued on his way, leaving the Astoran knight alone with his thoughts.

Chapter Text

Jean Gunnhildr was fiercely devoted to her duties as Acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius. Becoming an exemplary knight and protecting the people of Mondstadt was all that she ever knew and wanted for herself.

But she had to admit, there were drawbacks to being so work-oriented. She was far from a social recluse, but sometimes she had trouble picking up conversational cues or reading the moods of others. And she often found herself wishing she was in her office or out in the field when trying to participate in any other non-work related activity.

Her first impression of Cyril of Astora was that he was likely similar to her. But he'd actually proven to be something of a social butterfly, despite his reserved demeanor. He commonly went out drinking with Venti or Kaeya, and many of the knights thought quite well of him. It actually made her a bit jealous how easily he seemed to adapt to new situations and people.

Not to mention his skill and efficiency. She had no trouble believing that he was a full-fledged knight from his homeland, and it spoke volumes of Astora or Lordran that despite their alleged fallen state, they produced people like him.

She was admittedly curious to learn more, as aside from their first meeting and the occasional snippet here and there, Cyril had been remarkably reticent about details of his world. From what she had learned, she didn't blame him. It didn't sound pleasant at all.

Regardless, she'd come to trust him a fair bit during his time with them. In fact, after talking with the Captains, she might even offer him a formal position as a Knight of Favonius. She wasn't sure he'd accept, due to past oaths or something like that, but he seemed to enjoy living in Mondstadt so far.

Her musings were interrupted by the sound of a child's delighted screams. It took her only a moment to identify them: it was Klee having fun. Too much fun for this early in the morning.

What in the world got the child prodigy so excited? She knew better than to experiment with her bombs in the middle of the hallway…

Curious, Jean poked her head out of her office only to be greeted with a surreal sight: Cyril, in all his armor, was carrying Klee on his shoulders and sprinting across the entrance hall. The energetic child was letting out ecstatic whoops as the tall knight ferried her about.

It was quite a sight that would've been terrifying on the battlefield, a fully armored figure with a faceless visor charging straight at you. Those familiar with Klee would've had additional layers of terror added, knowing full well what the small girl was capable of.

They reached the other side of the entrance hall, turned around, and were about to begin another sprint when both of them spotted Jean looking at them and froze immediately.

Jean had to stifle a giggle in order to maintain her character as Acting Grand Master. It was hard though, the sheer contrast between the wide, innocent eyes Klee was looking at her with and the faceless visor of Cyril's helmet somehow managing to look like a kid caught playing a prank was a rather comical sight.

"Klee isn't in trouble...is she?" Klee made a great imitation of a young puppy as she looked up and down between Cyril and Jean. The young girl was known for getting up to all kinds of mischief, as a result, she tended to fear getting caught and scolded by Jean. She really was a sweet child, though, and her affection for her caretakers at the Knights of Favonius was clear to anyone looking in.

The girl's mother is a famed adventurer who spends all her time traveling the world, sending gifts and stories back to Klee. While some children would be adversely affected by the lack of a parental figure, Klee had already inherited her mother's survivalist/go-with-the-flow attitude and had adapted amazingly well.

And with her mother, Alice's, absence, the Knights of Favonius had essentially adopted her, and it could be said (then subsequently denied) that many of them doted upon her.

But even then, Jean had heard rumors around the Headquarters about their armored guest. Specifically, how he always sets aside a bit of time to play with Klee and tell her stories. He even bought her treats using a portion of the money he received from taking on jobs. In a relatively short time, his status as "Klee's favorite uncle" was all but set in stone already.

"Lady Jean, this activity was my own idea." Cyril spoke quickly, setting Klee down gently and unknowingly affirming the rumors about him.

"Don't worry, please. I'm not angry." Jean said in a relaxed tone, suppressing another giggle at the relief that manifested in the two's body language, "But I do want to have a word with Cyril about something else. Is that alright, Klee?"

"Yeah!" Klee nodded, a smile returning to her face now that she realized she wasn't in trouble, "Cyril promised we'd go fishing today, though!"

"Oh…" Jean made a troubled face, "Well unfortunately, I might have some work for Cyril to do today…"

"Aww...it's okay, I understand!" Klee deflated a bit, but still managed to give them both a radiant smile.

"I shall make it up to you another time, Klee." Cyril stated kindly, "Perhaps we could even go treasure hunting."

"Really!?" Her eyes widened in delighted surprise, "That sounds fun! Thank you, Cyril! And, um, good luck with your work! You too, Master Jean!"

"Thank you, Klee." Jean gave her a warm smile, Cyril nodding along in acknowledgment.

The two adults watched as she cheerfully scurried away after giving them a series of rapid waves.

Feeling somewhat mischievous, Jean commented, "I'm surprised she doesn't call you 'Uncle Cyril'."

"Urk." Cyril groaned softly to himself, "I should have expected that the Acting Grandmaster would've heard the rumors…"

Jean covered her mouth, hiding her growing smile as she asked him with idle curiosity, "...Do you like children? I admit that sometimes I can't keep up with them myself…"

"Hmm...they are...new to me. But they represent a brighter future." Cyril answered, somewhat unsurely, "Lordran and Astora, in their death throes, were no place for the young. In fact, I cannot recall encountering any youths during my time there."

Jean had no clue what to say to that. Cyril noticed her speechlessness and moved to correct himself.

"My apologies. That was a rather dark statement to make." Cyril apologized, sensing her awkwardness.

"No, it's alright. It's just...the more I hear about Lordran from you, the more glad I am that you're here now." Jean shook her head, unknowingly echoing Amber's earlier sentiments.

Jean had noticed that as long as they talked about Mondstadt, or Teyvat in general, Cyril's mood was largely positive and optimistic. But the moment he spoke of Lordran or Astora, it was like he was a different person entirely. And from what little she'd learned about those places, she didn't really blame him.

"I am of the same mind, of course." Cyril nodded, and even without seeing his face Jean could sense the contentment in his voice.

That odd feeling of satisfaction was another thing.

It was strange to admit, but she had the thought that sometimes Cyril appreciated the sight of Mondstadt more than even its own citizens did. She could see why: it was something new and different to him, while familiar to its own people.

Even she herself didn't immerse herself in the atmosphere as much as she'd seen Cyril do. Her times of quiet contemplation were reserved for when she wasn't busy, usually within the shade of the giant oak at Windrise. She had to wonder what Cyril would think of the mountains and ruins of Liyue, a place that, despite her pride in Mondstadt, she'd admit was a sight to behold.

"Lady Jean?" Cyril's voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Ah...my apologies. Come into my office for a moment, I'll explain the mission to you." Jean waved him through the door.

Cyril had wondered what kind of task would need to be handed out by the Acting Grand Master herself.

As it turns out, the issue of manpower for the Knights of Favonius had once again reared its ugly head. Most of the knights were on routine patrols, which had been intensified due to word of a smuggling ring attempting to bring "harmful goods" into Mondstadt's territory.

Cyril was aware of the addictive properties of certain substances, or how harmful explosives could be, which is why it made sense to him that there would be a list of goods to be regulated and handled by the proper authorities. It just wasn't something he saw in the lawless lands of his origin.

He actually still carried some black firebombs, having bought them from a very sketchy trader back in the day. The flames of the First Kiln, for some reason, hadn't destroyed most of the goods he'd scrounged up across his travels.

Likely because the flames of the kiln were burning his soul and were less...physical in nature than one would expect. Otherwise, he'd likely be a pile of ashes right now. Or maybe because his bottomless bag was practically invulnerable?

More to the point, Lady Jean was planning to sally out herself today, and she wished to have Cyril accompany her as backup. There'd been troubling reports of the Abyss Order digging up artifacts out near a small valley between the Dragonspine Mountains and the plains of Mondstadt. Cyril had no love of the cold, but according to the map the valley in question was still within Mondstadt's temperate climate.

"Even if we had the personnel to spare...we'd have to be very careful. Members of the Abyss Order can wield elements in a more potent way than the Samachurls that advise the Hilichurl tribes." Jean had remarked during the briefing. In short, it was better for wielders of Visions to take the lead against Abyss Order incursions.

And that was another curious aspect of Teyvat that Cyril had noticed. Humans could not use elemental abilities without a Vision, aside from the rumored Traveler, or without extensive training in obscure schools of mysticism like Miss Mona. But monsters and other races had a variety of diverse powers that seemed to come naturally to them. No one seemed to know for sure whether it was a natural ability or if these races also drew power from the Archons.

Of course as far as he could tell, Cyril's abilities were wholly unique in Teyvat as well, but aside from drawing the interest of academics like Lady Lisa, there was little attention focused on him. He chalked it up to displays of his combat ability and the few instances of magic he's used in the field being less...acrobatic and flashy than one would typically expect, given his observations of known Vision users so far.

Though he had to admit, he was curious about Lady Jean's fighting style. He knew from her body language that she was skilled, and trained hard to maintain those skills, but he'd yet to see her in action. It was likely he'd get his wish, if the Abyss Order's forces were as troublesome as he'd read/heard.

The two traveled to the designated location with short bursts of casual conversation interspersed with companionable silence.

"I will never get tired of the unique landscape of Teyvat," Cyril commented as they walked, "It's as if the lands were shaped by another force entirely."

"That's very well the case for many places," Jean replied with a smile, "The Archons' powers shaped their lands to fit their people and the kind of country they wished to rule over. Liyue has many mountains and islands created by the spears of stone of their own Archon, Rex Lapis."

Cyril blinked. He'd read of the Archon's powers but that sounded quite excessive, "These are not just tales passed down through time?"

"There might be exaggeration here and there, but as far as we know there are many places that can be directly linked to sites of battle during the Archon Wars or other subsequent conflicts." Jean replied.

"That is...impressive." Cyril fell silent, the jagged mountains and windswept cliffs of Mondstadt taking on something of a different view in light of this new information.

Would the bearers of the Lord Souls have been able to match the sheer power of the Archons? Perhaps at their peak, when Gwyn was said to throw pillars of lightning that sheared through the stone scales and hides of the Ancient Dragons.

He shook his head. It was an interesting thing to ponder, but ultimately irrelevant now. The Lords had fallen, by his hand. And they were far from their prime when he laid them low.

"I've read the reports on what kind of forces the Abyss Order typically fields, but is there any additional advice you wish to pass on?" Cyril asked.

"Assuming we're only encountering a small contingent, their forces will most likely consist of Hilichurls, with whom you have plenty of experience fighting." Jean explained, earning a nod from him, "But the difference will be that they're led by Abyss mages. They make for troublesome opponents due to the potency of both their defensive shields and long-range offensive attacks. It'd be best if you maneuver around the hilichurls and strike down the mages first. Of course, their elemental shields are weaker against the opposite element, but that doesn't apply to either of us, really."

"That makes sense." Cyril agreed. The elements of Teyvat consist of Electro, Hydro, Cryo, Pyro, Anemo, Geo, and Dendro, which can have various interactions with one another. However, elements such as Anemo (which is Jean's element and the element of Barbatos, the Archon of Mondstadt) and Geo have their own unique interactions, but none that are meant to rapidly disable elemental shields. Of course, he figured his realm's pyromancy would have the same effect as the pyro element, but he had yet to confirm this statement.

They continued to discuss general tactics, strategy, and information from past engagements against the Abyss Order until they were close to the area the reports specified. Impressing Jean with his ability to move silently, the two of them began scouting their surroundings carefully.

"There are some old, unremarkable ruins past the crest of that hill...but I had thought they'd been searched many times by adventurers, hilichurls, and other roaming travelers." Jean frowned, "Unless they're actually turning it into a base of operations, I see no reason for the Abyss Order to be in this location specifically."

As if in response to her words, a hilichurl patrol appeared at the top of said nearby hill. Quickly hiding themselves behind some rocks, Jean and Cyril observed them closely. There was always the minor chance that this patrol belonged to a hilichurl tribe unaligned with the Abyss Order, so there was no reason to provoke them yet.

"There's no Mitachurl present…" Jean frowned, "Since Mitachurls are respected leaders of hilichurl tribes, they don't always get along with the abyss mages because of conflicts in power dynamics. However, when they do get along, it can be quite formidable."

"So this is either a very small patrol, or we've found the Order's scouts." Cyril mused, with Jean nodding in agreement.

After watching them for a bit longer, their patience paid off and a small, stout figure distinct from the hilichurls appeared, gesticulating wildly at the masked creatures.

"Ah, that's an abyss mage...and judging from its coloration, it's likely cryo-aligned." Jean informed Cyril.

"That's it then. Shall we attack?" Cyril asked, hand on the hilt of his sword. He felt somewhat eager, despite constantly reminding himself that despite the name, the Abyss Order are nowhere near as heinous as certain beings of Lordran's Abyss, such as the Darkwraiths.

But luckily for his suppressed hostility, the Abyss Order are still "attack on sight" enemies for the people of Teyvat.

"Hmm...normally, I would prefer to move closer in order to gain more information about their activities first, but there is too little cover for that..." Jean's brow furrowed thoughtfully, "Very well. Let us clear this area of the Abyss Order's sinister activities."

Cyril gave a nod of agreement. With that, Jean summoned her sword, giving him his first look at the Acting Grand Master's weapon. To be expected, it was a beautifully functional blade, with white engravings and a hilt carved to resemble feathers.

Taking that as his cue, Cyril drew his own blade and moved his shield into position. Someone once asked him about its use, as metal shields tend to lose their effectiveness against elemental specialists in this world, but he reassured them that his shield was no ordinary piece of equipment. It'd been refined to the limit with titanite, and was naturally resistant against sorcery.

Though he had no idea how effective it'd be at defending him against the Abyss Mage's attacks.

"Ah, by the way, that lightning spell of yours is banned." Jean suddenly added.

"...Did Amber put you up to this, Lady Jean?" Cyril frowned from underneath his helmet.

"Not just her, Lisa said that unless you can demonstrate it perfectly for her she'll find a way to punish you as well." Jean had a small, triumphant smile on her face. His hunch from a while back was right, Lady Jean really wasn't happy that his only major injury so far was his own fault.

"...Very well," Cyril was no fool, he'd also heard the stories from Kaeya of the electro librarian's wrath. He supposed that even she worried about him in her own way, despite her lackadaisical nature.

"Incidentally...did you just refer to Amber without the 'Lady' prefix you normally use?" Jean asked curiously.

"Ah...she insisted that I cease its use as it was too formal," he replied.

"Haven't I said the same thing?" Jean pursed her lips. He got the distinct feeling that she was somewhat unhappy at the moment.

"But there is a considerable difference in rank…" Cyril trailed off.

"Never mind…" Jean shook her head, "Let us focus on our adversaries first."

Cyril paused, mulling over Jean's shifts in mood, before nodding, "Indeed. Shall I lead the charge?"

At Jean's answering nod they both tensed in anticipation of the coming battle. Though only a moment passed, it dragged on as they sharpened their senses and reflexes, before Cyril exploded into motion with Jean close behind.

They crossed the distance in no time at all, their steps light so that they preserved the element of surprise for as long as possible. Luckily, the hilichurls were busy digging or whatever the Abyss Mage ordered them to do, while the Abyss Mage was supervising them.

Finally, one of the hilichurls noticed the two oncoming combatants at about 10-15 meters between them. Which was much too little to do anything as Cyril bowled over the closest hilichurl with a shield charge.

Credit where credit is due, the remaining four hilichurls immediately grabbed their weapons as the Abyss Mage conjured up its ice shield, which resembled a pale blue bubble.

One quick thrust of his blade finished the downed hilichurl while Jean summoned up some kind of wind-based vortex, sucking in the remaining hilichurls before they even had the chance to swing their weapons. While it greatly simplified the battle, Cyril could tell that she was focused on keeping the hilichurls under control. That left him to face the Abyss Mage for now.

He blocked an incoming shard of ice and closed the distance quickly. As expected, his sword seemed to damage the mage's shield, but not as quickly as he would like.

Time to test his pyromancy's effectiveness. As mentioned before, he was no expert pyromancer, but he at least knew basic spells such as Fireball and Fire Orb. Opting for the stronger of the two, he summoned forth an orb of flame in his left hand and hurled it at the surprised Abyss Mage, who'd been attempting to cast another cryo spell.

The potency of the flame did its job, the shield flickering and weakening rapidly. Not missing a beat Cyril approached once more, smashing his fist through the fading shield and grabbing the mage by its stout throat. It seemed to hurl some obscenities at him in whatever its language was, before he tightened his grip, snapping its neck and ending its life.

He turned to find Jean cutting down the last of the hilichurls, as expected, it was no trouble for a fighter of her caliber. He was about to call out in congratulations when he saw her eyes widen in surprise.

"Look out!" she shouted.

He whirled around, seeing a ball of flame headed straight at his face. Out of the corner of his eyes he quickly noted a Pyro Abyss Mage and another small squad of hilichurls approaching. So they had split their forces...he'd wondered why they were out here with so few troops.

"Hah!" He raised his shield arm quickly, but misjudged the attack's trajectory, feeling it connect with his shoulder instead of his shield. Luckily it didn't seem to hurt much or do much damage, so he quickly assumed a proper defensive stance in case of a follow-up attack.

Then Jean dashed right past him, immediately laying into the oncoming hilichurls. Not one to be left behind, Cyril charged at the now panicking Abyss Mage. Apparently it didn't expect Jean's aggressive assault on its forces, unable to see her due to the hill's incline, and fired several attacks at her ineffectually: she quite literally danced past them.

Though he'd later admit that he was fighting with extreme prejudice thanks to the Abyss Order's name, Cyril did something that surprised literally everyone on the battlefield: he rammed his gauntleted fist through the pyro mage's fully functional shield, not yet weakened by any attack.

It didn't dissipate fully, but his arm savagely tore a hole in it. The abyss mage could only stare in shock. Shortly after, it joined the cryo abyss mage as comrades who both suffered snapped necks. To the side, Jean dealt with the remaining hilichurls just as easily as she did with the first squad.

And thus ended Cyril's first encounter with the Abyss Order. A rather minor skirmish, one that would be forgotten quickly. However…

"Cyril, are you wounded?" Jean asked as she unsummoned her sword.

He knew better than to hide anything this time, "I'm unsure of the specifics, but I most likely have minor burns and perhaps a sprained wrist."

He had underestimated the mage's shield. Punching it at full power had been a rather reckless move. They wouldn't be widely used if they were easily broken, after all. Though it would've been different if he had a hydro-based skill…

"That sounds manageable, hold still." Jean conjured up a small circle that gave off a soothing breeze, "I'm not as skilled of a healer as Barbara, but I can do this much."

As the calming wind washed over him, he felt the soreness in his wrist and the burns on his shoulder fade away, "Thank you very much, Lady Jean."

"Jean," she smiled, though her tone was insistent, "Just call me Jean. Once again, you aren't one of my knights, and I consider you a comrade and a friend."

Cyril knew he wouldn't win this argument, and plus he didn't want to make her unhappy again, "Understood. Thank you, Jean."

Her smile turned warmer, before she looked away, scanning their surroundings, "We should investigate what they were looking for out there. I'll head back to check where the cryo mage's group was, you go ahead and look around the area the fire mage came from."

"Very well. Hopefully we shall gain some insight into their activities." Cyril nodded, heading in the direction Jean indicated.

Their search turned up nothing at first, until Cyril felt a familiar feeling...one he hadn't expected to experience again:

The heat of a bonfire.

"This…" He followed the feeling until he came across a slightly odd-looking campfire. This was likely where the pyro mage's squad was resting before Jean and Cyril had attacked. Looking closer, one of the pieces of wood wasn't a piece of wood at all, it was a coiled sword.

The staple component of an undead bonfire.

However, this campfire itself wasn't a proper bonfire, and the unique warmth he was feeling was solely from the sword alone. Cyril's eyes narrowed, and he removed the coiled sword from the regular flames. Despite the familiar aura of warmth it gave off, the metal was cool to the touch, another sign that this sword hadn't been properly activated in recent time.

This...was a very severe development.

Truthfully, Cyril had already been mulling over the idea of sharing more information about himself and his world. It would be irresponsible not to, in his eyes. After all, if he ended up in Teyvat, who's to say other things from Lordran wouldn't?

Now that has become a matter of utmost urgency. But first, he would have to bring this up with Jean.

He made his way back to where Jean was investigating. She looked up and greeted him with a smile, "Cyril, have you found anything- ...What is that?"

"This is a coiled sword," Cyril's voice carried a sort of weighty seriousness, immediately catching her attention, "It's an artifact from my homelands."

"Truly?" Jean's eyes widened in surprise, "What does it do?"

"..." Cyril hesitated, "It...will take me some time to explain. I apologize, but may I ask that you wait for an explanation? This...is something that should be shared with the others. I would suggest that I give the explanation to the leadership of the Knights of Favonius as well as any other individuals you hold as trustworthy. The repercussions of this item's appearance are not inconsequential."

Jean was still confused, but sensing the gravity of his words, she acquiesced, "I understand. I will send out messages to everyone today."

"Yes, that'll give me time to organize my thoughts as well…" Cyril was distracted, looking at the coiled sword in his hands constantly.

Jean eyed him worriedly as they walked, "Do you believe that the Abyss Order was here searching for that artifact?"

"I cannot say for sure, but this was located at their camp. Perhaps they were using a residual energy trace to search for others like it? Or did they find it there and then decide to continue searching the area?" Cyril shook his head, before saying grimly, "Whatever their intentions were, I doubt they truly understood what it means for something like this to appear in these lands."

It'd just been lying in a campfire, though. Was it just a coincidence? Or had they been trying to create a bonfire of their own? What good would a bonfire even do for individuals unaffected by the Darksign?

If one was being optimistic, they may have just sensed unnatural properties about the sword. If pessimistic, someone with a greater understanding of the esoteric powers of his world, maybe even with knowledge of the Darksign itself, could have arrived already…

There were too many questions, but he would do his duty. His new home would not be defenseless, should more…unsavory guests from his place of origin appear.

He swore it.

Chapter Text

Putting together something that resembled a bonfire wasn't hard. It required the bones of an undead, a coiled sword, and a material for kindling. He had plenty of homeward bones, there was the sword he'd found with Lady Jean, and he had a stockpile humanity stored away in his bottomless box for kindling.

Though Cyril had to wonder if it was even possible to actually construct a functioning bonfire from scratch without the assistance of a Fire Keeper. It should be, since there were plenty of bonfires that had no fire keeper tending to them.

He sighed. It was no use agonizing over it until he actually tried. Jean had arranged for the use of one of the basement rooms of the Knights' Headquarters so that he could attempt his little experiment. And that room would be nice and out of the way to afford some privacy as he shared his story.

Before he got started with that morbid little project though, he'd gone for one of his usual walks around Mondstadt. The meeting was set for the afternoon, so he had plenty of time to ponder his uncertain future.

The morning sun shone brightly over the stone construction of the city, the bright light filling him with that sense of contentment he'd come to hold so dear. But this time there was also an undercurrent of foreboding beneath the surface.

Was this his last day among the citizens here? Even the gentle breeze that seemed to perpetually caress the city's inhabitants did little to raise his spirits now. Of course, he held hope that the camaraderie he'd forged with his new companions was strong, strong enough for the truth, but his intimate knowledge of the fate of the Undead in his homeland tempered that hope with cool resignation.

"Hey! You!" Someone called out, shocking him out of his musings. It was still early, and the streets weren't yet filled with the daily bustle of people yet, so it was easy to figure out they were calling to him.

He turned to find Miss Mona stomping towards him, a look of dissatisfaction on her face. He couldn't begin to imagine what he might've done to earn her ire, as it'd been some time since they'd last crossed paths.

"Good morning, Miss Mona. Is something amiss?" Cyril asked curiously, after giving her a quick bow in greeting.

She stopped, narrowing her eyes at him dubiously, "There's no problem, per se…but you haven't invited me on any of your assignments! And I know you've been doing plenty of jobs, too! I wasn't joking when I made my offer before."

He blinked, caught by surprise. "My apologies. I'm not used to having companions…most of the time if I am accompanied by anyone it is due to circumstance or organized by the Acting Grandmaster or one of the other knights."

"Hmm. Well, I guess that's fine." Mona huffed and crossed her arms underneath her chest. "Just remember that I won't go back on my word. If you need a hand, I'll gladly do so."

"Your offer is greatly appreciated, and I will be sure to keep it in mind." Cyril inclined his head gratefully, before remembering the incident that took place with his divination, "I see that your hat is doing well."

She flushed, reaching up and tugging at the brim of the aforementioned headpiece. "Any tailor worth their salt knows how to deal with elemental damage, so luckily it was a trivial repair job."

"That makes sense." Cyril nodded idly.

Though meeting an acquaintance for the first time in a while had momentarily distracted him, his thoughts inadvertently drifted back towards the looming reveal.

His preoccupied state of mind did not go unnoticed. "Is something bothering you, Cyril?"

"Ah, is it so obvious?" He chuckled wryly. He hadn't thought his troubles would be so easy for others to discern.

"Mm, normally you'd be busy staring at random things," She had a slight smirk on her face. "You still come up in conversation around town pretty often, you know?"

"I wasn't aware my daily habits were so interesting to everyone…" Cyril rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

"Oh, the gossip mill will never stop. And they just love having a dashing knight to gush over...you'd be amazed at the things I hear during my divination work. In your case, you also have a foreign aspect to add some 'flavor' as well." She paused, her cheeks turning a bit pink and her voice turning softer, "...I can sort of see where they're coming from. A-About the knightly part I mean!"

"I see. Then I suppose I must ensure that I am always conscious of how I carry myself, if others are watching so intently." Cyril hummed, unsure how to feel about such scrutiny.

"I don't really think that's an issue given your normal behavior…but you still haven't answered my earlier question. What's on your mind? If you're alright with talking about it, that is." Mona crossed her arms once more, watching him intently.

He sighed. "In a way, it seems my past has caught up to me. Some worrying discoveries have led me to decide to share some potentially problematic truths…honestly, I fear that I may not be able to reside here much longer."

"Huh? I doubt the knights will care too much that you're from another world…" Mona trailed off.

He stopped and stared at her. "You knew already, Miss Mona? This knowledge hasn't become widespread without my awareness, has it?"

"Ha, it's good to have direct confirmation. The stars never lie. Even if I couldn't do a proper divination for you, I still managed to glean your otherworldly origins last time." Mona puffed her chest out proudly. "And don't worry, I haven't told anyone."

"That's interesting…and I thank you for your discretion as well," Cyril said, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Though I believe most of the captains already know this as well."

"Then, does it have anything to do with the fact that my divination attempt on you set my hat on fire?" Mona pointed a finger at him, but her tone was teasing in nature.

"It may be related, yes." Cyril cracked a smile for a brief moment. "I…in truth, I wonder if any individual would be able to look at me the same if they knew more about my circumstances…or what I've done in the past."

Mona opened her mouth to reply, but halted in thought for a few moments. "...I think you may be underestimating how beloved you've become. I don't think I've heard a single negative thing about you. I'm sure those you work closely with feel the same way, if not more so."

It was uplifting praise, for certain. And Cyril couldn't deny the warmth of happiness he felt when his efforts were acknowledged in such a way.

"Still, that is because I've been rather reticent concerning any details about myself." Cyril pointed out.

"Do you suddenly plan on becoming a criminal after telling your story? Or changing how you carry yourself in any way?" Mona asked him with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course not." Cyril shook his head adamantly.

"Then I'll just say this, if we all spend our time thinking about the worst someone is capable of, then everyone would be living in constant fear." Mona reassured him with a pat on his shoulder, "I don't know what's happened to you, or what you may have done, but I believe you've earned the benefit of the doubt, if not more. And if I think that way, I'm sure the knights you see every day must feel more strongly."

"That's…I thank you for the kind words, Miss Mona. They do much to set my heart at ease." Cyril took a deep breath, his tone filled with warm gratitude.

She blinked, then averted her eyes in sudden embarrassment, "I'm only stating my opinion…"

"And I appreciate your perspective." Cyril smiled, his first true smile of the day. "I'm sorry to trouble you with such personal matters so early in the day."

"It's no trouble at all." Mona shook her head. "Though I admit you've piqued my curiosity with all the vague statements."

"Hmm…" Cyril rubbed his chin thoughtfully, before deciding to extend an invitation, "In return for your thoughts, would you like to accompany me to the meeting? I don't think the knights will mind, and it is my own story to tell in the first place."

"...Really? I don't want to intrude…" Mona's expression was unsure, her brow furrowing.

"Please, I don't mind at all. While the group I planned on informing is small in number, it is not due to my desire to keep things secret from a wider audience. I simply believe they would know how best to proceed afterwards." Cyril reassured her.

He left unspoken his previous expectation that they would no longer be so accepting of his presence, though.

"Then…if it's alright, I'd like to hear your story." Mona straightened up, an undeniable gleam of curiosity in her eyes.

Cyril nodded with a smile. "I plan to head back and begin preparing after this stroll. If you'd like, you are free to accompany me until then."

Mona agreed easily, and the pair set off. It was obvious to the both of them that the mood had much improved, though Cyril could only hope that would remain the case later on…

After making sure it was okay with Lady Jean that Mona was present, it was time to actually see if it was possible to construct a bonfire.

"Are those…human bones?" Mona asked, a disturbed look on her face as Cyril went about setting up a bonfire in the middle of the cleared basement room. She was sitting on an old wooden crate placed against the wall.

"They are. Bones of individuals afflicted with a certain condition from my homelands are required for this." Cyril replied, a resigned look on his face.

"How macabre…" Mona shuddered slightly.

"I've never considered bonfires further than just a cursory observation due to how common they were…but it is a rather morbid sight." Cyril replied with a wry chuckle.

"Bonfire? Is that what you're making?" Mona composed herself, curiosity re-entering her tone.

"Not a traditional one, but yes, that's what they were called." Cyril explained.

Their attention was drawn to the door as it opened, allowing Sir Albedo and Lady Sucrose into the room. The Chief Alchemist nodded in greeting, while Sucrose waved timidly at the two already present.

"It seems we're a bit early." Albedo noted.

"It's good to see you, Sir Albedo." Cyril greeted him respectfully. "And you as well, Lady Sucrose."

"H-Hi Cyril…" Sucrose replied, a small smile on her face. She averted her eyes, her gaze moving about until locking on to Cyril's pile of homeward bones and bone meal. Her eyes widened in surprise and intrigue, "Hm? Those are human bones, aren't they?"

"Yes," Cyril repeated. He felt a bit amused at her contrasting reaction compared to Mona's. He supposed she must be more used to such sights given her interest in the field of life.

The sound of approaching footsteps stopped Sucrose from inquiring further.

"Hey there Cyril!" Amber hopped in a moment later followed by a more sedate Eula. "I've brought Eula with me!"

"Lady Amber, Lady Eula, how are you?" Cyril inclined his head in acknowledgment.

"Nuh-uh, it's just 'Amber', remember?" Amber immediately shot back, "And I'm doing pretty good! Curious about all of this, though."

"It's been awhile." Eula replied with her characteristic cool tone, though her eyes were nowhere near as cold as her voice.

"I'm assuming Lady Jean shared some details with you, but we came across a relic from my homelands. If both myself and this relic can arrive here in Mondstadt…well, there are many concerns." Cyril explained.

Both Eula and Amber nodded at his brief explanation, though Amber shot him a worried look. She likely had some idea, given that he'd shared a few vague stories with her.

As Cyril put the finishing touches on the bonfire (aside from actually lighting it), Lady Jean, Sir Kaeya, and Lady Lisa arrived.

"Hello everyone," Jean nodded at the assembled group, while Lisa gave a dainty wave with her fingers.

"Looks like the gang's all here." Kaeya raised his hand in greeting, "Sorry we're a bit late."

"You've arrived at the right time, actually." Cyril gestured at the unlit bonfire, "I just completed constructing the bonfire."

Everyone approached to take a closer look at the construct. It certainly didn't look particularly impressive, just a pile of dust and bones with the coiled sword resting inside, point first.

"Thank you for your patience," Cyril began, "As you've likely been informed, Lady Jean and I discovered an artifact that I've identified as originating from my previous world of residence: Lordran."

He saw Jean frown a bit at his reversion to a formal method of address towards her, but he ignored it for now. The heavy topics that were coming up demanded a certain formality/detachment in his conduct.

"I have worried before that if I could somehow make the mysterious journey to this place, that is, to Teyvat, then there was a chance that I wouldn't be the only one. This has confirmed that worry." His tone was grim, and he could see some of his audience straighten up slightly, tensing at his demeanor.

"Before I can explain the purpose of the artifact, I must explain parts of my land's history. As you know, I hail from Astora, one of many countries located on my home continent. Others include Thorolund, Carim, Vinheim, Catarina," He gave a small smile as Amber perked up in recognition, "and many more. Unfortunately, all of them are likely destroyed or ruined by now."

He noted some expressions of surprise, but most of the audience were listening calmly thus far. That was good.

"It was not war, famine, nor any other conventional reason for nations to fall. In fact, the cause is the same for all of these countries: the appearance of a mark known as the Darksign." Cyril took a breath, "Without any rhyme or reason, the humans of the continent suddenly began manifesting the Darksign, a circular mark of pitch black color, ringed by light orange flames. Here is proof of what I say."

He pulled off his left gauntlet, holding his hand up for all to see. As he'd described, the Darksign was right on the back of his left hand, an unnatural circle of darkness ringed by flames and etched into his flesh.

"That…is a very unnatural mark." Mona looked slightly disturbed at the unsettling brand. Her expression was mirrored by most of the others, though Albedo only seemed to show interest.

"I believe the scholars of my lands agreed, calling it some kind of supernatural affliction." Cyril shook his head, a melancholy look in his eyes, "Those affected by the Darksign were known by many names, but the most common was this: the Undead."

That earned some furrowed brows from the audience.

"Pretty dramatic, don't you think?" Kaeya commented, wearing his characteristic smirk.

"Perhaps, but it is an apt name," Cyril stated simply. "The most distinguishing symptom of the Darksign's curse is the inability to die in natural ways. Those who perish and are marked will always inevitably return after death."

Some disbelief now, but out of respect they continued to listen. Or perhaps they were simply shocked into silence. There was some dawning horror in some faces too, as they began to piece together the puzzle.

"One may be tempted to believe such a curse to actually be a boon, but it is anything but. As those cursed by undeath are doomed to lose their minds and go hollow." Cyril's voice was grim, "Those who lose their purpose, their drive…become mindless husks, consigned to an eternal existence of wandering and attacking any who cross their path without rhyme or reason. Hollows of their former selves. Only those with exceptional will or mental strength can stand the rigors of returning after passing."

If it had been anyone else speaking, there likely would've been some word of protest or skepticism, but even if he wasn't close with all of them, everyone present knew about Cyril; about his honest character, and his selfless conduct.

He wasn't one to joke around.

"To be quite frank…" Cyril smiled weakly, "I sometimes wonder how I never went hollow myself."

"Cyril…" Jean was looking at him with wide eyes, "The story you told me when you arrived…"

He simply nodded.

Amber and Eula also looked more than a little alarmed, likely recalling the injury he'd taken, or in Amber's case, the scars he'd shown her.

Sucrose's eyes were sharp, a rare expression on her face. It was obvious she'd figured out that this was the full story behind the hollows he'd mentioned to her before.

Mona looked aghast, "Are you saying you've…died, before?"

He paused, unsure how to phrase it. Since there was no easy way to couch such a truth, he decided to just be upfront. "Yes. I have."

He loosened his collar, pulling down his scarf to show his bare neck. Someone gasped, he wasn't sure who, as he was currently having a hard time meeting their eyes. But he knew what they were staring at: the jagged marks that showed where he was once almost decapitated by a demon. He didn't even remember when it happened or what kind of demon had done it either, just one of many brutal deaths he'd faced.

"The wound that caused such scarring would've surely been fatal." Albedo confirmed with narrowed eyes, "I am…sorry that you've suffered through this."

"It is the hand I've been dealt." Cyril sighed, covering up his neck once more. "I do like to think I am somewhat accomplished among the ranks of the Undead…but imagine if random citizens, soldiers, merchants, anyone, began manifesting this curse? This ability to escape death, but at a horrible cost? It was chaos. The Undead were routinely hunted. Killed continuously until they submitted or were, as I said, mere hollows of their former selves."

More saddened expressions. Amber looked heartbroken while Mona seemed to be torn between anger and pure sympathy. Kaeya's expression had even gone flatter than he'd ever seen before.

He felt an odd warmth at the concern they showed. And while he hated to cause them such distress, they needed to know so they could be prepared. He doubted anything on the level of the Lords would appear, but there were still quite some unsavory encounters that he'd rather not let the innocents of the land be surprised by.

"Panic...and overreaction." Jean summed it up with a somber expression. She shook her head, "That must've been horrible for you."

"I actually believe I got off rather lightly compared to some of the other Undead…" Cyril shrugged helplessly, "The fear and panic was…not unwarranted either. One of the main ways an Undead becomes stronger is by, well, absorbing the life force of those that they kill. It even became a currency, we called it souls."

There was finally some of the consideration and wariness he'd expected present on some faces, namely those in leadership positions, though surprisingly still no hostility.

"What kind of magic could cause this curse?" Lisa asked, out of genuine curiosity with not a hint of condemnation in her eyes.

"We don't know. Perhaps others have found out by now, but I have no knowledge of the curse's origins. And obviously, not everyone who claims to have such knowledge should be trusted." Cyril shook his head disappointedly, "Over time things equalized, but the damage had been done. Countries were crippled and weakened. The Undead were culled or separated from the main populations of most realms, and then exiled to an asylum near the border of a land you've all heard me speak of: Lordran. I was one of them."

"So that's why you say you lived in Lordran despite being from Astora…" Eula commented. She was peering at him intently, but it almost seemed sympathetic rather than analytical.

"Shouldn't there have been more research done?" Sucrose had a note of quiet dissatisfaction in her tone. Amber nodded emphatically along with the alchemist's dissatisfaction.

"I do not know much of what happened in Astora or its neighbors after I was imprisoned." Cyril shook his head, "But some of the brightest minds I knew of could not figure it out."

"What made Lordran so different? That they would send those afflicted there?" Kaeya asked.

Despite the questioning, there was no air of interrogation, just normal conversation. There were still hints of surprise and disbelief, which was perfectly understandable…but this was truly strange. He'd expected a much more adverse reaction.

It was both baffling and relieving. He caught Mona giving him a small smile beneath her concern, apparently she could tell what he was thinking. Was he that easy to read?

"That is a good question," Cyril dipped his head in acknowledgement, "The answer, however, is actually quite complicated, but it boils down to a key point: Lordran wasn't primarily a nation of humans. In fact, Lordran is said to be the Land of the Gods - who, much like the Archons of Teyvat, created their own nation and governed their peoples."

"... That's right, you did mention them before…" Albedo rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "But I can only imagine the principles of divinity there are not identical to ours."

"According to legends, the Lords gained their divinity from the power of the First Flame, elevating them. Though…" Cyril paused, unsure of how to explain what he'd done, "The power of the First Flame has long since faded, and even the Lords are no more."

"How fascinating." Both Lisa and Albedo answered at the same time.

"Indeed." Jean coughed, "But perhaps we can shelve the discussion on divinity until after Cyril tells his story?"

Lisa and Albedo deflated, but Cyril nodded, "Without any guiding hand, the undead condemned to Lordran sought purpose for themselves, lest they lose their minds. It is unknown who started the legend, but by the time I was freed from the Asylum, there was a prophecy that the Undead were supposed to follow."

Mona made a face at that, "I don't like the sound of that. Prophecies are the tools of charlatans and fakes."

"Ahaha, I'm actually inclined to agree with you." Cyril chuckled awkwardly. "In simple terms, we were given a goal to follow in order to finally receive an answer for why we were struck by this curse."

"Did you believe in that prophecy, though?" Amber asked, her eyes not leaving his.

"Thou who art Undead, art chosen... In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords... When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead thou shalt know…" Cyril intoned, "I did believe in these words for quite some time. They motivated me through some of my darkest hours."

"What happened?" Eula seemed to understand that something had changed for him.

"...I heard many stories from my travels across Lordran. After ringing the Bells of Awakening, because there were actually two, I found myself facing some hard truths. And I came to realize that our land was doomed, and that the Undead curse was only a symptom." Cyril shook his head, "Most tellingly was that the gods, the ones many humans across the continent believed in, had long abandoned Lordran and even their crowning achievement, their capital city of Anor Londo."

No one knew what to say to that. There were many differences between their lands, but just the idea that the Archons would completely abandon their lands was foreign to them. Even the citizens of Mondstadt mostly believed the Barbatos was still watching them from afar, and if he wasn't, the four winds were still guarding them.

Cyril noticed their expressions, "Lordran was abandoned by the ones who created it, and all that was left were Undead, hollows, and all kinds of beasts and monsters running unchecked across every corner of the land."

Kaeya made a noise of understanding, "You're afraid of these hollows and monsters coming to Teyvat, that's why you've decided to explain all of this to us."

"Yes. I would not let my disdain for the past stop me from making sure this land is prepared for what may come." Cyril nodded.

"So what's this pile of bones and that weird sword used for then?" Amber gestured at the bonfire.

"Undead draw power and comfort from these devices, called bonfires." Cyril answered easily, "Observe."

He pulled out an estus flask, setting it down on the ground in front of him. He then pulled out a dagger and cut a line across his uncovered left palm. His action drew some winces from his friends, but that quickly turned to surprise when he drank from the flask and his wounds disappeared.

He then kneeled, pulling out a sliver of humanity to kindle the fire. He probably should've done this first, in hindsight, but he'd been too caught up in his presentation.

"What is that?" Jean asked, eyeing the glowing black sprite in his hand with a frown.

"I do not actually know, but it is called 'humanity' in my land. I know little of soul theory myself, but some say it is the part of the soul that is lost when an Undead is killed. Lose too much of it, and it causes one to go Hollow." Cyril didn't look like he believed it, "Either way, it is something that Undead need in order to become whole again. It is also used to kindle these bonfires."

Luckily for him, the act of kindling succeeded, the flames roared to life in that familiar perpetual burning Cyril had grown so used to. He made sure to show off holding the estus flask near the flame as it filled up with liquid fire.

"As you can see, bonfires are a source of healing for us Undead, but more importantly, when killed, an Undead wakes up at the last bonfire they rested at." Cyril looked down at the bonfire fondly. "I will admit, the warmth of these flames did much to assuage me after my failures throughout my travels."

There was a period of silence at that.

"...Did...did that happen often?" Amber asked.

"All the time. Despite our common affliction, Undead were more often than not inclined to fight to the death upon seeing one another, because of how we strengthen ourselves. And that's not counting the poor individuals that'd already gone hollow. Mindless and hostile to all. Sometimes, I wonder why I never went hollow myself, despite the number of times I'd been struck down." Cyril sighed, lost in his memories and not noticing the rapidly dropping mood of his listeners.

"That's...terrible," someone whispered quietly. The words snapped him back to the current moment, but he wasn't able to identify who'd spoken.

"It was something we had to accept." He shook his head in response, "Those unable to do so did not last long. The pain of death never truly fades, but eventually one can become accustomed to it. Though that mainly applies to being killed by 'mundane' methods. I still had to rest and recompose myself often, as there is quite a list of unconventional ways I've been defeated-"

"Cyril." He felt someone's hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Jean looking at him, before shaking her head to stop his story. He noticed Amber, Mona, and Sucrose looking positively heartbroken, while Kaeya, Eula, and Albedo were stone-faced. Lisa was morose, similar to Jean's own expression.

"My apologies," Cyril bowed his head immediately, "It's easy to forget that despite our lands' similarities, the differences are still ever-present and significant. I did not intend to cause any discomfort."

Some of them looked like they still wanted to say something, but they kept silent for now. Cyril took that as a signal to continue.

"My first goal this morning is to impress upon you all how foreign, and therefore potentially dangerous, items from Lordran can be. My second is to inform you that I wish to begin writing a sort of...bestiary or encyclopedia of my lands. It will hopefully serve as helpful information for you and anyone you feel it is important to share that information with." Cyril began wrapping up his little show, "I will also be willing to further discuss my lands and history with those who are interested."

He paused for several moments.

"Lastly, with a bonfire successfully lit, I am at your disposal for high-risk assignments. I know it may sound like me attempting to stay in your good graces, given that my existence is an affront to the natural order. Because of that, I understand if you'd rather have nothing to do with me from this point forward. I only ask that you allow me to provide you with my writings and that you let me leave in peace, if you so wish."

Jean looked stricken at his words, surprising him. Eula's and Mona's eyes had narrowed into upset glares. Kaeya had put his face in his palm, sighing deeply. Sucrose looked unsure of what to say and Albedo simply gave him an impassive look. Lisa had folded her arms, a frown marring her normally jovial expression.

But it was Amber's expression that caught him off-guard. She looked livid.

"How could you say that?" She snapped at him.

He wasn't sure exactly she was referring to, but did his best to respond.

"I only wish to ensure that Mondstadt is somewhat prepared-"

"No! How...how could you suggest we start using you as fodder!" Amber's voice trembled a bit. Were those tears in her eyes?

That threw him for a loop. Would it not make sense for the individual who could return to life to take on the most dangerous missions? Before he could voice the question, someone else spoke up.

"You implied that you didn't deserve to exist…" Mona shook her head in disbelief, and no little frustration, "That's just...a horrible thing to say about yourself…"

"..." Cyril attempted to find something to reply with, but he was coming up blank. Amber and Mona appeared to be genuinely hurt by his statements. The rest of the group seemed to also be experiencing varying levels of incense at his words.

Cyril's thoughts turned to the past. Back in Lordran, there'd been one human he'd met who didn't react with disgust upon learning of his undead curse. Only one. And she'd had the benefit of having an undead family member.

So it was a shock to him that they didn't immediately view him with suspicion or anger at having hidden this key information from them. Then, he realized that unlike him, they weren't exposed to the prejudice that was standard in his lands. They weren't raised in a culture that despised the Undead.

While some of them were understandably wary or unsure what to think, in hindsight, it might have been excessive to expect outright animosity against him.

"I...apologize. It's no slight against any of you, but I was honestly expecting a more hostile reaction to this information." Cyril gave a deep bow, "I did not mean to offend."

His words seemed to mollify Amber and Mona, while the others became less tense.

"...I won't deny being surprised, and maybe even somewhat worried about the information you've shared," Jean began, "But you've been nothing except a hard-working, earnest, and gallant individual in the weeks you've been here. There is no way I could condemn you, or anything even close to such an action."

"..." Cyril's eyes widened, before he broke into a soft smile, "If only the leaders of our countries shared those sentiments...I can see that the others support your words. For that...you all have my thanks."

He finally got some smiles and a few nods in response to his grateful words.

"Still, we probably shouldn't go around spreading this information…" Kaeya pointed out as the mood of the group began to lift.

"That's true. We should sort the information Cyril is willing to share with us into categories in order to decide who we'll pass it on to," Jean tapped her cheek thoughtfully, "Cyril, how worried are you about these harmful items or beings making it to Teyvat?"

"...Frankly, I'm not entirely sure of the danger myself. If it were just some nameless hollows in tattered gear and armed with rusted weapons, I would trust any trained professional to handle them with no issues." Cyril frowned, "But there are other beings or forces that could even destroy an entire city."

"Do you mean something like the Darksign appearing on our own citizens?" Jean asked, sounding not at all happy with that idea. Which was perfectly understandable.

"No, I believe there is little chance of that happening. Only the humans of my world are susceptible, as far as I can tell. The reason I say this is because I've observed that though we may look similar on the surface, the composition of our souls are different from your peoples' souls. Though I have no idea as to why this is the case," Cyril shook his head. Albedo and Lisa looked intensely interested once more, but held themselves back for now.

"That's good news, at least." Kaeya shook his head, then stretched and yawned. "I don't know what I was expecting when I woke up this morning, but all this wasn't it."

Cyril chuckled in response, before refocusing. "What I am more worried about is monsters, murderers, and all kinds of unsavory things making themselves known. As an extreme example, there was an unknown, eldritch force that wiped out an entire city of people, twisting the city's inhabitants into horrid monikers of their original form, and causing them to attack all others on sight. We called it the Abyss."

"Oh, so that's why you were asking all those questions about the Abyss Order before…" Lisa realized.

"Yes, the shared name caught my attention at first, though I have since concluded that there is no relation between Teyvat's Abyss Order and the Abyss that plagued my lands." Cyril nodded in confirmation. "Which, in hindsight, makes sense."

"You sound like you have quite the history with this Abyss you speak of," Albedo pointed out curiously.

"Two large cities, almost as large as Anor Londo, were driven to complete destruction by the Abyss." Cyril grimaced, "It can corrupt both body and mind, and by the time one realizes, it is normally too late. If anything Abyss-related ever appears, it would be best that I handle it, as I have a method of protection against its influence."

"..." The group fell into a thoughtful silence.

"It appears we have much to learn…" Jean finally said, "I believe we'll need some time to go over the information you've provided us so far, Cyril. Do you plan on beginning to work on compiling the information on Lordran immediately?"

"Yes, it would be best if I could get the key information recorded so it may be copied quickly. That would be the most efficient method to go about this." Cyril nodded, "If it's alright with Lady Lisa, I'll be utilizing the library for this."

"Of course." Lisa smiled, "And I'll be glad to lend a hand too, as your editor."

"M-Me too!" Sucrose nodded with a determined expression. He noticed that she was carrying the journal he'd left with her, her fingers tightening around it.

"You have my thanks." Cyril inclined his head gratefully, "I'm sure you have much to discuss amongst yourselves. If you have any questions, please seek me out immediately. For now, I will go about finishing this bonfire. Ah, the flames are mystical in nature, and won't spread to burnable material."

The leaders of the Knights of Favonius nodded at his words, breaking into their own conversations with one another as they began filtering out of the room.

He pulled out some stones to make a ring around the bonfire. He'd just dropped a large amount of information, of rather fantastical nature, on them, but they seemed to be taking it well.

No, they were handling this better than he could've ever imagined. The fact that they still considered him an ally or friend was stunning, in all honesty. It was baffling.

He felt someone poke his chainmail through the gap at his elbow joint. He turned to find Amber watching him, a small smile on her face. "You okay?"

"I am well, La- Amber." He quickly corrected himself. "I must admit, you and the other knights took my revelations with remarkable aplomb."

"Did you think we'd throw you out or something?" Amber pouted, though there was some hurt in her eyes at the very idea.

"Despite bearing it, I do not understand the mysteries of the Darksign. It wouldn't have surprised me to have been exiled for security purposes when facing such a mystery." Cyril didn't repeat aloud what he'd said about how Undead were treated in his world. He doubted Amber would appreciate it.

Her expression turned rebellious at his words, but he could tell she understood where he was coming from.

"Heh. I was right though, wasn't I?" Mona spoke up, apparently having stayed behind as well. She had a smug expression on her face, her arms folded as she grinned at him.

"Yes, you were. I suppose I still haven't fully grasped the nature of Teyvat's people yet. Yet I am glad to be proven wrong." Cyril inclined his head in acknowledgment of Mona's earlier encouragement. "Would you care to join me for lunch? I wish to express my gratitude for your kind words."

Mona flushed at his earnest thanks, averting her eyes and twirling her hair a bit. "I…I suppose that's acceptable."

"Would you like to join as well, Amber? I regret my preconceptions of your reactions, and I can only thank you for your kindness and acceptance." Cyril asked her as well.

"...Sure!" Amber glanced at Mona, whose expression had returned to its normal impassiveness, "I'd love to!"

The two young women seemed slightly preoccupied after that, but Cyril couldn't quite figure out why.

Regardless, he was happy to have those who trusted him even after such a (relatively) short time.

He would do his utmost to ensure that trust is well-earned.

Chapter Text

Cyril already knew that Lisa had a sharp mind from how quickly and thoroughly she'd questioned him about the unique magics of his world, but he hadn't truly appreciated her prodigious abilities until she'd taken it upon herself to become his editor in all but name for his writings.

In a way, she was serving as an intermediate step for his firsthand knowledge to be translated into usable information for the people of Teyvat.

At first, his writing was focused primarily on bestiary-like entries about common adversaries, but he soon found himself expounding on the lore, technology, culture, and other more encyclopedic topics with her help. Both her patience and fascination with the subjects at hand did much to ease his feelings about this whole ordeal.

"Hmm…" Cyril frowned at the parchment before him. At the moment though, he was currently working alone, as Lisa had gone to rest for the night some time earlier.

Many of the larger, unique threats of his previous home he could safely ignore, given that most had already met their end by his own hands. Still, there were a myriad of things that could pose a danger to the safety of an innocent traveler if they made their way to Teyvat.

With a start, he realized he'd become too focused on the types of hollows one could encounter, getting fixated on their equipment and techniques. But the people of Teyvat are at least already familiar with how to fight other humanoid opponents. The difference in magic was probably the only major change.

It might be more prudent to begin some entries on the more creature-like adversaries such as the undead dogs that plagued him to no end or the deadly basilisks armed with horrid curses. Lady Sucrose had already begun on that end, given her fascination with his journal, so perhaps he should be focusing on similar topics as well.

With that in mind, he continued to tackle his task throughout the night with unflinching fervor.

Lisa Minci was of the mind that if one couldn't enjoy life, then life wasn't worth living. Some would call her lazy, but she was well aware what the consequences of unchecked ambitions could be. Of course, she acknowledged that taking the complete opposite approach to life wasn't exactly solving the problem, but it was more enjoyable that way.

That's why despite her fascination with the knowledge Cyril had to share, she still made sure to take breaks for tea and get a full night's sleep. She hoped that by doing so, she could get the high-strung knight to relax at least a little bit.

He just seemed to be too fired up by the fact that she and her fellow Mondstadters hadn't shunned or exiled him.

She felt a pang in her chest at that. While she wasn't as close to him as someone like Amber was, she'd come to appreciate his company whenever he came to ask questions or do research. So it hurt a bit to see how utterly surprised he was when they accepted the truth about him.

But that's why she had to do her best to support him now, to prove once and for all that he had nothing to fear.

Already knowing that she'd find him at the desk he'd been given to do his work at, she could only sigh in exasperation as she entered the library and found his position unchanged. He'd pulled another all-nighter, making it his third one since he'd revealed his past.

"Want some tea, hon?" Lisa changed the way she addressed Cyril constantly, hoping to see some kind of reaction from him eventually.

"Ah, my thanks, Lady Lisa," Cyril looked up and smiled smoothly.

Taking in his sitting figure, Lisa had to admit she much preferred him without his helmet. There were times that his expressionless helmet came across as...cold. At least until he spoke.

"I've been meaning to ask, since you call Amber and Jean without titles why don't you do the same for me?" Lisa latched onto an easy topic to continue their conversation, "I'm not even a proper knight, and I like to think we're past the point of that formality at least."

"...Uh, my apologies, it's a bit of a habit at this point. I will endeavor to call you by just 'Lisa' from this point onwards." Cyril replied seriously.

Lisa raised an eyebrow at that. She'd heard how he'd resisted changing the way he addressed Amber and Jean, so why was it that he agreed so readily this time? Was it because he was used to it by now? Or was it something else?

She decided to just address that curiosity directly, "Oh~? That was pretty easy..."

Cyril stopped writing for a second, his expression turning somewhat sheepish, "In all honesty, I have always felt that I would be unlikely to best you in a verbal argument. Therefore I have no intention to try to do so."

She blinked, feeling somewhat flattered but also bewildered, "O-Okay...well, I won't look a gift horse in the mouth…"

Cyril just smiled and returned to writing after taking a sip of her wonderful tea. He also admitted to himself internally that partaking in Lisa's afternoon tea time had given him a finer appreciation for enjoying the strange beverage.

At the very least, it certainly beat chugging estus flasks in the middle of combat.

After Lisa regained her composure she remembered her original reason for coming to the library earlier than usual (she would normally join him after eating breakfast), "Cyril, dear, you should take a break. You've been working for several days straight."

"There is no need to worry, I'm-" Cyril began.

"If you tell me again that you don't need food or rest, I'll be very upset." Lisa frowned severely.

Cyril's mouth snapped shut with an audible clack.

"Jean's already expanded the Knights' patrols, and she's been personally going over their reconnaissance reports line by line,'' Lisa shook her head, "You don't have to be in such a rush. I know there's no evidence that it'll continue on like this, but there was a large gap between the time you appeared in Teyvat and when that coiled sword did, right?"

"I suppose that's true…" Cyril frowned, "But I cannot help feeling somewhat apprehensive when I think about the various things from Lordran that may cause trouble here... "

"Which is understandable. But," Lisa's eyes narrowed, "You still need some kind of rest. And don't think you can fool me, mister. I know that sleep still does you some good."

"Yes, food and rest do much to maintain morale. But I have gone for far longer periods without either," he protested.

"And I'm saying you don't need to do that right now," she immediately countered, "There's no reason to push yourself that far."

"..." Cyril fell silent, as if pondering how to respond.

Lisa decided to push her advantage, "Everyone's worried about you. Klee was asking when you'd be able to play with her, and Amber's been more distracted these past few days."

She could see his resolve crumble at her words.

"...Very well. Allow me to finish this current entry, then I shall take a break," he finally said.

Lisa smiled in triumph, "Good. Come meet me by my desk when you're finished."

With her goal accomplished, the purple-clad librarian went to grab a bite to eat and then take care of her morning work.

In all honesty, despite coming to know Lisa quite well over his acclimation to these lands, and now her help with his writings, Cyril was still somewhat intimidated by her. Even with her normally cordial nature, she could be quite firm, as he'd just experienced for himself.

And as he noted before, it didn't help that like many of the female Vision users he'd encountered, she was strikingly attractive. The main difference was that she tended to flaunt it as well, which tended to catch him off-guard whenever she teased him or initiated any kind of contact.

Shelving those thoughts for now, Cyril finished up an entry about the aggressive plants of Lordran and how to combat them. After making sure the parchment was secure and his writing equipment was properly stowed, he went to go meet Lisa at her desk.

He found her sorting the previous day's returned books in preparation for reshelving, "Lisa, I've finished the current entry. I decided to shift my focus to the fauna of Lordran, since they can be just as deadly as a skilled hollow. Even more so since there are many that would be unfamiliar to the people of Teyvat."

"Oh? That makes sense," Lisa's eyes lit up in curiosity for a moment before she blinked it away, "So, how do you plan on taking your break?"

Cyril paused at the unexpected question, "I'm unsure. It's past breakfast now so perhaps I will just go and rest in my quarters?"

"Hmm…" Lisa put a finger on her cheek thoughtfully.

Cyril wondered why she seemed so invested in the specifics of his rest plans. So long as he took a break from his self-imposed workload, he assumed she'd be happy, but he got the feeling if he tried to leave right now she would stop him.

"How about another round of tea? And maybe some snacks?" Lisa suggested, gesturing at the little setup she had for her beloved tea breaks.

Cyril saw no reason to refuse her suggestion, "If you're alright with me imposing."

"Great! The tea's still hot, and you can help yourself to whichever snacks you want," Lisa handed him a small plate and teacup on a saucer, "I'm almost done here, so I'll join you in a moment."

He took the proffered items graciously, pouring himself his second cup of tea this morning and taking a few of the cookies that Lisa always kept on hand. Seeing no immediate seats near Lisa's desk, he simply stood to the side to enjoy his refreshments.

After a few moments Lisa looked away from her tasks to check how he was doing, giving him a strange look, "Why in the world are you standing up during your tea time?"

He had remarkably steady hands, but it was a bit amusing to see him quietly juggling the teacup and plates as he indulged himself.

"Er…" Cyril hadn't wanted to walk the distance from Lisa's desk to the nearest table, not to mention the fact that the library's tables weren't intended to be dining tables in the first place. So he did the first thing that came to mind, which was sit down on the soft carpet near her desk.

"..." Lisa stared at him for several moments, before shaking her head with a sigh, "Well, as long as you're comfortable…"

Cyril simply returned her exasperation with a smile, "This carpet is quite soft. Much more pleasant than an average seat of rest back in Lordran."

"Don't they have tables in Lordran?" Lisa huffed lightly.

"Unfortunately, functional ones can be hard to come by." Cyril replied, injecting a hint of cheekiness into his tone.

The librarian just shook her head good-naturedly in response. She seemed to have finished her work, and after a brief moment of hesitation joined him in sitting on the carpet.

"I feel like this is poor manners...but you're right, it's not a bad place to sit," Lisa ran her fingers across the fine hairs of the carpet.

"Indeed," Cyril set his now empty plate and cup to the side.

"Was it good?" Lisa asked.

"Your tea was as impeccable as always. And the cookies were delicious as well." Cyril answered honestly.

Lisa seemed happy at his praise. He had no way of knowing at the time, but Lisa actually enjoyed baking snacks for herself whenever she had spare time, and the batch of cookies he'd just consumed were one such batch.

"You seem to be feeling better." Lisa suddenly commented.

"Is that so?" Cyril tilted his head questioningly, "I suppose things have been rather hectic recently."

"I wasn't talking about your workload…" Lisa met his gaze with an appraising eye, "Be honest, sweetie, you feel better now that your secret's out."

Cyril pondered her words, "I suppose that may be true. I'm not one to mull over such things, but in Lordran the assumption was that everyone you met was Undead. The fact that no one here knew the truth may have weighed on my mind more than I thought."

"Hmm…well, I don't think anyone you've informed is suddenly afraid you'll eat our souls or something." Lisa smiled, "If people were afraid of everything someone is capable of, Vision users would be the most feared individuals in the world."

"Haha, Miss Mona told me something similar. Though aren't vision users considered some of the most formidable?" Cyril smiled back, "Though I suppose it is somewhat counteracted by the sheer diversity of elemental powers here."

"You could say that," Lisa conceded, "But respect and appreciation are just as common as well."

"Fair enough." Cyril nodded, "Though being granted powers by the gods and being cursed to be a soul-consuming undead are very different things, I would say."

Lisa fell into silent agreement at that, unsure of what else to say. Instead, she opted to mention something else, "I overheard from one of the maids that your bed is hardly used. Don't you like to sleep here and there?"

"Ah…" Cyril looked a bit embarrassed, "I must admit, I find it more comfortable to rest in a sitting position. It was my preferred posture of rest all throughout my travels, even more so with the warm flames of a bonfire nearby."

"Surely lying down properly would still be better for sleeping?" Lisa raised an eyebrow.

"I haven't tried to do that often," Cyril shrugged, "The only times I find myself splayed out in such a position are after...well, I wake up from a different kind of sleep."

Lisa winced at that, making Cyril feel a bit awkward, before a mischievous light appeared in her eyes, "Okay, I have an idea. I'm sure you'll find it fun."

"I see…" Cyril wasn't sure if he liked the look on her face, but saw no reason to reject whatever proposal she had in mind, "What did you have in mind?"

A few moments later, Cyril was no longer sure if he was fully cognizant anymore. It would serve to explain how he found himself lying on the carpet he'd been sitting on just now, with his head in Lisa's lap.

He believed this was called a lap pillow.

"How is it?" Lisa's voice had an undeniable tinge of mischievous smugness.

"...Comfortable." Cyril avoided looking directly up at her, given what would be in his field of view if he did.

"Really?" She hummed mirthfully, "You don't look relaxed. In fact, I would say you're pretty tense."

"...I can't fathom why that's the case…" He muttered in response. The sarcasm in his tone only served to make Lisa's amused smile wider.

After a brief silence, she began to idly play with Cyril's hair, making him straighten in surprise. She wasn't doing anything particularly intrusive, just twirling a strand or two around with her fingers, but he had to wonder what prompted this course of action.

"Err...Lisa, what are you doing?" He asked, still frozen on the spot.

"Oh, sorry," Her tone was sheepish, "I was just thinking about everything you've been working on…"

"Is there something specific that troubles you?" Cyril moved to sit up to be in a better position to converse properly, but was promptly blocked by Lisa's hand pushing down on his chest. A quick glance revealed that she was pondering how to respond, so he obediently returned to his previous position.

"I suppose it just feels like after all the things you've told me...certain things I have on the mind feel inconsequential when you compare them." She sighed.

"..." He frowned thoughtfully, before replying, "I don't know what troubles you, but for us, we have to remember not to let the curse of the Undead overshadow other parts of our identities as well. Down that path is the cruel fate of hollowing. As such, we make sure not to forget the little things, so to speak."

"Hmm…what kind of little things?" Lisa asked.

"I once lost my sword in a nearby lake during an intense battle," Cyril cracked a reminiscent smile, "Ask any of my companions how much I complained about it after that. But losing a simple sword is but a minor inconvenience when compared against being afflicted by the Darksign, right? Being able to joke or become frustrated about these smaller problems is a sign of strength or confidence. In a way, I suppose. I believe the specific methods vary from person to person."

"I see…" Lisa continued to stroke his hair thoughtfully, seemingly gathering her thoughts, "...The truth is, for a long time, I've had a certain opinion about the Archons and Visions. I...don't like the idea that the gods or archons are watching or judging us very much. I respect them for their power and knowledge, but I can't help but think that there might be some deep, hidden catch or cost to granting us Visions."

"A sensible suspicion, if you ask me," Cyril replied. Gods were fickle beings, after all.

"But in the end, it feels pointless. Humans cause more harm to each other with or without visions…" LIsa trailed off, "So I worry that my thoughts are...petty."

"Hm." Cyril paused to ponder her words, "I am probably not the best person for advice, but I advocate vigilance over laxity. I don't think there's anything wrong with having these suspicions, so long as you don't let them rule you. As for whether such ideas are petty or not...well, the fact that you're worried about it so much means they have weight in your eyes. Rather, it would be petty for myself or others to dismiss your concerns without a second thought."

Lisa's eyes widened in surprise, before she giggled, "Look at you~, you ended up comforting me rather than the other way around. Aren't you smooth?"

In truth, she was hiding her embarrassment. Given how mature she normally acted it wasn't common for others to give her advice or comfort her.

"Err…I had no untoward intentions…" Cyril scratched his cheek sheepishly, eliciting another round of giggles from the amused witch.

Before she could think of how to tease him more, the door to the library opened and Kaeya walked in.

"Hey Lisa, I was- whoa, when did you two get so close?" Kaeya reacted with mild surprise at the sight before him.

"Oh? We've always been very...good...friends, haven't we, Cyril?" Lisa replied, an unmistakable gleam of mischievousness in her eyes.

"Yes," Cyril didn't rise to the bait, but at the same time, made no move to stand up, "Lisa has expressed concern over the amount of work I've been doing, and so offered to let me rest. I'm grateful to her."

"..." Lisa looked away at that, whether to pout at his lack of humor or for another reason he did not know.

"Huh. Imagine that." Kaeya's expression changed to that of his characteristic cross between a grin and smirk, "I was thinking the same thing to be honest. About how busy you've been making yourself, I mean. How do you feel about grabbing some drinks this evening?"

"The Angel's Share?" Cyril asked.

"Of course." Kaeya nodded.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt…" Cyril thought about the progress he'd made, "Yes, I'll take better care not to become too absorbed in my work. A night of drinking sounds like a pleasant excursion."

"Great! I'll drop by later and we can head over together. I have a friend who'll be joining us too. I'm sure you'll get along swimmingly," Kaeya nodded.

With that, the cavalry captain left the library as quickly as he'd arrived.

"I suppose I should try to get some more work done before tonight's activities," Cyril moved to sit up, this time Lisa making no motion to stop him.

"Aw. I guess that's fine…" Lisa pursed her lips cutely, before giving him a sly smile, "So? How was it?"

"How was what?" He titled his head in response.

"My lap pillow."

"Eh?" He froze, "It was...comfortable."

"Heehee. You already said that." Lisa pointed out.

"Then…" Cyril racked his brain frantically, "It was somewhat embarrassing. However, it was also very pleasant, so you have my thanks."

"..." Lisa looked like she hadn't expected him to say something like that, "I-It's no fun if you just say it like that…"

"My…apologies?" Cyril didn't seem to understand what he was apologizing for exactly, but figured it was the right thing to say.

"Never mind," Lisa sighed, "Let's get back to work then, shall we? I'll look over the writing you did last night."

"Ah, of course. Thank you again for your efforts." Cyril nodded, taking a moment to stretch before going back to his desk.

Kaeya's disposition wasn't a common one in places like Lordran, but Cyril found him to be quite agreeable. The type of person appears lackadaisical, but who is dangerous to his enemies. And quite witty and cordial with his friends.

Perhaps that's why along with Venti, Kaeya was one of Cyril's most common drinking companions. Neither of them were as close with Cyril as someone like Amber, but the Outrider didn't indulge in alcohol anywhere near as much as those two.

The streets of Mondstadt were still busy even at sunset, a sign of the prosperity the city was currently enjoying. Cyril still found it interesting to watch merchants peddle their wares, comparing the more lively and diverse methods employed over the few merchants he'd met during his travels across Lordran.

He turned to the icy cavalry captain accompanying him, "So, I have yet to meet this friend of yours?"

"Nope, she's a pretty reclusive person by nature. And she's pretty busy." Kaeya explained, "But she enjoys a good evening drink here and there, so I thought today would be a good chance to introduce you."

"I see," Cyril nodded, "I look forward to it. "

The two of them entered the Angel's Share, which was surprisingly pretty empty.

"A sparse crowd today, isn't it?" Cyril commented.

"Ah, Diona's place is running a special today, much to her own displeasure," Kaeya chuckled, "Most of the drinkers will be over there tonight, so we have a bit of privacy."

Cyril nodded in understanding, before finding a most oddly-dressed nun sitting at the bar. She had remarkably pale skin and deep red hair the color of wine. Her vestments were a bit revealing and somewhat spiky too. And she was glaring fierce daggers at the cavalry captain beside him.

"Ah, there she is!" Kaeya shot the nun a wide grin, her glare doing little to daunt him.

Unsure if he should say anything, Cyril simply followed Kaeya to the bar.

"Kaeya, you…" The nun growled, trailing off menacingly.

"Now, now, let's get introduced, shall we?" Kaeya gestured towards her, "Meet Sister Rosaria, of the Favonius Church. Rosaria, meet Cyril, our resident knight from another land."

Rosaria sighed in defeat, "Like this dolt said, I'm Rosaria. Nice to meet you, I guess."

"Ah, yes," Cyril quickly nodded, "I'm Cyril, of Astora. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. Pardon me, but have we met before?"

Kaeya suddenly burst in a short fit of laughter, leaving Cyril confused and Rosaria glaring at him once more.

"This is the first time we've met in person," Rosaria answered after a moment.

"What she means is that she's been spying on you plenty, Cyril," Kaeya supplied instantly.

"O-Oh, I see…" Cyril blinked.

"Don't worry, I keep an eye on anyone or anything that's a potential threat," Rosaria admitted, "I also didn't intend for us to meet face to face so soon…"

"But didn't you tell me he's pretty much safe in your eyes by this point?" Kaeya seemed to get a rise out of acting all innocent while spilling all kinds of information.

"You'll stop speaking if you know what's good for you," Rosaria's glare intensified, if such a thing was even possible.

Deciding to intervene before Kaeya went too far, Cyril interjected, "Wariness is both understandable and commendable. Though I'm glad to hear that you no longer view me as a threat."

"Oh no, you're still plenty of a threat," Rosaria turned to him, "Just not a threat to Mondstadt, and that's what matters to me."

"Ah…" He made a noise of understanding.

"She was also there when you told us about your past," Kaeya added.

"She was? I suppose we did not check for eavesdroppers," the Undead mused, not particularly bothered as she seemed to be quite trusted by Kaeya, "I'm surprised I'm still in your good graces after that."

"Actions speak louder than words. If anything, I can't really reconcile the image of a 'soul-eating monster' with a guy that takes more quaint afternoon strolls than any grandma or grandpa in town." Rosaria shook her head, "To me, you're pretty much at the same level as someone like Jean in terms of behavior."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that." Cyril smiled appreciatively.

"...Hm," Rosaria stared at him for another moment, before turning away, "Let's get to drinking already."

"She actually approves of you quite a bit," Kaeya leaned over and whispered, "She has a lot of respect for Jean so that's some high praise from her."

"Is that so?" Cyril whispered back in mild surprise.

He was actually somewhat gladdened to see there were forces within the shadows protecting Mondstadt alongside the very public Knights of Favonius. And competent forces at that, as he could tell Rosaria was no stranger to combat. He was distinctly reminded of the soft-spoken but deadly Ciaran, who served Gwyn. Speaking of the former knight-assassin…

Rosaria shot Kaeya a suspicious look as he whispered to Cyril, but didn't say anything aloud. The two of them took seats on either side of the nun and placed their orders.

"So you are proficient in the art of espionage, Sister Rosaria?" Cyril asked in a rather direct manner.

"Just call me Rosaria, I hardly deserve the title," Rosaria replied in an almost reflexive manner before giving him a strange look, "I've never had someone just ask me that straight up, but I'll humor you. I keep an eye on things from the shadows, sometimes directly, sometimes indirectly. But if you want someone actually skilled in subterfuge? Then you can ask Eyepatch over here."

"No comment," Kaeya shot them both a cheeky smile.

"I see…" Cyril rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "I once met someone of a similar countenance to yourself. She was quite a thoughtful individual, even if I feared she would gut me with her daggers every other moment."

"Sounds like a story there," Rosaria raised an eyebrow as she took a swig out of her drink, "I don't have any plans to stab you yet, if that's what you're asking."

"Not at all. I only feared such an outcome because I had slain a person most dear to her. Not out of malice, but because he was beyond saving." Cyril explained solemnly.

"...Definitely a story there," Rosaria shook her head, "Is there a point you're getting at? I don't think you brought that up just to tell a story over drinks."

"My apologies," Cyril paused, "You see, she did not have the same…affliction as myself. As such, despite her outward politeness, I could tell she viewed me with suspicion and disdain. It did lessen later, but that doesn't matter now."

"Yeah? You think I should act like her or something?" Rosaria set her mug down and eyed him curiously. To the side, Cyril could see Kaeya listening intently as well.

"I suppose the point I am attempting to reach is…to ask how I appear in your eyes." Cyril furrowed his brow, "I admit that despite the words of those around me, I am still somewhat bewildered at the acceptance I've received in response to my status as a bearer of the Darksign."

"..." Rosaria pursed her lips thoughtfully, "I've got my own skeletons to deal with, so I can sort of see where you're coming from. But personally I've got bigger things to worry about than what others think of me. Still, like I said before, actions speak louder than words. You're like a model knight or something. And if you were planning something crazy like eating all of our souls or whatever, why the hell would you tell us about yourself in such detail?"

"That's true…" Cyril conceded.

"Whatever the guys from your homeland put you through, it seems to me like you're fishing for a reason to get someone from Mondstadt to treat you that way and acting surprised when they don't," Rosaria continued, "Forget that and just take the goodwill for what it is. The archons know we need more of it."

"...You speak words of wisdom, Sister Rosaria." Cyril gave a wry smile, bowed his head in thanks, "I will take your advice to heart."

"Call me Rosaria, I said." Rosaria huffed, "Now drink something already. You're making me self-conscious here."

Cyril laughed lightly in response, before downing nearly half of his drink in good cheer. After that, the group's conversational topics lightened considerably, and the rest of the evening was passed in levity and boisterousness (much to the annoyance of a certain red-haired bartender).

The Knight of Astora couldn't see it, but to the side, Kaeya also had a satisfied smile on his face. He knew organizing this little evening drink would pay off. Hopefully it would get Cyril to relax a little more too.

As for Cyril himself, his conversation with Lisa in the morning and his conversation with Rosaria in the evening had done much to ease him into his "post-reveal" situation, building off of the foundation Amber and Mona had already established. Though he knew not everyone would be so accepting of his Undead nature, the words shared with him today did much to alleviate his concerns.

He couldn't help but wonder if the people of the other great cities were so accepting?

Chapter Text

Eula Lawrence was someone who marched to the beat of her own drum. Inscrutable to most and eccentric to others, few chose to remain in her company for long even if they'd gotten past her family's rather horrid reputation as tyrants and despots. That suited her fine, for now. She had nothing to prove to those who couldn't look past the surface.

Still, there were those that knew the real her underneath that prickly exterior, those who could really throw her off of her rhythm.

Said individuals usually came from a handful of her fellow knights or the occasional citizen that saw past their prejudices, but the two on her mind the most these days were her dear friend Amber and the enigmatic knight Cyril.

Especially after Cyril spoke about his past. She'd never admit it out loud, but she'd spent quite some time reading everything he'd written about his homeland and its inhabitants. Part of it was her due diligence in being prepared for possible threats, but she also wished to understand the strange knight as well. Few individuals caught her interest in such a way.

To begin with, despite his usual polite tone of voice, he didn't actually seem to have an in-depth knowledge of noble etiquette.

She would know.

One could guess that the nobility of Lordran or Astora were simply different from those of Mondstadt, but she had the feeling that he just hadn't actually interacted with people of high station regularly. It was a curious quirk to Eula.

Then there was his story about how the Undead were treated where he came from. Though the circumstances were quite far apart, the results struck a chord with her. Ostracized, loathed, and rejected by their homelands…yes, one could say Eula felt a certain sense of kinship with Cyril. Things had improved for her considerably in recent years, but the wounds of the past are not so easily forgotten.

She felt that Cyril had similar thoughts. Despite the fact that he'd wholly embraced Teyvat after his arrival, his conduct upon revealing his past was one of wariness and expectation of the worst. Eula had to admit that she understood where his attitude had come from, but she was also inexplicably happy everyone who was there and heard the story were quick to disabuse him of those notions.

But would the common citizen be so understanding of what he really was? Privately, Eula hoped so. But it certainly wasn't the time for them to make an announcement or anything like that.

Her internal musing was interrupted when a lightning bolt incinerated a hilichurl that had been charging at her.

"I see you're throwing around those lightning bolts of yours again. I assume you've been practicing?" Eula commented as the two of them continued to dispatch a hilichurl ambush.

It was his first major excursion since he'd thrown himself into writing his "encyclopedia" on Lordran. The Adventurer's Guild and Knights of Favonius were still working together on sorting through the information and deciding how to best disseminate it without outing Cyril's past to too many people.

In the meantime, he'd begun taking missions once more.

"Yes, it'd be remiss of me to not cast such a miracle properly while I claim to be a member of the Warriors of Sunlight." Cyril answered, "Lady Lisa also gave her approval earlier."

"It really is quite an effective attack. Though I'll be asking you to take off your gauntlets after this." Eula replied, her tone brooking no argument.

"Such injuries do little to slow me down in the first place…" Cyril muttered to himself, earning a slight glare from the icy claymore user and making him add, "Though your concern is appreciated."

Eula gave a huff in response, playing off her concern as pragmatism, "It wouldn't do for you to impair yourself or reduce your effectiveness on a mere diversion."

The hilichurls proved to be no issue, and after Eula was satisfied at Cyril's lack of injury, the two of them continued on with their primary mission: there'd been some word of unusual Treasure Hoarder activity so Eula and Cyril were sent to investigate and observe.

Treasure Hoarders were hardly the most threatening force that the Knights of Favonius had to handle, but they were still opportunistic criminals that preyed upon vulnerable targets. As such, Eula had no qualms about performing her duties in such a mission, and it seemed that Cyril shared her sentiments.

Though she did wonder what the Treasure Hoarders were getting up to so close to Stormterror's Lair. Ever since the Traveler had pacified Dvalin, the area had become safer, but still quite inhospitable for human habitation.

"During some of my spare time, I've taken the time to learn of your family's storied history, Lady Eula," Cyril commented as they traveled, his words making her freeze for a moment, "Truthfully, I never would've guessed that your relatives had such a reputation."

"...Is that so? What makes you say that?" Eula asked after a pregnant pause.

"I remember little of my family, but I feel that they must have had a considerable amount of influence on me during the formative years of my youth." Cyril furrowed his brow, his helmet tucked under his arm in that usual way he did whenever conversing casually, "I cannot imagine someone as accomplished and skilled as yourself hailing from a clan known for arrogance and decadence."

There was a brief silence.

It was rare that someone just…bulldozed their way into the issue of Eula's family. Amber came to mind, but even then the cheerful girl had never outright started a conversation like this before. She took a moment to wonder if he viewed this as just another conversational topic? He normally gave off an impression of polite tactfulness, but sometimes didn't seem to be on the same wavelength as others.

Regardless, she had to say something in return.

"It takes some confidence to insult someone's family right to their face," Eula shook her head, fighting down an amused smirk in order to maintain her flat expression, "Let alone make insinuations about another's upbringing."

Cyril's eyes widened, a sign of ignorance at the blunt manner he brought up the topic with, "My apologies. I remembered your statement about the Lawrence Clan and endeavored to learn more. I may have gotten carried away."

"It's just another grievance against you for me to remember," Eula shrugged, actually a bit happy at the compliments implicit within his earlier statement, "What made you bring up my rather estranged family all of a sudden?"

"Well, as I said before, I have little memory of my own family, so I admit to having a bit of a personal interest in the topic. I've also heard much about you from Amber, too." Cyril explained.

"That girl…" Eula sighed, before indulging his curiosity a bit, "Well, I like to think I had a good childhood, but after I realized I couldn't follow the path laid out for me, I left of my own accord. And it wasn't a pleasant parting."

Something in her manner seemed to tip off the Undead knight.

No matter what fundamental disagreements she had with her family, there was no changing that they were the ones that raised her. Even if she'd long since moved past their now hostile relationship, there was always a lingering hurt that remained.

"I didn't intend to bring up painful memories," Cyril inclined his head respectfully, "It takes a certain strength of character to forge one's own path and pursue one's own ideals. Doubly so when going against the wishes of your loved ones."

"..." Eula wasn't used to hearing such words. As such, she was caught off-guard by his perspective. Was it because he was an outsider looking in?

The average citizen of Mondstadt seemed to expect her to try to make up for her family's historical actions. Like it was a given for her to behave a certain way otherwise she'd invite the usual ridicule or disdain her family received. It wasn't malicious all the time, but there was always the underlying thought of "Ah, she's a good one," and the need to prove as such.

"It can't have been easy. I know from experience that when an idea is entrenched among the people…it'll be difficult to remove or change." Cyril continued with a grimace, likely remembering something he or other Undead had experienced.

"It…wasn't," Eula admitted honestly, much to her own surprise, "Like you guessed, my family's reputation has followed me for a long time. It still does…but that doesn't bother me much anymore."

There was a contentment in her voice that she didn't realize was present.

She'd never directly say it out loud to them, but with individuals like Amber and Jean or more recently Lumine around her, she was now happier than ever before. Having people that trusted her and that she could trust in return was a priceless gift that she was glad to have received.

Subconsciously, she hoped Cyril could find such strength from the people around him; perhaps even she herself could be one such person.

Cyril found Eula to still be somewhat enigmatic (unknowing that Eula's own thoughts towards him were similar) over the times they'd conversed, but going off of what Amber had told him and his own observations thus far, he was beginning to grasp her personality somewhat.

But nothing could've prepared him for the gentle smile that appeared on her face as she seemed to reminisce about something. It was…breathtaking, he had to admit.

"Joining the Knights of Favonius was likely the best choice I've made," Eula seemed to realize how sentimental she'd been acting, hastily adding, "Of course, being on the inside allows for many more opportunities to exact my revenge."

Cyril smothered a smile at that, finding her pride endearing rather than abrasive, "I see. I'm glad you continue to look forward, towards the future. I hope I'm able to do the same."

She seemed to have a bit of pink on her cheeks as she turned away, her whisper just barely audible, "It's not like me to slip up like that…"

Cyril wisely decided to pretend he didn't hear anything.

Some time later, the two of them arrived at what appeared to be a recently abandoned campsite. Cyril kept an eye out for any signs of trouble while Eula investigated the site.

"This is probably their camp, considering one of them forgot their insignia…" Eula held up a circular badge that denoted membership within the Treasure Hoarders, "Judging from the embers they probably left camp about an hour ago, maybe a bit more."

"Any indication as to their destination?" Cyril asked.

"They don't seem to be interested in heading into Stormterror's Lair itself, their tracks indicate they likely went into some of the caves nearby. Though aside from gathering iron ore, I don't see any reason they'd be up here…" Eula said with a frown.

"They may be looking for a secluded location to store their spoils. Perhaps we should see for ourselves?" Cyril suggested.

"That's a possibility. Treasure Hoarders are always looking for new places to hide their stolen goods." Eula nodded, remembering how difficult it could be to retrieve stolen goods even after apprehending the criminals themselves.

Cyril followed Eula's lead as she tracked the Treasure Hoarders. As they traveled further and further, a certain unsettling feeling overcame the Undead knight.

"...The air seems stagnant. And there's no sign of wildlife in the area…" Eula seemed to sense it as well.

"This…feels both familiar and unfamiliar. I must urge caution." Cyril quickly fastened his helmet, the tension apparent in his movements.

"Is it something from Lordran?" Eula turned to him, eyes wide.

"I'm unsure." Cyril shook his head, eyes narrowed as he scanned his surroundings for anything out of the ordinary, "But if another item or individual has crossed into Teyvat, I fear the Treasure Hoarders may have stumbled into something grave…"

On higher alert, the two of them began searching the rocky cliffs that bordered Stormterror's Lair. The entire time, there was a distinct lack of noise and activity that set them on edge. After a series of empty, uninhabited caves, they ran into something quite literally out of this world.

"This…" Eula stared at the mass of fog that obstructed the entrance of the cave in front of them.

"A gate of fog…" Cyril hummed, sounding rather irritated, "It seems another guest has arrived in Teyvat…"

"I saw no reference to something like this in your writings, care to explain?" Eula asked, still eyeing the writhing mist warily.

"I have heard many theories from travelers and scholars…" Cyril relaxed a bit, "The commonly accepted one is that due to the collapse of both time and space in Lordran, conflicts between places and individuals with…weight, so to speak, cause these walls of mist to appear."

"Conflicts? And the collapse of time and space?" Eula looked rather alarmed at his words.

"It is complicated. Have you read Sir Albedo's and my observations on white soapstones?" Cyril asked, continuing after receiving a tentative nod in response, "I once summoned an ally to fight against an animated golem of sorts. He seemed perfectly healthy when summoned, but only a little later I discovered his corpse, quite long dead I might add. Though whether he remained dead is questionable, as with all Undead. In short, time is strange in Lordran."

"..." Eula was speechless for a moment, "What…does that have to do with this wall of fog?"

"Well the theory is that places or individuals with powerful influence on the world around them are sometimes frozen in time, so to speak, such that when others of considerable strength like myself encounter them, the world will force us into contact." Cyril shook his head, "It's quite confusing for me as well. But a concrete example I know of is that I slew a demon that guarded one of the only passages through Lordran, but also encountered many other Undead that had arrived on the other side of that passage long before I had. They had to have slain the demon themselves, yet it was alive and well when I fought it. And it was hidden behind one of these gates of fog…"

"...I must say, Lordran sounds like a terrible place to live." Eula shook her head in disbelief.

"You are not the first person to say that to me…" Cyril smiled wryly.

"So, what does a fog gate being here mean for us right now?" Eula asked, returning to the business at hand.

"Optimistically, we can hope that a chunk of some long lost place has made its way to Teyvat, and that it is empty and harmless. Pessimistically, there is something strong and likely hostile on the other side of that gate." Cyril shrugged.

"Great." Eula sighed, "And the treasure hoarders' tracks lead right up to it…why would they choose to cross such an ominous-looking thing?"

"It is likely that this gate didn't manifest until I was close by," Cyril theorized, "Given the relative stability of Teyvat, there wouldn't have been any 'conflict' for a fog gate to form until another being or object from Lordran with a strong presence came into the vicinity."

"...I'm going to make sure you talk to Lisa and Albedo about this. We'll need to investigate this matter thoroughly." Eula stated flatly, "If it turns out having you around can contain unwanted guests with these gates, we may be able to lessen the danger surrounding these arrivals.

"Understandable. I'm no scholar but I'll do my utmost to support their efforts," Cyril nodded in acquiescence, "There are other cases in which fog gates may form, so I will be thorough in adding a new chapter to my writings."

"Good," Eula nodded in satisfaction, before giving the fog another once over, "So what do you propose we do now?"

"I can cross the gate. If it's a simple location, the gate should dissipate and we should be free to explore. If it's another being, I'll have to make contact with it first, as the gate will reform. If it's hostile…well, then I'll probably have to kill it before the gate can dissipate permanently." Cyril went over the possibilities in his head.

"I'm going with you." Eula said immediately.

"...I understand that I mentioned in my threat assessments that Vision users, especially skilled ones such as yourself, can likely handle anything except the most dangerous of foes from Lordran…But in cases where fog gates form, we will likely run into one of those 'most dangerous' foes…You must remember, I cannot be permanently killed.' Cyril advised with a frown.

Eula gave him a flat look, "I'm going with you, or we go back and submit a report and bring reinforcements. I'm not letting you get yourself killed, permanently or not."

"If there's a being on the other side, it may choose to cross over to this side of its own volition." Cyril argued, "It would be best if I investigated it now."

"Then I'm going with you." Eula repeated.

Cyril tried to think of a way to convince her it was too risky. Barring that, there was always the possibility of-

"And if you trick me and cross the gate yourself, I will, quite literally, never forgive you." Eula squinted at him suspiciously.

He stopped that line of thought immediately, his intentions having been seen through. Honestly, he felt a mixture of frustration and admiration at the show of stubbornness Eula was putting on. And also a bit of warmth at the obvious concern she was displaying.

"Very well," Cyril gave in, "But I sincerely hope you will prioritize your own safety."

"...Fine," Eula folded her arms crossly, before turning her glare towards the entrance, "Shall we go through?"

"Yes. Follow immediately behind me and you should be able to cross the fog gate as well," Cyril drew his sword and readied his shield. After a moment, he felt Eula's hand grip his shoulder tightly in preparation, "Then, here we go."

Cyril raised his hand to the fog and began walking. He felt the familiar, slight sensation of pressing against a thin barrier, before the fog seemed to give way and dissipate around him. A second later, he was through. Luckily, nothing was standing in front of him ready to cut him down, and a quick glance behind him confirmed that the fog gate did not reform.

"Hah…" Cyril breathed a sigh of relief, "I must admit I am glad it is not the fog gate of an adversary."

Eula relaxed as well when she saw the tension leave Cyril's shoulders, "So it's a place that arrived here then…do you recognize it?"

They both took a moment to observe their surroundings. It was strange, like a building had suddenly been smashed into the cave and buried, with both rocks and stone jutting unnaturally at times. A variety of smashed furniture and other assorted interior objects were scattered across the ground. An inexperienced adventurer may assume they've discovered a buried ruin, but any seasoned adventurer or archeologist would be able to tell that the formations present could not be formed by natural causes.

"It's almost like…a domain…" Eula frowned, also noticing the unnatural construction of the cave, "I don't recognize the architecture though. But that makes sense, if it's from Lordran."

"The architecture here is decidedly human. But not of a construction I recognize." Cyril eyed the stone walls, "It's more likely this is a place dragged from another one of the many fallen kingdoms. I do not know which."

"That's a good thing, right? Most of the dangerous creatures you wrote of were only found in Lordran if I recall correctly," Eula said curiously.

"Perhaps. I'd still be loath to run into things hailing from the Great Swamp," Cyril shook his head, "We should press deeper. We'll likely find our answers there."

Eula nodded her agreement. As they pressed deeper, the environment grew more bizarre, the stone caves of Mondstadt gave away more and more until they felt they'd entered a ruined keep, in a long hall surrounded by foreign walls.

"This is disorienting," Eula narrowed her eyes at a hanging tapestry, "The caves here shouldn't run this deep."

"..." Cyril didn't seem to hear her, staring intently at the same tapestry, before gasping in recognition, "Balder…this a keep from the Kingdom of Balder…"

"Balder? That wasn't one of the ones you listed before…" Eula pointed out.

"Balder fell long before the Kingdoms I know of. By the time I was first born as a regular human, it had already fallen to the curse of the Undead." Cyril explained, "They were some of the first to mount expeditions to Lordran, the failures of said expeditions were plentiful and honestly quite tedious to handle."

"I see…hollows, then? The ones you encountered during your travels?" Eula asked.

"That's correct," He nodded in return, "Balder Knights are plentiful if not especially noteworthy. Still, underestimate them and you may find yourself cut down in no time at all."

"Hm…an old keep from a fallen kingdom. Every treasure hunter's dream, even if they aren't aware of this place's origins." Eula huffed, "We better find them before they trigger a trap or something that causes this whole place to collapse."

"I doubt we have to worry about collapse, though your comment about traps is rather prudent," Cyril shuddered, remembering Sen's Fortress quite clearly, "I wish to prioritize finding the brigands, but this place should be noted down for further investigation."

"Of course," Eula agreed, "I'll have my unit perform a more thorough scouting later, then we can bring some investigators in."

The scope of the keep they found themselves in made itself clear as halls began to branch in various directions. Luckily, Eula could still follow the Treasure Hoarders' tracks.

"They're likely nervous about exploring this place," Eula commented, "They haven't split up into smaller groups, fortunately for us. I think it's likely a group of 8-10 of them."

"I do not like how quiet this place is. A keep is more likely than not to be filled with hollows or any straggling Undead." Cyril gave a suspicious glance behind him, "Unless this was a keep for those untouched by the curse. But in that case, there should be bodies…"

"Perhaps they simply evacuated due to some extenuating circumstances?" Eula suggested.

"That's possible. I know little of the state of Balder's homeland after their fall. This could be an abandoned keep…" Cyril trailed off as they arrived at the doorway to what was likely the audience chamber of the keep.

It was blocked off…by yet another fog gate.

"Or, something disagreeable has taken up residence here." Cyril finished.

"Another one…I don't suppose it'll lead to another location, will it?" Eula grimaced.

"Most likely not…" Cyril sighed, "Their tracks lead right up to here?"

"They do," Eula confirmed.

"Very well. I'm now glad that we did not tire ourselves with needless combat beforehand. Shall we proceed?" Cyril asked, readying himself to step through yet another gate. After he felt Eula grip his shoulder again, he stepped through-

And immediately tackled Eula to the side as a volley of projectiles came flying at the two of them.

The audience chamber was a grisly sight, in similar disrepair to the rest of the keep. A dilapidated throne sat at the head of the room.

But most noticeable were the bodies scattered around the room: the treasure hoarders. Around them stood familiar-looking knights: hollowed soldiers of the Kingdom of Balder. There were about 12 of them, 4 crossbowmen and 8 swordsmen with shields. But standing by the throne was a hollow with quite ornate armor, likely a noble or perhaps even royalty.

"Wha-" Eula froze as she took in the scene. Her eyes widened at the bodies, but she quickly refocused on the immediate threats.

"I will take them head on." Cyril said, "Please flank them and take care of the archers. I do not know who their leader is, but be wary of magic or enchanted weapons."

"Got it." Eula summoned her claymore and readied herself for combat.

All at once, the room exploded into motion. The hollowed swordsmen charged the pair while the crossbowmen loaded their next volley. The leader stood motionless, which only worried Cyril more as he moved to engage his adversaries.

He had plenty of experience fighting Balder swordsmen, their long blades and fighting style quite familiar to him. But eight of them at once would require his full attention and no small amount of skill. As he parried their blows and cut at their weak points, out of the corner of his eye he saw Eula cutting into the crossbowmen with ease.

As expected of a Knight Captain, she gave them no opportunity to fire and soon she was finished and ready to aid him against the swordsmen. But before she had the opportunity, the leader drew his own blade: an ornate rapier and charged at her.

"Hah!" Eula deflected his first thrust but was forced on the defensive by his quick attacks. Her opponent was quite skilled, forcing her to use her Vision to begin applying ice to her swings. She likely hoped to slow him down enough so that she could prepare a stronger attack that would overwhelm him.

Cyril grunted as one of the knight's blades found a weak point in his armor while he was distracted, opening a gash under his arm. The blade likely deflected off of his ribs, a mere flesh wound. With renewed fury, Cyril cut down several more knights, leaving only 3 facing him. They displayed some semblance of wariness, backing off and watching him carefully.

But that was a mistake, as he readied a firebomb (one of the few he still had…perhaps he should approach the alchemists about producing more) and quickly set the remaining three alight.

"Are you alri-" He quickly turned back towards Eula's fight, only to find her cleanly decapitating her foe, his body encased in a coffin of ice.

"Troublesome foe." Eula commented, before giving the treasure hoarders a remorseful look, "They may have been thieves, but something like this is…they didn't deserve that."

"True enough…" Cyril nodded in agreement, before kicking at one of the fallen knights around him, "We are fortunate these were simple hollows. A cut above the average mindless husk, but still trivial in the end. I'm curious as to how another fog gate formed, but that nobly-dressed one might be someone important politically, rather than the much more common martial strength that would cause a gate to form."

Eula moved closer and looked over their fallen foes, shuddering slightly, "I know you mentioned the hollows usually had a ghastly or ghoulish appearance, but it's something else to see in person."

"Hm," Cyril grunted, checking his wound and downing some estus.

"You were hurt?" Eula focused on him instantly.

"Just a cut. Nothing some estus won't cure." Cyril reassured her, "I have learned my lesson about downplaying my injuries, I promise."

"Good," Eula nodded, returning to examining their bodies, "I can see why they would be called Undead…what causes them to look like this?"

Cyril fell silent at that for a moment, "They way I was told, when killed, an Undead's soul fractures, losing a part of their humanity. Distinct from souls as a form of currency or energy, humanity was also a common tool of barter in Lordran. To become whole again, one must consume a fragment of humanity to replace their lost one. Hollows simply don't have the mental faculty to perform such an act any longer."

"Wait, that happens to all Undead…?" Eula's eyes widened and she turned and stared at him.

"Yes, I'm told I'm somewhat better looking than the average hollow when in that form," Cyril joked lightly to hide a sudden surge of apprehension, "I also have quite the surplus of humanity from across my travels, so I won't need to take that form often with any luck."

"D-Does it hurt?" Eula asked tentatively.

"It does, but no more than the death that would cause it…" Cyril replied, "You can see, though, why even fully cognizant Undead were also reviled as well. Many of us were eager to become whole again, and what better source for humanity than uncursed humans? Out of fear of both real and potential…actions by the Undead, the uncursed's hate only grew stronger."

"..." Eula had a saddened, troubled expression on her face, "You've been through a lot…I knew that…but…"

"It is simply how things were in my lands." Cyril stated with resignation.

"It shouldn't have been that way." Eula suddenly said, with some fire in her eyes. She approached him, taking one of his hands in both of hers, "Judging someone for the sins of others…it just isn't right. "

Cyril blinked in surprise at both her words and the sudden contact.

"How many of you were driven to extreme actions by others? How many could've been saved if they'd been more accommodating? An injustice was committed against you and the others marked by the Darksign. And I promise you, I won't let anything like that happen here." Eula said passionately.

Caught off guard at first, Cyril soon realized how close to home the Undead plight might've hit the Reconnaissance Captain. She was someone who was also judged for the actions of others, so perhaps that was the reason she had warmed up to him so quickly. She did have a reputation for being rather standoffish towards others, after all.

"You…you're not disgusted? Some scholars say that that feeble, hollowed form is the true form of the Undead, after all…" He managed to ask through his surprise.

She seemed to take offense to that, "Regardless of what you look like outside, that doesn't change who you are on the inside, Cyril. Remember that. I won't turn against you just because you can get a little bit dehydrated."

Was that a joke? From Lady Eula?

He stared at her for a moment, eyes wide beneath his helmet.

"...Ha, hahaha!" Cyril broke out into cheerful laughter, something he very rarely did, "The people of Teyvat continue to surprise me, no matter how much time passes. Every one of you, at that…Thank you very much, Lady Eula."

Eula was shocked at the sudden burst of laughter from the normally soft-spoken knight. But what shocked her even more was the smile on his face when he lifted his faceplate to wipe at his eyes. It was different from the content one he commonly sported while walking around Mondstadt, instead filled with a certain sense of…camaraderie. It was a smile that showed true appreciation aimed towards her, making her feel a bit self-conscious.

And she had to admit, his laugh was…pleasant to listen to.

Once she'd recovered, she hastily responded, "Just Eula is fine. It'll be strange if you call Amber and Jean without a title, but continue to use one for me."

"I see," Cyril's smile didn't wane even a bit this time, "Then…thank you, Eula."

He gave her hand an affectionate squeeze, making her flush and let go quickly. It was likely he just meant it as a gesture of friendliness, but Eula didn't often engage in physical contact.

"Ahem," She cleared her throat, some pink dusting her cheeks, "We should return and inform Jean and the others of these developments."

"Of course," Cyril nodded jovially.

They left behind the scene of carnage, heading back the way they came. They walked in silence, but it was a comfortable one, with Cyril's good mood nearly tangible in the air. Eula, for her part, was reviewing her behavior throughout the day with no small amount of consternation.

She'd let her guard down, having expected Cyril's friendly nature to manifest in a more muted manner than Amber's, but still along the same vein. Instead, his attitude was one of tempered positivity rather than the archer's radiant optimism. Still looking forward, but with full knowledge of reality.

His words and behavior resonated with her, and it had made her act more frankly around him than she ever expected to.

Though…was that really such a bad thing?

She'd have to think more about that.

But at the very least, she now had someone else she was fully willing to call a friend, along with Amber.

And that, she decided, was a very good thing.

Chapter Text

The morning sun shone bright over Mondstadt this day, the inhabitants of the town going about their usual business with their normal lively routines.

Fischl, the self-titled "Prinzessin der Verurteilung", descended from her quarters, ready to grace the Adventurer's Guild with her presence, when a rare sound reached her ears.

It was the voice of the esteemed foreign knight, Cyril, and he sounded like he was in deep conversation with…Bennett?

"So you see, while a combat roll may seem impractical at first, when executed correctly a well-timed roll can be the difference between grave injury and complete evasion," Cyril was saying.

"Ohh, that sounds great! Can you demonstrate again?" Bennett sounded as excited as ever.

"Mm. I have much practice doing it in armor, but combat rolls are best done when wearing either light armor or no armor. The form should look something like this."

As she walked down the last few sets of steps she heard a heavy thump, along with the rustling of metal sliding lightly against metal.

"How do you make the movement so…smooth?"

"That's just practice, I'm afraid. Here, it's all about how you shift your weight."

This time she managed to see a fully armored Cyril throw himself into a ridiculous looking roll that actually covered a surprising distance, and was also executed with all the smoothness of a well-drilled maneuver.

The white-haired disaster magnet that was Bennett was watching with excitement, eager to absorb any knowledge that he could. The two of them noticed her arrival, however, and turned to greet her.

"Hey there, Fischl." Bennett smiled and waved cheerily.

"Good day, Miss Fischl." Cyril greeted her with a slight bow, as courteous as ever.

"Mm. It seems dusk has left us, however fleeting it may be." She hummed, happy to see two people she thought well of. Cyril had stopped by the Adventurer's Guild on business before, but it was usually in the afternoon.

"The morning breeze was quite pleasant," Cyril sounded content, "I've been informed that the Knights of Favonius have no tasks for me today, so I came to see if the Adventurer's Guild had any use for my humble services."

The last time he was here (or rather the last time Fischl had encountered him here), Cyril had been acting as a courier while recovering from his injury. He seemed perfectly happy to act as a messenger boy, despite the menial tasking.

But the thought of the rather severe wound made Fischl wince slightly, and her eyes couldn't help sweeping over to his formerly injured arm.

He noticed her gaze.

"My arm is as good as new, no need to worry." He reassured her, pulling off his gauntlet briefly to show no signs of the previously blackened flesh from before. Her sharp eyes didn't miss the scarring that marked his skin, but she didn't get a chance to look closer.

"...That is good then. T'would be a shame for a defender of the realm to be marred by such an injury." She met his eyes and nodded with her best aristocratic smile.

She blinked in surprise when he approached and patted her on the head, before huffing in consternation. She was not some child to be coddled…though she'd let it slide this time.

"Oh, my apologies." Cyril stopped abruptly, his tone quite sheepish, "I don't quite understand it, but somehow you remind me of a younger sibling…I wonder if I've ever had one?"

Now that was a strange thing to say.

"You…do not know?" She asked curiously, before realizing that it was perhaps a bit insensitive to pry.

"Haha, that is odd to hear isn't it?" Cyril didn't seem offended though. "I was separated from my birth family a very long time ago…truth be told, I don't remember them."

"..." Fischl wasn't sure what to say to that. Despite their issues here and there, she dearly loved her family.

He patted her head again, "You need not worry. What lies in the past will stay there. Monstadt has already given me much to stand for."

She flushed at the further contact but composed herself and opened her mouth to reply…but Cyrus arrived right at that moment.

"Oh hey, Cyril. Looking for work? Got something we could use a hand on." The older man called out.

"Ah, Branch Master Cyrus. Yes, I have some free time at the moment." Cyril lifted his hand away and turned to face the older (looking) man.

"Great, I was just about to hand out a mission for Bennett and maybe Fischl too. It'll probably be good having you along with them." Cyrus gestured for them to follow him to his office.

"Me?" Bennett's face lit up like a beacon, and he bounded after the Adventurer's Guild Branch Master.

"Hm, it seems the Branch Master wishes to request a boon. Of course, I shall generously accept," Fischl gave a gracious sniff and followed Bennett at a more sedate, elegant pace.

As he followed along, Cyril couldn't help but smile at the two distinct flavors of youthful exuberance on display.

Unlike Lady Jean's office, Cyrus's was a messy affair of parchment, tomes, and other assorted knick knacks that seemed related to outdoorsmanship. But he drew their attention away from the clutter and towards the map of Mondstadt on the wall.

"So, here's the situation. About a week ago, a caravan carrying elemental gems was ambushed by hilichurls. In order to get away, they left behind one of their carts." Cyrus pointed at the western road, "The hilichurls took the abandoned goods and retreated towards Wolvendom. Now, ordinarily this would be something to leave up to the knights, but as it turns out, this particular tribe was already wiped out by a patrol a couple of days ago."

"That is good news, no?" Cyril asked curiously.

"Yeah, the less raiders, the better. But there's a catch," Cyrus sighed, "The knights didn't find any of the missing goods, even after searching the raider's camp."

Cyril didn't quite understand what the problem was, but Fischl showed her experience, her eyes lighting up in realization.

"There are unattended elemental gems in the wild, then? A shadow may soon rise over the forests of Wolvendom, then." Fischl frowned.

"Got it in one, Fischl. Those elemental gems are gonna disperse their energy into the air, and when concentrated like that? We might see a surge in elemental slimes, which is gonna cause all kinds of issues to the local ecosystem." Cyrus nodded.

Cyril had only dealt with the occasional marauding slime before, finding them to be of little threat, if not endearing in some ways. Though he had been informed that they do get quite large, and can be dangerous in higher numbers for the unprepared.

One glance at Bennett, however, told a different story than the mild warnings Cyril had been given.

"Slime infestation…squishy…hell…" The young lad had a haunted look on his face, perhaps having an unfortunate encounter due to his reported abysmal luck. He was quick to perk back up, though, "So we gotta go investigate the missing crystals? You can count on us!"

"Yep, and take care of any infestations if they've sprung up." Cyrus nodded, "Since it's Wolvendom, I was gonna ask Fischl to go with you. And since Cyril's here, it'll be good to have him along too."

"Rest assured, for I have heard your plea and will answer!" Fischl puffed out her chest confidently.

"I will assist in any way I can." Cyril nodded, before pausing, "Actually, is it alright if I bring another companion along?"

The three Adventurer's Guild members all glanced at him in surprise.

"Sure, the more the merrier. Though you'll have to split the commission with an extra person, this job's being paid for by the Merchant's Guild and Wildlife Commission." Cyrus explained.

"That is fine." Cyril agreed easily. He could always turn down his share, anyways.

"So, who did you have in mind?" Cyrus asked curiously, the two youths also looking with interest.

"Well…"

- Earlier that Morning -

Cyril didn't find himself alone very often anymore since arriving in Teyvat. He was usually accompanied by someone, either in an active role as a companion, or under the gaze of watching guards.

The Knights of Favonius may be easygoing, but negligent they were not. Well, most of the time. Lady Jean had expressed her frustration at their lack of real experience and the varying attitudes among her subordinates at times.

But that's besides the point.

While he was getting more used to the presence of others, it didn't usually get as…intense, for lack of a better word, as his current tagalong.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Sir Cyril?" A bright-eyed, silver-haired maid was gazing at him with stars in her eyes.

He coughed, "While I appreciate your enthusiasm, Miss Noelle, you've already cleaned my quarters, served tea, and organized my field reports…I do believe that a Knight of Favonius would tell you to take a break."

The girl shook her vehemently, "It's not even noon yet, it's hardly time for something like that!"

This level and type of energy was one rarely seen in Lordran, and distinct from the sunny nature of someone like Amber. Cyril had the feeling that simply being in Miss Noelle's presence would make the most layabout of sloths spur into some kind of action.

Lady Jean had seen fit to warn him when Noelle's turn to handle the guest quarters would come, as she was far more enthusiastic and stubborn than the average maid that rotated in for that duty. And his room, of course, was one of those guest rooms.

He had expected a maid that was particularly stringent or stern, perhaps some criticism of his lack of actual formal training in Mondstadt's mannerisms. Not…a knight-aspirant with a case of determined adulation for all knights.

And apparently, he also fell into that category of role models to follow.

"Hmm…there is nothing I would request of you at this time," Cyril pursed his lips, "Lady Jean has informed me that there is no work that needs doing at the moment, so I planned to visit the Adventurer's Guild today."

"Oh…" One would think Cyril had just kicked a puppy (he would never do that, they were far too cute and not evil like the undead hounds of Lordran) from how Miss Noelle instantly deflated.

Unable to stomach the sight of such a face, Cyril added, "If you'd like to gain some firsthand experience, shall I ask Lady Jean if you may accompany me?"

"Really!?" It was honestly impressive how quickly her mood buoyed.

"Of course, by all accounts you are very capable in the field. Lady Jean gives you all kinds of tasks, does she not?" Cyril reassured her.

"Thank you for your kind words, but I still have a long way to go before I'm a proper knight." She was quick to humble herself, a trait Cyril didn't dislike.

Though her words did remind him, Miss Noelle is a vision bearer and even in a non-combat situation like now he could tell how strong and well-trained she was. Why wasn't she conferred the title of Knight of Favonius?

Something to inquire with Lady Jean about when he goes to speak with her, he supposed.

"Regardless, I would be happy to have your assistance." Cyril repeated gently.

At her happy nod, Cyril stood and went to chase down Lady Jean before she was too busy with the day's duties.

When he caught her in the hall, she was quick to agree, catching him off guard. Well, he hadn't expected to be rejected, but the happy look on Lady Jean's face was surprising.

"It'll be good for her to gain some more field experience." The Acting Grandmaster nodded with satisfaction.

"Does Miss Noelle really require such scrutiny? She seems quite able, and bears a vision of considerable power." Cyril voiced the question in his mind.

Jean paused, before giving a soft sigh, "She certainly meets all the qualifications on paper, doesn't she? With that said, she's almost too pure for the realities of a Knight's duties."

"I'm afraid I don't quite follow." Cyril tilted his head in confusion.

He shifted a bit as she turned her gaze towards him, a fond smile on her face, "Noelle is the type to act with honesty, doing what she believes is right. As she is now, she would be unable to grit her teeth and bear a perceived injustice the way we are sometimes required to. In short, she is still too immature to handle the politics that come with being a knight, even if she is more than able to handle the day-to-day duties."

Cyril nodded slowly, recalling his attendance of some rather unpleasant or tense meetings between the Knights and the Fatui of Snezhnaya, "I believe I understand now."

He had adopted polite speech to avoid conflict in Lordran, but the snide "courtesy" of those diplomats had made him realize just how backhanded even etiquette could be.

"Yes." Jean's smile widened, "In that regard, I think you're likely to be a good influence on Noelle."

"Hm? What do you mean?" Cyril asked curiously.

"It's nothing. Good luck with the Adventurer's Guild." She simply maintained her smile and shook her head in response.

Despite asking a few more times, Lady Jean refused to elaborate, so he eventually gave up and went to tell Miss Noelle the good news.

As he expected, she was elated. Now, hopefully the Adventurer's Guild had something for them to do...

- Back in Current Time -

"It's great having you and Cyril along with us, Noelle!" Bennett seemed quite happy at their little group as they trekked through the wilderness.

"Indeed, your presence means that another may witness me and bask in the glory of my deeds." Fischl smug smile and a dramatic pose.

Cyril still wasn't quite sure how Fischl's words could be so arrogant by definition, but so endearing in practice. Perhaps it was just a natural characteristic of the eccentric girl. And he could tell she was just putting on a show, her acts of kindness spoke more than enough of her character.

"Thank you for having me." Noelle inclined her head politely, though the smile on her face indicated that she was at least acquainted with both of the Adventurer's Guild Members.

They had set out almost as soon as they all gathered at the Adventurer's Guild. Both Bennett and Fischl had plenty of experience operating in the forests of Wolvendom, while Cyril had done a few patrols with the Knights in the area before. Noelle was more than content to follow their lead.

"So, have you given any more thought to joining the Adventurer's Guild, Noelle?" Bennett asked, an eager light shining in his eyes.

Cyril gave them a surprised look, though it was mostly hidden by his helmet. He hadn't heard that the maid had been scouted for the Adventurer's Guild before. Though with her capabilities, he supposed it made sense.

He'd seen the aftermath of the girl's training, he honestly had a hard time imagining any human except someone like Havel doing the same kind of damage through pure strength alone.

But in contrast to Bennett's exuberance, Noelle shook her head, rejecting the offer courteously, "I'm afraid I still wish to pursue knighthood. But thank you for the offer, Bennett."

Her answer didn't faze Bennett one bit, "I figured. But just know our door's always open for you!"

Fischl nodded along with her guildmate's words, showing her own approval for Noelle's prowess, "Regardless of where you make your stand, your efforts are for the betterment of our realm, warrior maid."

Noelle cracked a smile at their accepting words, looking a bit amused at Fischl's title for her, "Thank you to you both."

Cyril spoke up, asking inquisitively, "Is there a reason you pursue becoming a Knight of Favonius so fervently, Miss Noelle?"

She seemed surprised at the question, pursing her lips in thought for a few moments, "I don't believe there's any single reason. It's been my dream for as long as I remember, and there's no one I look up to more than the Knights."

He nodded understandingly, recalling the drive that's needed to keep an Undead from going hollow, "Your conviction does you credit. As you continue to grow and learn about the duties you will be expected to carry out, I'm sure the Captains will take notice of your efforts."

Noelle beamed at him, "Thank you very much!"

By the time their little party had tracked down the merchant's lost wagon, there were indeed signs of a slime colony forming.

"It seems their contrasting domains have slowed their growth." Fischl observed as she sent an arrow through one of the oddly cute creatures.

"Whew…" Bennett let out a sigh, trying to hide his relief. It seems his experience with the rotund elemental beings were not very pleasant.

He didn't let it affect his performance, however, drawing his sword and engaging his targets as needed with flourishes of flame, courtesy of his Pyro vision.

But more than those two efficient and experienced adventurers, Cyril raised an eyebrow as he watched Noelle split the creatures easily with some swings of her claymore, while sending slimes splattering against the trees with other devastating strikes.

Her weapon was certainly good for handling groups of targets up close, especially ones as placid as these.

Cyril maintained a middle position in their formation, catching any stragglers that got past Bennett and Noelle and preventing them from reaching Fischl's perimeter. It was really rather easy work.

In no time at all, the budding slime infestation was culled with brutal efficiency.

"Well, glad that went smoothly!" Bennett grinned with great cheer, before his expression turned to one of horror, "Wait, I hope I didn't jinx it just now…"

The young man looked around, scanning the trees with a suspicious glare.

Fischl gave the unfortunate boy an awkward smile as she approached the wagon, checking its contents and looking everything over.

"Even the knights have heard tales of the misfortune that plagues Bennett." Noelle said as an aside to Cyril, looking quite sympathetic, "It's a shame, with how hard he works…"

"I remember hearing something along those lines…" Cyril hummed, "Is it truly so bad that some individuals actually believe he is cursed?"

"Nah, only a few people say stuff like that." Bennett heard them and walked over, "But my teammates end up getting hurt a lot, so I take a lot of solo missions. I always appreciate it when I get some help from people like Fischl or you both, so thanks!"

His cheerful smile was nearly blinding in its radiance.

"It's no problem at all," Cyril replied kindly, returning the smile from underneath his helmet, "If you ever need a hand, you just need to let me know."

Noelle nodded along, before furrowing her brows, "Bennett, I think there's something…"

She pointed at the top of his head.

Cyril followed her finger and spotted something small rummaging through the boy's hair, catching a small flash of orange between the white locks of hair.

"Huh?" Bennett reached up and flinched when he made contact with the strange thing, "Wah!"

The object flew onto Cyril's shoulder, allowing him to get a closer look at it, "Is this a slime?"

Noelle approached and peered at it, "Yes, it appears to be a small pyro slime. Strange, I don't think I've ever seen one this small before."

Said slime was quite adorable, shuffling about on Cyril's shoulder before nestling into a gap in between his plate armor and the chainmail underneath.

"It seems rather harmless." Cyril couldn't deny feeling reluctant to slaughter the little being.

"Tell that to my hair…" Bennett huffed, "Hah…at least it's just a few burnt ends."

Despite his singed hair he chuckled after a moment, making both Noelle and Cyril smile along as well.

"I suppose if it seems content to stick to me, I will bring the slime back for Sir Albedo or Lady Sucrose to look at." Cyril decided, "Neither of you have seen a slime this small before?"

Noelle and Bennett both shook their heads in confirmation, seeing no problem with his decision.

Fischl chose that moment to return, looking a bit troubled, "There…lies something sinister about the great task that we endeavor to complete."

Her statement made them tense immediately, Cyril rested a hand on the hilt of his sword, scanning their surroundings cautiously, "What is it, Miss Fischl?"

The blonde girl gestured towards the wagon, "The tale passed down to us spoke of a great struggle, yet the vessel itself bears no history of such an adversary, only the marks left behind by the budding spirits we cleansed ourselves in righteous fury."

It took a moment to parse what she was saying, as she had sent Oz out earlier to keep overwatch, but Bennett figured it out quickly and frowned, walking over to take a look at the wagon as well.

Cyril and Noelle followed along curiously, watching as the boy climbed up into the wagon's bed.

"Fischl's right, something's weird about this." Bennett confirmed, making Fischl give a smug, triumphant smile.

"What exactly is the matter?" Cyril tilted his head curiously.

Bennett pointed at the wagon, "The only damage this cart has is from coming into contact with slimes. Fischl and I went to the Merchant's Guild to see the rest of the wagons in their caravan, so we knew what kind of construction we were looking for."

He hopped down, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as Cyril and Noelle approached to take a look for themselves.

"They all had damage from Hilichurl weapons, but this one doesn't." Bennett continued, "It's…almost like it wasn't attacked like the rest of the caravan."

"According to the Guild Master, the merchants reported that they had to leave the cart behind after being attacked by the Hilichurls, correct?" Cyril asked for confirmation.

"That's what they said," Bennett nodded along with Fischl.

"I'm not sure I understand, why would they have left behind the cart before being attacked?" Noelle looked rather lost, her eyes narrowed and brow furrowed in a cute manner.

Fischl and Bennett exchanged glances. It seemed to Cyril that they might have some idea of the merchants' intentions.

"It's probably better not to make any guesses yet. We should finish our mission and let Cyrus know about the inconsistency." Bennett suggested, "He'll know what to do."

That seemed good enough for Noelle, as this was an Adventurer's Guild mission in the first place. Getting everyone's agreement, Bennett pulled out a gadget that Cyril recognized as a Kamera, a complex tool from the land of Fontaine, according to what Lady Lisa and Sir Abledo have told him.

It was a miraculous little thing that could freeze moments in time into portraits, to then be later viewed at one's discretion. It only took a moment for him to realize the utility of something like that for collecting information and evidence as well.

"Convenient, right?" Bennett grinned when he noticed Cyril watching with interest, "Definitely beats having to make sketches like we used to. Though Fischl is really great at that, and it's still good to know how to draw when you don't want to attract attention since these things make a lot of noise."

Fischl actually flushed at the sudden praise, though she quickly regained her composure, "T-Tis only expected of one such as I."

After Bennet finished taking his pictures, the four of them worked together to clean up the scene and re-package the elemental gems.

As they worked, Oz suddenly swooped back down and landed on Fischl's shoulder, "We have guests, Mein Fraulein."

His calm tone indicated that whoever was approaching wasn't hostile, but everyone stopped what they're doing and remained wary. A few moments later, a pack of wolves emerged from the woods around them, led by a young man with messy silver hair and sharp red eyes.

Bennett recognized him and waved with a happy expression that one would use upon meeting a friend again, "Hey Razor, good to see you!"

The now-named Razor gave a short nod, peering at each of the members of the party curiously, and when he turned Cyril immediately spotted the electro vision on his person as well.

"Slimes…you kill?" Razor asked, his speech slightly accented and stilted.

Bennett seemed content to handle interacting with Razor while the other watched the wolves, though the normally fierce creatures seemed more than content to lounge around the perimeter of the clearing.

"Yeah, we handled it." Bennett nodded, "If you came over here does that mean you know what happened?"

Razor tilted his head in confusion, "What happened? People came…dropped wagon off. Lupical look, elemental gems. Good for slime breeding…come back now…to practice hunting."

"Oh, sorry, we didn't know they were your prey." Bennett rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, before he narrowed his eyes, "So the people that were here stopped and placed the wagon here themselves? Not hilichurls?"

Razor shook his head, "No hilichurls. They come this close…we hunt."

"Right, gotcha." Bennett nodded, "That's good info, thanks Razor!"

Razor hummed, looking very much like he didn't know what Bennett was thanking him for, before shrugging, "Since slimes are hunted…we leave now."

"Ah, okay. Again, sorry about that," Bennett replied, "I'll treat you to some more meat next time!"

"Okay, I will look for you next time," Razor's eyes lit up at that, before he turned to leave. Just as he and his wolves were about to fade into the trees again, he looked at Cyril, "Armored man…who smells like ash…pack leader said he wants to meet you, one day."

Cyril blinked, but responded quickly as politeness would dictate, "I see…? Thank you for the invitation, but I must finish this task first before I can accept."

Razor nodded, scanning the group one more time before he and his pack departed.

Noelle let out a small breath, "Wow, I knew from my lessons that the wolves of Wolvendom are generally friendly or secretive, but it was still a bit nerve wracking to be surrounded like that…"

Fischl didn't seem as bothered, her own work likely bringing her into contact with them occasionally, but Bennett nodded emphatically in agreement.

"Yeah, I thought for sure I was gonna get eaten the first time I ran into Razor and his pack." He chuckled, "But hey, we're buddies now!"

Cyril wished he could say he had as pleasant of an experience with wolves and hounds in Lordran, but that would definitely be a lie. Still, these wolves and that young man seemed affable enough.

With that encounter finished, they returned to their work.

One wagon alone wasn't too heavy, so Cyril grabbed the hitch and took it upon himself to pull it along as they went back the way they came.

"I-I can handle that, Sir Cyril…" Noelle fidgeted to the side, looking very much like she wanted to snatch the hitch from him.

"It is fine, Miss Noelle. I will let you know if I begin to tire." Cyril replied.

The maid continued to fidget restlessly until Cyril finally relented and compromised, letting the two of them work together to pull the wagon.

Not that either of them found it to be particularly tiring, and the party made good time in returning to Mondstadt's familiar walls.

Cyrus received their report and accounts once they returned, another set of Adventurer's Guild members looking over the recovered wagon.

"Yep, seems like a pretty clear cut case of contract fraud to me." Cyrus nodded once they were finished, "I was talking with the Merchant's Guild representative about the possibility while you guys were out in the field."

"Ahh, I knew it." Bennett sighed while Fischl made a face.

"Contract fraud?" Cyril asked, he and Noelle both out of the loop.

"Ah, right, you probably haven't dealt much with the Merchant's Guild, have you?" Cyrus rubbed his beard as he gathered his thoughts, "So it's like this, sometimes buyers will guarantee a minimum payment of some kind when putting out contracts for orders, even if the merchants that are looking to fulfill the contracts lose the cargo due to disasters, bandits, monsters, etc."

"Hmm, I believe that's called…risk management?" Cyril wracked his memories of Lady Lisa's lectures about society and economics. Most of it went over his head, but he was pretty good at memorizing definitions.

"Got it in one, the buyer here in Mondstadt wanted an express delivery and so his contract's minimum payment was pretty high, relatively speaking." Cyrus explained, "Now, the specifics of these inter-merchant contracts can vary pretty greatly depending on whatever business practices they prefer or whatever, but in this case he was going to buy the elemental gems at a set markup above the current market price at the time of arrival."

Cyrus gestured towards the wagon, a wry smile on his face.

"The problem is, this caravan was on a long distance trip and took the contract way back when they were in Fontaine, purchasing the gems there." Cyrus continued, "They had no idea that a new mine had just been discovered in Liyue, driving the price of elemental gems down. They probably sent a runner ahead of them when they were getting close, receiving the bad news."

"That's unfortunate, but what is their goal in…ah." Cyril's eyes lit up with realization.

"Figured it out? They probably calculated that even with the markup, with the drop in market price the guaranteed payment would still be more profitable for them, so they ditched the gems on purpose." Cyrus frowned, "Probably even goaded some hilichurls into attacking them as an afterthought."

"That's not right at all!" Noelle looked indignant, "We should report them to Master Jean immediately."

"Eh?" Cyrus gave her a puzzled look, "Sorry Noelle, but they haven't broken any laws."

"Really?" Noelle froze on the spot.

Cyrus shook his head, "No, the Merchant's Guild has their own rules, and they enforce that sort of thing internally. Besides, none of the merchants involved are from Mondstadt in the first place. Arresting foreigners gets a bit iffy unless they do something egregious."

"...Oh." The eager maid deflated.

"Now Jean will definitely get a report with this incident on it, but it's more to keep her informed than anything." Cyrus patted her on the shoulder, "And don't worry, with the evidence you all collected those guys will be facing a hefty fine. They may even be blacklisted from taking contracts like that in the future."

Noelle nodded unsurely, before Cyril spoke up again, "If they were looking to discard their unprofitable merchandise, why not dump it in a way that it would be unrecoverable?"

Cyrus huffed and gave a rueful chuckle, "They probably marked the spot they dropped the wagon off on a map, and intended to come retrieve the merchandise to sell in another city. They weren't aware that the Merchant Guild here works with the Adventurer's Guild to handle environmental threats like unattended elemental gems."

"So it was greed…" Cyril nodded as Noelle looked upset once more.

"Yeah, it's not the first time something like this has happened. I hear they are working on passing legislation on more rigid operating guidelines for the guilds, but who knows if that'll go through or not." Cyrus shrugged, "Anyways, thanks for the hard work you all, payment will be sent out later when everything's submitted!"

The group dispersed after that, though as Cyril returned to the Knights of Favonius headquarters he saw that Noelle had a troubled expression on her face.

"A coin for your thoughts, Miss Noelle?" Cyril asked.

"Eh?" Noelle made a face that very much resembled a small animal being caught in a trap, "O-Oh…I was just thinking that laws and duties are more complex than I imagined…"

"You are concerned about the merchants' duplicity?" He looked for confirmation.

"...I am." Noelle nodded, "According to Master Cyrus, they were essentially lying to get more money, which is pretty much thievery. Not to mention endangering the environment by recklessly leaving elemental gems out in the wilds…many people forage and hunt in those woods."

"It does seem they will be dealt with rather severely for their plotting." Cyril pointed out.

"That's true, I just thought doing things like that would surely be within the Knights' power to punish…" Noelle replied softly.

"Ah, I see now." Cyril put a hand to his chin, but he was honestly still new to living in civilized society in the first place, so he didn't really have any philosophical conclusions to share with her. "I am not very versed in matters of law or governance, but it seems that the Knights are aware of the possible issues concerning these merchant contracts. If the laws Branch Master Cyrus spoke of are passed, then it will become a proper duty for a knight to enforce. Until then, I believe just being aware of it will help you carry out your duties."

It wasn't the best encouragement, but it still seemed to bolster Noelle's morale. Either that, or she was just naturally resilient. Probably both.

"I understand, Sir Cyril. I still have so much to learn about being a knight, I can't get caught up on the little things yet!" She nodded firmly.

"That's the spirit!" Cyril smiled, before a bit of movement on his shoulder reminded him, "That's right, would you like to accompany me to drop off this slime into Sir Albedo or Lady Sucrose's care?"

"I would love to!" Noelle looked at the slime now that it was being active again, "It is kind of cute, isn't it?"

The next day, Jean met with Cyril in her office.

"Good job Cyril, I'm glad to see having Noelle accompany you was the right decision." Jean looked very content with the outcome.

He gave her something of a bemused look, "I admit it was enlightening work, but I don't believe I actually did anything in the way of guidance for Miss Noelle."

Jean shook her head with a smile, "Cyril, it's actually pretty rare for Knights to handle as diverse of a workload as you do. We may coordinate efforts with other groups occasionally, but largely most of the knights here have a very narrow set of experiences."

"Oh, I see." Cyril realized he did handle a lot of miscellaneous tasks.

"Having Noelle join you for your mission broadened her horizons, and helped her gain perspective on new things." Jean concluded, "With her usual focus on all of the normal duties of the knights, having her see the wider world we inhabit will only diversify her skillset, and serve her better when she finally becomes a full knight. Please continue looking after her whenever you have the time."

"I understand." Cyril nodded, "I'll do my utmost to assist Miss Noelle in whatever ways I can."

Jean seemed very happy with his response, "I look forward to seeing you both grow."

After a moment or two, she then coughed, looking a bit awkward.

"Um, is it true that you brought a small slime back with you?" She asked with barely concealed curiosity, her eyes roaming his figure.

Cyril was surprised at the change in topic, but nodded, "Yes, I believe it is under Lady Sucrose's care at the moment. She is trying to figure out why it is so small, and why it attached itself to me so quickly."

"Oh…" Jean looked disproportionately disappointed that it wasn't with him.

"...Perhaps you would like to accompany me to check on its well-being?" Cyril offered.

The Acting Grandmaster paused for several moments, "...Yes, thank you."

Her hidden eagerness was quite cute, though Cyril knew better than to say that aloud.