Chapter Text
It perhaps speaks volumes of Zhongli and the Tsarita’s personalities that the former can walk into Zapolyarny Palace practically unannounced, request a suitable catalyst for unthinkable chaos, and receive a response in minutes.
“Here,” the Tsarita smiles, holding her arm out to him. “He’s exactly what you need.”
Zhongli looks at the figure the Cryo Archon has by the scruff of his neck, plucked from her side mere moments ago, smiling brightly at him without a care in the world.
“Your youngest Harbinger, I presume?” Zhongli says, taking the offered youth with two hands. Once fully in his grip, the Tsarita retracts her hand and gestures to the boy’s figure. Young, with curling ginger hair and a light smattering of freckles. The most dead blue eyes Zhongli has ever seen. Bundled for winter, but in lighter way that marks him as someone used to a perpetual onslaught of snow and ice, not comically thick like foreigners.
Under her mask, Zhongli can sense that she’s smiling.
“Yes, yes. This is Tartaglia. He’ll be perfect for your request.”
Zhongli looks between his friend and the youth, then back again.
“Are you sure-”
“Trust me,” she cuts in. “Let him loose in the wild for a trial run. If he disappoints you, I’ll take him back.”
Zhongli weighs his options. He has no reason to say no and slight his friend’s judgement. And he’s fully capable of stepping in if need be. ”If you say so.”
It takes forty-five minutes for Zhongli to trek out to a nearby encampment of Hilichurls with the youth in tow.
It takes about five minutes for just about every Hilichurl, slime, abyss order mage and other assorted enemies within the area to meet very unfortunate ends.
By the time Zhongli has returned to Zapolyarny Palace, he is more than convinced. “My apologies, old friend. I doubted you needlessly.”
“It’s fine. People react that way to my Tartaglia.” She waves him off. “You like him?”
Zhongli looks down at the blood-splattered teenager beside him, a manic grin on his face. “Absolutely.”
A ship from Snezhnaya to Liyue has two options- to take the shortest route and directly brave the barrier-like pattern of storms that encircle the cold country’s sea, or to take the longer, more taxing route of expert evasion through fleeting pockets between the barrier of storms. Neither are smooth rides, but the latter is safer and Zhongli is neither pressed for time nor out to risk the lives of the crew that has graciously agreed to transport him. Though he believes Beidou would love the challenge.
Zhongli’s new companion seems largely unaffected by the constant sway of the boat, so he takes the chance to sit down with the boy for dinner two days into their voyage.
“I apologies for forgetting to set a time to speak to you,” he begins. “My name is Zhongli.”
”I don’t mind,” the boy says cheerily. “It's not a boring ship. My name’s Tartaglia, but you knew that."
The food at their table is mostly from Liyue, with the odd Sneznayan dish. Zhongli notices that chopsticks have been set out for both of them. Tartaglia is using them to spear his meal.
“Did the Tsarita tell you why I’ve asked for you?”
Tartaglia shrugs, and the motion causes a piece of meat to drop from his chopsticks. He frowns. “Her Majesty said that I can have a lot of fun fights if I go with you. And that you need my help with something, but mainly I’ll get to fight.”
Zhongli nods. It is not an entirely inaccurate statement. “I do need your help with something, and it is highly likely that will lead to you being embroiled in a good amount of conflict. Here, hold it like this.”
Zhongli reaches out and adjusts Tartaglia’s grip on his chopsticks. The youth looks sheepish, but makes a slightly better attempt at his meal.
“I can teach you how to use those later if you’d like. As for what I need you to do… I was waiting to speak with the Tsarita before crafting a specific plan, but in general, I will be needing you to fake my death and bring chaos to Liyue.”
The shifting lights of Zhongli’s cabin sweep across the grin on Tartaglia’s face. “Sounds fun!”
This is Zhongli’s problem- he’s been going for 6000 years and counting without a vacation. Or at least, that was how Venti put it when the younger archon had roped him into drinks several months ago.
“It’s like, having kids,” the Ameno Archon had slurred out over an empty cask of dandelion wine. There are two more equally empty casks tossed behind him, and the bartender of this particular establishment is apparently so seasoned he has yet to so much as blink at the sight of the small bard lifting a barrel to his lips. Zhongli will leave him a generous tip.
“So, kids,” Venti resumes, wiping his mouth on a sleeve. “Kids.”
“Kids,” Zhongli repeats, hopefully bringing Venti back to the track.
“Yeah, kids. The thing about kids is that when they are small kids, you have to like, take care of them,” Venti drawls, slumping over his cask. "Diapers. Milk. The works. This is like, an anecdote, for you and Liyue, are you getting it?”
Zhongli nods. “I believe you mean ‘analogy’. And yes, I am ‘getting it’.”
Venti flashes him a thumbs up. “Yes, that. So as I was saying, Liyue is your kid. But the thing about kids is that they grow from smaller kids to- to- erm, larger kids?”
“Adults, Lord Barbatos,” Sounds out the bartender.
“Adults! Yes, thanks Crepus. When kids become adults, you have to let them go! Because they gotta be their own person! It’s harmful to stifle them! It's about the- its about the process. The coming of age schtick. Or something. What was I saying?”
“I understand that Venti,” Zhongli huffs. “Which is why I am here talking to you. What I needed your help with is a way to be sure that Liyue will be fine without me.”
Zhongli looks to the bartender at the last part, a tall middle-aged man with hair like fire.
“The Ragvindr family has been loyal servants to Lord Barbatos since the time of Lady Venessa,” he assures. “On my name, I will not speak of this conversation to another.”
Venti wags a finger at him. “You’re not my servants, you’re my friends!”
The bartender cracks a smile. “My apologies, Lord Barbatos. The Ragvindr family are loyal friends to Lord Barbatos, and we will keep his and his companion’s secrets like they are our own.”
Venti smiles, and so does Zhongli. It is warm, the wind archon’s relationship with his people, and though Zhongli would not disparage his own relationship with his people it is certainly… different.
“Crepus has kids,” Venti mentions. “Ask him.”
And then his head lolls forward and hits the bar with a thunk.
“Alright,” Zhongli nods, adjusting Venti’s hat over his eyes. “You have children, sir Crepus?”
“Just my first and only son,” the bartender says bashfully. “Diluc. He’s still small one yet, so I’m not one experienced to speak about children growing up and out.”
“I do not mind. A new perspective could be helpful.” Zhongli pauses and ponders his question. “How would you know, say if your son asked to be independent, that he was ready?”
Crepus ponders this as he wipes down a glass. “Well, I’d trust my gut… or I’d give him a test.”
“A test?”
“A test, yes. Like, I’d check if he knew how to manage his money, cook for himself, that kinda thing.”
Zhongli mulls the idea over in his mind. A test, to see if Liyue was ready to live without him.
“That is a brilliant idea, sir Crepus. Your help this evening has been very satisfactory.”
“My pleasure,” the red-headed man says. Zhongli gathers his things and picks up the snoring Venti, settling him over a shoulder.
“Ah yes, as recompense for your services and our beverages.”
Zhongli holds his hands out and a cascade of mora flows forward, spilling to the counter. Crepus’s eyes widen.
“I hope this is enough.”
“This is… much more than enough-”
“I know Venti has quite the tab.”
”Oh.”