Chapter Text
Acting Grand Master Jean has apparently ordered that Huffman take three weeks of rest, with no work in that time. It’s relieving and agonizing at the same time.
He paces a lot. Then he decides that pacing outside would be better. It takes some arguing and cajoling, but he convinces Lawrence and Swan to let him outside the city, just beyond the bridge. Windrise and the surrounding valley is safe enough, he reminds them.
It’s the most relieving thing he’s felt in weeks, the wild breeze on his face. The grass swishes against his pant legs and he rolls his pants up to the knee to feel it more clearly. He hasn’t put on any of his armor; as far as he knows, it’s still in the corner of his room.
He hasn’t thought about it.
The Statue of the Seven at Windrise is tall compared to a person, he knows, but it looks like a small chess piece next to Vennessa’s tree. The branches reach up to the sky and out to Falcon Coast, and he thinks of climbing it.
If he fell, would Celestia intervene again?
Up close, the statue of Barbatos is worn from years of wind and storms, and the gold inlays are scratched up and dull, but still shining softly. The wings, although carved from stone, look almost soft enough to touch.
Huffman sighs. He’s being silly, but focusing on details is relaxing. He takes another moment to gaze respectfully at the statue, then continues walking around the tree. The massive roots spill over the rocks towards the water, leaving spaces like an intricate pattern. The few ducks squawk and scatter as Huffman removes his shoes and steps into the shallows. Ripples spread outward, and he follows them with his gaze to the other bank of the stream, calla lilies and snapdragons waving in the breeze. There’s a few ruins scattered around the shore, and in the shadow of one of them—
He picks up his pace, jogging over with splashing steps. “Tartaglia?”
The Harbinger glances up and back to his fishing rod, nodding briefly at Huffman. “There’s a fish,” he mutters. “I swear I’ve got a fish on here.”
Huffman looks into the shallow pool at the end of the quivering line, and follows its path straight into the sand. “Are you sure?” he asks slowly.
Tartaglia frowns. “It won’t move. Clearly something’s got it.” He tugs on the line again, and the sand shifts, and—he falls backwards, the line and whatever is on it arcing through the air.
Huffman steps around his head and the dusty orange hair splayed out on the ground, and picks up the fishing rod and the creature on the end of it: a small green crab, wriggling its legs frantically in the air. “This is your sea monster,” he says, holding it in front of Tartaglia’s face, “that you fought so valiantly to unearth.” He tries for a solemn voice, but he can’t stop himself from smiling, and soon they’re both curled up on the ground giggling, as Huffman tries not to drop the crab on Tartaglia’s face.
“So that’s why it was stuck,” Tartaglia gasps. He grins wide, sits up and takes the crab, and throws it back. “It’s a stubborn little creature. I respect that.” He falls back onto the sand with his arms spread wide, and smiles at the sun. “Sometimes it’s nice not to take things so seriously.”
“Is that why you’re out here?”
Tartaglia nods. “I needed a break. Aren’t you supposed to be on a break too? Any good at fishing?”
Huffman shrugs. “I could catch something if I needed to,” he says simply.
“Oh yeah? Because they aren’t biting,” Tartaglia challenges. He holds out the fishing rod.
“Maybe you’re too used to your Snezhnayan fish,” Huffman retorts, taking it. He casts into the water, watching the line bob on the water. A carp circles the bait, looking at it before nibbling. Judging the worm tasty, it bites down on the hook and then starts writhing frantically. Huffman can see Tartaglia practically vibrating with excitement out of the corner of his eye. He starts winding the line in, keeping tension as the fish flops desperately just below the surface of the water. Standing up, he drags it out onto the sand, where it shudders and dies, blood trickling from its mouth onto the sand.
“Awesome,” Tartaglia whispers, eyes shining.
Huffman holds out a hand, and Tartaglia hands him a dagger to kill and clean the fish. “Do you know how to make Mondstadt Grilled Fish?”
“No, but I’d love to get some new recipes to make for my siblings when I go home.”
“Ah, younger siblings?” Huffman picks up the fish by the tail. “There’s a standing camp over by the cliffs, should be a fire there.”
Tartaglia stands and brushes sand off his pants. “The Knights are pretty well prepared, huh?” He laughs. “Yeah, every time I get back, Tonia pesters me to give her new recipes, although Teucer hated the spicy stuff from Liyue.”
Huffman mimes fanning his mouth in sympathy as they walk. “Ah, here’s the campsite. These come in handy when you don’t have time to return to the city for supplies, there’s usually… ah, here it is.” He pulls out packages of seasoning. “Can’t make Mondstadt Grilled Fish without pepper. Would you mind opening these?”
It takes a few minutes to clean the fish, and more time to cook it; it’s much more time than Huffman expected to spend out today, but he doesn’t actually mind. It’s nice to get out of the barracks.
As he spends more time with Tartaglia, comparing stories of sibling antics, he almost forgets that when he’s on duty, he’s supposed to make sure this man isn’t causing a potential threat to Mondstadt because he’s part of the Fatui. It feels… comfortable.
Maybe, he finds, he even likes Tartaglia’s company.