Chapter Text
It started, against all odds, in Mondstadt.
Albedo Kreideprinz, Chief Alchemist and Captain in the Knights of Favonius, had been granted permission to work at the research base in Dragonspine. In the old days maybe this base would’ve been a miserable little cave with a bonfire to keep out Dragonspine’s notorious sheer cold; truth be told it was still miserable for most people, even though it was now a proper building with indoor heating, laboratory, library, and recreation rooms. Junior alchemists grumbled about the small space, the monotony, the cold. Albedo was bothered by none of these things, but then again, he wasn’t human.
Albedo was an alchemical miracle himself. He had been created long ago by the alchemist Rhinedottir, but that was a secret. Going around admitting that he was a homunculus made of chalk would be a ticket to disaster, and mentioning his “mother” would likewise be annoying because in this day and age, “Rhinedottir” was synonymous with “evil.” She was remembered as a witch involved in the downfall of the kingdom of Khaenri’ah, some several hundred years ago. Albedo didn’t have strong feelings about Rhinedottir or Khaenri’ah. If anything he felt only mild annoyance toward them for potentially interfering with his own alchemical pursuits. He wouldn’t even have felt annoyance, if Rhinedottir hadn’t left him a letter before her disappearance: “Complete your final assignment.”
Albedo didn’t know what his final assignment was. He didn’t like not knowing.
As a homunculus, he could be forced into action. He’d seen it before: Rhinedottir ordering another homunculus with his face into increasingly painful positions and environments for testing, before declaring it a failure and ordering it to be still and let another experiment, the dragon Durin, devour it. The homunculus couldn’t even speak a word to beg for its life. Albedo knew he had been built the same. As he was right now, he didn’t stand a chance of disobeying Rhinedottir’s orders. The only thing he could think of for her goals was the destruction of the modern nation of Mondstadt. Mondstadt’s god, Barbatos, had ordered her precious Durin’s death, after all, and it was the gods and Celestia who’d destroyed the godless kingdom of Khaenri’ah, Rhinedottir’s patron. Perhaps it was a very old grudge. No matter her reasons or orders, Albedo had no desire to help her. He was comfortable here, masquerading as human.
He liked to see Mondstadt decked out in flowers for the Windblume Festival.
He liked to work with junior alchemists genuinely excited for his input on their experiments.
He liked to sit in the lounge with his fellow knight captains and feel clever and included and warm.
He liked being hired as a book illustrator, and collaborating in arts well beyond any utility Rhinedottir had created him for.
He liked the feel of Klee’s small hand in his, the way she skipped on their way to the grocery store, the way she called him her brother and always went to him first to show off her newest toys.
If Rhinedottir had her way, Albedo would never have any of these things again.
This could not be allowed.
Dragonspine was Durin’s grave. With Khaenri’ah gone there were no other laboratories or experiments of Rhinedottir’s to track down and examine for flaws, and Albedo wasn’t about to experiment on himself until he knew what to look for. Maybe, by dredging up the dragon’s remains, he could understand himself. He might learn how to disobey Rhinedottir’s orders, or at least figure out fail safes to help those he wanted to protect. If he were to attack Mondstadt… he needed to be sure the other knight captains could kill him before he could hurt anyone else. Albedo had turned all his focus into this. His chalk body was unaffected by temperature or exhaustion, so he kept on powering through the days and nights even after the last research team had departed. This had, unfortunately, not gone unnoticed.
“I-I admire your dedication, sir, b-but this can’t go on!”
Junior Alchemist Sucrose wasn’t a particularly assertive person, but maybe a video call from halfway across the country gave her confidence, because right now she was giving him the meanest look she could muster. It wasn’t particularly effective, since she was still shaking like a leaf. Albedo had the slight notion that he might be proud of her, though.
“What can’t go on?” he asked, blank faced as usual.
“You’re working too hard!” said Sucrose.
Albedo tipped his head to the side and said, “Me?”
Sucrose, notorious overworker herself, spluttered a little in embarrassment at the hypocrisy before recovering: “You’ve been working around the clock, sir! I’ve talked with the other alchemists and the captains, and we’ve been getting emails from you at all hours of the night and day, and it’s been going on like that for weeks, so it can’t be a temporary issue! And the team that just came back from Dragonspine said you were always out researching or in the library, never resting! What is your sleep schedule even like?”
“It’s the same as it’s always been,” said Albedo.
“That’s horrible!” cried Sucrose. “Sir, you have to sleep! Rest is important for clarity in your work, and functioning of your body! If you don’t take care of yourself, you could make mistakes! You’re an amazing alchemist, sir, maybe the best Mondstadt’s ever seen, but think of how much better you could be if your mind was in optimum condition!”
“I’m quite alright. There’s no need to be worried,” said Albedo.
“You most certainly are not!” Sucrose snapped. Hm. That was a lot more confidence than he’d seen before. Yes, that ticked off all the conditions for pride.
“It won’t be much longer. I’m nearing a breakthrough,” he lied.
“Well, your breakthrough can wait until the morning!” Sucrose huffed, crossing her arms. “If I were there, I might even—Oh!”
She startled guiltily at the sound of a door closing, and a few moments later Klee clambered onto the chair beside her.
“I’m back! Klee’s back!” she cheered. “And look, now I’ve got Dodoco! Tada!” She brandished her fuzzy little doll.
The call had initially been Sucrose’s attempt to get Albedo’s advice regarding her alchemy research, but Klee had been in the Knights of Favonius headquarters and heard Albedo’s voice through the door. She’d then burst through the door and mostly overtaken the video call to update him on how she made barbecued fish for everyone (she’d used her Pyro vision to explode fish out of the lake). She’d ducked out briefly to let her guardian for the day know where she’d gone, but Albedo and Sucrose had been too weak-willed to get back to work after that. Even now Klee bounced on the chair cushion, grinning wide.
“Dodoco and I will make you barbecued fish when you come back!” she declared. “We’ll make a lot! We’ll have a party! And I’ll get you the biggest fish!”
“Because he’s the best brother?” Sucrose guessed, a smile tugging at her lips.
“And because he’s thinking hard!” said Klee. “Kaeya says fish are good for your brains!”
“That’s true,” said Sucrose. Something occurred to her, and she leaned close to Klee to say, “You’re supposed to take very good care of your brain if you’re using it a lot.”
“Right! Albedo says I have to take good care of myself too and eat my vegetables so I can think better and jump higher,” said Klee.
“And it’s not just food. Your sleep is important, too,” said Sucrose.
Klee nodded eagerly. “Yes, that’s right! You have to go to sleep at bedtime! Mom said if you don’t go to sleep at bedtime, the Dodo-King will steal you away to his island, where you’ll never eat anything but Sea Ganoderma for the rest of your life!”
What an odd punishment. That explained why it was so easy to get Klee to go to bed whenever it was Albedo’s turn to watch her. Sucrose nodded, though, as if this weren’t a strange story at all, and said, “It’s so sad… Mister Albedo isn’t paying attention to his bedtime.”
Klee gasped. “What? But— Albedo, Albedo, the Dodo-King’s going to get you!”
“I don’t think he will,” said Albedo.
“He’s been lucky so far,” Sucrose said in a stage whisper, “but I’m sure it won’t be much longer...”
Klee planted her hands on her hips and said, “Albedo, you go to bed right now!”
“What?” said Albedo.
“That way, when the Dodo-King finds you, he’ll see you’re asleep!” said Klee. “Then he’ll think you’ve been asleep the whole time, and he’ll leave you alone!”
“I don’t think that’s how it works,” said Albedo.
“I’m sure that’s how it works,” said Sucrose. “Go on, Mister Albedo. Go to bed.”
“And take the computer with you! We have to make sure you go to bed instead of going back to work when you hang up!” said Klee.
“How very smart of you, Klee!” said Sucrose.
“I’m so smart!” said Klee.
And Albedo must be very predictable for a child to have called him out on that. He frowned at them, feeling somewhat betrayed. “It’s not even very late—”
“It’s after dark, and the Dodo-King’s coming after you already! Go to bed!” said Klee.
Albedo pondered this for a while before deciding to play along. Once they believed he’d gone to sleep and the call was disconnected, he’d get right back to his work. He’d just be more careful about the timing of his emails in the future.
“Very well, then,” he said, and picked up the laptop. Sucrose and Klee cheered as he carried it through the base and into the sleeping quarters. He reclined on his assigned bunk, propped up against the pillows with the computer on his lap. “Are you satisfied, now?”
“You’re not even in your pajamas!” said Klee.
“Maybe I’m too tired to put them on,” said Albedo.
“As long as you sleep, we don’t care,” said Sucrose.
“Then I suppose this is the end of our call?” said Albedo.
“No!” said Klee. “Close your eyes! We’ll end the call when you’re asleep!”
How cunning. Klee was a smart little girl. Albedo hummed in consent and closed his eyes. He did his best to appear relaxed. Sucrose and Klee whispered a little longer, congratulating themselves. Eventually it went quiet. This should’ve been because of the ended video call, but perhaps he really had been working too hard.
For the first time in his life, Albedo dreamed.
He opened his eyes to find a cave. Maybe it was the original Dragonspine research station—he recognized some of the old alchemy equipment on the tables and texts on the makeshift shelves, but he couldn’t remember ever being in such a place. He looked out to the cave’s mouth to see the wind and snow howling in a blizzard. He looked deeper into the cave and saw something looking back.
He felt something that might have been fear. It might’ve been resentment. It was a dream, though, so he pulled forth a sword, pointed it at the creature and said, “Are you Durin?”
Because Dragonspine was soaked in Durin’s blood, and the monsters here ran rampant under its corrosion. Rumor had it that somewhere under the snow, Durin’s heart was still beating. It wouldn’t be strange for one creature born of alchemy to connect with another from the same creator. But—
“No,” said the creature, and moved forward into the firelight.
It may not have been Durin, but it was a dragon: huge, dark brown with whiskers, eyes and mane and great spikes down its undulating back orange like the glow of cor lapis. He’d seen similar depictions from Liyue. An Adepti of some kind? A minor god?
“Are you a monster for me to slay, or are you here to slay me as a monster?” said Albedo.
“Do you think yourself a monster?” asked the dragon.
“I’m certainly not human,” said Albedo.
The dragon rumbled in thought. “I have come neither to kill or be killed. You may rest easy on that matter.”
“Then why are you here?” said Albedo.
“Something caught my attention,” the dragon replied. “Something in the earth.” Its head came closer, close enough that its whiskers came within reach. “You are earth, are you not?”
“Chalk,” Albedo replied, and sheathed the sword.
The dragon rumbled again. It moved in, coiling its long body around the alchemy equipment and blocking out the chill of the storm outside. It rested its great head on the ground near the fire. It seemed suddenly as if there was a cooking pot over that fire, and the smell of some Liyuean cuisine wafted in the air. Albedo sat on a stool that hadn’t existed a few seconds before, and peeked at the contents of the pot. Bamboo shoots?
“You are Geo,” said the dragon, “and you have left the earth. Tell me, what is Teyvat like, these days?”
“It is as it’s always been,” said Albedo. “Loud, and crowded with people who all have their own conflicting ambitions.”
“Is it an unpleasant place?” said the dragon.
“Sometimes,” said Albedo.
“Is it a place deserving of love?” said the dragon.
“Yes,” said Albedo.
The dragon blinked at him slowly, like a cat. “Tell me, then. Of the things that won your love.”
An intelligent part of Albedo wanted to refuse. Speaking would give away all his weaknesses to something powerful. But there was a larger part, the instinctive one that had gripped Klee’s hand right back even when he’d never held anyone’s hand before, the part that reached out when someone else stumbled, the part that warmed at other people’s happiness… that part said speak. And so he did. He talked to the dragon about the Knights of Favonius: how he personally preferred Jean to the real Grand Master, how he was disappointed that Lisa was uninterested in studying further, how Sucrose had revived so many extinct flowers, how Kaeya laughed himself almost to tears at his sketched portrait. With a miraculously conjured sketchbook he drew that sketch of Kaeya, then scratched out a simplified version of the book cover he’d been commissioned for, and then went on to illustrate scenes from Mondstadt’s festivals or even the stray cats around town. He drew and talked until the cave floor was littered with papers, and the last page in the sketchbook bore Klee’s beaming visage.
“It’s true, these are all lovely things,” said the dragon. “You said before that the world is full of people with conflicting ambitions. What are yours?”
“To protect what I love,” said Albedo.
The dragon’s maw couldn’t smile, but he had the feeling that it was greatly satisfied.
“That is a good goal,” said the dragon. “I wish you all the luck in achieving it.”
If there was more to the dream, he didn’t remember.
The next thing Albedo knew, he was waking up in his bunk. He blinked at the ceiling as he gathered his thoughts, then realized his laptop was still balanced on his lap. He moved his hand on instinct to reach for the mousepad, only for something metallic to scrape near the keyboard. When he lifted his hand, he found the orange-gold orb of a Geo vision had been nestled under his palm.
For a long while he simply stared at it.
Geo visions hadn’t been seen in almost a thousand years. Visions were granted by the gods to those who’d caught their eye, and allowed that person to use elemental power. The hows and whys were unclear, but it was generally agreed that they were bestowed based on some kind of “desire” in the recipient, and the vision’s element corresponded to the god who’d given it. The Geo Archon, Morax, had died long ago. No new Geo Archon had taken his place. No Geo visions had since been seen. For one to be here now… Had a new Archon ascended? Albedo didn’t know. He didn’t like the idea of this being a sign of change. As foreboding as it was to have, though, it felt… right. Like this vision might be pulsing in time with his nonexistent heartbeat. A piece of him, maybe.
You are Geo.
Maybe he was.
Having the vision didn’t change much. Albedo wasn’t the type to go running off to face monsters. He was an alchemist, not a true soldier. On the plus side, he discovered that he could make Geo constructs. While at the Dragonspine research lab he perfected the “Solar Isotoma,” a Geo flower that, when he stood on it, would raise him up off the ground so he could reach books on higher shelves. Very useful. On the downside, the Solar Isotoma glowed. When the new research team came in, one of them caught him ascending the bookshelves in the middle of the night. There was no peace after that.
“A Geo vision? Geo? Why didn’t you report it?” Acting Grandmaster Jean cried on his next video call.
“It sounded bothersome,” Albedo replied.
Jean buried her head in her hands. “Albedo, it’s much more troublesome that you didn’t tell us earlier.”
Albedo shrugged, unrepentant. “Well, you know now.”
“Do you know how you got it?”
“No,” he said, and it was mostly the truth. The dragon hadn’t physically been there. No one had visited to slip this trinket under his hand. It just manifested on its own. He didn’t want people to poke around his business.
It was lucky that the Knights of Favonius’ social media team were already well versed in internet fallout (perks of being the city of freedom and drunkards), because when news of Albedo’s vision was released, the world went crazy.
Was it true?
What kind of person qualified for the first Geo vision in a thousand years?
What did it all mean?
No one knew but everyone wanted to talk about it. Albedo accepted two remote interviews—one for Mondstadt’s response to the Knights of Favonius’ announcement, only accepted because he felt obligated to for work; the other for Liyue’s most unbiased news channel, which was allowed because 1) Liyue was the land of Geo and therefore it meant more to them than anyone else, and 2) because the interviewer was very professional and asked him questions about the lore of visions and what he as an alchemist understood of them, rather than focusing on who he was—and declined all the other ravenous media outlets. He knew from his own checks on the internet that people were trying to figure out who he was and tout him like a celebrity. This was very difficult because he was still in Dragonspine, so no one could physically reach him unless they wanted to risk hypothermia and death by rockslide on a grueling hike up the snowy mountain. No one was dedicated enough for that. He was a recluse to start with, so even locals in Mondstadt had little to share beyond “he’s a genius,” or “he likes sweets and doesn’t like meat dishes.” The investigation into his personality stalled.
When Mondstadt’s most popular male idol, Venti, created a distraction (with uncannily good timing), the media was quick to focus on that instead.
It happened next in Inazuma.
Arataki Itto was in a prison cell. Again.
He did not deserve it this time.
He hadn’t deserved it any of the other times, either! But this time was especially heinous. He’d finally found the blue oni! He’d tracked down Takuya, who’d resorted to desperate measures to support his fellow blue oni. Itto had stopped him! He'd forced some reason into Takuya’s head, helped rescue a bunch of hostages and defuse the explosion of a domain. With all that ended they were going to return any stolen goods, and Itto would step in to help support the blue oni! It was going to be great! But then the Tenryou Commission showed up, and were all like, “You’re under arrest for forceful seizure of people and property,” and “The Arataki Gang can’t help the blue oni because we already arrested them for helping you.” By a stroke of luck Itto had managed to get a bystander to relay the details to Granny Oni, who would help the blue oni until Itto got out of the slammer. Really, the whole situation sucked.
“You guys suck!” he called through the cell’s bars. “You should be ashamed of yourselves!”
“Yes, we’re horrible,” the guard on duty said dryly. “How dare we arrest criminals.”
“You’ve got no sense of nuance!” Itto whined.
A long-suffering sigh came from another cell out of sight, and Takuya’s voice said, “Let it go, Arataki Itto.”
“I will not!”
“Please,” said Takuya. “Please, it’s almost midnight. I want to sleep.”
Oh. Well, if it was for Takuya maybe he could put his rant on hold. Itto gave the guard a look that promised this was not the end: the Tenryou Commission would get their comeuppance! The guard had seen this look many times and gave no reaction. With a scowl, Itto settled back onto his bunk. He could (reluctantly) admit that the prison cells here were actually pretty comfortable. On more than one occasion he'd considered causing a scene just to get a chance to nap in here, but the Tenryou Commission was after him so much already there was no point. Ah, well. May as well take advantage of it.
So Itto fell asleep on the unfairly comfy prison cot, and dreamed.
He dreamed that he was out hunting for onikabuto. He was hunting around the trees, ducking through the bushes in search of the perfect beetle, when he ran into another person.
“Archons!” he cried. “A yellow oni!”
The stranger was a man with yellow-orange eyes, his arms black and patterned in glowing geometric shapes. From the hood of his white robe sprouted curling, radiant horns.
“Yellow oni?” the man echoed.
“Yeah! Look at your horns!” said Itto, practically bouncing in excitement. “You can tell an oni by his horns, you know. Mine are red, since I’m a red oni! Blue oni have blue horns. I’ve never heard of a yellow oni before, but wow! What did you do to make them glow like that?”
The stranger touched his horns self-consciously, but he began to smile. “That would be the elemental power.”
“Lucky,” Itto groaned. “I’ve been thinking recently that mine look boring, being red all the time. I was thinking maybe I’d, like, tie some fireflies on them to get some wow factor in there, but like, how am I going to do that? Fireflies are too small to give them little leashes. Do I glue them on? That would be too mean…”
“I quite like the red,” said the stranger. “In Liyue, the color red is associated with luck, health, and happiness. It is an auspicious color to be born with.”
“You think?” Itto laughed, sheepish but proud. “How about you, then? What’s Liyue got to say about yellow?”
“Yellow is power and prosperity,” the stranger replied. “It is the color of Geo, of course, so that may be why Liyue assigns such importance to it.”
There was something about the way the stranger said it that made Itto begin to laugh. He laughed harder and harder, wheezing as he bent double. A worried hand came to rest on his shoulder.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just—” Itto straightened, rubbing at his eye with his smile gone rueful. “I’ve just, uh, gone through a lot with another oni. A blue one. And he’s so bitter about his color. Just now, when you talked about yellow, it wasn’t in the words themselves but I could hear your pride coming through. And I just thought… I want to hear that same pride from Takuya, and the other blue oni. They’ve talked themselves down for so long, and hidden from the world… They deserve better.”
“You’re a kind person,” the stranger murmured.
“It’s my own pride!” said Itto, gathering himself up again. “I respect what the blue oni sacrificed way back in history to let red oni like me become part of human society, but that’s not the way it should’ve gone down. We all should’ve been together in this. Maybe my ancestors were too dumb to do anything about it, but not me! I, Arataki ‘Numero Uno’ Itto, will be supporting other oni whether they like it or not! And if Takuya or anybody else starts spouting more sacrificial bullshit, I’ll be there to stop them every step of the way! Speaking of which!” He gave the stranger his best stink eye. “Now that I know yellow oni exist, how are you all doing? Where are you guys? Do you need any help?”
The stranger chuckled. It sounded sort of growly, like… a dragon? “To my knowledge I am the only one of my kind. I have lived a long time, and met many generous people. I think I will be fine, but I will remember your words.”
“You’d better!” said Itto. “But hey, since you’re here in whatever dream world this is, do you want to hang out? You can help me find the ultimate onikabuto!”
The rest of the dream got fuzzy. The two of them went searching for onikabuto, and Itto was not the only one who mistook a lavender melon for a prized beetle. The stranger took it all in stride, though, and Itto found himself having a lot of fun. They found the biggest, baddest beetle Itto could comprehend; he climbed a big tree to get it, and when he finally had it in hand, he held it up in triumph. The stranger smiled back up at him with horns aglow and… spiked, scaly, fur-tipped tail curling behind him. Holy shit. Holy shit, that wasn’t an oni. That was a dragon! In his shock, Itto fell out of the tree.
Itto woke in the real world with a start. He blinked at the dark ceiling, held up his hands to confirm he was not holding the greatest onikabuto in existence, and sagged back into the cot with a groan. That had been a good dream. He was mad that he hadn’t enjoyed it longer. He was also mad because there was something wedged under his back. That was not normal in the cushy Tenryou prison cells. Grumbling, he grabbed at whatever was so determined to dislocate his hip and pulled it out into view. It was a Geo vision. He rubbed at his eyes, but it didn’t disappear. No, it was a real vision, humming with elemental power the way the stranger’s horns had, with the Geo symbol glowing in its core. Itto sprang to his feet with a whoop.
“Yellow! Yellow! Power! I’m the greatest!”
“What are you talking about?” said the guard.
Itto ran to the door and said, “Go get that Kujou Sara and tell her Arataki Itto challenges her to a new match for our freedom! A duel with visions!”
The guard sighed. “You don’t even have a vision. It wouldn’t be a fair fight.”
“Oh, don’t I?” Itto crowed, and pressed his new vision against the bars.
The guard’s eyes widened. “What— But that— Where did you get that?”
“It just came to me!” said Itto. “Now come on. Me, Kujou Sara. Winner gets to leave and take Takuya out of here, too.” The guard did not reply. He tried to take the vision. Itto withdrew it fast and held it against his chest, offended. “Excuse you!”
“You shouldn’t have that!” said the guard.
“Well, you’ll have to take that up with the Geo Archon, won’t you?” said Itto.
The guard spluttered.
Over the course of the next hour, many other members of the Tenryou Commission came into the prison. A few were guards who tried to wheedle the vision out of Itto’s hands or otherwise demanded who he’d stolen it from. Others were experts trying to determine whether the vision was real. Itto let none of them touch it, and when the specialist tried to say he was a charlatan seeking attention, Itto corrected him by activating that vision and manifesting a Geo construct in the form of an oni king’s spiked club.
“Come at me now, Kujou Tengu! I’m ready for you!” he laughed, as the guards panicked.
An emergency meeting was called in the next room.
“It’s real!” said the specialist, badly shaken. “A true Geo vision! There’s only been one other in a thousand years—”
“That can’t be right,” said Kujou Sara, pretending not to hear Itto’s taunts from the prison hallway. “The only other person recognized by Geo is Mondstadt’s Knight Captain Albedo. That man is calm, reliable, a genius—”
Everything Itto was not. It didn’t match anyone’s expectations of the new Geo Archon’s conditions. What on earth could Albedo and Itto have in common?
“But it’s real,” said the specialist. “You can go in and see it! We may not like it, but we don’t have a choice but to accept it!”
Sara groaned and buried her head in her hands. “He’s never going to shut up about this, is he?”
“Never!” Itto howled from his cell.
Eventually Itto was released from prison. He made good on his pledge to support the blue oni, even if he stumbled sometimes in his good intentions. He also became famous for his vision; he was a braggart by nature, and soon everyone he knew was sick of hearing the story of how he’d found it. The Tenryou Commission agonized over his popularity—being so famous made him a kind of representative of Inazuma itself, which made several politicians weep—and did their best to dissuade any interview attempts, but they had no control over his social media. On the plus side, Itto on the internet was borderline incomprehensible. He dealt mostly in memes and most things went over his head, but he became a well-loved figure anyway for his upbeat and earnest personality.
Two months after his vision was announced to the world, he posted a picture of it alongside the soft cloth he’d specially purchased to clean it. The cloth was patterned with little Geo dragons, in the image of the late Rex Lapis.
It happened, at last, in Liyue.
With two Geo visions distributed, Liyue was getting antsy. They were the land of Geo. Why had they not been blessed by their Archon? Why had it been foreign powers? Had they done something wrong? There was a sense of unease in the air. It wasn’t anything any politicians could change, but they listened to the citizens’ murmuring to factor into their plans. The Liyue Qixing did nothing without proper research, after all.
As the Tianquan, Lady Ningguang was well aware of the whispers. It was for that reason that she commissioned so many Geo patterned trappings for the launch ceremony of her Jade Chamber; the Rex Lapis motifs had been last minute, and largely added due to Itto’s social media influence. At first she hadn’t wanted to lean into the old Archon’s imagery—if there was a new Archon, such a thing might be a snub—but something had given Itto a vision, and instead of honoring something new for his boon, he chose the old. She knew from a brief conversation with the Tenryou Commission that Itto wasn’t a traditionalist in any sense; he wasn’t bound by Liyue’s history, and rebelled even against his own. He held no reverence for Archons themselves. Either Rex Lapis himself had revived, or the new Archon had spoken well of him. These were both good options. Rex Lapis had been a protector, but while he would visit in the Rite of Descension during peacetime, he left the governing of humanity to humanity. If he returned all would be well, and even if there was a new Archon, if they loved Rex Lapis they would likely adhere to the ideals of his rule. There wouldn’t be a power struggle like there had been with Snezhnaya’s Tsaritsa.
On the morning of the Jade Chamber’s launch ceremony, Ningguang stood on its platform before an army of cameras. A grand censer and altar of offerings lay behind her, framed by luxurious banners depicting Rex Lapis’ dragon form undulating through Geo emblems. She welcomed her audience, both in person and at home; she told them of her beloved project, what it stood for and what it would do; she led them all in prayer to Celestia, to the Adepti, and to the Geo Archon, wherever their Archon may be right now. When that was done, the Jade Chamber rose. It went above the tallest building in Liyue Harbor, above the mountains and into the clouds. Ningguang stood on its platform for the entire ride up, chest bursting with joy at every inch it flew. The Jade Chamber was the culmination of all her dreams. She pictured a younger version of herself watching its ascent, and nearly wept for joy. Finally it reached its anchored spot in the sky, and Ningguang went back into action. The ceremony was over but there were tours to lead, politicians to meet, tasks that needed doing.
Ningguang worked late into the night. When she finally went to bed she laid there under the covers for a moment with a reckless smile, knowing that she was sleeping among the clouds.
When Ningguang dreamed, it didn’t seem much different from the waking world. She was still in the Jade Chamber. She opened the main doors to find the world lost in the warm, golden cast of sunset. There was a man standing near the platform’s edge, his long hair and the edges of his dark coat dancing in the wind. He turned to look at her, and his eyes were the same warm gold as the sky.
“Welcome,” said Ningguang, because even if he seemed to be the only person left in the Jade Chamber with her and that shouldn’t be right, it felt as if he belonged. “Are you here for a tour?”
“A grand tour from the Tianquan herself?” said the man, deep and amused. “That is an honor I dare not refuse.”
“Come with me, then,” said Ningguang. “Let me show you my pride and joy.”
She brought him into the Jade Chamber and showed off every room. As they went she spoke of the skilled artisans commissioned to make this technological component or this extravagant furniture, and every time the man would nod and commend her for her discerning eye and the beauty of their work. He was a man who understood all the loving detail added into the construction, and Ningguang felt still prouder to have his approval. Eventually they found themselves back on the outer platform, seated at a table with cups of tea.
“This isn’t the end,” Ningguang told him. “I will keep expanding the Jade Chamber. As time goes on it will be bigger and more extravagant, and Liyue will be able to look up and know that business is flourishing. One day it will be big enough for its shadow to fall over all the seven nations.”
“An ambitious goal,” said the man. “Is that what you seek? Recognition, or dominion?”
If anyone else had asked this, Ningguang would be annoyed; she might feel as if they were trying to frame her as a villain in some upcoming scheme. This man, though, asked with innocent curiosity. She didn’t feel threatened at all.
“Neither of those are quite right,” said Ningguang.
The man nodded thoughtfully. “Is it that you want someone in particular to look up at it?”
Ningguang huffed out a laugh. “I wouldn’t say that, either. The truth is that I have no love for things that are impermanent. I grew up poor, knowing that anything I had could be lost. You learn quickly not to become overly attached, that way. I may no longer be poor, but that lesson has stuck. I’m very careful in my investments. But this?” She gestured at the Jade Chamber. “No one will ever be able to take this from me. I had this built. I raised it. It is mine, not bound to my office, and anyone who sees it will know it is mine. This is permanence.”
“A certain level of eternity,” the man mused. “I wonder how you haven’t caught the Electro Archon’s eye yet?”
Ningguang snorted. “She may be the goddess of eternity, but that isn’t her criteria for visions. I’ve met plenty of people with Electro visions, and they all have a certain knack for chaos. I abhor such behavior.” A smile played on her lips, though, and her eyes strayed out toward the sea below them. “They aren’t all bad, though.”
“No?” said the man.
“No. I wonder if perhaps this Jade Chamber might become a beacon for them.”
This high in the sky, she would see the Alcor’s approach before anyone else. Maybe for Captain Beidou out at sea, the Jade Chamber might be visible before anything else too, like a lighthouse calling her home.
“Is that what you wish to be? A beacon?” asked the man.
“Perhaps,” said Ningguang.
“What is Liyue to you?” asked the man.
“Everything,” said Ningguang. “You may as well ask me what existence is. Liyue is my home, the past and future and source of all my happiness and woes.”
“Will you protect this place under your care?”
“Of course. I already am,” said Ningguang. “Those who knowingly endanger Liyue’s health and safety must be shown no mercy. You should have seen that case of water contamination…”
She shook her head and poured them more tea. The man accepted his cup but kept his eyes fixed on her.
“If you were forced to choose between Liyue and your permanence, which would you support?” he asked.
It didn’t even take a thought.
“Liyue,” she said.
“Even if the Jade Chamber might fall?” said the man.
“I would crash the Jade Chamber myself if I ever learned it was a risk to Liyue’s safety,” said Ningguang.
The man smiled. “I hope you will never have to. It is a beautiful place. May it serve you well.”
They spent the rest of the dream in silence, enjoying the breeze, their tea, and the scenery below.
When Ningguang woke, she found a Geo vision on her bedside table. She considered it a moment, then strode for her bookshelf. She took down a copy of Rex Incognito and opened it to the first chapter. Long black robes, dark and solemn as the mountain peaks, and eyes the color of amber. She held the book against her chest, picked up the vision in her free hand, and smiled.
“I thank you for your blessing, Rex Lapis,” she said.
When news of her vision got out, Liyue was ecstatic. Not only had the Geo Archon’s blessings reached them, the recipient was the Tianquan. There was no better seal of approval. Ningguang’s enemies grumbled, but Ningguang wouldn’t rest on her laurels. There would be other Geo visions in the future, she was sure; she would keep the people’s respect through her own actions, not just a chance gift.
When people asked who or what had given her the vision, she pretended ignorance. Rex Lapis hadn’t introduced himself, after all, and both Albedo and Itto had kept quiet about his presence. If he wished to reveal himself, he would. If he preferred to remain in the shadows, that was all the better for the Qixing’s operations. If he were waiting to ambush an enemy, Ningguang wouldn’t ruin that.
It happened again in Mondstadt.
The maid Noelle had just stuttered her way through explaining why she wanted to become a Knight of Favonius (I want to do my best every day to help others!), and returned to her exam study supplies only to find a Geo vision in her bag. Frantic, she ran to the Knights’ headquarters and tried to turn it in as a lost item. It turned out only to respond to her, and she was so embarrassed by the ordeal she had to sit down and cover her reddened face for a good ten minutes.
It happened again in Inazuma.
Gorou, archery champion of Watatsumi Island, was offered the opportunity to write for an advice column in Yae Publishing House’s “That’s Life” magazine. At first he’d declined (who wanted advice from Gorou, seriously), but then he’d thought about it some more, and thought, can I actually help people? One of the things he took the most pride in was helping his juniors. Maybe this would be similar. Maybe he could learn from the questions, and polish his soft skills to help more people he knew in person. Sheepishly, he emailed them back and asked if the position was still available. The questions submitted to the magazine were all over the place. Awkward, or sweet, but always unexpected. He did his best to give these strangers support even if it was anonymous, and a few months in, he felt… good about it. Settled. Like he’d done the right thing. The next time he reached for a pen after this realization, his fingers bumped into a Geo vision.
It happened again in Liyue.
Famed opera singer Yun Jin had learned the truth about her most recent play’s history. It was more tragic than she’d realized. The original opera had been beautiful, but she set to work changing it. When her troupe’s manager complained, she replied, “There is a deeper story at work, here. We must respect the truth, and the person who lived this.” It would be bigger. Better. An opera to honor the pain and the hope her subject had felt. The morning after she finished the new draft, she woke to find a Geo vision placed atop the script.
What does it mean, the world asked.
What would happen, now that the seventh element was revived? Would there be disaster? Some kind of change? Would the political landscape shift, with a new Archon entering the stage?
Liyue tracked the revival with eagerness. They’d never stopped being the land of Geo, and had never forgotten the benevolence of their Archon. Temples were cleaned, offerings were left with the little dragon statues in the countryside, and incense was lit.
Are you coming back to us? they wondered. Will you be kind? Will you protect us? Will you love us as our Rex Lapis once did?
Deep under the earth, the Geo Archon stirred.