Chapter Text
He heard the patter of footsteps behind him and immediately knew something had happened. “Oh, my Archons, did you hear?” Marjorie gripped his shoulders and shook him violently. Her being much bigger than him, it was quite an easy task. Her eyes were wide and round, the way they always became when she’d come to know of some particularly juicy piece of gossip.
Thoma glanced around to make sure the grizzled old man, Mark, wasn’t anywhere around to berate him for not getting on with his work. Good, the coast was clear. “Er, no. What happened?”
“So, you know Donna, right? Toootally in love with Diluc Ragnvindr, sometimes I wonder how that girl can be so hopeless.”
“Uhuh.”
“Well, she managed to score a one-time job at the winery, tending to the grapevines. And guess what?” She didn’t wait for Thoma to attempt (not that he had any idea) and steamrolled on. “The Ragnvindrs brought home an outlander! Found him last night, in the storm, apparently. Donna overheard some of the servants talking about it. They said the kid is incredibly malnourished and doesn’t really speak much. They think he’s not very fluent in Monstadtian.”
“Is he okay?” Thoma asked, frowning. The storm last night had been incredibly strong, with trees whipping wildly and the wind howling till early dawn. The pit of the bridge outside the city gate was still flooded—some of the Knights had been delegated to clean it up today.
“Yes, yes, probably,” Marjorie waved off his concerns. “And get this. Donna swears she saw him through the window while she was there. Hair’s dark blue, wears an eyepatch like some sort of pirate. And she couldn’t be sure because of the lighting, but his complexion is darker than most of ours too. Which makes sense if he’s not from here.”
“Is he going to stay here in Mondstadt?”
“Probably? As of now, it seems like it. They say his parents abandoned him. And you know Crepus Ragnvindr, has a bleeding heart. That man can’t turn away anyone who even looks like they need help.”
“That’s true. Er, what’s his name? The boy, I mean.”
Marjorie shrugged. “Haven’t got that info’ yet. Don’t think anyone knows. I’ll let you know when I do. Don’t even know where exactly he’s from. I’d have said Natlan, but do people in Natlan have blue hair?”
Thoma shrugged. “Maybe he dyed it.”
“Maybe. Could be Liyuean, for all I know, too. They definitely have blue hair; these commercial people came like two weeks ago, and a guy and some boy our age had dark blue hair, kinda’ like this outlander, now that I think of it. Definitely not related though, Donna’s description doesn’t give the same vibe.”
“Huh. Wonder if we’ll see him around here.”
“How often do we see Diluc Ragnvindr around the city?” she shot back. “Unless it’s something to do with the Knights, but even then, he just goes straight to the headquarters. Trust me, I know very well. All courtesy of Donna, duh.”
“Touché,” he laughed.
“Ooookay. Gotta’ get going now. Need to tell some others about all this too. Till then…” she grimaced, looking over Thoma’s shoulder, leaving Thoma with a sinking realisation. “Er… all the best! See ya’!” She waved and bounded off.
Thoma could only turn around slowly and wince as Old Mark in all his paunchy glory advanced upon him.
“What are you doing gossiping around, boy? Is this what I’m paying you for?” he growled.
“No, sir, very sorry, sir. I’ll get the store cleaned up right away.”
“You’d better.” He scowled and stalked off.
Thoma turned back to his work, heaving dusty old crates from the back of the shop and carrying them out to the bins. It was an everyday occurrence for him, having to perform various odd jobs throughout the city to help support his mother. Things had gotten a lot harder since his father left for Inazuma. So, usually, he’d put his all into it. Today, however, as he worked, his sole focus shifted from his task and all he could wonder about was the strange boy from another land he had just heard about.
He shouldered his backpack, walking up the stairwell leading to his home. He could feel the new pouch of mora weighing down his pocket. Old Mark might be a complete grouch, but at least he paid fairly—especially seeing Thoma wasn’t technically old enough to work.
He unlocked the door, trying not to sneeze at the billowing dust. He’d have to get rid of it and the cobwebs over the weekend. The house was dark and silent as always. What with day school and spending the afternoon carrying out small chores here and there, he usually came back after the sun had set. Electricity bills were expensive though, so they didn’t use the lights unless absolutely necessary.
“Mom?” he called, plopping his things by the cabinet. “I’m back.”
No response. His mother rarely gave one.
The curtains were drawn over her side of the room. Thoma pushed past. His mother lay on her bed, bundled in blankets, the same way Thoma left her in the morning. Her soft breathing filled the still air.
“Mom.” He pulled down her blanket from over her head and touched her face. A little warm but not enough to say she had a fever. He placed a hand on her back, pressing hard. “Hey, mom. I’m back.”
His mother Agatha blinked her eyes open. “Hmm?” she mumbled. “Oh, Thoma.” She managed to contort her face into a tired smile. “Back so soon?”
“Have you eaten anything today?”
“Not yet. Was waiting for you to come home so we can eat together.” That was a bald-faced lie and Thoma knew it. Agatha had trouble getting out of bed most days without Thoma by her side. But at least she made the effort to. ‘Waiting for Thoma’ was no excuse to not eat a single morsel the entire day. He didn’t comment, however. Agatha didn’t like when he did.
“Okay,” he said, setting the mora pouch on the other cabinet beside the keys, “I’ll get it warm then.”
The food—just some sweet fowl and roughly-cut bread—was in the mist flower box. Thoma had prepared it in the morning before leaving for school so that Agatha would only have to heat it up and then eat. The mist flower corollas were withering into husks though; Thoma would have to buy or look for some in the wild. He wouldn’t have to worry about freezing his fingers if he just bought it, but it would be more cost-effective if he went on an expedition tomorrow.
He got out a pan and a box of matches, lighting the pile of wood they kept in the defunct fireplace the landlord technically didn’t allow them to use. He tossed the sweet fowl into the pan, adding the sparsest dash of butter so that the meat didn’t get all dry and tasteless. He contemplated toasting the bread a little too, but the fowl was already warm; there was no point in wasting more firewood.
He set everything out on plates (making sure Agatha’s plate had a more generous helping than his own—she couldn’t not eat anything the whole day) on the rickety table that had been with them since before Thoma was born. “Mom! Food’s ready,” he yelled.
“Coming, dear!” she called back, and was soon dawdling in there. “What would I do without you?” she chuckled, eyes crinkling at the corners, ruffling Thoma’s hair. She had to reach up to do it; even at the age of fourteen he had surpassed her height.
“Be able to sleep in the whole day, without having to get up to keep your son company during his meals,” he quipped, trying to lighten his concerns on himself.
“Oh, but that’s the best part.” Agatha took her seat, tying back her silver-flecked dark hair before she started tearing into the food with the cutlery. She looked up before popping a tiny piece into her mouth. “How was your day?”
“Same old, same old,” he sighed, sliding into the seat opposite her. “Cory forgot his homework at school again, so I let him copy mine. The teacher figured it out though, and both of us were sent to detention.”
“That boy always gets you into trouble.” She waggled her fork in his direction. “You should stop indulging in his shenanigans all the time.”
“Well—” he began through a mouthful of food, but Agatha was quick to reprimand him.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”
He chewed harder, and swallowed, before continuing. “Dad always said to help anyone who needs it, if you’re in the position to. Because one day of kindness could be the making point in someone’s life.”
Agatha’s face tightened ever so slightly. She looked down at her hands, twirling her spoon in her bony palm. “Your dad said a lot of things, Thoma. Doesn’t mean they’re all true.”
He hummed noncommittally, not letting her turn of attitude affect him. The topic of his father always made her like this—which was why he only brought it up when he wanted her to stop nagging at an issue. “By the way, the Ragnvindrs found an outlander in the storm last night. They brought him home. It’s all anyone can talk about.”
“An outlander?” His mother’s voice turned sharp. “From Inazuma?”
“No, no.” He took another bite. “I don’t know where from. Liyue perhaps. And everyone’s saying he’s just a kid. They’re all gossiping about what his name might be. He’s either not told them yet, or the Ragnvindrs just haven’t revealed it to the public.” Now that he said it out loud, that did make a lot of sense. There was no knowing how long the boy would stay, if he was even willing to be subject to the sort of scrutiny a family like the Ragnvindrs faced. By the Archons, his very existence had had him become the talk of the town.
“I see. What’s everyone saying?”
“I don’t know that either. Marjorie—she’s Old Mark’s niece—told me. And when Marjorie knows something,” he said with a wry grin, “the whole city knows it. So of course, they’re making a huge deal out of this for no reason whatsoever.”
“That’s Mondstadt for you.” Agatha shook her head fondly. “Speaking of Old Mark, though. How was he today? Not too hard on you, I hope?”
“He wasn’t any different. A toootal grump. He yelled at me when he caught me talking to Marjorie on the job. But he knows you’re usually—” not that well, he was about to say, but common sense stopped him in his tracks. Thoma wasn’t against pushing boundaries by any means, but this wasn’t a boundary. His mom’s on-and-off ailments were entirely out of the limits. He wasn’t quite sure why she had such an issue with it, but she always clammed up if he even mentioned it.
“I mean,” he amended quickly, “he’s known you for a while, right, so he did ask about how you were doing and if everything was fine at home.” He held his breath (figuratively, of course, he wasn’t about to actually stop breathing or something) in the hopes that she wouldn’t notice his gaff.
An eternity seemed to pass, though it was probably closer to about two seconds. “That’s sweet of him,” Agatha said. Thoma scrutinized her face carefully, but it was impassive, level, nothing to indicate she’d realized. “What did you tell him?”
“Oh,” he waved his hand vaguely, “there wasn’t much to say, really. The usual.”
“Okay.” She rested her cutlery on the still-full plate. “You said Marjorie earlier, if I’m recalling correctly. She’s that adventurer’s daughter, isn’t she? Cyrus.”
“Er… maybe? I don’t really know. I don’t think I ever asked.”
“Must be. Good guy, that Cyrus. He usually takes the expeditions when I ask. I don’t know his daughter well though. She must be a good one, her father is.”
“She’s fine. Pretty nice. Super social, literally everyone knows her in some way or another.” He shovelled another fork of fowl into his mouth. “I thought I took your expeditions to willing adventurers. And I’ve talked to Marjorie’s dad like, twice in my life.”
“You don’t know everything about me, Thoma,” Agatha smiled slyly, “and we’re keeping it that way.”
“What do you mean? I’m your only son, your blood and kin, and you’re gonna’ hide things from me? Wow, that hurts, Mom.” He placed a hand over his heart in mock-indignation. He didn’t mind, however. He knew Agatha had the right to keep certain things from him, and he never wanted to argue with her. It wasn’t as if he told her everything either.
“Oh, please,” she wrinkled her nose, “don’t look so shocked.” Thoma was struck by how different she could look sometimes from the woman who had trouble getting out of bed without his help. Her clear green eyes sparkled with a youthful sort of mischief as she teased him. That thought, however, flew right out of the window as she pushed her plate away, her food barely touched. “Alright, I’m full for today. Finish it for me, please, dear.”
“What? Mom, no, you’ve eaten nothing today—”
“I just ate. Don’t worry about me.”
“You barely ate anything—”
“It’s okay. Really, it is.”
“You need food. You’re not—”
“Thoma.” Her voice steeled. “I can gauge what I need well enough. I’m tired right now. So, either you finish my plate too, or keep it back in the mist flower box for tomorrow. That’s the end of this discussion.”
Thoma looked down at his plate. He’d picked the bone clean, but his stomach still swished around in turbulence. But…
He looked up again, and Agatha was glaring at him with an arched eyebrow. “I’ll have it,” he muttered.
“Good.” She got up from the table, leaving her cutlery to the side of her plate. “Come and light the candles when you’re done.” With that, she ambled back towards her room, not waiting to hear Thoma’s response.
He sighed to himself, pulling her plate closer towards him. Might as well not let it go to waste, food was already tight in the house. “Yes, Mother,” he mumbled behind her even though he knew she wouldn’t hear, trying not to let bitterness colour his thoughts.
He was back at Old Mark’s the next day after school, finishing up the rest of his work. He ferried crates back and forth, to and from the bins. By the time Mark’s store’s backroom was clear of the old boxes, Thoma was absolutely winded and drenched in sweat. Archons, he’d have to give himself a good scrubbing today. It also gave him an excuse to stop putting the week’s laundry off.
He stopped outside the shop, leaning against the door and wiping off the sweat trickling down his forehead. It was right opposite the Adventurer’s Guild reception that overlooked the blacksmith’s shop, so if Old Mark was going to come back from that direction, Thoma would have a decent heads up.
That was when a woman, all red in the face and ruffled, ran in through the city gates, huffing vigorously. She stopped at Katheryne’s booth and doubled down, breathing loudly. “Katheryne…” she said between pants, “hilichurls… camp… outskirts of Windrise… took us by surprise. Knights need to… send contingent.” She dropped to the ground, resting against the wall. “Fritz and the others hid near the temple. They’re making their way back, but they sent me to warn you…”
“Thank you for informing the Guild,” said Katheryne, her demeanour level as always. She glanced around, and her eyes fell on Thoma who had been watching curiously.
Thoma straightened under her stare. Did she need him to do something?
Clearly, yes. She beckoned towards him. “Er, could you take this message to the Knights of Favonius?” she asked. “You heard what Trina said, right?”
He nodded. “Hilichurl camp on the outskirts of Windrise. Fritz’s team is still there, though they may be coming back. Got it.”
“Mitachurls too,” Trina piped up. “Two big ones with those axes. Also those little hilichurl shamans. I remember a dendro one. There may have been an anemo one too. There were more than two, I just… don’t remember.”
“I’ll let the Knights know,” Thoma assured her. “If Old Mark is back before I am, just let him know where I went, okay?” He then took off, just slightly miffed that he couldn’t enjoy a small break before having to go back and deal with his mother and various household chores at home.
He ran through the square, up the stairs, past the windmill, up another flight of stairs, then yet another flight of stairs, and Barbatos, how many stairs were in this godforsaken city? He was almost considering scaling the walls instead of using the stairs, it looked like it would be much easier and faster—but the Knights’ headquarters was already in sight.
Two knights stood guard at the doors, their sword hilts glinting in their scabbards. Well, he said stood guard, but he meant a straight-up fight, with raised voices, quite a bit of shoving, lots of murderous looks. He couldn’t quite glean what the argument was about. (He overheard something about a cookie? That couldn’t be right—the esteemed Knights of Favonius wouldn’t abandon their posts over that trivial of a matter. No, no. There must be more to it, of course.)
Still, Thoma didn’t want to get in the middle of whatever was going on. Fortunately, a little ways off, to the back of the old building, some of the younger recruits were sparring with the training dummies. They couldn’t be older than thirteen or fourteen, around his age—though they were a lot more skilled with weapons than he could ever hope to be.
He approached them, apprehension rising stark in him. They all looked so focused, Thoma wasn’t exactly sure how to get their attention.
Luck was on his side, for as it turned out, he didn’t have to.
A tall blonde girl—though not as tall as him; Thoma had always been gangly—walked up to him, sheathing her sword and tightening her ponytail. She’d been standing to the side, watching the others practice with a critical gaze. That gaze was now fixed upon him. “What do you want?”
“I, er, have a message for the Ordo. From the Adventurer’s Guild.” This was Jean Gunnhildr, he realised as he spoke. He was talking to Jean Gunnhildr, heiress to the Gunnhildr clan. They weren’t as famous as the Ragnvindrs, but they were famous enough for Thoma to recognise her.
“What’s the message?”
“It’s, er… it’s sort of a long one. Best if I relay it to a captain myself.”
She pursed her lips, thinking it over. Then, she nodded. “Captain Purdue isn’t on patrol right now. Come with me, I’ll take you to her.”
She excused herself from one of her superiors, gesturing pointedly towards Thoma as she gave the knight a reason, making him feel a little uncomfortable standing there. After that, she curtly instructed him to follow her and led him inside the headquarters to meet Purdue. (Yes, they came across the still arguing guards—neither he nor Jean were inclined to address that mess.)
Captain Purdue was at her office, poring over some book or the other when Jean rapped lightly at her door. She startled a little and looked up. “Come in.” She waved them inside.
“Good afternoon, Captain,” said Jean, straightening her back. “There’s a message for the Knights from the Adventurer’s Guild.” She glanced towards Thoma.
Purdue set aside her book and pushed her thin-rimmed glasses up her nose. “What is it?”
“Erm…” What was it again? Before he could forget, he started rattling it off. “Hilichurl camp, outskirts of Windrise. Fritz’s adventure team is still stuck at the Temple of the Falcon but they’re trying to come back. Tina—no, Trina informed us. A dendro hilichurl shaman, an anemo one too. There may have been more, Trina can’t be sure. And two big hilichurls with axes.” He rolled his lips, making sure he wasn’t missing out on anything. “That’s it, I think. They want you to send a dispatch team.”
“How long ago was this?” asked Purdue.
“I just got to know fifteen minutes ago. They said the camp took them by surprise.”
“Thank you for coming to me. I’ll put together a team ASAP.”
“Ma’am—” spoke up Jean, hesitation apparent all over her face— “Captain. I could be a part of the team. I’ve trained a lot—I’ve started helping the junior regiment with their sword skills. And Grandmaster Varka always says, the best way to learn is through experience, so wouldn’t it be optimal for me to—”
“Absolutely not,” Purdue shot her down. “Frederica would eviscerate me if she ever found out. Forget about that, I’m not sending a thirteen year old to fight mitachurls and samachurls, for Barbatos’s sake.”
“I’m fourteen. Captain,” she tacked on at the end.
“Same difference.”
“But—”
“Gunnhildr, this is an order. Your training session isn’t complete anyway. So I’d advise you to go and focus on that, and leave things like this to the adults, yeah?”
Jean’s jaw tightened. Thoma almost thought she was going to continue arguing, convince Purdue of her case, talk her way onto the team, but instead, she gritted out, “understood, Captain.”
“Good girl,” said Purdue. “You’re dismissed then.”
She turned heel and stalked off.
“I… er, thanks, Captain,” said Thoma, and took the opportunity to sprint away from the awkward situation as well.
Jean was standing outside the headquarters, arms crossed, frowning to herself. The building itself was located higher ground than the square so anyone there would have a bird’s eye view of the bustling town. Kinda’. If you looked past the clustered houses and the Goth Grand. Well, you could imagine the square.
She looked over at him. “Anything I can help you with?”
“You really wanted to go on that mission, didn’t you?”
She didn’t say anything at first. Thoma realised that she was ignoring him, but just as the realisation struck, she spoke. “Well, yeah. Wouldn’t you if you’ve been training since you were a kid for situations exactly like this?”
“Aren’t we still kids?” Even as the words were out of his mouth, he knew he had stopped being a kid a long time ago. He didn’t know Jean’s story or what her life was like, but speaking from his own experience, he’d had to grow up much too fast. Not that he resented it; in fact, if he could do it all over again, he wouldn’t change a thing.
Jean shrugged. “It’s… fine. I’ll just practice more. Train harder. At least someday I know I’ll join them.”
“Why didn’t you push harder in there with Purdue?”
She sighed. “She’s a senior official. What I did was audacious enough on its own. I don’t need or want anything smearing my record, not for this.” She intertwined her fingers, pulling at them, though not hard enough to pry them apart. “I’m sorry, this is so rude of me. What’s your name? I didn’t catch it before.”
“I didn’t say it before.” It sounded very cynical, but the truth was that he hadn’t expected her to care. “I’m Thoma.”
She stuck her hand out, letting a small smile onto her lips. “Jean. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Thoma shook her hand. “Great to meet you,” he said, even though he knew who she was. What really surprised him was that she was actually willing to talk to a commoner like him outside professional conversation, despite her being part of Mondstadt’s nobility.
“I should go… and train. The class isn’t over yet.” She seemed strangely reluctant. “But,” and she added this a little hopefully, “I’ll see you around? Like, not here… unless you sign up for the Knights anytime soon—”
“No chance.” He shook his head vehemently. He couldn’t fight to save his life, forget about saving others.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Jean chuckled. “No offence. But, er… feel free to say hi if you see me on patrol. I—yeah.”
“Sure.” And now he smiled. “I should get going too. My mom’s gonna’ be worried sick.” Unless she was still in bed like yesterday, in which case, he’d have to force her up. “See you then.” He deliberately avoided using her name; it was a little weird to call the freaking Gunnhildr heiress by her first name. So, he just walked backwards down the stairs, waving goodbye with two fingers.
“See you, Thoma,” Jean called, waving back. And then, she sped away to her class, leaving Thoma a little intrigued about this seemingly perfect, blonde girl.