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It's time to admit it.
He's lost.
See, it isn't Pallad's fault, though. He made it right the way to the Stone Gate with no problem whatsoever, and then there were those slimes. And then the hilichurls. And the cicins. So he had to run away; and he ran, and ran, and ran and now—
Well, now he doesn’t know where he is. In a forest of bamboo, it seems like. The map and route he’d drawn out hadn’t said anything about bamboo, so… boy. He’s really in it now.
There’s nothing else he can do but press onwards. Retracing his steps isn’t as easy as it sounds; he knows he ran in circles at one point, and none of the scenery looks familiar and oh, maybe he should just proceed onwards until he finds someone he can ask. Who’s idea was it to send him to Liyue Harbour on his own, anyway? And all to do an ‘investigation’ into the ‘price of precious metals’. The Mondstadt Adventurers’ Guild could have just sent a letter to the Liyue branch and had an answer much more easily than this.
But who was he to turn down mora for such an easy quest?
Or, well. It was supposed to be easy. It was proving to be anything but.
He clambers through the forest, following a path that eventually leads him to a series of bridges overlooking vast fields. Pallad doesn’t know the names of the plants he sees; but they are vivid in colour, all orange and yellow, and so different to the dandelion fields back at home.
He presses onwards; there is the faint sound of people chattering, and soon a village comes into view.
“Hello child! Can we offer you some tea?”
Pallad is ushered into a seat by possibly the oldest man he’s ever met before he can even think about formulating a response; which, to be fair, is something that would take him far longer than the average person anyway.
“I—thank you,” he says.
“Whatever brings you all the way out here?” another man asks. This one has sat himself down opposite Pallad. He’s a tall fellow, with his hair tied back in a long ponytail. He looks far too overdressed for the location.
“I…” Pallad hesitates. “I’m an adventurer,” he settles on, proudly puffing his chest out. “I had to come to Liyue for a mission.”
“Ah, you’re from Mondstadt,” the man comments. “I would recognise that accent anywhere. What’s your name?”
“Pallad,” he says. “Though most people call me ‘Reckless Pallad,’ haha…”
“What an interesting nickname. Most people don’t get theirs without good reason. What’s the story?”
“Well…” Pallad begins. “Hang on,” he says, a perfect way to buy more time to think of something that isn’t terribly depressing. “What’s your name?”
“Ah. How rude of me. My name is Zhongli. I’m a consultant at the Funeral Parlour in Liyue Harbour.”
“Morbid,” Pallad says, without thinking. Like an idiot.
But Zhongli laughs politely and sips his tea. Pallad takes the cup he is offered by the first old man and sips on it immediately, scalding his tongue in the process.
“Perhaps it is morbid,” Zhongli cedes. “Or perhaps I simply like ensuring that the correct processes are followed. There are many centuries of tradition in Liyue’s funerals, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah, uh-huh,” Pallad mutters, blowing on his tea before draining it entirely. Funerals are morbid, and this guy’s just… talking about them? Whatever.
Zhongli smiles at him. “I understand. The people of Mondstadt always did have a problem discussing the inevitable.” If it’s meant to be an insult, Pallad doesn’t get it. But it doesn’t matter anyway, for soon Zhongli has returned to the previous topic. “Now, where did you get that nickname?”
“I…” Pallad says. “Go on adventures a lot without thinking. Yeah. People say I’m pretty reckless for it.”
“And it’s not because you act rashly in other circumstances?”
Pallad forces a smile. “Not at all.” How dare this stranger see through him so easily?
Zhongli does not challenge him. “Tell me,” he says, pausing to sip at his tea once more. “Were you intending to come to Qingce Village? Something tells me you were intending to reach the Harbour instead.”
“I was,” Pallad admits. “I got a little lost on the way. I don’t suppose you could give me directions?”
Zhongli practically beams at him. “I’m headed back there myself, actually. It will take us quite some time to reach the Harbour, but you’re welcome to join me if you like. Perhaps I could tell you about the funeral rites on the way…”
Suddenly, Pallad regrets ever taking the quest in the first place.