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Mika was often on his own when mapping the terrain of Natlan.
Sure, he had a troop, but few were as limber and talented at climbing as him, and he needed to scout ahead to identify the best paths for the expedition to proceed.
That was how he ended up, perched on the rocky outcrop of a cliff, mapping down the terrain with trained accuracy and speed. He took extra time to note the dangers of certain routes, muddy slick paths that’d give their horses trouble, disadvantageous routes that’d offer avenues for enemy attacks, proximity to magma. As much as he could to ensure safety.
After adding to his maps, he returned from scaling the cliff sides, returning to his horse and continuing down the path he had found. Periodically, he scaled the cliff, trees, anything, to get a lay of the land.
It was soon after he spotted them.
A troop—no, an expedition, based on pure numbers. Not Varka’s though. Their tents were scattered across a decent opening of solid ground—rare in Natlan’s mountains, meaning they’d probably be, or perhaps have been, taking advantage of the opportunity to set camp for upwards of a week or two. They were dressed uniformly, a uniform which included dark masks. They wore them, even in the uncomfortable Natlan heat. Fatui.
He noted down their location, sketching them and the surrounding land. To their west, along the mountainside, a wall of stacked rocks laid against the mountainside, put there by a landslide.
Mika frowned, setting camp next to a settled landslide? It was not the best idea, unless there was no other choice.
He did his best to stay out of sight, leading his horse by the reins dismounted, keeping near the sparse flora and rocks.
He slipped past the Fatui encampment and down the path ahead.
The path ahead was more precarious than much of the previous. A thirty foot wide valley, unstable rocks laying across the mountainside. Mika noted it down. Bringing the horses through this path would not be easy—the shifting of rocks can easily spook a steed. Not to mention the footfalls of the horses and soldiers could even cause such shifting. But, it was a wide enough path, and an option shouldn’t none of the other scouts find better.
He continued down, intent to find out how long the dangerous stretch of path was.
Halfway down, he paused. Some rocks nearby shifted a few feet, grinding against each other and sending a small wave of dust down the mountainside. Then it was quiet again.
Mika waited. One second. Another. One large rock came loose and fell just a few yards on the mountainside ahead. His horse’s ears were pinned back. This was not a good place to be.
“Barbatos…” he whispered, a near silent prayer.
The rocks shifted once more, ground rumbling with the force. Then—the tides broke.
Mika’s heels dug into his steed’s side, pushing it into a canter. He pushed it back towards where he came from—the way the Fatui camp was.
The landslide roared in his ears, drowned out only partially by his heartbeat in his ears. A wave of dirt, dust, and rocks poured like a wave from the mountains, Mika just barely ahead of it as it steadily gained on him. Would his horse be fast enough to outrun it?
The landslide eased up on moving the rocks to the wall beside him, but still spilled forward from behind.
He turned, seeing a small troop of Fatui maybe fifty yards ahead of him on the path.
“Landslide!” He yelled in common, and they caught on when the rumbling of the land met their ears. They mounted their horses, turning back towards their camp.
Behind him, the landslide began to ease into only a few feet of dirt and rocks rolling like wind over a field of tall grass, broken up by large rocks tumbling through. It hardly seemed like a death sentence then.
But you can’t outrun nature when she decides she’ll take you.
The landslide must have moved a pile of rocks ahead of him on the path, because rocks larger than him slammed into the ground ahead of him. His horse reared as Mika pulled back on the reins. The first may have missed, but the next slammed right into his horse’s side, crushing his leg between its ribs and the rock. He could just barely hear the crack of his bones over the landslide and his own heartbeat.
He yelled out as he was thrown to the side. It was a choked, heavy sound as his head slammed into the ground. His vision swam gray, then disappeared entirely.
~
He woke up to Natlan’s distinct blue sky, distinct because the heat of the earth caused it to warp slightly. Pulling himself up with a groan, he seemed to draw attention to himself.
“The boy’s up.” An unfamiliar voice called out. Blinking back his blurry vision, Mika saw it was a Fatui footsoldier.
“Yer Mondstadt’s, right?” Another asked, he closed his eyes, it didn’t help the headache. His leg also seemed fucked.
“…yeah?”
“Took quite the hit there—” the first said, only to stop when someone interrupted them in a hushed, demanding voice.
“Cap’s here.”
All the soldiers dropped to their knees,
Heavy footfalls maybe fifteen feet away, we’re accompanied by a deep, smooth voice. “Report?”
“Capitano! The landslide has calmed, all equipment, animals, and soldiers are safe.”
“And the boy?”
“Is awake.” The soldier on his knees stood, moving to the side to reveal Mika.
“State your name and alliance.” The man—The Captain—said. He was towering, wide, draped in armor, with a helmet that wrapped his face in an open metal maw and cast an impenetrable shadow over his features. Though, beyond it, Mika caught a glimpse of sharp blue eyes.
“M-Mika Schmidt, member of the—the, uh, Mondstadt expedition.”
“And your role?”
“L-land surveyor and scout, sir.” His heart seemed just a few beats shy of breaking free of his chest.
“And you saw the landslide?”
“Y-yes sir. I was near when it began. It’s what sent me towards your camp.”
The Captain nodded. “I thank you, then, for warning my men. The shift in the rocks caused the mountainside to become unstable and spill into our encampment nearly thirty minutes after the initial landslide. We had time to move. It seems the only casualty thus far has been your horse”
“O-oh. It was no issue, sir.” Except for the whole hit by a rock and dead horse thing. That was a bit of an issue.
“Your comrades, where are they?”
Was he supposed to say? He honestly had no idea. They wouldn’t do anything, their countries were on good-ish terms. At least publically. “Uh, near. Sir.”
“Your leg is still broken, and your head is almost certainly concussed.”
“Y-yes. I can heal it though—now that I am awake. Well—when my hands are unbound, that is, so I’ll be on my way soon.”
“Do you know your way back?”
“I lost many of my notes in the landslide, but I have my notebook and a good memory. I’ll be fine.”
“I do not wish to recover you, only to have you perish in the wilderness returning to your troops. Stay here until you are retrieved. Consider this as an act of gratitude. Your horse has also perished.”
“Well—With all due respect, s-sir—I am expected back with a lay of the land. They will delay proceeding until I return. At least until they notice something wrong. These scouting sessions can take days—”
“You do scouting alone? How old are you?”
“I-I am capable. Today’s events have not been the best demonstration, ha, but I am capable.” Varka wouldn’t have let him go alone if he wasn’t.
“You cannot always outrun nature.” He waved it away. “But that was not my question.”
“I am fifteen years old.” Mika responds almost immediately. He really did not want to make this guy mad.
“Hm. You will stay, and one of mine will inform your expedition. Untie him, return his polearm. He is free to heal himself.”
His wrists were freed as someone behind him slashed a blade through the ropes. His polearm—a standard Favonius spear—was passed to him by a Fatuus who stepped forward. He took it, still on the ground.
Feathers of light cryo bloomed his mangled leg, repairing skin and guiding bones back into place. He’d seen and dealt with many injuries on himself and his fellow knights, so he dealt with the gorey sight just fine. More bloomed in his hair, but they died away quickly. It seems his head injury wasn’t as serious.
Finally mobile, he used the stick of his polearm to help him stand, facing up to the Captain. “Thank you sir.”
“Sit by the center fire,” The Captain gestured into the encampments, and sure enough, one fire burned partially big. “You can tell the scout I assign how to get to your troop there. You are a guest in our camp.”
Mika nodded, turning to do so. Eyes hidden by masks followed him. It was nearly as nerve wracking as the landslide. His skin was slick with sweat. Still, he kept his face as schooled as possible, an attempt that still came off a bit… nervous.
He took a seat by a rock near the fire, others were there as well—high ish ranking too. The Captain followed after barking some orders in Snezhnaya to his troops, delegating them around the camp. He took a seat maybe five feet away from Mika. Which still felt too close.
Mika gave the path to the scout the Captain called forward. They were on friendly terms, it shouldn’t be an issue, and Mika had too much information on him to risk losing. After a moment, the Captain began to speak.
“You are favored by the gods it seems. The healing you demonstrated though was slow acting. Pretty but not efficient.”
“I-oh. I mainly heal others, when I do. But—well I more often am responsible for enhancing, or reinforcing a team of non-vision holders’ physical blades in combat. And healing is quicker to achieve when in combat…” Mika explained, attempting to defend his lackluster—in the eyes of The Captain—skills.
“A supportive scout. With training very geared to working in a group, yet you were scouting alone?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“Strange choice of delegation.”
“I-I am capable.” Mika found himself defending himself again. “Today may not have been the best demonstration, but I am, sir.”
“Obviously. I took a look at the maps in your luggage. They are of military quality, and extensively record the terrain.”
“I—thank you, sir.”
The Captain dipped his head. “They are good work. Were you taught from a young age?”
“I-I had a knack for it I guess.” He responded.
“Hm.” The Captain said simply, then turned to a soldier. “Bring the boy food and water. His troop will be here soon. Treat him only with respect
~
Varka arrived the next day at noon. The hot son was at its peak as the first of them—mounted on horseback, were reported by Fatui scouts to have arrived. When they came to the entrance of the opening, they stood, and Mika heard his name.
“Mika, here. Now.” Varka called out. Mika’s head immediately shot up, crossing the open clearing back to his expedition.
From his steed, Varka reached down and grabbed his bicep, stopping him. “You alright?”
“Y-yes, Varka.” He responded.
“And your supplies?”
“We only lost the horse.”
“Good, go on, with your team.” Varka let him go, ordering him back.
Mika nodded, falling in line with his team. Quietly he reassured them that he was fine and all injuries from the landslide had been healed.
Varka dismounted, holding his steed by the reins as he walked forward to greet the other side. His voice was booming loud, but not aggressive. “I must thank you for watching my scout.”
The Captain took a stride forward as well. “It was no issue, I assure you. He was of help to us, warning of the landslide.”
Mika couldn’t quite hear the rest of their conversation, as they had met one another in the middle and could speak in lower tones now. He shifted on his feet.
Several minutes later, the discussion died down, and Varka turned around and returned to his expedition.
“We will be setting up camp here, on the west side of the clearing.” He spoke, much to the surprise of many of the soldiers. “And we will be treating our temporary roommates with the utmost hospitality. That is an order. Your actions reflect directly on Mondstadt, so behave.”
There were slight whispers among the soldiers, but none were so bold as to disagree. Mondstadt was neutral with Snezhnaya. And if Varka said to behave, they would be behaving.
“And Mika, come here. I have a job for you.”
~~~