Chapter Text
The noon sun beats down over the harbor as most others seek refuge in the shade-all except the golden-haired traveler, their floating white-haired fairy, the president of the Spina di Rosula, and a Steambird journalist.
Just a few hours prior, the duo had received an urgent summons from the Natlan branch of the Adventurer’s Guild. Relations are breaking down between the tribes, and right before something called ‘The Pilgrimage’. “Tribes?”, Paimon’s bright voice sounds from behind the Traveler.
“Paimon had no idea there were tribes…or even people! We’ve never seen anyone from Natlan, have we?”
The golden-haired wanderer wordlessly packed their things, not in any particular mood to entertain their companion. The letter was not in the usual neat script as was expected from Katheryne-no, it was hurried and even the paper was torn in places. If even the carriers couldn’t deliver a letter in pristine condition, it spelled a poor omen indeed. “Maybe it’s a nation full of dragons, like Neuvillette said!” The ridiculous notion dragged the Traveler back to reality.
“Don’t be silly, Paimon. Dragons can’t write letters, can they?”, they teased lightly. It was amusing to see Paimon’s reaction, at least. She huffed and floated just above the tightly packed bag of supplies, looking much like a petulant child. “Now Paimon knows you’re lying! Neuvillette could write letters just fine-” A brisk knock on the door snaps the pair out of it. Standing in the door is none other than Charlotte, her kamera already at the ready. The traveler groans inwardly-they don’t hate the girl, but her insistence on pictures and an interview can be overwhelming.
“Traveler! Are the rumors true? You’re setting sail to Natlan, aren’t you?” Her shutter snaps. Perhaps sensing that they were feeling reluctant, she continued her string of questioning. “What made you choose Natlan specifically as your destination? The press has yet to establish any mode of communication in the nation-” Now that intrigued the golden haired wanderer. No mode of communication..? Has Natlan been that isolated? And if so, for how long…the traveler grabs their supplies and walks out into the street, Paimon and Charlotte following close behind. The quickest way to Natlan, according to the rudimentary map enclosed with the letter, was across the sea and past the Sumeru desert.
“Charlotte, you said ‘the rumors’...how many people know that we’re leaving?”
To her infinite credit, she had the sense to look a bit sheepish. “Well…I fought tooth and nail for the rights to this story, so nothing’s been officially published yet, but…” It was Paimon’s turn to groan. “Paimon bets that everyone’s been gossiping about it…”
Charlotte takes the awkward moment to polish her kamera lens. “Er…you’re departing from the Romaritime Harbor, right? Would you mind if I came with? I mean, as a friend, not a reporter.” She innocently puts her kamera on her waist as though extending an olive branch. The duo sighs inwardly, but can they really refuse her?
Journeys hardly ever end as one expects. For example, neither traveler, floating fairy, or reporter expected Navia lying in wait at the harbor. She practically pounced on the trio, her hat nearly flying off her head in excitement. “You two were heading off and didn’t tell me?!” She didn’t sound truly cross. It was more like an enthusiastic admonishment.
The traveler, in truth, didn’t think much of a proper goodbye. They had made a great deal of allies in Fontaine, but an even greater deal of them would be unable to spare time for such an ordinary event. Lyney and Lynette were almost certainly on some mission, Neuvillette has been swamped with work since the flood, Wriothesley is…underwater, and Furina hasn’t made much of a habit of appearing in public, now.
They had assumed Navia was busy with Spina di Rosula related affairs, but here she was, grinning ear to ear. She pushed a wrapped box of macarons into the traveler’s hands, ignoring any protests. “I won’t take no for an answer, partner! At least take a goodbye picture for us!”
Charlotte snapped pictures until the sun started to dip in the sky, and the number of ships in the harbor started to dwindle. The duo boarded the last possible boat to Sumeru, watching their friends’ shouting and waving slowly fade. Paimon held on tight to a particularly memorable picture, a gift from Charlotte. As they watched the sun set and the stars come out in the sky, they mentally prepared themselves for the journey through the desert and into uncharted territory.
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The first step in Natlan was an unpleasant one. There were no enemies yet, nor any errant phenomena. No, the golden haired traveler has just stepped into a shallow bank. It was jarring, trekking through the expanse of arid sand and then stepping into a puddle. With a sharp yelp, the traveler pulled their foot out amidst Paimon’s giggling.
“Don’t laugh, Paimon…you wouldn’t get it, floating all the time..” Grumbling quietly, they waded through the water and made it across the bank. It was quiet, eerily so. A few birds flitted between the crevices in the tall rock walls around them, and the bleat of a mountain goat echoed, but no voices, no talking.
“Maybe…there really aren’t any people around…” Paimon didn’t sound so sure of herself now.
The traveler was acutely aware of how exposed they were, in the bottom of the canyon. It would be all too easy for someone to see them from above and ambush. They were armed, of course, but the terrain was unfamiliar. As they continued forward, the road became more narrow and less obviously traveled. Paimon floated a bit closer to the traveler as even the sound of birds and mountain goats faded. A few overturned torches jutted from the ground, the only sign of civilization they had come across as of late.
The traveler stopped short as they came across a cliff with an unsteady looking bridge. Paimon floated across, lightly tapping the bridge to test how much weight it could handle, leaving the golden haired traveler on the other side.
They picked up on the sound of something landing behind them and whirled around, finding not a formidable adversary, but a child no older than ten, holding a spear with a slightly unsteady gait. They stood there, eyes slightly wide as they wondered if they should draw their weapon or scold the child for being out without a parent.
Something about the child felt off, though. It wasn’t the rounded, animalistic ears, or her hesitant, almost harassed look, but her solid grip on the spear, as though she had been trained to attack, and very well at that.
“O-Outlanders….you are in our territory..!”
Somehow, the traveler found themselves opening their mouth to talk. “Your? Who are you?” The child looked stunned, as though the script that she had carefully deliberated in her head had come apart as easily as wet paper.
“Me? I…I am a warrior!” She looked more determined now, finding her stride mid-sentence.
“A warrior from the Children of Echoes! And I-I mean, we, will not allow outlanders into our tribe!”