Chapter Text
To whomever reads this after:
What you will find here now is a record of all events leading up to the unfortunate circumstance in front of a fountain in Mondstadt between the traveler and the eleventh harbinger. Written in a palatable way for our Abyssal Lord, who has urged all witnesses to submit their accounts in writing and as accurately as possible.
Unfortunately for this record, it must be written by my hand, and in such a way as instructed by a now deceased pyro mage in hopes to lessen the impact of that particular event for which it had been the sole witness to. A very roundabout way to get out of trouble if I should say so myself. However, I will not deny the dead their final wish, and I must stress that this was their wish. So, here is the whole report, as instructed, in a way of a story (with certain commentaries from yours truly.)
By the icy seaside of the nation of Snezhnaya, in a village that boasts more troublemakers than boats, there lived a young man.
Well, at least he used to live there. Most of the time he found himself living in his sprawling mansion in the outskirts of the capital. A real success story from the small village of Morepesok if they ever bothered to claim him—not many there liked to, they had enough bad eggs already. This, however, did not trouble the young man for he loved his village and the tranquility it gave him.
On one particular day he had come to visit his parents and siblings after earning a well deserved vacation. Could he have gone anywhere else in Teyvat to spend this rare opportunity than the cold, unforgiving land that birthed him? Yes, his parents even told him to; begged him even. Did he heed their advice? No. Any excuse he could find to return home he gladly took it. What better place to relax than the warm embrace of home?
If only he didn't this time.
The snow covered ground had dampened his hair and clothes. A bag full of groceries was spilled carelessly by his side and the pounding in his head grew by the second. If anyone had passed him by at that moment and saw him sprawled out in the snow they would've jumped to conclusions and scolded him for being drunk so early in the morning. If they had taken a little more than a second they would've seen that he was in fact not drunk but much worse.
“Confound this ache in my head!” The young man snapped as he slowly sat up. He placed a hand at his temple as the motion made his predicament worse. The world around him was spinning and he couldn't remember what had happened that caused him to be laid out so carelessly on the ground. Had he tumbled down a ravine? Fallen off of his horse? Why was he there? Why couldn't he remember anything?
The young man pressed his thoughts again. There had to be something he could remember. Something that could clue him in to what had happened, but the more he tried the worse his headache became so in order to save himself from further pain he gave up on the idea altogether. Perhaps the “how” he got there wasn't important, and perhaps his memory of everything else wasn't a big deal either. However, he did remember this. He was Sir Ajax, loyal subject to The Tsaritsa, the only knight errant in all of Snezhnaya to have claimed Morepesok as the place he hailed from, and he, at that moment, was on a noble and righteous quest.
──── ⚔ ────
When a noble knight errant is on a quest he does not ask the common folk to which way he must go to complete his task. A noble knight errant must always know his way around the land—such say the tales that all in Teyvat know. Knights somehow always knew where to go in those stories, perhaps that was part of what made them so great.
Sir Ajax on the other hand, well, he really didn't have a single clue. An embarrassing admittance for the good knight but in his defense he did suffer a head injury of some kind and that was where he placed all of the blame, for he was a knight of great renown.
Or so he thought of himself as such.
Once he had situated himself better and he felt well enough to stand, Sir Ajax walked down a path in search of a village. He would've brought the spilled food items that he found near his person but the bag and the food seemed unsalvageable. Pity, as his stomach did grumble at that moment. A rare occurrence as usually a knight never had to address such base needs.
Not too long after he started his trek, Sir Ajax spotted what looked to be a village. As he approached the entrance to the village his eyes immediately landed on a very distinct building.
To any other person this particular building wasn't one that they wanted to see from the inside. In order to keep the peace in her land, The Tsaritsa had installed Fatui operatives all across Snezhnaya and instructed them to act as local law enforcement, hence the Fatui building in that humble village. To be hauled into such a place meant you would face severe consequences, but Sir Ajax didn't see it that way. To him, in his delusion, the building was a respectable place and only the most honorable of knights were allowed inside. What else could this Fatui building be than a knight's lodge? And what else could those two masked Fatui subordinates be than fellow knights tasked with guarding the entrance?
“Lord Harbinger?” One of the subordinates guarding the door said as the harbinger –er “knight” in question walked towards them.
“Harbinger?” Sir Ajax repeated with a tinge of offense laced in his tone. “Is that how you see me, guard? As some ill omen? I'll have you know that anyone can see that I am not a harbinger but a knight and I implore you to address me as such.”
“Knight? Since when–” the subordinate began to say when he suddenly was elbowed in the ribs by the other fatuus watching over the entrance, causing the first man to double over.
“Excuse my companion, sir knight.” The second subordinate said as he fixed his posture. “Today is his first day on the job and as you can see he still has a lot to learn.”
“Very well, I'll excuse his behavior this once.” Sir Ajax said with a huff, “I wouldn't have any time to dole out punishment anyhow, for I require your assistance.”
“In what?” The second subordinate asked.
“I seek a maiden dressed in white, hair as pale as the dawn and eyes as rich as honey.” The most noble knight began to explain, “a true beauty that comes only second to Her Majesty, The Tsaritsa herself.”
The second subordinate scratched his head and thought hard about who could match such a description. In truth, he had only been in the presence of a handful of true maidens and all of them could not compete with the visage of Her Majesty. There was one that popped into his mind; however. She did match the description, but he couldn't attest to her beauty since he had never personally seen her. But how ugly could she be, really? If she had caught the eye of Tartaglia then she must be a beauty for that man didn't turn his head for most women. Or maybe his tastes leaned more to uglier women and in truth this particular maiden wasn't all that?
The man shuddered at the thought of being duped in such a manner, he wondered if the harbinger was certain of his description. His musings were interrupted by the tapping of a foot and the man noticed that his superior was growing impatient. Oh well, enough of his thoughts, his lord wanted an answer and who was he to keep this dangerous man waiting.
“The Traveler, Sir?” The subordinate responded carefully.
“How casually you use such a moniker!” Sir Ajax scoffed, “she is a princess and a most noble lady; address her as such!”
“So you are looking for her?” The first subordinate piped up, finally having collected himself from being hit.
“Yes.” Sir Ajax affirmed, “she is a pure maiden and only through her righteousness may I be absolved of my plight.”
“Your what?”
“My plight!” Sir Ajax snapped, “oh, I will not waste more breath with you! It is clear you both have no respect for all that is good!”
“Apologies, Sir.” The second replied, “there was a report not too long ago that the Trav– I mean princess, was in Mondstadt. It's possible she's still there.”
Sir Ajax breathed in deeply and relaxed his features at the news, “Mondstadt? Well what good fortune has been bestowed upon me today. I shall make haste and go to her side. Surely, she will be most pleased to see me.”
“Doesn't she actively hate the Fatui?” The first subordinate muttered under his breath, earning himself another hit to the ribs by his peer.
“What was that?” Sir Ajax asked.
“Nothing.” The first subordinate wheezed.
“It didn't seem so.” The knight responded, “speak clearly next time guard, for a knight never speaks in such an underhanded manner!”
“I'll keep that in mind.” The man said as he clutched at his stomach. The second subordinate cleared his throat in order to get Sir Ajax's attention again.
“It would be wise if you made your way to Mondstadt now. Wouldn't want to waste anymore time looking for the princess, right?”
“You are absolutely right!” Sir Ajax declared, “I must make haste, for the fair maiden will surely be worried as to where I've been.”
With that Sir Ajax bid the two men farewell. The guards watched as he strolled down the path and made a right towards the direction of Mondstadt. They waited till the harbinger was just out of earshot and waited a few minutes more before any of them dared to speak.
“What the hell was that?” The first subordinate hissed at his fellow guard, “and why did you play along with that whole knight business?”
“Would you rather get gutted like a fish or live through your first shift?” The second man snapped.
“Live obviously.” The first said, “but Lord Tartaglia, he's acting crazy! Shouldn't we report this to someone?”
“You think they'll believe us when we say the eleventh has gone crazy?” The second replied, “All of the harbingers are insane!”
The first man groaned and let his posture slouch. “No, you're right. What should we do?”
“Keep our mouths shut and pretend this never happened.” The second man reasoned.
The first guard looked towards the direction to where the harbinger went. An unsettling feeling—that was not the whackings he received—began to grow in the pit of his stomach. Did they just unleash a deranged man into Teyvat? No one will know it was them will they?
He groaned again and straightened himself out. His fellow guardsman was right, it wasn't their problem anymore, let the Traveler deal with it. Still, he couldn't say he didn't feel pity for The Tsaritsa's enemy.
“I'd hate to be the Traveler.”
──── ⚔ ────
In the fair nation of Mondstadt, the concept of chivalry and knighthood was not some ancient code that those in the past used to follow. They were the very foundation that the nation was born from. To the people of Mondstadt these virtues were as important in their current lives as it was so many generations ago. And how could it not be? Mondstadt looked like it had been summoned from the pages of fairytales; one would come to believe such things just by standing in the land.
Lush, green, rolling hills with herds of horses roaming across the landscape, forests that boasted the best game, a sprawling city that any ruler would be proud of and at its center were the Knights of Favonius. Mondstadt was an open place where everyone was welcomed, even every type of knight.
“You can't come in.” The knight watching over the gate entrance told Sir Ajax as he stood in his way.
“Absurd!” Sir Ajax exclaimed, “I seek audience with the princess and I will not have you block my path! Fellow knight you must understand, this is my noble quest!”
The knight scrunched up his nose and stared suspiciously at Sir Ajax. “Fellow knight? Princess? Are you trying to be funny or something?”
“I see no humor in this.” Sir Ajax said.
The knight let out a tired huff and crossed his arms. “Look, I don't know who you're trying to see but you can't come in.”
“Why not?”
“You're a harbinger.”
“I am not!” Sir Ajax protested, “I am a knight and I'm here to find–” His voice faltered; just as he was about to school the Favonius knight in front of him Sir Ajax had caught a glimpse of white fabric swaying in the wind.
To the delusional knight it felt as if the world had slowed to a stop. The one he had been looking for had finally deemed him worthy and graced him with her presence.
In Sir Ajax's eyes, the maiden wore a delicate white dress; made from fabric that could only have been spun from moonlight. Her short, pale-dawn colored hair caught the rays of the evening sun, crowning her soft curls in with their light. Her honey-colored eyes seemed to glow in the evening light, matching that of the brightest stars with their intensity.
To gaze upon a being so ethereal, so perfect, a sheer glance would make the most battle-hardened men weep. There should be sonnets dedicated to her, Sir Ajax thought, and if there weren't any then he would take up the task. Anything to honor the beauty right in front of him.
In truth, who Sir Ajax was actually looking at was a very tired, somewhat annoyed, honorary knight who wore a worn out, white dress that now sported grass stains, dirt, and blood. Her short, pale dawn-colored hair was plastered to her face and knotted at the ends. Her honey-colored eyes wilted with exhaustion, and mud caked heavily on her boots. She groaned as she sluggishly trudged up a flight of stairs, her small fairy friend hovered right behind her keeping the poor girl steady.
If anyone at that moment told him: “it's just the traveler don't bother her,” he wouldn't hear any of it. How could he? In his delusion he truly believed he had been blessed with the visage of the second most beautiful woman in all of Teyvat, not this common “Traveler” that everyone insisted she was.
Sir Ajax dusted off the bit of dirt that clung to his jacket and stood up a little straighter. If he was going to present himself he had to look his best, no knight would even dare give less than that. Once he found himself ready, Sir Ajax took in a deep breath, cupped his hands in front of his face, and a single, enthusiastic word escaped his lips
“Princess!”