Chapter Text
It was three hundred and fifty-eight days since Hydorn the Magnificent had been thrown out of Mondstadt. Two days since he had returned.
No one recognized him now. Why would they? He had only been in the city for a few days, back then, and he had never left the hotel without his stage makeup on. He was probably only remembered in some dusty report, long unread, of a travelling magician expelled from the city for theft.
Theft! They called it theft! Every single person he had taken mora from had watched his show. He had performed for them, and they had left him with nothing, or at most, a few measly coins tossed into the cap he set out. A few hundred mora in a day was nowhere near enough to survive on. And when he’d approached the authorities (he had tried the Knights and the Church, since he couldn’t figure out who was actually in charge) about patronage for his art, he had been turned away. The Church had at least been polite. The Knights—or rather, the savage Philistine who called himself the Grand Master—had outright laughed in his face.
Then, when he had dared to take what was rightfully his, they had called it theft! In vain he had pointed out that he had only taken from those who had watched his show. In vain he had explained that genius had to be fed. Those dreadful knights had searched his room, his bag, and even his pockets. They had taken every mora he had on him, and all of the trinkets he’d taken to sell later. He was left with practically nothing. Then they had given him three days’ worth of miserable ration food and had sent him out of the city. When he’d tried to get back in, that night, his way had been blocked by two of the fools guarding the gate.
He wondered if they had ever even reported his parting words.
It had been unwise of him, he realized now, to make his desire for revenge so clear, even to the guards at the gate. That’s why he had waited all this time. He had to be sure he would be forgotten. Of course, his magic wouldn’t have been forgotten. He imagined that even now, the good citizens of Mondstadt would reminisce about the magician who had visited them once. But they couldn’t be expected to remember his face. Besides, he was in disguise now. Not stage makeup; a much more subtle design.
He'd found a different hotel, this time. Apparently, the Grand Goth Hotel had a standing booking for the Fatui. Now there was a group he didn’t want to get close to. So he contented himself with more meagre lodgings. They were beneath him, but for a few weeks, it didn’t matter.
Now, all he needed was a chance for revenge.
He’d figured out his plan on his second day back in the city, as soon as he’d heard someone address the child as a knight. He’d asked someone about it. How could a child be a knight?
“Oh, that’s Spark Knight Klee,” the waitress had told him. “Just a child, and yet she’s one of the strongest knights. It’s really quite incredible.”
“A child is stronger than most of the knights?” The girl hadn’t looked particularly well-muscled. He could believe that the child was smarter than most of the knights. That wasn’t a high bar. But stronger?
“Well, not strong physically, I suppose,” the waiter had admitted. “But she’s been able to reshape entire mountains with her bombs.”
Really, these knights were asking for it. A child. With bombs. In their number. He couldn’t have asked for better fortune.
Now all he had to do was wait for the girl to leave the city unaccompanied. He didn’t have a lot of time to wait, but today, three hundred and fifty-eight days since he was expelled, he saw the girl leaving.
“Where are you off to?” one of the knights at the gate asked.
“Klee’s going fish blasting,” she answered proudly. “But you can’t tell.”
He couldn’t help staring when they just laughed and wished her well. He could guess what “fish blasting” was. Who lets their child throw bombs at fish? He had pretty low expectations of parenting (his own parents had him pickpocketing when he was smaller than this girl), but even they wouldn’t have let him play with bombs.
He made his way out the side gate. Wouldn’t do to be seen following the girl. The boat he’d rented to go fishing on Cider Lake was still waiting there. As he rowed, he could see the girl’s bright red outfit in the distance. Who wears red out in the wild? You’re asking to get mugged.
Not that he was going to mug her. He had rather bigger plans in mind, and they hinged on no one noticing what had happened to the child. Not that he would harm a child, anyhow. He had standards.
He found the girl wandering through the forest. Greeting her with his most charming smile, he asked, “What’s a little lady like you doing all alone in the forest.”
“I’m not a little lady. Klee is the Spark Knight.”
“Oh, my apologies, Sir Knight,” he said, with a little bow. “I should have known you were a powerful knight.”
She giggled. “Klee’s going fish blasting. Do you want to come?”
How gullible was this child? “I would love to. I bet you’re the best fish blaster ever.”
“That’s right!” She was positively beaming now. He just needed to distract her a little more.
“I say,” he said, “did you realize you have a peppermint tucked behind your ear?”
She stopped and stared, then grabbed at her ear. “I can’t find anything.”
“No? Let me see.”
The sleight of hand was ridiculously simple, and an adult would never have fallen for it. But the girl laughed with delight when he handed her the candy.
“You’re magic, like Mom!”
Oh. That was unexpected. “Your mother is a magician?”
“No, silly, she’s a witch.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize there were witches in Mondstadt.”
“Well, there’s Miss Lisa, but Klee doesn’t know if she counts. She isn’t one of Mom’s friends. But Mom isn’t in Mondstadt. She went far away, and left Klee behind. But it’s okay, I have lots of friends looking after me.”
He released the breath he’d been holding. Good. The mother was dead. No one to intervene.
Still, it took him a minute to recover his composure fully. He had to be perfectly calm in order to do this.
He had first learned hypnotism in Sumeru. It was very much an underground art, but he’d managed to find a practiser who would teach him. He’d spent years perfecting the craft. He didn’t often use it, not in its fullest form. But a hint of hypnotism sometimes helped a crowd be a little more inclined to donate.
“Klee, I think there is something in your eyes,” he said.
“What is it?” she asked, looking straight at him.
And he had her.
He held eye contact as he muttered the enchantment that would hypnotize the girl. She didn’t blink, just stood very still as he wove the magic spell. It took only a few seconds.
“Your will is mine.”
“Klee’s will is yours.”
“Turn in a circle.” He had to make sure it worked.
She did, emotionless and blank, just as he wanted.
“Now listen to me. In one week, when you hear the noon bell, you will go into Grand Master Varka’s office.”
“Klee will go into Grand Master Varka’s office.”
“You will put one of your bombs there, the biggest one.”
“Klee will put a biiig Jumpty Dumpty in Grand Master Varka’s office.” He blinked. Who gives a pet name to a bomb?
“You will get as far away from the bomb as you can, and then you will make it explode.”
“Klee will get far far away from the bomb, then make the bomb explode.”
“You will tell no one about this.”
For a moment, the hypnosis nearly broke. “Is it a secret?” she asked, giggling.
“That’s right, it is a secret. You will tell no one about this.”
“Klee won’t tell anybody about this, not even Dodoco.”
He didn’t bother asking who Dodoco was. As long as she didn’t tell anyone. He had her repeat the instructions three times, until he was confident that she understood.
“Now, you will fall asleep under these trees. When you wake up, you will forget all about me.”
“Klee will fall asleep, and then she’ll forget all about Mr. Magician.”
“Good, you’ve done well,” he praised her. “Now go to sleep.”
He slipped away then, leaving the child fast asleep in the Whispering Woods.