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Fragrant incense wavered heavy through the air, lazily crawling towards the ceiling. Geo-infused lamps lit the sacred hall in a comfortable brightness. The presence of the protector of Liyue was tangible. The essence of Geo filled the room, controlled, and strong.
The Archon War had come to an end roughly a century ago. The karma of fallen deities still lingered, threatening the lives of mortals. The Lord of Geo and his Adepti followers did their utmost to bring peace and safety to the people, letting the land flourish after over a millennium of war. And yet despite all of them following their duty, opportunistic individuals, who had never faced a battling god, already felt far too secure in their standing, eager to increase their power and influence. They targeted who they thought would take an easy fall.
Morax’s hand was closed around the slender throat of his own herald, his eyes narrowed, his expression intense, focused, displeased. His strength was carefully controlled. Enough to hold his herald in place, not enough to crush.
The thought of mere mortals, who he and his kind have fought for, daring to offend him in this way, made his lips twitch, almost revealing his teeth. He looked ready to strike, ready to grind someone into dust.
The whispers spreading like wildfire had been going on for a while, but he had ignored them. In the beginning, he had thought they were nothing more than the proof of his servant’s mischief, until they began to warp, gradually turning darker. And finally, distasteful news had reached his ear: a young woman, defiled, utterly disgraced, tortured, by the hand of Bǐngchéng Xuānshǐ — the Herald of Divine Will — his own mouthpiece. His patience had snapped about the ridiculousness of the accusation. While the mortals saw the herald as a youth, a sycophantic young man, Morax knew the truth. They were neither, they couldn’t even feel mortal desire, all what was in their head — at times to his detriment — was to please him, their master.
His jaw tensed, the hand which held his servant in place, twitched. He commanded himself to stay calm. He needed to proceed as planned, luring the perpetrators out, making an example out of them. Then others would know what was awaiting them, if they kept running their mouths to climb the ranks of power and influence, using underhanded tactics.
Steps from outside the hall echoed around him, making him aware of the approaching audience for this charade. He leaned down, his face directly in front of Yìchén.
“Fix your face,” he growled, watching the all too pleasant smile plastered on his servant’s painted lips. The last thing he wanted right now, was yet another rumor circling: Bǐngchéng Xuānshǐ was a masochist, enjoying any degradation their master handed out. He knew this was closer to the truth than what the mortals believed. “Remember, Yìchén, I am currently ‘very angry’ with you, henceforth, are about to ‘punish’ you. Act the part!”
As if they were mocking him, Yìchén’s smile grew wider, changing their expression from pleasure to excitement. Morax wanted to remind them once more, when he heard the announcements from the Millelith, who were positioned outside.
The Lord of Geo shifted, letting his broad back face the door, maneuvering Yìchén at the same time, hiding them from the newcomers.
The door opened. The god looked over his shoulder, eyes like molten gold, dark arms with glowing symbols. He wore his white Archon robe, the hood pulled over his head, casting a shadow over his face.
The audience entered: a group of handpicked members of the Qixing, lower scribes, merchants, and higher Millelith officials. They were utterly unaware of the performance before them. Everyone bowed deep, showing their respect for their lord. None of them knew the true reason for their summons. They thought their pleas to talk to the god were finally granted. Others thought they were here to write the reports, put contracts onto paper or were to stand witness for official business, as it was custom in Liyue.
Only one among them was someone from Morax’s own personal ranks: a young female Adeptus. Her pale blue hair stood out, together with her qilin horns. After the Archon War had come to an end, she had taken it upon herself to help the mortals build and lead Liyue Harbor. She didn’t know everything either. Morax didn’t think she was among the opportunists. He had known her since she was a child, so had Yìchén. But as a member of the Qixing, she had heard about the rumors, and because she had good memories of them from her childhood, she had been chosen to play a specific role, knowing she would defend his herald.
“Rise,” the god commanded.
He turned his head back, checking on Yìchén one more time, ready to give them yet another reminder, but paused. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards for the blink of an eye. He shifted again, revealing the sight to the onlookers: Yìchén was precariously balancing on their toes. All he had to do was raise his arm, and they would hang helplessly in the air. Their wide sleeve had slipped back revealing dark gloved hands, wrapping around his wrist, angled in a way which made it look like the herald was holding on for dear life. But Morax could feel the lack of pressure against his skin. Their touch was gentle, all while their legs were quivering from keeping the contact to the ground. Their expression was one of shock and hurt.
Gasps rippled through the hall. It was a sight no one would have thought was possible, but some of them had hoped for. The Herald of Divine Will had finally lost the favor of the Geo Archon. Well deserved quite a few would find. They were seen as nothing more than the useless sycophant, who only watched others squirm, while mocking them.
Ganyu’s face was colored in genuine shock and disbelief, watching the disturbing scene in front of her.
“My Lord? What is the meaning of this?” Her voice rang out, high, shaky. She stepped forward, but stopped when Morax looked directly at her.
“Indeed, what is the meaning of this…?” The god repeated, his voice deep, resonating through the ground, into each and every one. “Perhaps my herald has something to say?”
“Aya, Master…,” Yìchén rasped a little too softly.
Morax’s jaw tightened. He glanced behind his shoulder. No one seemed to have noticed. He let out a small huff of relief. Then he turned his attention back to the person in his grasp, and shook them, glad that this display of displeasure would not hurt them, after all, their breathing was nothing more than a mimicry. Only Ganyu — besides him — knew the truth about what Yìchén was, however, it didn’t make it less disturbing for her.
“Not willing to speak?”
Yìchén gasped, their feet tiptoeing on the stoneground, dancing, begging for safety.
“This… humble… servant… has done… nothing wrong…,” they gasped, trying to sound like they were struggling to breathe, using their defense whenever Morax looked at them in a specific way. It had become an automatic response and was quite fitting for the current theater.
Ganyu gasped. Her hands raised to her chest, clasping each other. Her eyes sprang from one to the other at the end of the hall. The Adeptus couldn’t believe what she was seeing, but before she could utter another word, the god did:
“I have heard the accusations,” he declared, his voice booming through the hall, causing some weaker willed onlookers to tremble. “So must have you, Herald.”
Yìchén gasped. The wrong version, Morax noted. He should have practiced with them, but for that they actually had to witness someone getting strangled. He couldn’t just go around and choke mortals and Adepti alike. Neither could he order them to go and look for someone committing a crime and merely watch for learning purposes. No, this was out of the question. And in the end they might think he was actually desiring that, venting his displeasure and stress, having them react in an ‘appropriate’ way. At this moment, the god realized they might actually come to this conclusion on their own. He closed his eyes for a moment, hoping he didn’t need to unteach that.
“Ah… Ma…ster…,” Yìchén rasped, sounding like Morax doing something else to them.
Morax opened his eyes again. The god had to keep his cool, had to keep in his role as the angered deity. He scoffed, distorting his face into a grimace of disgust. Yìchén’s eyes were fixed on him. Their expression fit, their tone didn’t, but the onlookers were too shocked to notice.
“No defense, hm?” His grasp tightened. He looked over his shoulders. “I must apologize for this disgraceful display.” He yanked Yìchén. They stumbled for real, their grasp around his wrist tightened, fighting for balance. The muscles of his arm strained, holding them up, and relaxed when they had found their footing again. “But let us not waste this opportunity. Speak your grievances now.”
Ganyu was deeply troubled. She was sure this must all be a misunderstanding, yet she didn’t dare to speak. The Adeptus pressed her lips into a thin line, her eyes moving quickly around, thinking about what she could do to ease the tension.
The mortals looked at each other. Some were pale, others utterly speechless, some looked surprised, but somewhat delighted.
A man stepped forward, his figure full, his clothes of high quality. He bowed deeply, his manners perfect. He dealt with high-ranking officials on a daily basis, and had climbed the ranks of society.
“My Lord, if I may speak?”
Morax granted him permission.
“Unfortunately, Bǐngchéng Xuānshǐ is known to cause grievances for the folk. He pays no thought to the plight of the poor, nor the struggles of humble merchants or the sacrifices of the soldiers.”
Yìchén clicked their tongue. Immediately, Morax yanked them again, but making sure they didn’t lose their footing this time around. He couldn’t look at them right now, but he needed to keep his servant in their role as the accused.
“That’s not true!” Ganyu stepped forward. “Bǐngchéng Xuānshǐ might have a sharp tongue, but they care!”
“Silence,” Morax reproached her calmly. “I gave you no permission to speak.” He wouldn’t give her any for the time being. Her role, even if she wasn’t aware, was making the whole situation look far more dangerous for the herald than it was.
Ganyu bit her lower lip. She bowed and stepped back, her body stiff. She wanted, needed to say something, do something, but she couldn’t go against the Prime of Adepti. It would be sacrilegious. She believed in his just character. He would certainly not punish Yìchén for rumors and baseless accusations. No, she had to believe in him.
The merchant glanced at her, attempting to hide a condescending smile, before he schooled his expression, still bowing.
“My Lord, your herald has trampled your reputation. He has taken bribes openly.”
Morax turned towards Yìchén. Their expression held, somewhat. They started to get annoyed. He already could guess the reason: stifling their need to use their tongue could result in throwing a tantrum, something he couldn’t afford right now. So he had to give them a few lines to speak in this charade.
“Is this true?” His voice was calmer, but still travelled well, audible for everyone.
“This one has… taken offerings…”
Morax narrowed his eyes. He should have gone through the answers he expected them to give. Now it was too late. “Continue.”
“Offerings… for the divine… come… without… demands… This one… has… has… spread Master’s blood…”
The people looked at each other, not sure what to make out of what was said. Was the herald confessing this easily?
Ganyu sprang forward: “Who have you given the ‘offerings’ to?”
Both Morax and Yìchén looked at her. The herald glanced at Morax, who gave them a curt nod.
“To the… people,” they gasped, their voice becoming more strained. Morax was pleased. They adjusted well.
Of course, Morax had heard the story before. He already had asked them about it, and they had given him the same answer, although less breathy, and more detailed.
The merchant almost clicked his tongue, but could stop himself in time. He bowed deeper.
“My Lord, it is well known that Bǐngchéng Xuānshǐ covets luxury. They adore all that shines, desire the finest silks, and are utterly obsessed with their appearance. They show off their wealth in front of the poorest of your followers.”
Yìchén stared at Morax, their lips twitched dangerously. The god’s gaze was fixed on the merchant. He was dumbfounded, and felt somewhat insulted. After all, it was his taste Yìchén had to present themself in public as his Herald of Divine Will. Their robes were mostly from dark brown silk, fine golden and green threads used for embroidery. His symbol was etched onto their forehead, visible for everyone. And if they appeared as such in public, it meant they were there as his proxy, not to show off wealth. They wore his property, offerings given by the people, and even more important, Yìchén was his possession. They didn’t have any reason to show the poor what they couldn’t have. Morax wasn’t that tasteless. Mortals projected their own shortcomings onto the divine.
“Aya… Master… this one… only needs Master….”
Yìchén pulled the god back to the present, and reminded him why people thought of them as nothing more than a sycophant.
“Mora is… Master’s blood, meant… for the people. This one… only desires Master whole.”
Yìchén’s words hang in the air. Morax stared blankly into the hall. Script, he should have written a script.
“Noted,” he sighed, before he turned his attention back to the onlookers. “Any other accusations?”
Ganyu blinked. She frowned. Something was not right. She looked at the bowing merchant, when suddenly a general stepped forward and bowed as well. Morax granted him permission to speak.
“My subordinates have claimed the same about Bǐngchéng Xuānshǐ. However, I once confronted them about it.”
Morax’s head snapped back to Yìchén. They mouthed: ‘It was of no importance.’ Morax’s eye twitched. He let the general continue.
“He has claimed he has merely received offerings which are meant to be given to the people, and even ordered my soldiers without hesitation to clean out paths, so that bought supplies could actually reach their destination. During my entire time, serving beside him, he has never coveted wealth, despite wearing it on his body. He seems completely uninterested. Of course, this will not go down well with the ones who don’t have much. They see the wealth and compare it to their empty pockets. Their life is hard, and the herald stands far above them.”
Another merchant stepped forward, slimmer and taller than the first. His garments were exquisite, hair already thinning. After getting granted permission to speak he began: “Perhaps Bǐngchéng Xuānshǐ might have misinterpreted the attempted bribery as an offering, however, it does not excuse dealings with barbarians, selling priceless Nocturnal Jade, meant for sacred rituals.” The merchant took out papers from their sleeves and held them up. “I prepared the witnesses’ reports, as soon as I heard about the blessing of being granted an audience with Rex Lapis.”
“Bǐngchéng Xuānshǐ…,” Morax growled, turning his head slowly towards them.
Yìchén shrugged their shoulders, an almost unnoticeable movement. They didn’t know what the merchant was talking about.
Morax watched them quietly. What the merchant had just stated was news to him as well. Of course, he didn’t believe him. Whatever people thought they had seen, the truth must have been something else, if there had been any illegal dealings with Nocturnal Jade to begin with.
Another low vibrating growl followed. The god yanked Yìchén aside and let go. They lost their balance, hit the ground and slid over it, before they came to a halt, their brown silken hair spreading out, their body unmoving.
Ganyu gasped, already moving before she knew what she did.
“Stand down!” Morax called out, his glowing gaze fixed onto her, letting her freeze on the spot. “If you forget yourself one more time, I will have you punished!”
Ganyu went stiff. She felt wronged. She believed Yìchén to be innocent. The feeling that something was amiss started to grow. Morax’s behavior was unusual. She had never seen him this displeased. No matter the escapades, the Prime of Adepti always remained calm. His patience was legendary.
“Rex Lapis!” She sank to her knees and bowed. “Hear my plea, Bǐngchéng Xuānshǐ is loyal to you. He wouldn’t betray your trust. These accusations must be fabricated.”
The first merchant huffed, raising his head to face the Adeptus: “With all due respect, in front of Rex Lapis, all must bow to his laws and rules. Not even his herald can go unpunished.”
Ganyu’s head snapped to Morax. She looked at him with pleading eyes, shaking her head.
“Be quiet,” the god ordered her calmly and moved towards the servant on the ground. He walked around them. Morax stared them down, or so he pretended to. In truth, he was verifying he hadn’t damaged them. Morax made sure he didn’t put too much strength into throwing them.
“There is more!” The first merchant stepped forward once more, this time bowing until his head touched the ground. “It is even more malicious, my Lord. Your Herald, he has defiled a maiden, degraded her utterly, and ruined her reputation. She has lost her sanity, and what’s even more sacrilegious, she is expecting a child.” The merchant sat up, and pointed at Yìchén at Morax’s feet. “This vile creature has laid hands on one who you swore to protect, my Lord!”
Ganyu’s mouth hung open, her eyes wide with disbelief. This was ridiculous! Surely, the god would know this was an impossibility.
Morax looked at the merchant, then the general, the other merchant and the onlookers behind them. One scribe was especially pale. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. She shook her head, clasped her cheeks. Morax raised a brow. For someone hoping for his herald’s downfall, she looked far too panicked. She pressed her lips together, her body shaking, before running forward, tripping over her own feet and slamming into the ground. Morax winced inwardly, while his expression remained impassive. That looked painful.
A soldier and the general moved, helping the young scribe into a sitting position. Her nose was bleeding. Ganyu was at her side the next moment. She took out a handkerchief and held it against the scribe’s nose, tilting her head back.
The woman’s hand fought off the helpers. Her muffled voice was audible: “I need… need to speak… ouch!”
“Then speak,” Morax said, and decided she should see a doctor as soon as possible. It was likely that she had just broken her nose.
The woman took the handkerchief, not sure if she should bow down or hold her head back like she did.
“Bǐngchéng Xuānshǐ is not such a vile creature, my Lord. Have mercy, he is being framed!”
Everyone could hear the pain oozing out from her voice. Tears dripped from her eyes, making her pleas look even more heartfelt and desperate.
Morax tilted his head. The attention of the onlookers had shifted to the young and bleeding scribe. The god was half-impressed by her demeanor. Despite the pain she was in, and the fact that she wasn’t a soldier, she held herself well. Although he wasn’t sure where her conviction came from. In contrast to Ganyu, the scribe couldn’t possibly know about Yìchén’s true biology, if one wanted to call it like that.
Yìchén started to move. Their arms slid smoothly closer to their body, pressing against the ground, raising their torso. The head hung down, their brown hair forming a veil, hiding away their face. In a slow and fluent movement, they sat up, tilting their head to the side, hair falling in silken strands. Yìchén glanced at the scene in front of them.
The second merchant turned towards the woman.
“Nonsense! Don’t be foolish. You’re young and naive. The herald has not the tiniest ounce of reverence for our Lord!”
The woman snapped back, pointing at the merchant, calling him some creative names, before the first merchant joined in, all while Ganyu tried to calm the situation down, the general assisting her.
Yìchén slid unhurried towards Morax. They stretched out an arm hidden in a wide sleeve and circled his leg. The god didn’t react to the clear display of intimacy. Forgotten was the charade in the face of the spectacle before him, and why would he need to acknowledge the physical presence of a being, who was always connected to him, a constant presence in the back of his mind. Instead, he stood there, arms crossed over his broad chest, commending the scribe’s word-wielding mentally.
The mortals had forgotten the presence of the divine. More accusations got thrown around, one more ridiculous than the other, until Yìchén finally mutated to a womanizer, hence the young woman being enamored with the herald, who everyone thought of as a youth.
Morax felt somewhat of pity for anyone falling for his servant. Even for him, they were a true headache-inducing menace at times, lacking true maliciousness, which didn’t make matters easier. He thought grimly, every deity should employ this kind of servant. It protected from growing too much of an ego, although the dignity being left could be a pitiful amount.
Both Morax and Yìchén watched in silence. This was a form of entertainment neither of them often could afford to witness. Normally, mortals would behave themselves in front of the divine. They threw themselves into the dust, or sung the sweetest words as a praise to him. Morax wasn’t quite sure what had resulted in the derailment of the usual social script, but when he was honest, he was relieved that it wasn’t only him who had to fall over their feet, no pun intended.
Yìchén remained sitting at Morax’s feet, their head tilted sharply, eyes unblinking. They were the witness, an archive, writing a history of Liyue which would normally stay hidden and vanish with the last breath of the little people, the ones who didn’t take part in the heroic epic tales to save the land.
Their red-painted lips curled up into a pleasant smile, while they turned their head towards the god. Yìchén decided it was time to carry on with their master’s theater.
They started to rub their head against Morax’s leg. The deity inclined his head towards his servant, acknowledging them silently like he often did, when he was focused on something else, avoiding a more overt way of them, drawing his attention.
“Aya … Master,” they wailed, raising their other arm, hiding the lower half of their face. “This humble servant is utterly distraught!”
Morax’s eyes immediately widened, remembering where he was and what his intentions were. He quickly caught himself, schooling his expression, taking on a displeased look, eyes narrowed, mouth set in a hard line.
The verbal fighting came to an abrupt end. The mortals suddenly remembered where they were and who was standing in front of them. The attention fell back onto the god and the herald at his feet.
Ganyu had been entirely preoccupied with the bickering people, and she had missed the shift in the divine scene. She blinked in confusion, but couldn’t fully concentrate on them. The scribe still needed her help. Getting so riled up hadn’t done her any good, and the young woman swayed. The general stayed by her side as well, the other soldier was ready to spring into action should she lose consciousness.
Yìchén’s voice trembled in despair. “This humble servant would never betray Master. This one’s devotion belongs only to the Lord of Geo, the Lord of this soil, Master of Liyue. If it placated Master’s divine wrath, this one would gladly let Master trample all over this structure, until it is crushed to dust.”
The mortals' eyes widened in shock. Their thoughts differed largely. The merchants only heard the cheap words of a sycophant, and the general was not quite sure if the herald enjoyed the degradation a little too much. The scribe stared wide-eyed at Yìchén, her mouth opening and closing silently. Ganyu sat next to her frozen. In the past she had heard declarations of this variation from Yìchén, but never did they wail. They always had a pleasant, amused lilt, but even so, the Adeptus was convinced of their devotion to Rex Lapis. Although, she wished they would express it differently.
Morax’s stoic, but displeased mask stayed in-tact. Inwardly, the god facepalmed. Where had he gone wrong raising this beloved headache of a divine proxy into a feline-adjacent creature with a devotion that bordered on creepiness? Was this the karma he had to bear for the sins of his life? The decisions he had to make? Or was it merely the final joke of Yìchén’s creator?
Morax cleared his throat. He needed to salvage the situation, but Yìchén didn’t let him. They were too consumed by their role of the wronged servant.
“Aya, Master, this humble servant has no desire for gold, nor for all the riches in the world. This humble servant has only Master in this one’s sight. No woman, nor man could compare with Master. This one lives to fulfil any wish, spoken or hidden in Master’s heart. This one’s life has only meaning as a tool for Master’s desire. When Master uses this one, this one is the most delighted.”
Morax’s face slipped. He didn’t know what expression he was showing. Horror perhaps? A certain territorial and deranged satisfaction? Something he had to bury deep, hidden from the devil at his side, who would accept it all, and gladly follow him into the abyss.
At the same time, his face felt utterly devoid, frozen in impassiveness. The vibration of Yìchén’s words echoed through him, clawing down his back, sweet, sticky, sacrilegious, and utmost devoted.
The god stared at the mortals in front of him. Their reactions were vivid, and got burned into his memory. The shock, the disgust, the blush… The blush? Why was the scribe blushing? The confusion pulled him out from his spiraling thoughts.
He closed his eyes tightly. A hand came up and pinched the bridge of his nose. He realized any attempt to explain or correct Yìchén’s words would be detrimental.
The first merchant pointed his trembling hand at the herald: “Vile creature! Listen to him! Look at this! Disgusting! He makes a joke of our Lord. He’s deprived of any and all morals! To speak of such… such shameless conduct! An abomination!”
Yìchén fixated their mismatched eyes — one green, the other amber — onto the merchant. Their sleeve sank, revealing the red painted lips, a charming and taunting smile. “Oya,” they chirped, their voice returning to their usual amused lilt. “This humble servant is everything Master needs this one to be. If Master desires to debase this one, if he requires the utmost deprived version, he can strip all of this one’s pride away. This one will oblige his every whim.”
“What pride…?” Morax muttered under his breath, already forming a plan on how to leave this spectacle out of the history books of Liyue.
The round merchant, who just had spit his words out, opened and closed his mouth, eyes bulging, his face turning red with furry.
The second merchant had only half recovered, when he screeched: “What about the maiden! You, you defiled an innocent maiden! She went mad and is with your child!”
Yìchén chuckled. “Oya? Defilement? How ludicrous…”
“Yì—,” Morax interrupted himself and cleared his throat. “Bǐngchéng Xuānshǐ, be quiet.”
“Aya, but Master, perhaps this one remembers an incident,” they wailed theatrically, and quickly continued before Morax could earnestly order them to shut up. “Perhaps,” their voice found their honeyed cadence, while they leaned their weight against the god’s leg. “There might have been a fair maiden, there might not have been, but this one was certainly there. As you must finally come to understand, this one finds only fulfillment in getting used.”
“Bǐngchéng Xuānshǐ,” Ganyu interrupted, panicking, but not sure anymore about what was truly going on.
Yìchén ignored her. “As such,” they purred, stretching their arm hidden in the sleeve, pointing at the merchant, “this humble servant would find absolutely no pleasure in debasing someone in such a boring manner. However…,” The merchant huffed, his face losing all color. “What if this one were to claim ‘he’ was the one who had been defiled, thrown into the mud. Dirty, dirty hands,” they rubbed their head again against Morax’s leg, “all over this one’s body. Whose story would be the more entertaining one then, master merchant? Which one would Master find more arousing?”
“Arousing divine wrath,” Morax cleared up, his voice a low grumble, opening his golden glowing eyes, his gaze fell onto the merchant.
The god had given up. No matter how he tried to turn and twist it, this wasn’t salvageable anymore. He had relied on Yìchén’s word fencing and promptly forgotten about the lethality of them. He felt his nerves becoming eroded. It was time for yet another round of teachings, once they were alone.
“I shall examine your proof and will talk to the young maiden, you claim has been defiled by my herald. And with this, we shall enter a formal contract. I promise, any punishment will be executed. If laws have been broken, justice will be served. However, if the contract is built on lies, you will have to suffer the wrath of rock.”
The hall went silent. The merchants looked at each other. The second merchant swallowed heavily. It had been a risky gamble from the start, but it had been tempting. Removing the whispering sycophant from the god’s side had been worth the risk. Or so the merchant had believed. After all, it had been him, presenting the reports of the so-called eyewitnesses.
The first merchant looked at the ground, pearls of cold sweat glistening on his forehead. It should have been easy. The Herald of Divine Will was despised by many who felt hindered in their way up the social ranks and power. The herald’s tongue was sharp, and scandalous. Even the god himself wasn’t safe from it, although he carried it with much more grace than any mortal was capable of.
Ganyu looked between Morax and Yìchén. Had it been all a farce?
A quiet groan snapped her attention back to the young scribe. The woman looked like she was in immense pain. It had been impressive that she had found the strength after the accident to argue with such passion.
“My Lord,” Ganyu addressed Morax. “Please allow me to take the lady to a doctor.”
Morax nodded. “Do as you please.” His tone was calm. He had shoved any exasperation to the side and saved it for later. Retribution would come for Yìchén, the only way they understood, hopefully.
Ganyu bowed. The scribe wanted to as well, but her nose turned into a blood fountain, so she had to forgo the respectful greeting and keep her head up, tilted back.
A soldier, Ganyu and the scribe left. Only the main actors — the two merchants who had spoken plus the general — aside from the rest of the small group of mortals were left.
“Now?” Morax increased the pressure.
There was no way out. They had maneuvered themselves into a corner.
“I shall give my testimony again, if my Lord wishes it so,” the general spoke. “I will also collect witness reports from my subordinates. I only ask to not punish them. All they are doing is providing you with what they have witnessed, but they are missing the context.”
Morax inclined his head. “I accept.”
The two merchants were sweating more. With the general accepting the terms of the contract without hesitation, they had to as well.
“Oya? Not so brave anymore?” Yìchén almost sang, before going over into a snicker.
“Bǐngchéng Xuānshǐ…,” Morax grumbled.
Yìchén let go of his leg, slid backwards and prostrated themself on the ground, their forehead touching the stone. Their bow was the most respectful version Liyue had to offer. Their posture was well practiced, perfect even. They learned well from observing, even if they didn’t always understand the soul behind the actions.
“This one shall accept the contract, Master. This one has not done any of what this one was accused of. This humble servant is the most loyal subject.”
Morax took a deep breath. He didn’t have any intention of forming a contract with his own shadow. But he would use their compliance — no matter if it was all a part of the act or not — so they couldn’t easily throw a tantrum later. Yìchén needed to reign in their tongue. If necessary, he would find a redirection for it, and the Lord of Geo was quite creative.
“I—I accept,” the first merchant stuttered, bowing deeply, feeling that he might have a chance to think of a way out.
The second merchant stared at him, before he lowered into a deep, and respectful bow as well. “I accept,” he said with a quivering voice.
“Very well.” Morax raised his gaze, letting it wander over the other onlookers. “Does anyone else have more accusations to bring before me?” The witnesses shook their heads and bowed. “Good, with that the court is dismissed. And, do not mention to anyone what you have witnessed today. The matter is still not closed.”
With that, the god ordered the Millelith to take the two merchants into custody, while the other mortals left, not daring to utter the tiniest word, or even throw a last look at the divinity.
Morax stood, and looked down at Yìchén who was still prostrating. He turned towards them. The incense hung heavy in the air. He crouched down and placed his hand on top of their head. Yìchén looked up. They smiled, waiting for praise, completely convinced they had delivered the most skilled performance anyone could dream of.
Morax smiled back: “You have hoard arrest.”
Yìchén’s smile fell.