Interlude II: «Ständchen»
"The meandering whispers in the blood are like thorns buried under the skin. Hear that mighty rumble of fate, weeping in the twilight. Hear that «Serenade», the finale of the movement."
- Ebenholz, Lord of Utica
With divine eyes, Barbatos watched as the Land of Wind descended into chaos.
As Lord of Wind, his authority was immeasurable, spanning across the continent - he sees all the wind sees, he knows all the spirits know. And he knows it all, even of the Cryo Archon's cunning designs.
So the child wants his Gnosis - or needs - and he was perfectly willing to give it up.
Gnosis - hah - an empty, worthless crown. So what if he was Anemo Archon? He was already the Rank Six, the Lord of Wind, the Duke of Hymnic Tempests. The old gods knew how worthless the title of Archon was, a mere drop of water in a lake of power. Gods were gods, and they ruled reality as mortals knew it - the Seven Elements were just another facet of it.
It would be no great loss, and whatever the Cryo Archon was planning for Celestia - well, he would have no qualms with it. The Light Realm was getting stagnant anyway, the Mortal Realm on the other hand, was much more interesting - always interesting, for humans were never ones for idleness. He was sure old Morax would agree. Barbatos only ever visits the Light Realm on the night of Walpurgis, for it was the only event that ever caught his interest - so let the Cryo Archon have her fun with Celestia, and he would see how she overturns the status quo.
But then a pair of starspawn broke through the False Sky, and fell to Teyvat.
That alone shan't be as great a curiosity as it should've been - usually starspawn just get up and leave straight away. But this time, old Paimon and Asmodeus had cooked up a pretty little game - one that would make whatever the Cryo Archon was planning obsolete.
Not that she would know, too focused on her own reality to see the wider worlds. That was the problem with new gods, Barbatos found, they were arrogant. They were heirs, born with an entitled crown on their heads and expecting the world to revolve around them. They were divine in body, but mortal in mind.
And now, there were only three old gods left in Teyvat - three gods who fought in the Archon Wars. Of course, there were others left behind - Andrealphus in Wolvendom, Furfur in the Sea of Clouds - but that was besides the point. He, Morax, and Beelzebul were once insignificant spirits who warred their way to their crowns - and the only new god who could say the same is the Pyro Archon.
Perhaps it was arrogance in of itself to be proud of his origins, but Barbatos still considered the new gods to be false deities. They placed too much weight in being Archons, and not enough in being gods. They think a Gnosis is everything, the source of their powers.
So it was no surprise to him when the Cryo Archon sent her Fair Lady to draw him out in an attempt to take his Gnosis. Did she think that by sending a Mondstadter - the Fair Lady especially - he would be lured out by some sense of guilt or grief?
Barbatos would admit, it was a shame, the failure of the Seventh Crusade - just as it was a shame the Fair Lady's young lover fell in battle in the same war. But did he not avenge them? Did he not finally act after centuries of silence?
Did he not raise the largest army the Land of Wind has ever hosted and burned Khaenri'ah to the ground?
And now, he watched as Snezhnayan blood was spilt on pure white snow - and watched as the Fair Lady paid for her folly.
"After all," he murmured, "That child's plans have no use now, am I right?"
Barbatos felt as a great chill tore into his back, ripping through his skin and worming into his bones. Then, as quickly as it came, the sensation disappeared just as fast. Ah, the freezing, burning innervation of being too close to the void - how he had not missed the experience.
"Indeed," the Lord of Void appeared beside him, "Has the starspawn's potential appeased you?"
"Potential for what?" he laughed, "Apocalypse? Oh aye, it had. I will throw my weight behind you in the House of Lords."
"Perfect," Paimon drawled, "Though… couldn't you have chosen a more respectable place to meet?"
Barbatos looked down, they were standing on a particularly large branch, the great city of Windrise sprawling beneath him. Under the Moon, thousands of twinkling flames made the city look to be a garden of shimmering lights, mortals living their lives in the midst of glowing blooms - small as insects.
"I find it quite fitting," he mused, "Is this not the tree at which Venessa ascended?"
"Indeed," she sighed, "I will uphold our pact, your Falcon will be freed once I am Overseer."
"Mmm, that's good," he hummed, "In turn, I will convince my faction to support you - Beleth, Zepar, Belial… but you still need Morax's faction to achieve a majority in the House."
"Where do you think the starwalker is headed?" she asked wryly.
"Hah!" he laughed, "Good luck convincing the old man - that god is as unmoving as the earth he rules over, and cares less for Celestia's games than even me."
"Then the solution is simple," Paimon smiled unnervingly, "An event must occur, something large enough to move even him from his place."
"You cosmic deities are always as mad as your parents," he sighed, "If your business here is done, leave me be."
He glanced at Paimon from the corner of his eye, watching her depart in the same way as she always did - collapsing within herself in a great void vortex.
Barbatos heaved deeply, breathing through his mouth, before lowering himself to sit on the branch. He raised a hand to the skies, feeling a passing zephyr caress his arm - whispering what it knew in his ears.
…No matter, he was long lived, and master of all the winds of the world besides.
If the great storm comes as foretold, he would simply have to soar over it.
Eula raised a hand when the village finally entered her sight, her horse stopping in its tracks.
As the entire platoon slowly came to a halt, she inspected the settlement in front of them. It was a small fishing village on the banks of Starfell Lake, no more than two dozen dwellings. The houses were arranged in a manner reminiscent of a horseshoe, with the open end facing the lake. In the centre was a small chapel, its belfry spire rising high above the low thatch roofs surrounding it - and in front of the chapel was a small village square.
She breathed in the crisp winter air, and breathed out - mist escaping her mouth. The snows were already beginning to thaw in the south, but this far north the cover was still thick enough to go up to a horse's knees.
If it weren't for the fact that the snow beneath their feet had already been packed and frozen solid by the cold night prior, they would have been bogged down.
"This is the place?" she asked her lieutenant, Lukas.
"Aye," the man rode up beside her atop his horse, "Dame Amber reported this village as suspicious on her way north, but because she was riding against the hourglass…"
"She wasn't able to investigate," Eula finished, "Alright, forwards! Keep an eye out, men!"
She whipped the reins and her steed started forwards, her men joining behind her. They cantered into the village, banners bearing the six wings of the Order flying above them. As they rode into the square, a horn was blown - prompting the villagers to gather around them in curiosity.
Eula noticed that some saw her personal banner - the Lawrence's Glacial Seal - and backed away nervously. Well, it was to be expected; the Order was one thing, but the aristocracy was quite another - especially the Lawrence Clan from which she hailed from.
Trotting her horse in a small circle, she shouted, "Bring out your elder!"
She watched as an older man with greying hair pushed his way out of the crowd, walking before her horse. Eula swung herself off her horse, prompting her men to do the same. As she moved forwards to meet the man, her knights eyed the crowd with hard gazes, a hand never far from their swords.
Good, she thought in satisfaction.
These were her men, her personal retinue within the Order. Since she had joined the Knights, the Lawrence Clan had unofficially disowned her, revoking her authority to command the household troops. The only reason they haven't officially disowned her is because she was still a high-ranking Lawrence within the Favonian Order, or in other words, a foothold. Not that she would ever obey those old men.
No, after joining the Knights, she had risen through the ranks and was given command of a squad - then a platoon, then a battalion and now she was at the head of the entire Fourth Brigade of the Knights of Favonius. Granted she was the rank of captain, but 'captain' was a nebulous rank within the Knights anyway, as the head of any unit larger than a platoon was a captain.
No, what that meant was that she commanded over five-thousand men spread across the entire Land of Wind. The Fourth Brigade; "Aufklärung" - and her personal retinue, made of men from the very first unit she was assigned to, the Forty-third Battalion.
They were her most trusted brothers and sisters-in-arms, they had fought together for years, her men.
"You are the village elder?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I am… err, Lady Lawrence," he spoke, nervously eyeing her Glacial Seal banner, "My father had recently passed, and now I take his place. Uh, what can we do for you?"
"I see, you have my condolences," she said, before quickly moving on, "Do you know why we are here?"
"I'm afraid not, milady," he shook his head.
"Hmm," she hummed, glancing around the square, "It came to my attention that a band of Fatui had… infiltrated this village."
Turning to look back at the elder, she met his eyes, staring intensely. The man sweated intensely, and yet bore a confused look that couldn't be faked - she knew from her years growing up in the upper-echelons of Mondstadter society. All nobles must learn to be adept in mastering their expressions, as well as in digging under the expressions of other nobles.
"I'm…" he licked his lips, eyes darting about, "Not sure what you refer to, milady. But I assure you, this village would never take in any enemies of the Order."
"I understand," she replied soothingly, "As the village elder, it is your obligation to trust all of your constituents. I am afraid, however, that one of your villagers might have gone behind your back to harbour the enemy.
"Con… constitu-tuents…?" he tested the word on his tongue, "I- I mean- no- yes, by all means milady, you may investigate this village without me getting in your way!"
"That is relieving to hear," she smiled.
"Yes- yes! If I can help in any way…"
"Oh, there's no need for that," she assured, before turning around and nodding to Lukas.
"Search the homes!" he roared, "Keep all villagers in the square, call a headcount!"
"If any of you would like to admit something you know, do it now!" another knight warned the villagers, "'Lest the punishment be even more severe!"
Eula patted the shaking elder on the shoulder, before walking off - stalking around the crowd and looking for any signs of suspicion. There was a man looking down with his arms crossed, a young girl holding her mother's hand tightly, a woman who looked irritated at being held up, and many more weary faces.
"Will you damage any of our belongings?" one man asked.
"Worry not, we will only be searching through your houses without touching anything," she answered, "If you have nothing to hide, then you have nothing to fear."
She waited as her knights searched through the village, pacing back and forth as the residents waited for a conclusion. Eula paused as a knight walked up to her, leaning forwards as he whispered into her ear.
"Captain, we have one family missing from those present in the square - three people."
"...How did you find out?"
"One of the villagers told us."
Eula nodded sharply, "Find their house and surround it!"
"Yes, ma'am!"
With the quick efficiency she had expected of them, her battalion separated - some remaining to keep an eye on the detained villagers while most broke off to surround the house in question, a small wooden dwelling sitting at the edge of the town, further from the lake.
"What- what is happening?" the elder asked, "Have you found the…?"
"One family is missing," she told him, "Do you know who lives in that house?"
Eula pointed to the building, and the man's eyes widened.
"Oskar lives there…" he murmured, "A family man, I must doubt that he is harbouring Fatui."
"We'll be the judge of that," she shook her head, "Come, you must witness this."
Eula led the elder towards the house, which her knights had surrounded - weapons drawn and shields raised in front of them. Walking up to a distance away from the front door, she kept the elder behind her as she questioned her men whether there was any movement from inside the building - to which they responded negatively.
"Oskar!" she shouted, "If you are in there, come out at once!"
At the lack of response, she asked the elder where Oskar was last seen - to which the man replied that he was usually in his house at the time, eating luncheon with his family. Eula huffed upon hearing that, musing over how she could bring him out.
If there were Fatui in the building, which she suspected there was, then the situation was incredibly precarious. While she hated to admit it, their technology far exceeds that of the Orders - and if they have their Delusions or magitech firearms with them, she could potentially be sending her men into a slaughterhouse if she were to order them storm the building.
"Mages," she called, "Prepare pyromancy spellcircles! Loose on my command!"
The air hummed to life as the mages lifted their staves - and runic circles formed of flame shimmered to life, rotating as the temperature suddenly increased. Eula slowly walked forwards, feeling the squelching of wet grass as the snow thawed beneath her feet.
Suddenly, she felt a hand grab her arm - and turned around to see the elder grasping it, breathing heavily.
"Milady-!" he gasped, "Please… I beg you to reconsider! We- we don't even know if he's guilty!"
Eula stared intently at the man, then turned away to look at the crowd of villagers watching the spectacle. Some of them were glaring at her, others were looking away and shielding their eyes, while others were staring at Oskar's home in disbelief.
She shrugged off the man's grasp, ignoring his pleas, and continuing forwards.
"Oskar!" she roared, "Or Fatui! Come out at once, or I will burn down you and your home to cinder!"
There was a brief pause - a moment of silence where all waited in anticipation. At the lack of response once more, Eula sighed and raised a hand. The slow flowing breeze warped, vibrating as a dozen sorceries burned with power, like savage dogs just waiting to be unleashed. She could feel the sweat run down her back as the winter chill was hounded away, and felt as if she was in the height of summer.
Abruptly, the front door was forcefully kicked open from inside, and several figures rushed out. She spotted the man, Oskar, coming out with his hands in the air - a knife at his neck, held by a large-set blonde man. Following behind him was his wife and daughter, all of which were being held at knifepoint by different foreigners. After them, another five people walked out, two of which were women.
All three family members were accounted for, that meant eight Fatui.
"We don't want any trouble!" the Fatui's leader called, "Let us go unharmed, and we will let them go! If not, we're going to kill them!"
Eula slowly lowered her hand, hearing a faint hymn come to her ears as someone started singing behind her. A small shift in wind signalled the use of mana. She palmed the pommel of the sabre at her waist as she met the eyes of the leader, daring him to make his move.
The man's eyes widened and he grit his teeth - and just as his muscles tensed to cut through the neck of Oskar, the Fatui was suddenly knocked to the ground by an invisible force. Suddenly, the singing intensified, as half a dozen voices joined the chorus - and the Fatui dropped like flies, slamming into the wooden porch, pushed down by an unseeable weight.
Gradually, the spellcircles died down, and the cold of winter washed over them once more.
"Apprehend them," she ordered, "Good work, spellsingers."
Her men rushed forwards, confiscating all the weapons and forcing the Fatui to stand and be frogmarched into the town square. Not leaving Oskar and his family, they were also tied with rope and marched behind the Fatui.
The crowd was silent as they were shuffled through the mass and into the clearing, unable to say anything. The singing stopped, and the spirits giggled as they dispersed into the winds.
"Noelle!" she called for the squire, "Bring out the block!"
"Understood, ma'am!" the girl saluted before rushing off.
Noelle was a lowborn, but a hard worker who earned her place. Her dutiful nature and incredible strength and stamina meant she would be well-placed in Eula's own Fourth Brigade, but also the First, Sir Varka's "Ordernsritter." She would also be a good fit in Jean's own Second Brigade; "Edelfrei" - if it weren't for the fact that she had no clan and the Second mostly recruited noble scions. Even Sir Kaeya's Third Brigade - "Garnison" - would be glad to accept her into their ranks, since she was intimately familiar with Mondstadt's alleyways and people.
Hells, the girl was even a Vision Bearer, which raised her own worth exponentially. Eula knew Lisa's Eighth Brigade - "Hexerei" - was always open to accepting Vision Bearers for their worth in furthering research on the arcane arts.
Suffice to say, just about every brigade in the Order was fighting over the girl - and the Grandmaster clearly had high aspirations for her as well. But first, Noelle had to be knighted, which was why Jean had pawned the girl off on her - she hadn't seen much fieldwork yet, and they all wanted to know just how far Noelle's duteousness went.
Eula walked over to Noelle's horse and pulled her claymore out of its saddle sheathe, checking its edge for acceptable sharpness. After she was satisfied with her findings, Eula walked back to the centre of the village square, where the squire had already placed down a wooden block on the dirt. Her knights pushed the Fatui forwards, right before the block.
Colour drained from their faces when they realised just what was going to happen to them, and one of the women suddenly started pleading for mercy.
"Please, I have a younger brother back at home!" she screamed.
Meanwhile, some of the older men - including the leader - just looked down in resignation, already prepared for their fate. They muttered something under their breath, likely a final prayer to their god - and she would not deny them that.
Eula nodded to her lieutenant, and the Fatui leader was pushed forwards and forced to kneel at the block. Instead of going herself, she beckoned Noelle over, and handed over her claymore.
The girl suddenly looked anxious, staring at the blade in her hands.
The female Fatui from earlier had all but broken down now, pleading for mercy and hanging limply in the arms of the knight holding her. Two of the other men were silently weeping, tears streaming down their faces as they looked down at the ground.
"M-Me…?" Noelle nervously glanced at the Fatui, "I-I don't think- why can't we give them mercy…? The lady says she has a younger brother to take care of!"
"Noelle, you gave the Grandmaster's order to me," Eula stated sternly, staring into her eyes, "You know what was written, I asked you to read it to me, correct?"
She swallowed, "Y-Yes…"
"What did it say?"
"P-Purge the Fatui from our lands, and… and run down any who do not submit to custody…!" suddenly, the girl looked up with new light in her eyes, "But these men and women have submitted to custody, why can't we-!"
"And the rest?" Eula interrupted, lightly glaring as the rest of her knights looked on.
Noelle flinched, stumbling over her words.
"And the rest?" she urged.
"Give… give no quarter to defiance," she stammered, "Give no mercy… give no mercy to dissent…"
"Lastly…?" Eula pressed one last time.
Noelle sucked in a deep breath, before forcing the words out in one go.
"In this, suffer no compromise."
The squire was heaving now, shoulders visibly rising and falling as she struggled to control her breathing, as if just uttering the order had sapped the strength from her body. Eula gave her a moment to gather herself, and when the girl looked back up at her, she found a hard determination in her eyes.
Eula smiled thinly, before nodding at the man on the block.
Noelle grasped the handle of her claymore tightly, stalking over to the Fatui.
"...Any last words?" she asked.
The man was silent for a while, before finally- "May you serve your god just as I had served mine."
The squire silently lifted her heavy blade with ease, and brought it down. With a thud, the man's head hit the ground, marring the white snow with blood. A pair of knights came forward and dragged the corpse away, before the next man was forced to the block.
"Captain," Lukas came forward, "What should be done with Oskar and his family?"
"What does the Codex say?"
"All who commit treason, or are complicit in the act - are to be sent to the gallows."
Eula turned her head to stare at the family - Oskar had closed his eyes, likely expecting the same fate to befall him. His wife was watching the executions in horror, a hand covering the eyes of her daughter, who she held tightly to her side.
"Do you know why they did it? And who else is involved?"
Lukas wetted his lips, "The Fatui offered them a large sum of money, enough to change their lives. As far as concerned, no one else was involved or had any knowledge of the event. It appears Oskar was approached in the middle of the night."
She nodded decisively.
"We don't have the time to set up a gallow," she said, "Behead Oskar and his wife, and let us be done with this."
He opened his mouth to speak, but paused when they heard the sound of steel carving through flesh and bone - and the distinctive sound of a head hitting the ground.
"...And what should be done with the daughter?"
"Have the Four-thirty-fourth Company send a platoon back to Mondstadt with the girl."
"She is to join the Order then?" he asked, "In accordance with the Codex?"
Eula nodded, "Yes. I shall suffer no future hero."
She watched as another head hit the ground - and the weeping finally stopped.
"Excuse me- excuse me!"
"Hey, watch where you're stepping!"
"Oh- oh, so sorry!" she cried, "Please, pardon me!"
Sara pushed her way to the front of the crowd, staring up at the wooden structure standing ominously in the shadow of the Favonius Cathedral. It was just past the morning bell, and the Sun was still rising in the east, blocked by the cathedral. This made the illusion of the grand building being framed by a halo of golden light looking down upon them.
And yet, the Statue of Barbatos was turned away from them, its back cast in shadow as if it couldn't bear witness what was to follow. It made her think, was this the judgement of the Lord, or of the Church?
There was no answer, only the brisk winds carrying the scent of dandelions from afar.
Gallows had been erected at the base of the stairs leading up to the Cathedral, surrounded by a square of knights five men deep. The acting Grandmaster stood besides the structure, staring up at the listlessly swaying ropes - the Quartermaster was standing next to her, still as a statue.
For what Sara imagined was the first time, she noticed Sir Kaeya's face was grim and smileless.
At least several thousand people had gathered in the great plaza, swarming and packed together as they struggled to look at what was happening. Finally squeezing through the last group of people at the front, Sara was no more than twenty cubits away from the gallows, and she could clearly see who was standing there.
There were some she recognised, mostly knights - or former knights now - who used to visit the Good Hunter during their breaks, but most of them were unfamiliar to her. Yet, from their faces, she could tell most of them were aristocrats, nobles who lived in the upper levels of the city and had clan names. To think they were traitors was… surprisingly easy to believe; while the nobles have always said that they have accepted their past was over after the Revolution, some must have never given up.
A far cry from their haughty attitudes and pompous clothing, the former nobles were a sorry sight. It was clear that they had been tortured in the depths of the Great Keep, their ragged clothes doing little to hide the lash marks and broken fingers.
Sara tuned her ears to the whispers of the crowd - some were shocked and horrified, most looked on in vindictive satisfaction and justice was done, no doubt compounded by the fact most of the guilty were aristocrats.
When the Grandmaster walked to the front of the platform, the crowd quickly hushed.
"On this day, these men and women," she half-turned to gesture at the prisoners lined up, "Will be executed for high treason against the Order! They have undermined the authority of the Lord, and have conspired with foreign agents to return us to the tyranny of the old aristocracy!"
A wave of shock moved through the crowd - even Sara was surprised. Gasps rang out as the extent of their treachery was revealed. All reviled the old aristocracy, and for these men and women - some of them even commoners - to plot to bring back the old order was sacrilegious at best.
The Grandmaster then turned towards the prisoners and addressed them, "For these crimes, the Favonian Order sentences you to death. No final words shall be heard."
She stepped off to the side and nodded to Sir Kaeya, who cleared his throat - bringing his eye to the scroll he was holding.
"For the crime of high treason against the Order, the following men and women are sentenced to hang - Theodor of the Kruger Clan, Anton of no clan, Roland of the Hanning Clan, Melissa of the Holtmann Clan, Gunner of the Ehrmann Clan, Viola of no clan, Eleonora of the Ragvindr Clan…"
Sara closed her eyes and drowned out the noise as the Quartermaster continued rattling on. She recognised some of those names, she thought numbly, Anton was an official who would eat at the Good Hunter on weekends, Gunner was a kindly knight, Viola was a prostitute's daughter who assisted in the pleasure district.
Opening her eyes a little, she watched as the accused were brought to the gallows and had ropes brought around their necks. Some were silent, some closed their eyes, some weeped - and Sara couldn't bear to look anymore when she saw Viola was one of those crying silently.
Twenty-five names passed, and Sir Kaeya nodded to the executioner. A lever was pulled, the ground opened beneath the prisoners and twenty-five Mondstadters died of a broken neck.
Thousands stood before the cathedral, and yet not a single sound was uttered - not a breath, not a breeze, not a call from birds flying overhead. Knights came forward to untie the corpses as soon as the last one stopped twitching in death, letting them fall down the hatches into waiting baskets below.
Then, the second row of prisoners were pushed forwards. Sara read their desolate faces one after another, hoping against hope to not see another person she knew.
"For the crime of high treason against the state, the following men and women are sentenced to hang - Viktor of the Lawrence Clan, Schubert of the Lawrence Clan, Amelie of the Lawrence Clan, Hugo of the Gunnhildr Clan, Edgar of no clan, Yannik of no clan…"
Sara averted her gaze as the lever was pulled and the sickening sound of snapping necks reached her ears.
Twenty-five names, another twenty-five deaths - and the third row was pushed forwards.
Even as the Sun rose to its peak high over them, the names did not stop being called, and the corpses did not stop falling.
And the bodies began to pile.
Noelle breathed out, cupping her hands together to warm them up.
Feeling the full force of the cold season, she shrunk further into her fur-lined cloak in a forlorn attempt to warm herself up. Looking around, she saw that many of the Forty-third Battalion was in the same situation as her, sitting hunched over on fallen logs and pulling their cloaks onto themselves.
Their horses snorted, kicking the snow off to the side - she envied the great beasts, hard and hearty, born and bred in Windrise, they are uncaring of even the worst of winter's chill. Instead, here she was, freezing in her bones and rubbing her hands together in order to ward off the cold. There was no fire, Dame Eula had forbidden them from creating one so as to not give away their position.
So here they were, waiting at the base of a snowswept hill for something to happen.
Noelle buried her face in her gloved hands, feeling her reddened skin blister. Yet through the squall of wintry wind, she could hear the distinct rolling of ocean waves ringing out, loud and clear. It did not befit their location, deep in the Stormbearer Mountains and hundreds of leagues away from the coast.
And yet, she continued to listen to the sound of waves crashing against the shore.
She knew the source of the noise - all of them did, for the sound of the spindrift was the very reason the Spindrift Knight was called so. Dame Eula was sitting on a log, idly blowing into her bone flute, miraculously playing the call of the sea. No one did know why she prefers to play the sound of ocean waves, for they all knew that the bone flute could play a variety of noises.
None complained in any case, the flute has become synonymous with the Spindrift Knight - and the Forty-third Battalion by relation. While Noelle did try to distance herself from rumours, she couldn't help but learn that the flute was a southern tradition, from a rural province of Liyue.
When she inquired, Dame Eula had informed her she was mentored by a Liyuean exile who taught her how to carve and play a bone flute. It was only later that the lieutenant secretly told her that the mentor was Dame Amber's grandfather, who had founded what is now the Fifth Brigade; "Vorreiter."
The captain was a tall woman, as tall as even the tallest of men in Mondstadt - with square shoulders and a hard body honed from years of fighting. Yet that didn't take away from her fair looks - one that Noelle couldn't help but envy - the lady was a special kind of cold, hard beauty that repelled as many men as it attracted.
Well, it was to be expected, she was an aristocrat after all - a Lawrence no less. It was no secret that the nobles near exclusively married only within themselves, so as to keep their distinctive looks and healthy builds. When an aristocrat weds a commoner, it is almost certainly because the commoner has an inheritable trait the aristocrats find advantageous.
While that tradition had fallen some after the old aristocracy, even millennia after some semblances of it still remained. She knew of Marvin Goethe, the son of Lord Goethe, who wishes to marry a Springvite commoner named Marla. Of course, Lord Goethe vehemently disapproves of the relationship, but because the aristocrats no longer held such power, that's all the lord can do - disapprove.
Noelle tore herself away from her thoughts when she heard the ringing sound of the ocean begin again, and realised Dame Eula had started playing another tune. Instead of the calm, summer waves she had intoned before, now the bone flute sang of a raging winter storm, and oddly Noelle felt a glacial chill dig into her bones.
The knight captain wore the same armour as all of them - full, prayer-carved plate, only with a special pauldron which denoted her rank as brigade captain. The only thing that was different was her great ermine cloak draped around her shoulders, of which the thick fur set around her neck seemed like a lion's mane. Unlike the rest of theirs, her cloak was a deep blue, emblazoned upon it the Glacial Seal.
Abruptly, the music stopped.
Noelle raised her head to see the captain lowering her flute, staring intently at the hill shielding them from the worst of the wind - as if she could see right through it. As if on cue, a scout galloped down the hillside and into the makeshift camp the knight's had raised.
"Report," Dame Eula ordered.
"Just as you suspected, captain," the scout gasped, "They're coming!"
The captain nodded, before turning around and shouting, "Men, mount your steeds! The enemy comes to us!"
Hastily, Noelle lifted herself off her seat and ran to her horse - a Mondstadt bred rouncey who has been with her since she joined the knights. Lifting herself onto the mare, she shifted to make herself comfortable before gripping the rein tightly, slapping the horse lightly on its side.
"Come on, girl."
Well-trained and familiar to her, the mare immediately started trotting forwards. Noelle urged the horse into a canter, following the rest of the knights up the hill. Since they were travelling up the leeward side, there was only a shallow snow cover up the hillside, allowing them to move quickly.
Cresting the top, Noelle moved her horse nearer to the front of the formation and stared down into the valley. This was the windward side, and this north the snowfall was particularly heavy - with the snow cover nearly up to a man's waist. She had heard stories of the snowfall north of the Stormbearers from the knights, which they tell the cover was as high as a man was tall. She could scarcely imagine that, but she has never been north of the Stormbearers, so what was she to know?
"There…" she heard one of the knights speak, "You can see them against the snow, at least two-hundred."
"Two-hundred?" Sir Lukas scoffed, "You need to work on your counting, Matthias - there's at least double that."
Indeed, against the valley of pure white snow - so white it was even blinding - she could sight a large mass of people slowly making their way southwards. They were Fatui, that much was obvious, with their distinctive garbs and insignias - only problem was, they were moving southwards, towards Mondstadt.
"Why are they coming this way?" Noelle asked, "Shouldn't they be fleeing north?"
"Mmm," Dame Eula hummed, "That's right, you do not know of Amber's mission."
"Dame Amber?"
"Aye," Sir Lukas laughed, "She was sent north by the Grandmaster, to Dornman Port."
Dornman Port. Suddenly, all the pieces aligned in her head - Dame Jean had turned the Land of Wind into an inescapable prison. The only way the Fatui had to leave the realm was through Dornman Port, where they could seek refuge in the Snezhnayan Embassy located there and catch a vessel back to Snezhnaya.
To the south was the Republic of Liyue's fortress town of Stone Gate, which held close ties to Dawnton. All it took was Lord Ragnvindr requesting Liyue's Northern Protectorate to close the Stone Gate to the Fatui to block their exit. This left only Dragonspine as the other way southwards, which would be a suicide mission to cross. Except, if anyone could cross Dragonspine, it would be Snezhnayans. Nevertheless, Noelle felt that anyone who was able to cross the great mountain in the midst of winter into Liyue deserved to go free.
To the east was the Brightcrown Mountains, which was largely uninhabited by any humans and considered impossible to traverse - even more so compared to Dragonspine. With no recent or accurate maps of the area, the likelihood of anyone crossing the mountains in the middle of winter was impossibly low - and the Fatui likely knew this.
To the north was the Northern Wastes - suffice to say, no one was crossing that alive, not in winter.
This left the west, towards the Great Sea. And the only major port in the southern half of the realm with access to it was Windrise, on the River Falke. The only other place was Dornman Port in the north.
If Dame Amber reached Dornman Port before the Fatui and convinced the local authorities to close their gates, then the Fatui were trapped in the Land of Wind for good - like fish in a bucket.
"I understand," Noelle nodded, "But why doesn't Dornman Port just capture them?"
"They are playing both sides," Dame Eula answered, "The Dornmen still wish to maintain ties with Snezhnaya, they are trading partners after all. If they just close their gates and nothing more, they can tell Zapolyarny that they were forced by the Order to do so - yet also tell the Order that they blocked the Fatui's escape. If they attack the Fatui, however, then they are implicitly siding with the Order, and Zapolyarny will cut ties with them."
"That's…"
"Two-faced?" Sir Lukas, "It's politics, and also how the Union works. This is an alliance, remember, not a nation - the Order is just a thin string tying it all together."
"Enough talking," Dame Eula spoke, "We have been spotted, they are retreating."
Noelle focused back onto the Fatui, who as Dame Eula observed, were in the process of turning around and fleeing. They were tracing their steps, as they path they came from had snow already pushed away. Except, they were already at the bottom of the valley, and if they wanted to leave in the opposite direction, then they would have to climb uphill in all of their heavy gear.
Snezhnaya boasts the most advanced technology in Teyvat, but it came at the cost of their sorcery. Even their so-called cicin 'mages' harnessed the powers of cicins instead of their own mana, and as such were essentially false mages in their eyes. This meant that what was heavy, stayed heavy.
With the Forty-third Battalion separated into its platoons and scouring the region, there was only some two-hundred men in all currently with them. The knights got into formation, a neat rectangle with Dame Eula at the front. Noelle herself was on the side to the rear, with the rest of the squires, for she was inexperienced and would get in the way.
"Lances!"
Noelle reached for the lance sheathed at her rouncey's side, tucking the haft under her arm hefting the point into the air.
She raised her head, seeing the six-winged banner fluttering in the breeze through the visor of her bascinet, right alongside the Glacial Seal. She felt a stirring in her gut, a difficulty to breathe as her heart crept up her throat.
Noelle drowned it all out, the whistling of the wind, the snorts and whinnies of the horses, the crunching of snow under hoofbeats.
A horn was blown, loud and resonating through the air.
Once, twice, three times the call went out - the ancient bellow that the first Lionfang Knight used to herald the fall of the aristocracy.
All knights, charge.
Dame Eula's horse started forwards, the mighty stallion breaking into a cant - and they followed. From a canter they quickened to full gallop, they thundered down the hillside without missing a stride, their horses riding atop the snowdrift as if it were solid ground.
The centre began to gain speed faster than the flanks, and in well practised efficiency the rectangle turned to a wedge. As one body of gleaming steel, they lowered their lances, killing points glinting in the sunlight.
The Fatui had turned around now, their retreat useless. They brought their heavy weapons to bear, Elemental firearms blasting bolts of Pyro and Hydro - Electro cicin mages unleashing their caged pets in a desperate attempt to slow them down.
Elemental energy slid over their prayer-carved armours like water off a duck's back, and they rode through the hail of fire unflinching and unscathed in their charge.
In a last ditch effort, the Cryo cicin mages raised translucent blue walls of Cryo to stop them in their tracks.
Noelle flinched when they impacted the walls - but then they rode through the barriers as if they were made of mist, sorcery-bound lances piercing the Element and shattering it like glass.
They rode into the Fatui, scything them down as if they were wheat. Northern blood sprayed into the air and splattered across the snow as they trampled the Fatui into fleshy paste, warhorses' steel-clad bodies crushing them under their weight. The Fatui screamed and cried, some dropped their weapons in fear or surrender, most fought back - they killed them all regardless. Give no quarter to defiance, give no mercy to descent.
Noelle plunged her lance into the body of a cicin mage, spearing her as if she was a fish in the sea. She tried to pull out her lance, but it was embedded too deeply - so instead she slammed the lance point downwards, pinning the mage to the ground.
She then unsheathed her claymore, the blade long and capable of slicing downwards from horseback - and cleaved into the next Fatui in front of her. It sundered through the man's armour and gear, before biting into flesh and bone and hewing straight through - bisecting the Fatui from shoulder to hip before he had a chance to retaliate.
As she watched the man's body fall in two pieces, she felt a bump as her horse crashed into something, before she heard the crunching of bones and squelching of meat - and a cut-off scream - and realised she had ran over another Fatui and crushed them into pulp under her mare's sheer weight.
Noelle winced, what a horrible way to go. She then looked back up to see no one ahead of her, and swung her ride around expecting to re-enter the fray - but realised it was already all over.
As her horse slowed to a trot and the heat bled from her veins, Noelle could admire in disgust what they had just done. The snow was churned into half frozen slurry, bits and pieces of meat and innards strewn across the plain, giving the once white snow a pinkish hue. The knights were going around, stabbing the intact corpses to ensure they were dead.
She cantered forwards, finding her lance still impaled through the chest of the cicin mage - and using her horse's front leg to press down on the corpse, she tore out her lance and shook it free of blood and gore.
Dame Eula approached her from horseback, blood coating her once pristine armour, bits of intestines still hanging onto her horse's legs.
"How many, squire?"
"T-Three, captain."
Dame Eula took both hands to her helm and lifted it off, shaking her hair free.
"That's more than any squire could boast on their first real tilt - get off your horse."
Noelle did not hesitate to follow the order, immediately swinging herself off her rouncey - and raised her head to see the captain had done the same, helmet tucked under one arm, and sabre grasped in the other hand.
"Kneel."
Her breath hitched as she took a half step back in shock. She met the captain's eyes, but all Dame Eula did was bore straight back into her, freezing blue eyes like flints of ice. Knighting ceremonies were supposed to be done before the Statue of Barbatos, or in the Favonius Cathedral - battlefield knightings were nearly unheard off in this day and age.
Noelle knelt, numb from cold or shock she could not reckon.
She felt the captain moving over her.
"Noelle of no clan, do you swear before the eyes of men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to obey your captains, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks laid upon you, no matter how hard, humble, or dangerous they may be?"
Noelle felt the eyes of all the knights and squires on her, and she took a shuddering breath.
"I do."
Dame Eula placed the flat side of her sabre on her left shoulder.
"Do you swear upon the Lord to uphold his tenets, to serve the people, to protect the innocent, to be relentless in the pursuit of justice, and to be unfaltering in the face of death?"
"I do."
Then she moved the blade over to her left shoulder.
"Then rise, Noelle of no clan, for you knelt a squire, and now rise a dame of the Favonian Order."
She rose, as saw a small smile grace the lips of Dame Eula's cold face.
That night, they feasted. They found shelter at the side of a cliff that guarded them from the worst of the wind, and erected a sizable encampment. Venison and hare were cooked at large open firepits while stew was stirred in bronze pots. The knights welcomed her into their ranks, encouraging her to join their Fourth Brigade, even if she already knew she wanted to join the Third Brigade.
When she told them that, they smacked her upside the head and left her reeling on the ground. Noelle had a feeling they didn't like Sir Kaeya very much, even Dame Eula stared at her with some sort of disappointment which left her strangely ashamed.
Her once-fellow squires did pick her up and cheer her on afterwards, however, sharing with her a large flask of mead - slapping her shoulders and congratulating her on her knighthood.
The jubilance, however, was interrupted by the sound of hoofbeats on frozen snow - as a rider galloped towards them at full speed, waving a white cloth.
They hailed him, and the rider cantered into their camp and dismounted, waving a sealed scroll at them.
"An urgent missive from the acting Grandmaster, Dame Eula!"
"Pass it to Dame Noelle," the captain gestured to her, putting emphasis on the dame, "Noelle, read it out to me."
The messenger smoothly changed his direction, instead striding to her and passing her the sealed scroll.
"I recognise you," he smiled, "Congratulations."
"My thanks," she returned, before looking down at the scroll.
"The Lion's seal," she noted, "Unbroken."
Noelle broke the seal, and unfurled the parchment - eyes widening as she scanned the words written inside. Some of the knights noticed her expression through the darkness, and leaned forwards in curiosity - even the messenger - while others bore grimmer looks, likely expecting bad news.
It wasn't, quite the opposite in fact.
"Congratulations, Lady Lawrence," and eyes widened when they realised that the missive was not intended for Dame Eula, but for Lady Lawrence. Now, she had the captain's full attention.
"With the unfortunate passing of your father and all other immediate heirs, the Favonian Order has decided to appoint you the new head of the Lawrence Clan with all the accompanying rights and titles."
There was a complete silence, only the crackling of fires and whistling of wind could be heard.
"The Favonian Order urges that you return to Mondstadt at all haste to take your seat," Noelle breathed in, "Regards, Jean Gunnhildr. Acting Grandmaster of the Order."
Rewritten on 18/6/2022