November 18

Chapter 1

Favonius Headquarters

Acting Grand Master Jean Gunnhildr's office

The sun rose. Last night was a hectic effort to keep the peace calming the citizens of the supposed siege. The knights guarding the walls yelled for the bell alarm, thinking that a catapult or a cannon was set somewhere outside, launching an attack from afar.

"And… you found him inside the… metal… thing?" Jean was by far incredulous. Even with tea calming her mind, she cannot get around the current and most significant matter. Besides the written report were sketches - courtesy of a particular alchemist - of the unknown object on the crash sight that made less sense than they gave clarity as she inspected the graphical representation. She'll have to personally oversee the sight and the protocols involved in a few hours or so. But for now, her attention is on organizing the documents and paperwork. She could have Lisa or Kaeya do it, but as it stands they and their team are on crowd control duty on the site.

"Hmph. Must I repeat myself?" Eula fought her yawn. No need for someone of her stature to seem graceless in front of great authority. "I'm not someone who lacks observation. The time I was there, I found him strapped inside. Now, may I ask the circumstance of the stranger?"

"He's alive. Well, it's quite difficult to say with his… armor. Many tried what they could to unclothe him..." The Acting Grand Master was skimming the reports all the while recalling noteworthy memos and words of testimony.

"But no progress?" Eula sighed at Jean's slow nodding. "I'll exact my vengeance for the inconvenience he brought!"

"Speaking of inconvenience… have you slept yet?"

"No. I've coordinated the knights who first came to investigate." The night before, she cut off the harness that kept the man to the seats, met with others arriving on horseback, and borrowed somebody's horse to go to the cathedral to meet a church healer.

"Unless he wakes up to undress himself, we cannot say for sure of his condition." She remembered blood dried and stained inside the… glass of his helmet. Imagine that. A glass visor, as if it was a window! What kind of headgear would have glass? She imagined had it been smashed, the shattered fragments would greatly injure the wearer's head.

Then again, it wouldn't be some ordinary glass to survive being inside a meteor.

"Then I suppose this is where your report ends. I'm glad you made it. You may leave. I wish you a restful sleep."

Eula saluted, walked to the door, pulled it open, and left the room with no more words to spare. Returning to retire after a week in the wilds, and something strange just had to come up. She did not close the door. It seemed rude of all people, especially someone who values ethics and aristocratic manners, but it seems she left it for someone else to enter.

A blonde boy wearing a coat over his blue shirt and dark grey pants - his expression was calculating and calm, not cold, but just uncaring. He walked in front of Jean's table holding a notebook and sketch pad.

"Good morning, Acting Grandmaster Jean."

"Jean would be enough." She kindly noted. "Set the formalities aside. I see the investigation team has been productive through the night. Have you come with a report?"

"Report would be an… overstatement, neither were our "productivity" had come up with any sensible conclusions." He glanced at his sketches of the many items and objects related to the anomaly. "I along with my team admit that the anomaly is not within our capacity to unravel its mysteries."

Translation: we don't have anything on the thing you want the eggheads to check. It's all too dang weird.

"… You too." Jean has her frustrations grow into a storm. Meeting the city's needs and concerns can be debilitating. But she must be strong if nothing else for Mondstadt. She barely cared as she shoved her face into her hands, seemingly vulnerable to the alchemist in the room as she sighed.

"By your implications…" He raised an eyebrow. Slightly. His empathy is as great as much as he loathe this matter that derailed his schedules for personal projects and artistic hobbies. And just like her or anyone else, he wants to sleep. "I assume the efforts of the other captains have ended in shortcomings?"

"It's all too strange…" She grumbled but kept a mote of professionalism. What was she expecting from the alchemist? Something pops up in the night sky and she thinks anyone got an answer the next day. "The thing appears out of nowhere carrying a man inside... and problem is, we don't even know if he's alive inside that armor."

"While our investigation has no way to ascertain the cause of the described black hole considering its brief departure…" He let down the pages of sketches of the internals of the metal object, the seating, and other devices in particular. "… I do have some ideas behind the nature of the object."

"… elaborate." She chimed in, desperate for info, anything. And a well-formed opinion from a well-versed professional of the mystic arts would be a gift from the archons.

"According to first-hand testimony, the all-metal craft fell from the anomaly in a sharp, downward slope, where then when white fire ignited below, it pushed itself up to soften its landing..." A pause, picking up the pieces and facts together to build a hypothesis. "Then that would mean this metallic meteor had mechanisms that can maneuver itself... which would mean he was piloting it. Somehow."

"What," She tilted her head, her brain wincing at his findings.

"It could be some kind of steerable carriage that uses an advanced form of rocketry for flight and propulsion-" He cupped his chin. "-that he flew through a trans-dimensional rift, where the pilot lost his bearings from the sudden change of view and vector."

"... In short?" There was a lack of comprehension in her eyes.

"It's a flying machine. He crashed it after flying through a portal."

She stared.

"It's just a hypothesis," He opined with a blank face.

Still staring.

…

…

…

"… Let's change the topic. Captain Eula borrowed my horse to carry the injured. She forgot to tell me where she left it, and it trekked somewhere around. Can you put up a notice and tell the others for search-"

She was losing her mind. A few months of taking up a temporary mantle being Mondstadt's guardian have ordeals more troublesome than it's worth. It gave her great relief that some strange traveler helped with their dragon problem. An unlikely solution at an unlikely time. And just like that time she just wants this thing solved. Now. The people are concerned, and nothing and no one else will give her the answer she needs but the person revolving in the center.

They better have already taken off his armor to see if he is alive at all.

The Cathedral

Ward

Patient room

"Ever tried an axe?"

"You will do no such thing now, sister!" Barbara gestured her fists while on her chair. Rosaria chuckled, her humor did not fail to get a reaction. She faced the armored stranger lying flat on the bed.

"So. You seriously stayed up on him all night, huh?"

"I... I tried to sleep. But my mind kept me up."

Rosaria hummed. The man in strange gear wasn't something you can just ignore and forget.

"Well, what in Bartabatos' name should we do now?"

"Barbatos," Barbara eyed her a warning and switched attention to the man lying on the bed, sighing deeply. "How would I even know if my healing worked."

"Hmm… I can't even tell if he's breathing or not."

No belts. No latches. No buttons. Or just nothing that can let them remove the unconscious stranger's armor - a design no one here in the city has ever seen before. Whatever it was, it was designed to be stubborn for anyone to get off. How does someone even begin to wear that?

"Mm. Just get an axe. Or a guillotine. What if he's already… you know."

"Don't say such nonsense! He has no signs of rigor mortis!" Barbara groaned while Rosaria mused. Last night's incident was worth remembering.

For those familiar with a certain elf with hands for bombs, some thought Klee got her experiments out of hand. Likely as it was, the kid has a strict sleeping schedule. First, the short burst of explosions, then the bell alarm, then the whole church was called by one of the Favonius captains to see the local healer. Rosaria had plans, but last night was entertaining, recalling how every nun and concerned guard ogled the strange outsider.

Most hesitated to touch him, but everyone was awed by his gear as exotic and alien. He was like some animal zoo someone found on the edge of the world. Many people tried prying off the armor to no avail, but eventually, everyone got tired, and most went to their beds. Rosaria eyed the helmet. The dark-tinted visor left an impression, the bloodstains inside being a particularity. Why make a helmet visor made of glass? What kind of an armorer would make that thing?

"Ahh. I hope he wakes up." In the end, Barbara just did her healing and hoped there was nothing wrong with his bones, which left her anxious. You cannot just magic your dislocations and fractures away - those needs correcting to properly heal. Surface wounds and internal bleeding was where Barbara's singing talent shone. "Without a way to check his vitals…"

"… I almost forgot I'm called here to invite you. Breakfast is ready."

"… Toasts?"

"And eggs," Rosaria added with an inviting tone. "No point disturbing a person sleeping like a log. Not like he'll go anywh-"

The sleeping patient's finger twitched. Rosaria froze upon notice.

"What's wrong?"

"I think-" Slowly, cautiously, Rosaria replied while pointing a finger. "-your patient is waking up."

Barbara stood up from her seat and had to step back, with mixed emotions of relief, concern, and alertness. Could she be just imagini- his leg just twitched.

"Call the guards," Rosaria ordered as the young deaconess nodded. "I'll see to him."

James Hunstman

He was used to sleeping with a helmet.

Armor is something you appreciate when you're expecting guests out for blood the next day, but sometimes sleeping in comfort can do wonders for your mind. Though, waking up and seeing blood in your visor could bring concern to anyone.

Blood. On his visors.

Wait, was it his blood?

The memories of before flowed like a flood that answered everything. The chase, the crash. Yup. It's the blood he coughed.

Holy fuck I'm alive?

Which brought up a question about himself. If you got your body bruised, you'd feel sore and broken afterward. Yet, he felt fine. Rejuvenated even. Didn't he fail to inject the healer mech serum before going out? Did something or someone do magic on him?

Oh, thank the Archos. That artifact didn't kill me. Ha!

"Hahaha..."

He heard a door squeaking open. That got his attention as he pivot his neck. Despite the dried blood on his visor, there was allowance. Brick walls. Cobblestone flooring. A window with a wooden frame. A chair.

Oh god, where did I end up? Wait where's the door - oh.

He looked on all sides to see a figure standing. A human woman.

... Damn... nice.

A pale adult woman with wine-colored short hair, wearing a white sleeveless top, white gloves, and a long black and red slitted skirt, with black belts around her left thigh, along with fishnet tights and silver high-heels. She was wary but intrigued. Maybe he should break the silence. He wouldn't want the locals to think of him as anything but just some lost victim.

"Hello... uhh... Can I ask where I am?"

"..."

She looked confused. After a moment of silence, she spoke in a language that lacked any meaning. He sighed.

"Oh fuck you can't understand me, can't you." In a placating manner, he pushed himself to stand.

Standing in awkward silence, she crossed her arms as she was guarding the doorway.

English, and any well-known languages in this matter, fared far and wide and survived through centuries for mundane reasons. The internet helped tremendously in preserving cultures and so does putting people in cryosleep for centuries ahead. He met tribals whose ancestors are from a downed generation ship. He met vat-grown tools of war whose brains already downloaded with a default language setting. He talked and drank with visiting xenohumans and nobilities. He listened to glitterworlders deprived of purpose talk about what it's like out there.

Though humanity went far and wide, no matter how humanity branched itself out on the stellar map, one way or another their cultural roots held strong. So where the hell is he if he can't even guess whatever she is pronouncing?

"Okay. So... Uhh... introductions first I guess."

If he can't talk their tongue, then good old charades should help. He gripped both sides of his helmet and twisted it hard. The airtight locks and internal notches disengaged, as the openings of his suit "pft"-ed like a can of soda. It'd be rude with a helmet on the way.

He pulled up his EVA helmet and held it on his side.

End

Edit (march 28, 2023): slight edit

Edit:

Aghhhhhh.

Not sure if ya'll notice, but I've done edits upon edits and reuploads over reuploads instead of taking time doing quality proofreading.

Ugh. I need to get a grip and discipline myself.

Btw how ya'll think of the dialogues? As a non-English speaker, I just imagine what talking is like between people without sounding unnatural. And considering I'm an introvert and a social hermit, you can imagine how hard it is for me. Anyways. Hopefully, when I reread this and the previous releases, I won't go back to fixing minor things.