Published: 07/07/23

Act I

Chapter VIII

Prelude to Revelation


Formal dinners never failed to stir unease within William's core. Perhaps it was the extravagance of the cuisine or the stifling air of elitism, but deep down, it stemmed from his own insecurities in the presence of noble blood.

As the borrowed servants from House Ragnvindr darted across the ballroom in a blur of activity, meticulously setting up a grand long-table at the room's center, the opulence of the surroundings became apparent. Despite the evident lack of recent use, the decorations exuded lavishness and vibrancy. Paintings adorned the walls, sculptures of noble heads captured attention, and sumptuous curtains draped elegantly, creating an atmosphere teeming with life and sophistication.

Amidst the grandeur, William couldn't help but feel a mixture of awe and trepidation. Why had he received such an unexpected and exclusive invitation? The uncertainty tugged at his nerves, leaving him with a lingering sense of nervousness as he awaited the commencement of this private affair.

William trusted his instincts, a compass that had guided him since his early days as a mercenary. When Leo extended a helping hand and brought him to Mondstadt, he carried that gut feeling with him, unwavering in his decisions.

Lady Frederica's invitation to dine with her family held a purpose that William was well aware of, and he willingly embraced the potential embarrassment. Among the group he had mentored, Frederica stood out as the most delicate. Since her youth, she had struggled to find her place among others, often feeling like an outsider.

As William reminisced, memories of Genevra, a spirited and determined young girl, warmed his heart. He recalled their initial encounter, when she, a foreign member of the Adventurer's Guild, challenged him to a duel. The terms were unconventional—should William lose, he would become her teacher, but if Genevra lost, she would become his student. The audacity of her proposal amused him, and he wholeheartedly accepted, becoming her first mentor.

Then there was Varka, a person of whom William had countless thoughts but struggled to find the right words. Varka was a prodigy with a blade, gifted with natural talent. Unlike Genevra, who had to toil diligently to compensate for her lack of innate abilities, Varka possessed raw skill that he neglected to refine. It took Genevra's relentless taunting to push Varka beyond his limits, igniting a fiery rivalry between them that fueled both their spirits and honed their bodies. It was a rivalry born out of respect and admiration.

In this unlikely trio, William found a diverse mix of personalities and strengths. Each had their own journey, their own struggles, and their own path to self-improvement. As he sat at the dining table waiting to share dinner with Lady Frederica's family, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in the impact he had made on their lives. Together, they formed an extraordinary bond that would continue to shape their destinies.

And everything unraveled when Genevra defied expectations and left her adventuring party to marry Crepus. William couldn't help but feel a mix of elation and pride at the woman she had become. Crepus was a good man, a perfect match for Genevra. However, a shadow lingered amidst the joy. Seamus, the renowned healer and leader of Genevra's party, mysteriously retired soon after her marriage.

Initially, William dismissed it as a coincidence, but as the news of Frederica's betrothal and immediate wedding to Seamus broke, his suspicions intensified. Frederica's nervousness on her wedding day was chalked up to typical jitters, but William couldn't shake off his unease. While Frederica seemed genuinely content with her marriage to Seamus, it was the solemn expression on Seamus' face that unsettled William during their wedding ceremony.

Doubt crept into William's mind, fueling his uneasiness. What had truly transpired within Genevra's adventuring party? Why had Seamus retired so abruptly and then entered into a hasty union with Frederica? Were these events interconnected, or were they mere coincidences? William vowed to uncover the truth, determined to protect his loved ones from any hidden turmoil lurking beneath the surface.

Time proved to be a relentless foe for William. Varka, his former student, soared to newfound fame as the Cavalry Captain, leaving William burdened with his own responsibilities. The establishment of the Outrider company demanded his undivided attention, leaving little room to assist Frederica during her time of need. Even the miraculous arrival of his granddaughter failed to alleviate his mounting obligations, though the child's presence did bring him immeasurable joy. Amidst the haze of happiness, William's concerns regarding Frederica's marriage were overshadowed and forgotten.

However, it was the birth of Jean that shattered William's idyllic reverie and forced him to confront a harsh reality. Instead of being a joyous occasion, the delivery was plagued with sorrow. Seamus underwent a profound transformation during labor, evolving from a roguish and daring adventurer into a humble priest of the Church of Barbatos. Frederica's sudden change weighed heavily on William's heart. The once timid and rational knight he had mentored had been replaced by a resolute woman, unyielding and unwavering.

In the face of this transformation, William found it easier to connect with Seamus than with Frederica. Their shared experiences and history created a familiar and comfortable foundation, while the changes in Frederica left him feeling somewhat estranged.

Over the years, William couldn't help but ponder the profound changes in both Frederica and Seamus. The once adventurous spirit within Seamus had transformed into that of a gentle and devoted father, caring for Jean with tenderness. Whether it was with Jean strapped to his hip or cradled in his arms, Seamus would accompany the young child to church, immersing her in the teachings with a genuine curiosity in his eyes.

In stark contrast, Frederica's demeanor grew increasingly intense and bitter as the years went by, particularly as Jean reached her toddler years. Her words toward her mentor, William, cut deep, leaving him with a heavy heart. The girl he had nurtured and mentored had become a woman filled with resentment and sourness. Frederica began to distance herself from her own daughter, casting venomous glares whenever Seamus was present. William couldn't help but notice that Seamus would bow his head in shame in his wife's presence, though the old man remained uncertain about the cause. Part of him feared the truth, hesitant to discover the depths of their strained marriage.

An intoxicating air seemed to envelop the couple, with Seamus burdened by guilt and Frederica consumed by spite. The atmosphere between them grew suffocating, as their respective emotions took hold of their hearts and overshadowed the love that had once bound them. William, caught in the middle, grappled with his own conflicted feelings, unsure of how to mend the fractured relationships that had unfolded before his eyes.

As the evening shadows cast their embrace over their strained marriage, a glimmer of hope emerged with the birth of their second child. In the face of adversity, the miracle of Barbara's arrival ignited a transformative shift within Frederica and Seamus. The significance of this blessed event reverberated through their souls, dissolving the barriers that had kept them apart.

In that sacred moment, William witnessed a remarkable transformation. The animosity that had clouded their relationship dissipated, replaced by an undeniable acceptance and affection. As Frederica cradled their newborn daughter in her arms, her eyes radiated with a profound love, mirrored by Seamus. It was a love that transcended their differences and rekindled the deep connection they once shared.

Barbara, their precious child, embodied the miracle that they desperately needed. She became the catalyst that mended the fragments of their fractured bond. In her innocent presence, the wounds of the past were soothed, and a new chapter of understanding and unity began to unfold.

As William gazed upon the tender scene before him, a surge of gratitude and hope surged through his being. The birth of Barbara was a testament to the resilience of love, reminding him that even in the darkest moments, miracles could manifest and guide their hearts towards reconciliation.

With their precious daughter as a beacon of light, Frederica and Seamus embarked on a journey of rediscovery, determined to nurture the newfound love and create a harmonious future for their family.

At least, for a long while.

Four years ago, a haunting memory resurfaced in William's mind—the conference at Fontaine that marked the arrival of the third wave of mysterious Delusion items flooding the markets across Teyvat. The repercussions were disastrous for Mondstadt, with numerous members of the Knights being implicated in the possession of these forbidden artifacts. As the Grandmaster at the time, Leo bore the weight of this shame, while the unchecked proliferation of Delusion users wreaked havoc upon the city.

During that tumultuous period, it was Varka who stood at the pinnacle of his prowess. He tirelessly confronted the ceaseless onslaught of Delusion users, as they unleashed chaos and banditry upon the countryside. Together with Genevra, they formed an unstoppable duo, cutting down wave after wave of desperate individuals seeking their own twisted legends. However, their grim reputation was ultimately curtailed by the combined might of Genevra's blade and Varka's resolve.

In the aftermath of those challenging times, William reflected on the sacrifices made and the toll it took on Mondstadt. As he delved into his memories, he sought solace in the hope that brighter days lay ahead for his city, even as the echoes of that dark period lingered.

But it was not meant to be.

As the conflict reached its climax, Genevra found herself facing a formidable Delusion user, their wicked mastery of the forbidden artifacts evident in their every move. Before Varka could intervene, consumed by an overwhelming surge of rage, the enemy landed a fatal blow on Genevra, cutting her down in a cruel act of violence. William stood there, a helpless witness to a scene that resembled his own daughter being struck across the waist by a dark wave of energy, his heart filled with horror as Genevra collapsed amidst the chaos of the battlefield.

Meanwhile, Varka continued his relentless onslaught, slashing his way through legions upon legions of enemies, his fury blinding him to the desperate need to aid Genevra. William himself became embroiled in a final, desperate charge against the enemy's rear, but the sheer numbers and dark powers arrayed against his forces held him back, rendering him unable to reach her side. Frederica, overwhelmed by shock and horror, stood paralyzed, unable to respond to the tragedy unfolding before her eyes. Lord Crepus, watching the battle unfold from a distance, was gripped by sheer terror as he witnessed his beloved wife being mercilessly struck down by a man consumed by boundless ambition.

William thought it was the end for her. His heart couldn't bear the scene, and nearly looked away. If not for the miraculous light in the consuming darkness.

Amidst the chaos, an unexpected savior emerged: Seamus himself. Clad in resplendent white armor from head to toe, the Lord Deacon of the Church charged towards Genevra's vulnerable position atop a majestic steed. It was as if a character from a wondrous fairy tale had come to life, a sight that both horrified and amazed William.

With unwavering determination, Seamus engaged a group of over a dozen assailants who foolishly believed him to be an easy target while he cradled the helpless Genevra in his arms. To their dismay, Seamus swiftly dispatched each one with precise strikes, his form honed through countless battles and fueled by concentrated rage.

Witnessing the radiant aura enveloping Seamus, William stood in awe as the Deacon unleashed his power, seeking retribution against the vile creature that had landed a fortunate blow on Genevra. In a single, perfect swing of his blade, Seamus severed the head of the arrogant foe who had abused their ill-gotten powers.

On that fateful day, Lord Deacon Seamus, hailed as the Hero of Starfell, became the savior who rescued Genevra from the brink of tragedy, forever etching his name in their shared history.

A song was sung of that fateful day, Lady Red and Sir White of the Snow Veil.

The ballads and legends forever immortalized Genevra's triumphant moments, yet they failed to recount the heart-wrenching tragedy that befell all those who held her dear. When the vile creature delivered a fatal blow to her waist, Seamus swiftly recognized an unknown curse afflicting her. But it was a year later when the true extent of the curse struck with an even greater force. One fateful day, after a year of relentless conflict, Genevra slipped into a brief coma, only to awaken to a world of excruciating pain and lingering agony caused by the curse.

It was the same curse that threatened to slowly claim her life, the very curse that should have brought her to her knees when she was saved from rogue adversaries in the forest by a mysterious stranger, the same savior who later rescued Jean from the treacherous Abyss Order.

But it was more than a song and legend that happened that day. Even more than the curse that will take hold of Genevra soon, no.

The rekindling of Genevra and Seamus' long-lost friendship sparked an unexpected conflict between Seamus and his wife, Frederica. At first, the conflict simmered, with Varka, Frederica, Crepus, and William relieved that Genevra had emerged unscathed. Varka, however, received a stern lecture from William himself, who lamented the cavalier attitude displayed by his once-promising student on the battlefield. Such skill with a blade should not be squandered by a fool like Varka.

Frederica genuinely rejoiced in Genevra's safety, their bond reminiscent of sisters who had shared the same tutelage under William's guidance. Crepus, surprisingly, was deeply moved by Genevra's survival, and he found himself weeping in her embrace—a display of affection that elicited a chuckle from Genevra as she observed her husband's worried tears.

As the brief reunion came to an abrupt halt, duty called upon each member of their group. Varka was dispatched to track down any remaining survivors from the battle, Crepus assumed the role of a liaison for foreign diplomats providing aid to Mondstadt, and Frederica was tasked with tending to the wounded and ensuring proper treatment for both sides.

This left William in his tent, nursing a leg injury inflicted by a fortunate arrow in his lonesome.

Meanwhile, Seamus tended to Genevra, who lay gravely wounded. Alone together in the confines of their tent, their interactions sparked a flurry of rumors that insinuate something illicit transpiring between two old friends during a passionate and heated moment of their short reunion after the harrowing battle. It came as little surprise to William that whispers quickly circulated, weaving tales of a valiant knight of the Church engaging in a passionate affair with an ol friend he had rescued on the battlefield.

Whispers that had reached Frederica who returned from scouring the battlefield, or so Varka recalled.

In his hazy state of consciousness, William struggled to recall the events of that evening. All he could remember was waking up to find Seamus and Frederica missing, Varka returning with a bewildered expression, and an infuriated Crepus keeping a watchful eye over his unconscious wife.

It appeared that their argument had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the camp. When William finally regained his senses, Varka, with a sheepish demeanor, informed him that Frederica had returned and, fueled by the circulating rumors, confronted Seamus about the alleged affair. Thankfully, Genevra was already unconscious due to her injuries. However, the scene that unfolded outside her tent marked the first public confrontation between Seamus and Frederica, a clash between husband and wife that was witnessed by all.

That moment forth sparked the second conflict between them.

Though not as profound or intoxicating as their previous conflicts, Seamus and Frederica found themselves immersed in a prolonged period of cold war, filled with suspicion and betrayals that spanned several years until recently. This time, the tensions between them were more palpable, as they abandoned all semblance of decorum and engaged in arguments at any given moment, be it in a clothing store, the Cathedral, or even in the homes of other nobles. Their disputes became a topic of public interest, an open secret that was either seen as shocking or entertaining by onlookers.

Amidst this tumultuous environment, William couldn't help but feel a deep sense of regret for the impact it had on their two daughters, Jean and Barbara. As their parents incessantly argued, their lives became accustomed to the constant conflict. Lines were drawn, forcing Jean and Barbara to choose sides, inadvertently thrusting them into the midst of their parents' discord.

The conflict reached a dangerous boiling point when Frederica publicly declared that Jean would participate in the upcoming trials, disregarding Seamus' passionate protest and concerns for Jean's safety. Despite Jean's willingness to comply, hoping to satisfy both Frederica's demands and ease Seamus' worries, her decision only intensified the resentment between her parents. The situation seemed destined to lead to a painful separation and possible divorce.

Caught in the crossfire were Jean and Barbara, who found themselves at the center of the escalating conflict. It became apparent to everyone, including William, that it was only a matter of time before one of the girls would have to choose between adopting Seamus' surname, Pegg, or retaining Frederica's family name, Gunnhildr. The heartbreaking spectacle unfolded before William's eyes as he witnessed the disintegration of his beloved adoptive daughter's family, torn apart by suspicion and a tragic lack of understanding.

Throughout the years, William witnessed the gradual disintegration of the Gunnhildr family, leaving him feeling powerless. Meanwhile, Leo, his dear friend and the Grandmaster, faced harsh criticism and was widely regarded as incompetent and past his prime. The demands on William's time were incessant, with his responsibilities as a leader of the Outriders and the increasing needs of his beloved granddaughter. Juggling these pressures was exasperating in itself, and as age caught up with him, William found it increasingly difficult to muster the passion and determination needed to support Frederica in her marriage with Seamus.

All in all, he had failed.

Helpless, William observed the disheartening unraveling of those he held dear. Genevra's health deteriorated, sapping her strength and vitality. Varka, once unwaveringly loyal to the cause, grew disillusioned, distancing himself from both the knights and his fellow soldiers. Frederica, burdened by the weight of responsibility, became increasingly distant and guarded. Crepus, once a close confidant, seemed to drift further away, creating a growing chasm between him and William. Even Seamus, usually devoted to his wife, appeared to prioritize his duties within the Church and his relationship with Barbara, leaving Frederica feeling neglected and alone.

In the face of these challenges, William felt a sense of powerlessness. The bonds that once united them were fraying, and he couldn't discern how to mend them. Each passing day deepened the rifts, leaving him with a heavy heart and a sense of impending loss. The vibrant connections that had sustained them seemed to fade, replaced by uncertainty and estrangement. William yearned for a way to bring back the closeness they once shared, but he couldn't help but fear that their paths were diverging irreversibly.

It was the dread of a dark future that held no hope, but rather bleak fates for those he love.

But then, the unthinkable occurred. It was a fateful evening, with William in the company of his beloved daughter and granddaughter, when a member of his loyal Outriders rushed to summon him. As he entered the solemn halls of the Knights' headquarters, he was met with a scene that weighed heavily on his heart. The stalwart Grandmaster Leo appeared visibly aged, his face etched with worry and fatigue. Disturbing reports flooded in, revealing the disappearance of more than a dozen children from minor noble houses, including Jean, his own cherished student's daughter.

The news struck William like a hammer blow, shattering his heart into fragments. Yet, amidst the pain, a fierce determination ignited within him. Pride surged through his veins as he learned that Jean's vanishing had not occurred without a valiant struggle. The commotion in her chamber had grown tumultuous, echoing with the sounds of her fierce resistance. Frederica, alerted by the clamor and already unsettled by the news of other children's disappearances, rushed to Jean's aid. In a desperate act of bravery, she felled one hapless Hilichurl, but alas, the remaining abductors swiftly seized Jean and vanished into the night, leaving a void of anguish and uncertainty in their wake.

The woman's inconsolable grief was unexpectedly met with Seamus rushing to her side, offering solace and comfort in a way they hadn't experienced in years. It was a rare display of compassion, breaking through the walls that had grown between them over time. William, recognizing this unexpected turn of events, left Seamus to attend to his wife's weeping and cries, opting instead to take immediate action.

Under the cover of darkness, William rode swiftly to spread the news and rally support. His first destination was Dawn Winery, where Genevra and her husband resided with their two boys. With a sense of urgency and determination, William personally ensured their protection throughout the night, aware of the looming danger that threatened their lives.

As the new day dawned, one of William's scouts brought troubling news. The Outriders, under his command, had encountered a group of vicious hilichurls led by an Abyss Mage. Disturbingly, the scout reported that the children had been taken captive, marked as sacrificial offerings for the dark rituals of these vile creatures.

A surge of righteous fury coursed through William's veins. With unwavering resolve, he prepared to lead his forces into battle against this heinous threat. The safety of the innocent children became his paramount concern, driving him to confront the vile creatures and rescue the young lives held captive in their clutches.

However, Varka proved once again to be ahead of the game, as he often was, with his troops reporting to him after a prolonged period of awkwardness. It had been quite some time since they last rode out to battle together, and the Knights' pride, the formidable Cavalry Company, was now prepared to bring swift justice to those responsible for the abduction of innocent children.

Knowing that Jean's life was at stake, Varka would willingly give up everything to ensure her safety. The entire Cavalry Company understood the unwavering devotion their captain had for Jean, and they were determined to fight with all their might to rescue her and the other kidnapped children.

Unfortunately, their plans were thwarted by an unexpected presence, a renowned stranger who had already taken care of the problem by summoning a powerful storm to vanquish the Abyss Order. William realized that if Varka had led his cavalry force into battle, they would have faced certain annihilation, with Varka himself as the lone survivor. Wild hilichurls alone were formidable adversaries, but to encounter an Abyss Mage, presumably affiliated with the notorious Abyss Order, would have been akin to a suicidal charge—a grim reality that William was all too familiar with.

Though initially disheartened by the turn of events, William couldn't help but feel a sense of relief deep within. While Varka's bravery and determination were unmatched, William understood the importance of strategic thinking and preserving their forces for future battles. He silently thanked the unknown hero who had spared them from a potentially catastrophic outcome, yet he couldn't shake the lingering feeling of unease that loomed over their next move.

William could never comprehend such a loss like the Cavalry Company, and he knew Leo's head would have been served on a silver platter for all the fools to see. The Old Lion was done for if that were to come to pass.

But with the stranger's enigmatic interference, Jean's safe return, and the emergence of new problems tied to the mysterious figure, William struggled to comprehend the stranger's motives. Their unexpected appearance and subsequent disappearance only added to the confusion. Varka, initially tasked with locating the stranger, had made no progress, prompting William to take charge himself.

Assembling a dedicated team, William set his sights on the southern region, where bustling commerce and heavy traffic prevailed. If the stranger had vanished overnight, it was likely in the midst of a caravan. The Iron Gate, guarding the borders of Liyue, stood as a gateway for hundreds of travelers. However, William hesitated to seek assistance from the neighboring region, wary of the recent peculiar behavior exhibited by the Millelith.

Uncertainty clouded William's judgment as he weighed the risks and potential consequences of involving the Liyue authorities. The Millelith's recent conduct had raised suspicions, making him question their trustworthiness. Nevertheless, the pursuit of the elusive stranger demanded swift action, and William knew he had to navigate this delicate situation with caution and resourcefulness.

He had a stranger to give thanks to. Saving Jean's life and sparing Varka's troops were one of them.

For now, William must help Frederica with this dinner.

Lost in contemplation, William's attention was abruptly drawn to the entrance of the grand ballroom. A tall figure with flowing platinum-blond hair cascading down to his waist entered, adorned in ornate robes that unmistakably marked him as a servant of the Church. Seamus, the esteemed father of Barbara and Jean, and above all, Frederica's husband, exuded the essence of a devout Deacon.

"It's good to see you," Seamus greeted warmly, his kind eyes reflecting genuine sincerity. "I apologize for not having had the chance to catch up with you during the meeting. Your presence is always cherished, especially since my wife speaks highly of you." His gaze swept the room with a touch of concern. "I thought the girls were accompanying you. Has something happened?"

William chuckled softly, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Barbara is simply helping Jean with a minor wardrobe mishap. She was appalled by her sister's choice of attire, considering it rather unsuitable for an elegant dinner like this."

Instead of smiling, Seamus furrowed his brow deeply. "That's peculiar. It's usually the other way around. Jean was always the one to jest around Barbara's choice of attire."

William's mind drifted back to the training room where Jean had been staying since her return. He couldn't help but grimace at her appearance. She seemed weary yet determined, but there was a sense that she was willing to see where this private dinner would lead. "Your daughter is not in the right state of mind," William said slowly. "I'm afraid young Jean appears more interested in isolating herself. It's concerning, considering she has always been sociable. She has expressed a desire to focus on her training."

A glimmer of worry flickered in Seamus's eyes. "Aye, my wife Frederica has already shared her concerns with me. But what is she training for exactly? Even my wife is unaware, and she hasn't sanctioned this—much to my relief." He let out a sigh. "I love my wife dearly, but she can be stubborn when it comes to Jean's future as a knight. We exchanged harsh words during Jean's participation in the trials. However, since Jean's safe return from the recent kidnappings, my wife has been more concerned about her change in behavior. It seems she is training more intensely than ever, without any guidance from Frederica." The Deacon paused, his lips pursed in worry. "It's unlike my daughter Jean. She always took her mother's words to heart."

The room fell into a brief silence, both men contemplating the possible reasons behind Jean's newfound determination and detachment. The weight of their worries hung heavily in the air, leaving them uncertain of what lies ahead for Seamus' beloved daughter.

William nodded solemnly. "That's precisely why I've come here, to assist both of you in understanding your daughter's peculiar behavior," he whispered to Seamus. "Varka informed me that it all began in the cliffs, when the enigmatic stranger who saved the children suddenly vanished without a trace."

Seamus sighed, his spirits dampened. "It's deeply concerning," he admitted. "My beloved daughter has always possessed an indomitable spirit. Even in the face of adversity, Jean would pick herself up and forge ahead. That unwavering determination was what endeared her to my wife, Frederica. But now... I see the sadness in Frederica's eyes, her tears held back. It's evident how our daughter's sudden transformation has deeply affected her."

William remained silent, the memory of Frederica's unshed tears of frustration etched in his mind. He was determined to go to great lengths for his former student. Frederica deserved nothing less from an old man like him. Hoping that his wisdom would prove valuable, he vowed to give his best in helping Seamus, Frederica, and even Barbara, who held deep affection for Jean as a younger sister.

He wasn't there when they needed him the most. But he was here now, and William will not go anywhere yet without doing his best to help Frederica's family. He was determined to finish this dinner with something good out of it.

Suddenly, the doors swung open, and two young girls entered the room. The taller one, Jean, appeared visibly irritated, as if being away from her training room for too long had disrupted her sense of purpose. William couldn't help but find her impatience amusing—it was an unexpected trait in someone as composed as Jean. On the other hand, the shorter girl, Barbara, wore a look of frustration on her face, mirroring her mother Frederica's expression. There was no denying the family resemblance between them, with their shared eyes and determined frowns. Barbara had inherited her mother's stubbornness and strong-willed nature.

Both took a seat opposite of where William was.

"Jean! This is highly improper!" Barbara exclaimed, her voice echoing in the room. "You constantly criticize my attire from the church, yet here you are, parading around in these filthy rags. They're barely cloth at this point!"

Jean paid little attention to her sister's words, her gaze fixed on their father with a mixture of surprise and relief. "Father," she said, her voice filled with both excitement and caution. "You're here. Is Mother with you?" Her eyes scanned the ballroom, searching for any sign of her mother amidst the flurry of activity—the bustling maids, the anxious waiters, the neutral expression on William's face, and the rare sternness in their father Seamus' gaze.

"Your mother is occupied with another matter," Seamus shook his head, his voice laced with concern. "But let's not dwell on trivial worries. She'll be here shortly." He searched his daughter's eyes, hoping to find undeniable reassurance to ease his concerns.

"Is something bothering you, father?" Jean asked, fidgeting in her seat, deliberately avoiding Seamus' gaze, reluctant to reveal any semblance of relief or joy upon seeing him. "Is there something on my face?"

Seamus's expression remained unamused. "Yes, your weary eyes and fatigued posture speak volumes," he responded with a touch of harshness, his gentle voice belying the sternness of his words. William couldn't help but be both concerned and impressed by how someone so kind could also display such uncompromising resolve. "How are you, my daughter? Have you been sleeping well? Neglecting proper rest would be a grave disrespect to our hosts, the people who have generously sheltered and fed you. My daughter would never show such ingratitude."

William observed the interaction between father and daughter, sensing the underlying tension. He understood Seamus's desire for Jean to show gratitude and respect for the hospitality they had received. However, he also recognized the weariness in Jean's eyes and the toll their recent experiences had taken on her. As an outsider looking in, he wondered how they would navigate this delicate balance between familial duty and personal well-being.

Jean's face paled momentarily, though she concealed it adeptly. "I'm perfectly fine, father," she retorted, her irritation evident as she resented the notion of bringing shame upon her parents in front of their hosts, the Ragnvindrs. "Regardless of what mother may think, I am managing well. I eat when I need to and conserve the rest for later. Optimal efficiency suits me just fine. There's no need for me to indulge in excessive food consumption until it becomes necessary." With her arms crossed defiantly, she met her father's gaze head-on.

Seamus remained unfazed. To William's surprise, the normally gentle Deacon's expression hardened as he locked eyes with his daughter. "What has your mother been thinking? She is deeply worried for you. Frederica is deeply concerned about your behavior, and so am I. She blames herself for pressuring you, for not being there in time when she heard about the missing children. She feels guilt-ridden." Softening his glare, he continued, his voice tinged with hurt, "Are we such inadequate parents, Jean? Is our love and concern so easily dismissed by you?" The pain in his eyes was unmistakable, and William noticed Jean's slight trembling, a sign of her guilt.

Barbara, the poor girl, couldn't help but feel frustrated as her father and sister immediately engaged in conflict upon their reunion. William could empathize with her. He had hoped that Seamus would be the voice of reason, the calm presence between Frederica and himself when addressing their daughter. Instead, Seamus seemed overcome with emotions, abandoning any semblance of stoicism in favor of berating Jean. And Jean, to William's surprise, was rebelling, resisting any form of comfort offered by her father or even her tearful sister, Barbara.

Before the tense exchange could escalate further, the resounding sound of the ballroom door swung open. William breathed a sigh of relief as Frederica finally made her entrance. However, his relief quickly turned to horror as he noticed how much his former student had aged since their earlier meeting.

Seemingly aware of the shock her appearance caused, Frederica's husband displayed understanding and concern. Jean, on the other hand, was not only surprised but also horrified by the worn-out figure of her mother marching towards the dinner table. Now that both parents were present, along with their two daughters, William held a glimmer of hope that this dinner could somehow unfold smoothly.

"Mother, what happened?" Jean asked, her voice filled with horror as she witnessed the rare sight of a weary Frederica.

Even Barbara, who sometimes harbored fear towards her mother, instinctively left her chair and approached Frederica, embracing her tightly. Frederica was taken aback at first, but soon reciprocated the hug, holding her daughter close. William couldn't help but smile, a glimmer of hope swelling within him.

"Frederica, how did the report go?" Seamus inquired with concern, his worry evident for his wife's well-being. "Did the information broker share good intel?"

When mentioning an info broker, William suddenly frowned. They were reliable, with a price.

"Report?" Curiosity sparked in Jean's eyes, tinged with a hint of longing. William had a hunch about what or rather who she was eager to learn about. "Did you receive any news, Mother? About Uncle Varka's search? Did you… find him?" Jean's eyes suddenly lit up, catching her father and sister off guard. Seamus was taken aback by the sudden change in his daughter's tone and her unsettling interest in the prospect of hearing good news. Barbara, wide-eyed, released their mother from the embrace and stared bewilderedly at her sister.

Frederica avoided her daughter's gaze and instead directed her attention towards William. "You were right, William. The stranger was spotted heading towards Liyue, hitching a ride. Allard, your dear friend, also sent you a letter mentioning a blond individual traveling urgently south. He awaits you in the old village, where you both grew up." Frederica nervously bit her lip, avoiding the concerned looks from her husband Seamus and Barbara.

William's heart skipped a beat. "Is this confirmation?" He knew exactly what Frederica was referring to. "From the information broker?" He had never fully trusted those types, but Allard had always sought their services.

Ignoring Jean's intense gaze fixed upon her, Frederica nodded. "Yes, it was the information broker from the guild who approached me. After our meeting, as Seamus and I were on our way to this dinner, a messenger rode up with a message for me and a letter addressed to you."

Jean's excitement was palpable as she eagerly asked, "Is it him, mother? Is it the same stranger who saved me?"

Frederica spoke hesitantly, her voice filled with uncertainty. "It could be him, or it might not. Regardless, your old friend Allard hurriedly sent word to you. His adopted son formed a bond with the supposed savior, and in their conversations, he overheard a crucial detail." She paused, her lips pursed as she fixed her gaze on her daughter. Jean's smile slowly faded, replaced by a desperate intensity in her eyes.

"What did the stranger say, Mom? Please, tell me," Jean pleaded, her voice trembling with apprehension.

William nodded, silently urging Frederica to reveal the information they had received. He braced himself for what was to come.

"He heard the stranger mention that he was searching for a ship," Frederica confessed, her eyes closing briefly as if to shield herself from the weight of the revelation. "A ship departing from Liyue, beyond our reach."


AUTHOR'S NOTES:

I decided to focus the chapter on one scene instead of multiple. Many guides I've read taught me that I need my readers to consume a specific amount of exposition, instead of overloading them with plenty in one chapter, which depends on the importance of the chapter. If it was filler scenes, then I could pile several of them into one chapters with no worries. But if the scene has importance, I must dedicate a whole chapter for it.

With a night shift on the way, I decided to upload this before I go to work and let it stir.

Also, I am catching up with the content of Sumeru before Fontaine arrives. I have yet finished the Archon quests. I am saving Primos for Focalors, as I am collecting every Archon in each region. Currently, I am 4 for 4, and I am planning to build Nahida as soon as I clear most of Sumeru.

Stay tuned for more!