CROSSPOSTED A/N: Ah, the part of the crossover where it becomes obvious how foreign one party is.

Just a bridge between the beginning and all the random character moments I have jotted down, sprawled in a mess on my Google Drive.

A Knight's Retirement
Chapter 2: Introductions

The office of this "Acting Grandmaster'' was a rather humble affair, at least by Cyril's concept of leadership. In the center of the room sat a polished desk with matching chairs, along the walls lay crowded bookshelves, and a large window behind it all to allow sunlight inside.

It was the illumination of this window that seemed to make the woman in the room glow as she turned to face him. Pale blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, a face that spoke of kindness but tempered by discipline, and ocean blue eyes filled with appraisal. Though he'd lived through countless lifetimes, the young woman before him seemed as if she could see right through him.

But that wasn't the only thing that caught his eye.

Sister Barbara had been rather pretty, in a girlish way that was rare in the lands he knew. But the woman before him now was beautiful with a radiance only seen in those with the blood of Lords. And maybe it was just him, but did he see a bit of familial resemblance between Sister Barbara and the Acting Grandmaster?

His shock certainly wasn't helped by the fact that she wasn't dressed in armor like he assumed she would be. Unlike her knights, she was wearing form-fitting white pants and an intricate blouse with a pristine blue cloak draped over her shoulders. Not a piece of protective gear in sight.

But he couldn't afford to gawk at her. This was not the first time he found himself before a stunning vision of beauty, after all.

"Greetings. I am Cyril, of Astora," Cyril introduced himself and took off his helmet, as politeness would dictate. "I am thankful for your people's hospitality in caring for one such as I."

Her gaze softened once no longer confronted by his faceless visor, answering him with a more welcoming expression, "I'm Jean Gunnhildr, Acting Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius. And you hardly need to thank us for caring for an incapacitated man."

He smiled wryly in response. "In my experience, I'd have expected to wake up in a ditch somewhere with naught but an empty pack. Not an uncommon occurrence in Lordran.

"Then those lands sound treacherous." Jean raised an eyebrow, before honing in on the names he'd used. "I'm sorry, but I've never heard of Astora or Lordran. I thought you might be foreign from your armor, but…"

"...I feared that would be the case." Cyril sighed. "What would you say if I were to declare that I've never heard of a place called Mondstadt until today?"

"I'd say that's a bad joke." Her expression was studiously flat as she paused, then gave him a serious look. "But you're not joking, are you?"

"I am not. It feels much the same for me, you see. To have not heard of Astora is unlikely but believable. But to not know the name of the Land of Gods, Lordran, is inconceivable," he explained.

"Land of Gods?" Her brow furrowed in consternation, "This Lordran is ruled by an Archon?"

"I have no idea what that is." Cyril gave a straightforward reply.

The silence that followed his statement was one of plain disbelief. It was what he expected, but he was never one for beating around the bush. Besides, these people have at least earned this level of honesty for their hospitality.

He waited patiently as Jean stared at him analytically for several more seconds. Finally, she made an expression of acceptance. Still wary, but understandably so.

"Hm…then the next question I should ask is…how did you end up unconscious outside our walls?" She narrowed her eyes as she spoke. Cyril approved of her focus on the more pressing matters, as it wasn't hard to tell she was actually curious about the lands he'd mentioned.

He frowned lightly, as he would like to know the answer as well. "If I'm to be completely honest…then I have no idea."

Jean only raised an eyebrow at that. Her skepticism was warranted, he had to admit. He claims to have no knowledge of her home, yet ended up outside its walls, then additionally stated that he hailed from lands she'd never heard of herself.

He took a deep breath and simply continued, "By all accounts, I should probably be dead."

Her eyes widened in alarm. "What do you mean?"

She was concerned, which was only natural when given a shocking statement like that. Death normally meant some pain and a setback or two for an Undead like Cyril, however this time he'd expected his soul to burn in the Kiln of the First Flame.

A final resting place, denied to him for some mysterious, cosmic reason.

Yet the thing that really caught him flatfooted was that he could detect some genuine worry from her in regards to himself. He hadn't even elaborated on his circumstances, yet Acting Grandmaster Jean had taken his words quite seriously.

It was novel, receiving such an expression from someone he'd only just met. Even among those he could call his friends, they rarely had time to truly worry about one another. That way of thinking had led to…consequences, ones that he didn't want to recall at the moment.

But that was enough of that. Lady Jean was waiting for an explanation.

"I do not know of the nature of these lands, but the Lords, our gods, established Lordran as their headquarters from which they ruled and influenced all other nations, including Astora. But nothing lasts forever. Wars, time, any number of factors eroded away at their establishment. And eventually there were none left, most either deceased or departed for greener pastures." Cyril grit his teeth a bit. Much of the history was still unclear, even to someone as well-traveled as him, but he got the distinct feeling that humanity had been made a fool of by the end. By whom exactly, and for what purpose still eluded him. He was still mostly loyal to Lord Gwyn, but the blind fanaticism of his youth had long faded away. Especially after Thorolund.

For her part, Jean listened, a vague sort of understanding present in her expression. Perhaps the gods of Mondstadt and the other nations of this place had similar roles or histories?

Taking her silence as a signal to continue, he moved on with his explanation, "Without the gods the lands began to die. Rivers dried up, plants withered, and a pall was cast across the continent. These changes led to nations collapsing and chaos reigning everywhere. No one truly knows whether it was because the gods left, or if they left because this had been inevitable. And it's far too late to ever know the true answer now."

He must've been making a particularly bad expression as Jean reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder in a show of comfort. She still looked rather confused, but it wasn't enough for her to shed her empathy, it seemed.

"We weren't content to just accept it, though. The time of prosperity ushered in by the Lords was called the Age of Fire, named after the source of their power, called the First Flame," he explained, unable to stop some reverence entering his tone. "Apparently, the most powerful of the Lords, Lord Gwyn, had sacrificed himself to the Flame long ago in order to keep it burning and extend the Age of Fire, but now it was truly in danger of dying out. A mere ordinary human would not be able to perform the rite in the same way Lord Gwyn had. As such, I challenged the trials necessary…and eventually chose to offer myself to the First Flame as well."

He kept his explanation concise and omitted any mention of the Darksign and its curse, but he had told no lies. He was still unsure if his hosts knew of his nature at all, but if they didn't, revealing it now would only complicate things.

Jean's eyes went wide, "You…sacrificed yourself?"

"Well, that was the plan. The last thing I'm able to recall was being in immense pain as the Flame consumed my very essence. Then, I woke up here. As you can likely surmise, I'm quite lost at the moment." Cyril smiled in wry humor, "As I stated earlier, by my knowledge, I should be dead."

Jean wanted to deny it, she truly did. It all sounded absurd, alien, and even pagan in nature. No Archon she heard of performed or requested rituals of human sacrifice, at least she hoped so.

But even though Jean usually admitted to being uncomfortable with common social interactions, she had learned a little about how to read people. It was something she'd picked up from being a leader for many years, from her ongoing role as the Dandelion Knight of Mondstadt to now being the Acting Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius.

And Cyril of Astora, she could tell, was no liar. In fact, she felt he wasn't dissimilar to herself in conduct. Knightly, honest, and direct were the words she'd use.

But what he'd said about his dying home…and his sacrifice. That would make him noble beyond words. She got the feeling that this wasn't the whole story of Lordran, but she could tell that what he'd shared he believed to be true.

What sealed the deal were his eyes; they told her more than his words ever could. They spoke of weariness, pain, and sorrow…but also an unwavering will and dedication to his beliefs. They were eyes that she could respect, if not trust quite yet.

She suppressed a shudder. A land abandoned by their gods. She knew the other nations often referred to Barbatos, the Archon of Mondstadt, as an "absentee ruler", but the people felt his presence every day.

Not to mention she personally knew what form he currently took…

She cast a sympathetic eye towards the foreign knight. She couldn't imagine what it felt like to be abandoned by their gods, left alone to struggle through the collapse of everything they knew.

He had a light scar across one side of his face, but his youth showed though. If she had to hazard a guess, he was likely around her own age. But there was a certain weight in his disposition, like an aura of a veteran.

She decided that while his story was fantastical, he truly had no idea how he ended up in Mondstadt. If that's the case, then it was only right to extend an offer of hospitality. Not to mention…she was certain he knew how to use the sword at his waist. More possible manpower was also something to be appreciated.

But first, she had to figure out his own planned course of action, "Then, what do you plan to do now?"

"Truthfully?" He cocked his head with a rueful smile, "I'd like to take a walk around your city. The colors and sounds of Mondstadt are a far cry from the dreary lands I've become accustomed to. There are few places where the trees aren't gnarled or the grass isn't mottled. What few bastions of beauty that exist are jealously guarded by beings more deadly than I care to confront. Even the very air is crisp and cleaner here."

Jean felt a rush of pride at his praise, but also a small bit of embarrassment at failing to convey her intentions clearly. "I, um, don't really see an issue with that…but I wanted to know more about your longer-term plans."

"Ahh, my apologies," Cyril's eyes widened in realization. "I've not given it much thought. Perhaps I'll look for work? I admit I'd like to explore these lands, but I assume I'll need funds to do so."

Jean nodded, that was well within her expectations. "Then for now, I'd like to offer you a room in our barracks."

He looked surprised. "Truly? That seems rather generous."

"As long as you swear not to harm Mondstadt or its citizens, we will welcome you with open arms." She smiled warmly at him. "There's always work to be done, and more manpower is always welcomed."

"Then…" Cyril furrowed his brow for a moment before relaxing. "I will accept your offer with gratitude. I swear I will adhere to the laws of this land for as long as I reside here."

She caught a hint of relief on his face, which made her feel like she'd done the right thing. It did help that if she horridly misread him, then he would be among the Knights more often than not, and they could deal with the threat more expediently.

She got the feeling that that wouldn't happen though, just a certain hunch that he was a man of his word.

Cyril was humbled by the trust and kindness they were willing to offer a stranger like him. Such things were rare in Lordran for obvious reasons, and the people he could say he trusted even a little bit could be counted on his hands alone.

"I'm glad to hear it," the Acting Grandmaster paused, pursing her lips in thought, "Is there anything else you feel I should know at the moment?"

He paused for a moment.

This was a chance to elaborate on the true nature of his existence. It was looking more and more like there were no Undead here, or if there were then they were a distant thought. As a result, they likely assumed he was a human like them.

But…looking at the dutiful compassion in Jean's expression made him hesitate. For a brief moment he imagined it replaced by a disgusted or horrified expression. Would that imagined vision become a reality if he told them the truth?

For now, he'd wait. It wasn't like he planned to prey on the living like his more distasteful fellows would've.

"Nothing I can think of. Though I must reiterate my thanks for your accommodation of my situation…" Cyril mustered up a genuine smile, shoving his darker thoughts away.

"No more of that, it's only the right thing to do." Jean shook her head. "Then, do you have any questions for me?"

"Hmm…do you perhaps have an archive or library I may peruse later on?" He asked. "I'd like to learn more about these lands."

"Of course, I'll make sure the guards and our Head Librarian know you have my permission." She nodded easily.

"Thank you very much, Acting Grandmaster." He inclined his head respectfully.

"Please, just Jean is fine." Jean looked a bit embarrassed, "It doesn't feel right to have a guest refer to me like that."

"That wouldn't be proper at all," Cyril raised an eyebrow, "Especially if I'm to reside here for the time being."

"I must insist." Jean remained adamant.

"Then…Lady Gunnhildr?" He replied tentatively.

"I ask that you don't call me that again." She looked even more put off.

"...Lady Jean, then." Cyril said with a note of finality.

"Well…that's acceptable." Jean huffed and shook her head lightly..

Cyril gave a short good-natured huff of his own, then turned towards the window. In the direction he'd seen the windmills and towers of Mondstadt. "I cannot understate how wonderful it is to see a land so prosperous. It means more to me than you know to allow me to experience living here, even if it ends as a temporary arrangement."

"..." She was silent for several seconds. "It's not entirely peaceful…but if you come to love this city as much as we do, I don't see any issue with you deciding to stay."

"I…that would be nice," he admitted. "I did not become a wanderer by choice, after all. Still, if the other nations of this land are as beautiful as Mondstadt, I would like to see them as well."

Jean made a noise of agreement, before smiling at him. "Though we're getting a bit ahead of ourselves. Don't be surprised if you end up being questioned by some of the Captains. I plan on sharing everything you've told me with them, but they may come up with questions I did not."

"Of course, I will do my best to answer them satisfactorily," Cyril replied with a nod.

"Good." Jean looked relieved at that. "If you want to take a walk around the city you're more than free to do so. In the meantime I'll have the maids prepare your room."

"Very well." Cyril nodded, anticipation lighting up his eyes. "I wish you a good day, Lady Jean."

With that, he prepared to go take a closer look at the lively city.

Rather than the crowded streets, bustling stalls, or number of people, the thing that surprised Cyril would be considered mundane by nearly anyone else. It was that there were children running about playing games or doing other childish activities.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a happy, innocent youth. It was a…moving experience. Lordran was part of a dying world, the presence of new life was nearly nonexistent. The most he got were nests of nasty wildlife or saplings of new trees. But humanity…its time had come to an end there.

He banished away those dark thoughts once more. Pessimism and melancholy didn't suit him.

He did attract some stares as he wandered about, but none were hostile. Curiosity was the most common emotion he perceived, though there were some people that seemed intimidated, likely due to his armor and faceless helmet.

"Hey mister! Are you a knight?" A particularly inquisitive young boy ran up to him, staring up in fascination.

"Hello young one." Cyril knelt down to address the boy directly, "I am a knight, but not from Mondstadt."

"Ohh! That's why I've never seen your armor before!" The boy nodded sagely. "Well, are you here to join us then? We have the coolest knights in the world!"

Something about the boy's youthful exuberance melted Cyril's heart entirely, making him reach out and ruffle his hair. "I'm certainly thinking about it. But they'll have to make sure I'm a good enough knight first, right?"

"I get it now!" The boy's face lit up in understanding. "Well, good luck then mister!"

Cyril chuckled lightly to himself as the boy bounded away, joining a couple that had been watching tentatively, but now gave him slight smiles after seeing his interaction with their son.

He wandered down a few more streets before he was accosted once more.

"Mysterious stranger spotted!" A melodically androgynous voice called out towards him.

His helmet turned towards its source, and a young, boyish bard greeted him. His deep blue hair, green outfit, and oddly unfathomable eyes gave off the impression of permanent joviality and/or mischievousness.

"Greetings." Cyril inclined his head politely. "I am Cyril of Astora."

"Cyril, huh? Can't say I've heard of a place called Astora before!" The bard grinned cheerfully. "Ah, that's right. I'm Venti, the number one bard in all of Mondstadt!"

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Bard Venti," Cyril replied.

This Venti gave off a certain ethereal impression that Cyril hadn't seen in any other Mondstadter so far. And he'd learned about many kinds of people across his travels. He was no sorcerer, his skill in magic being rather low, but due to his curse he could tell that this Venti had a powerful soul, much like other notable individuals like Sister Barbara or Lady Jean. But it was still somehow…different.

He couldn't quite place it, but for now he'd just have to make note of the odd soul before him.

"Hehe, I heard there was a big guy in weird armor walking about so I had to go see! You look like the kind of knight bards would like to sing about!" Venti eyed him appraisingly. "Bet you've got some stories to tell, huh?"

"Perhaps," Cyril shrugged noncommittally, a bit uncomfortable due to the suddenness of this conversation.

"Ooh…strong and silent type huh?" Venti leaned in, peering at him curiously. A bit close for comfort, to be honest.

Cyril said nothing, though it was not out of unfriendliness. He just didn't know what to make of the character before him. Perhaps sensing his hesitant awkwardness the bard shook his head before giving him a welcoming smile.

"Well, I hope you enjoy your stay in Mondstadt!" Venti reached up and clapped his armor several times in a friendly way. "You know, if you ever wanna see me perform or chat over some drinks, just stop by the Angel's Share!"

Like a whirlwind, the bard headed off in another direction with a final wave and wide grin.

Cyril could only shake his head at that. The strange bard was definitely hiding his true strength and nature, but his conduct had been affable so Cyril saw no reason to pursue it any further. This place truly did seem to be welcoming, even to an odd stranger like himself.

But the bard had brought up something he hadn't thought about yet, what exactly did the alcohol of Mondstadt taste like?

Venti wasn't sure what to make of the man that smelled of ash and fire. He was undeniably powerful, likely stronger than Venti in his current state. But he couldn't sense any maliciousness from him.

In fact, he just seemed so very…tired.

Even from beneath his helmet and his polite tone, Venti could feel the sheer age and weight of exhaustion that emanated from the foreign knight. He hadn't ever heard of a place called Astora, which was already strange in of itself, but regardless of his story, Venti was willing to just keep an eye on him for now.

It helped that he could only detect awe and happiness as he observed Cyril take in all the sights Mondstadt had to offer. Venti hoped he could find the peace he sought, it was always a bit painful seeing someone in such a state, even if they hid it well.

But enough of that melancholic line of thought, he had a tavern to entertain and drinks to enjoy!

Cyril found himself climbing a set of stairs, making his way across one of the elevated plazas that dotted the city.

The particular plaza he'd arrived at was nearly empty, the bustle of the city more distant. It made sense, as the sun was nearly gone by this point. Instead, the sound of a nearby windmill creaking as its blades rotated slowly was what filled the air.

"Truly wondrous," Cyril muttered to himself as he stared out over the City, illuminated in the orange light of the fading sun.

The colors bathing the Mondstadt would normally remind him of Anor Londo, a city he had mixed feelings about to say the least, but now instead the glow seemed astonishingly enchanting to him. It was strange that this smaller, less ornate city somehow complemented the sunset in an intimate way that he never felt when staring at the spires of Anor Londo.

Though the day grew later and later, many businesses were already lighting up, prepared to continue operations into the night. He could only continue to marvel at how alive everything felt. Industrious liveliness seemed to fill every individual in his line of sight.

Inevitably, his thoughts returned to Astora, the homeland he retained much knowledge of, but few personal memories of. Just like he did earlier when he first emerged into the city with Sister Barbara, he couldn't shake the thought that maybe Astora had once been a land like this. It was likely his own biased projection, but it only served to endear Mondstadt to him more.

As night began to set he continued to stand and watch over the city. As he stood silently, like a solemn sentinel, another thought began to bud within his mind.

He had arrived in Mondstadt abruptly, so the gravity of the situation was just now beginning to set in. He was fascinated by this new land, enthralled by its beauty, and warmed by its prosperity. He was a man without a home. Lordran? He had accepted the duty that the serpent Frampt had thrust upon him in order to stave off the ever-present threat of hollowing, but he could never say that it was a land he loved. And of course Astora was long ruined, like all the other human nations.

So he began to think…to think that this new land…just maybe…could be a place he'd be willing to call home in the future. Whether it was Mondstadt or another nation, he was sure he could grow to love living here.

And that was enough, for now.