Mafia AU

[misfittoys]

[ A tale of two people leading double-lives and the inevitable misunderstandings that follow ]

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Chance Encounters

[misfittoys]

[ Ajax saw him everyday dropping Teucer off at school.

The well-dressed man in a tailored coat that sometimes seemed too warm for the weather sits at the same table at the park every weekday. He sits on the same side of the chessboard (white) while the other seat remains vacant. Today's newspaper is always carefully folded and set upon the table as to not disturb the pieces. And after a few days where Narwhal had gotten away from him (troublesome lovable pup that he is), Ajax had noticed that his morning drink was always purchased from the same shop.

They have never spoken nor do they know each other names. But Ajax (Codename: Tartaglia Alias: Childe) had been trained to be very aware of his surroundings and that including keeping tab and nearly ever person in his nearby vicinity. This was doubly true when the safety of his beloved siblings was involved.

A younger, more paranoid Ajax might have thought that the man was tailing him. That this might have been a drawn out mission to expose his identity. But the man (while objectively handsome) seems more of the geeky academic type. More familiar with a book than a weapon. And besides, even the most patient of operatives would have made a move (or a slip-up) by now.

So Ajax's interest only grows. The theories about this mysterious stranger growing wilder and wilder with each implausible theory until he is almost bursting at the seams with curiosity.

It is today of all days — some nondescript fall day where the leaves are turning red and the wind is brisk — that on Ajax's return walk from Teucer's elementary school that he slides into that always vacant chair and moves one black pawn two spaces forward. The most textbook opening move to a chess game ever, revealing nothing more about himself than he was more than passingly familiar with the game.

Narwhal barks in encouragement at his feet, tail wagging. ]

Your move.

[arcaico]

[Amid the throbbing heart of the city, and within the serene confines of the park, where urban life momentarily recedes, Zhongli ingeniously forges moments of respite in his tightly choreographed life. He prides himself on his grasp on details, on how carefully he uncovers the hidden beauty in the world's minutiae. Zhongli's perceptive gaze scrutinizes the intricate tapestry of existence. Here, as "Rex", he has entrusted the intricate machinations of an organization to a cohort of impeccably reliable confidants, granting him the rare freedom of leisure.

But it is not the grandeur of the park's tranquillity that arrests Zhongli's discerning eye. Instead, it's the unassuming, everyday subtleties of those who traverse this urban oasis. A recurrent visitor captivates his attention. The man's unwavering commitment to his younger sibling and the meticulous care he showers upon Narwhal, his dog, does not escape Zhongli's attentive regard. Ajax, he had heard the boy shout out joyfully. It seems a simple life, nothing concealed beneath the surface. Zhongli, with his knack for unveiling layers of significance, finds himself deeply intrigued by the seeming lack of them.

Perhaps he was envious, a little.

As Zhongli contemplates whether to bring Azhadaha, his loyal Shar Pei companion, for a leisurely stroll beneath the sun's gentle caress, someone joins him at the table, nudges the piece in front of him. It's a deliberate gesture. For Zhongli, who has spent countless solitary hours at the chessboard, memories of games played alone, haunted by adversaries he knew well but are no longer there rush forth. A sense of wonder and appreciation engulfs him as he watches Ajax joining him.

The weight of the years spent playing against the vacant chair, haunted by the ghosts of absent opponents, is lifted. He reaches below the table, offering Narwhal a sniff of his fingers before the dog leans its head against his gloved fingers, asking for affection behind its ears. As he does so, he can finally look at Ajax more closely—at the golden hue of his skin, sparkled with freckles at the bridge of his nose; the bronze of his hair, the actual deep blue color of his eyes. As he executes his move, his gaze flickers with a spark of surprise and quiet satisfaction, a subtle smile gracing his lips. This unspoken connection, the acknowledgement of another human presence across the chessboard, is a gift he didn't know he needed.] A good morning to you.

[misfittoys]

[ Oh. The fact that Narwhal does not see the gentleman as a threat (even going as far as to shameless beg for pets not ten seconds after meeting the man) puts Ajax even more at ease. Narwhal was certainly an adorable pet and a lovable companion, but he was also a fierce warrior and protector. Ajax trusted his judgement of character almost more than he trusted his own. ]

I've been wondering...

[ Ajax looks down at the board with an exaggerated squint, tapping his chin as he considers his opponent's latest move. There's only so many openers in chess for those who prefer more traditional matches, and Ajax is definitely playing it by the books for now, so he doesn't need to think nearly so hard as he makes one more quite predictable move. Another black piece scrapes across the board, leaving no obvious openings for Zhongli to take advantage of. ]

Don't you get bored challenging the same opponent every day?

[ Ajax sets both hands down on the table now, lacing his fingers together as he gives Zhongli his full attention, a playful smile tugging at his lips. ]

Or am I just the lucky guy who was the first to take advantage of your open invitation?

[arcaico]

[Zhongli settles into his chair, allowing a moment of introspection to wash over him. His gaze falls upon the chessboard as if it were a repository of countless games played, memories etched in the subtle movements of the pieces. For years, he had sat here engaging with memories and ghosts of adversaries past. He had been, in a sense, never alone, for the specters of those who once moved the pieces with him kept him company.

Yet now, as he gazes across the board, a challenging glint in Ajax's cerulean eyes disrupts the comfortable tranquillity that had come to characterize these solitary encounters. It's as if the spirits of past opponents have been shooed, back into their slumber by the arrival of this new, enigmatic adversary.

Zhongli leans in slightly, pondering the profound shift this encounter represents. As he advances his piece with measured deliberation, he muses aloud,] The chessboard, to me, is like an ancient tome, each move is a chapter in the story of those who've challenged me. It's been a companion of sorts, and in a way, I've never played alone.

[He regards Ajax with a hint of admiration, his voice carrying a touch of wonder,] But I will say that you are indeed a breath of fresh air, Mister...?

[misfittoys]

Ajax.

[ He says casually with a wave of his hand. ]

Just Ajax. No need for that Mister stuff.

[ The smile he gives Zhongli is bright and friendly, usually aimed with the intent to disarm whoever he was talking to. ]

That's quite the comparison to make, yeah — a chessboard being like an ancient tome.

[ What Ajax doesn't say is that sounds like a very fancy way for Zhongli to say he's lonely. Who speaks of bygone friends like that when the guy couldn't be older than his 30s?

On the other hand, Ajax could relate a bit. Busy raising his three siblings as well as handling the sensitive nature of his "job", his own friend circle was practically non-existent. Greeting this new stranger was probably the most social daring thing he'd done in a long time. ]

Seems like I was right about guessing you were the academic sort. But that's not hard from the context clues.

[ Ajax moves another piece on the board, this time a knight and one breaking against the more traditional starters in the chess world. He chews on the inside of his lip as he deliberates over his move, finally settling on what is the most flamboyant even though it leaves him slightly open to a devasting counter-move.

Ajax peeks up another look at Zhongli when he done, both hoping for a reaction and puffing up in pride a little at his clever move. ]

Mind if I keep guessing?

[arcaico]

[He listens with a contemplative expression as Ajax comments on his earlier analogy, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of Zhongli's lips. It's as if he has uncovered the layers of unspoken solitude that lingered behind those words, and Zhongli marvels at the perceptive nature of his newfound opponent.

Zhongli's curiosity is piqued by Ajax's daring move on the chessboard. He finds it fascinating how people approach this ancient game. There are those who merely know the rules, understanding which piece moves where, and there are those who delve deeper, aware of the history, the traditions, and the tried-and-true tactics. Ajax's decision to deviate from the conventional opening hints at a willingness to embrace the unknown, to dance on the edge of risk and reward. Zhongli appreciates the artistry behind this audacity, recognizing that Ajax knows exactly what he's doing. It's the delight of the risk that lures him, rather than a mere lack of strategy.

At the mention of being labelled the "academic sort," he can't help but chuckle, amused by the perception. He knows that, as a consultant of sorts, he straddles the line between academia and something far less conventional. His smile deepens as he responds, and he moves a bishop, a threat to the opposing knight.] By all means, then, Ajax. I enjoy a good game of guessing as much as I do a game of chess. What's your next move?

Stroll in the Shadows

[misfittoys]

[ Even after sundown, the bustle of the harbor has one last hurrah as people gather for dinners and drinks and perusing the famous late night market. As one of the major cities of commerce of Teyvat, Liyue truly never rested. But it was in those sleepy hours well past midnight that it did slow to a crawl and only the brave (and the foolish) would wander out into certain areas of the city in the dead of night.

The Eleventh Harbinger being one of such people.

Tartaglia crouches patiently from his designated vantage point, dark clothing blending him into the Liyue night and blood red mask obscuring most of his recognizable features. (All except for his bright red hair, of course, but he had to live a little bit dangerously where he could.)

He'd been here for well over a couple hours, nestled between the beautiful Liyue architecture of two rooftops that would make it difficult for anyone that wasn't a bird flying overhead to spot him. A sniper rifle (his least preferred as well as least proficient weapon) was lain carefully across his lap, ready to be brought to aim at a moment's notice. In addition, two long and wicked knives were strapped to his person — one to his thigh and other tucked in the leather harness strapped around his chest. The chances of any close (and therefore enjoyable) contract with despairingly slim tonight, but yet that didn't dim the Harbinger's enthusiasm in the slightest.

Because tonight, Tartaglia's prey was Morax.

Morax, the infamous and indisputable (though not official) ruler of Liyue. Ruthless. Undefeated. And a thorn in the Tsarista's side as the Fatui could barely make an inch of ground into Liyue with how expertly and efficiently he protected his turf. But after weeks spilling into months of planning, Pierro finally found an opening at the mafia boss— a chance in a million to take him down in the open on the streets of his own city. And who better to be served such a task but the most brash and risky (and potentially expendable) of the Tsarista's Harbingers— the Vanguard and her 11th.

Tartaglia was practically buzzing with excitement as his handler Ekaterina droned into his ear piece about exact coordinates and final preparations. Thrice now had he been reprimanded for not listening but who could blame him when the most important mission of his life was to be executed mere minutes from now. If he didn't have the discipline of a trained hitman, he'd be nothing but restless motion and excitable laughter at this very moment.

But he could be patient. He could.

He glances once again (for the umpteenth time) at the now deserted side street and alley were Morax would be arriving soon.

Not much longer now. ]

[arcaico]

[The rhythmic hum of the bustling harbor has waned, leaving only the soft whispers of the night, the city settling into a languid pace. The cool breeze carries the scent of blooming flowers and distant sea spray. The venue, wrapped in the soft glow of subdued lights, stands like a bastion of affluence and hidden dealings. A charity benefit held by and for the most prominent and wealthy, a gathering of the city's most influential figures, shrouded in an air of sophistication and muted opulence. Into the side street, a sleek, black car glides to a halt. Its dark exterior mirrors the night, a predator prowling. Three figures emerge from its passenger doors once it stops. First, a dark-haired man with striking golden eyes, known as the Liyuen Family's right-hand enforcer, Xiao. He moves with a predatory grace, a silent guardian at the beck and call of the Liyue underworld, watching everything around him, ensuring there aren't any threats, and securing the street instantly. He's well-known for being ruthless, and almost inhuman.

Following closely is a vivacious lady, her boisterous personality almost tangible. Despite appearing too young for such an event, her presence commands attention. The Director of the Funeral Parlor, she breathes life into traditional funeral rites, a vibrant figure in the midst of the city's shadows. She feels like a square peg into a round hole, and yet, she's carelessly talking loudly about the event, telling the other person in the car if they need help getting out.

Lastly, an elderly woman with knowing eyes and a pleasant face exits the car. Madame Ping, a renowned tutor to the elite — Tartaglia may have heard the latest Lawyer-made-Partner skyrocketing star, Yan Fei, who was a pupil of hers— and porcelain artisan, gracing the Liyue elite with her wisdom and craftsmanship. Her back may be curved with age, but she moves with a spryness that defies the passage of time.

Then, a lean figure turns the corner, draped in a long black coat. It's Zhongli, holding a bouquet of Glaze Lilies in his arms. The white flowers contrast against the darkness, splendorous and delicate, almost fragile, and he cradles them in his arms very carefully. Tartaglia may see the surprise on Zhongli's face, while the enforcer visibly stiffens, ready for any threat.

Yet, Zhongli approaches, and Xiao, the vigilant guardian, shifts a few steps forward, eyes scrutinizing the bouquet, the space around the Consultant and the street behind him, no doubt checking if there's anyone following him. A hint of tension hangs in the air. Director Hu, however, disregards any potential threat, almost shoving Xiao aside as she walks freely to Zhongli. It's too open, too careless, almost as if she's oblivious to the possible danger lurking in the shadows.

After he's guided to the venue's staircase, Zhongli hands the bouquet to Madame Ping, offering it in, if Tartaglia can read lips, memory of someone. The elderly woman seems touched, misty-eyed, as she touches Zhongli's arm, exchanging words. Zhongli politely refuses and suggests that them to go inside.

A nod from Madame Ping, and a glance to the visibly bothered Xiao, and Zhongli bows his head to the three of them, making to take his leave.

But Morax remains elusive.]

1/2

[misfittoys]

[ Tartaglia's lips twist into a grin of unmistakable glee as the enforcer steps into his line of sight. Itchy fingers slowly bring his rifle up to bear as he crouches at the very edge of the roof, still covered by the tiles and sharp angles. Morax's right hand man was here, which means the intel was good! And that at any point, Morax himself would soon show and the fun could truly begin.

The next person to leap from the car gives Tartaglia pause, however. That's Director Hu Tao — a name and a face that Tartaglia only knows because like any boy with a crush, he had scoured all information he could find about the mysterious chess player he met on the way to Teucer's school. Unfortunately for the object of his current obsession, with the resources of the Fatui at Ajax's disposal (unauthorized as it was), he was able to find out much about Mister Zhongli. Place of employment had been child's play to figure out, and it would be hard to forget the face of someone so young doing a job that was so difficult.

So Director Hu Tao had ties to Morax. Tartaglia supposes he shouldn't find that too surprising, considering the bodies had to go somewhere. And how much more convenient would it be if their cleaner was one of the best and most famous funeral parlors in all of Liyue.

He'd avoid her if he could just to be on the safe side. No reason to upset Mr. Zhongli by having his boss killed on accident. That would certainly damper the mood of his next interaction.

And so Tartaglia impatiently taps his forefinger against the top of his rifle, watching more and more people come and go from the area with eyes peeled for any sign of his prey. He doesn't have the best description of Morax unfortunately — just a crumpled blurry photo that showed off the man's dress more than his appearance. But certainly the infamous boss of Liyue would be identified easily enough by presence alone. Especially with Tartaglia keeping his eyes tightly trained on his enforcer.

And all would have gone gloriously to plan, too, had one other person not entered the stage. One equally incredibly handsome and clueless figure who was walking into a death trap without the slightest indication that he knew the danger he was in.

What was Mister Zhongli doing here?

What was Mister Zhongl—

Okay, well, obviously he was here because his boss was here. Was he still on the clock this late at night? And did he even know who these people were?! They were dangerous. Mister Zhongli could easily get caught in the cross-fire if Morax were to show up and—

The thrill and the adrenaline of the hunt freezes like shards of ice in his veins.

No. Oh no. No no no.

Within seconds, the sniper rifle is stored back into its hiding position on the rooftop as Tartaglia begins to madly strip anything off of him that might tie him to the Fatui — his red mask, scarf, the dark jacket, any other bits of protective armor. By the time he's scaled the side of the building, two dark alleyways in front of where Zhongli was headed, he's clothed in nothing but his black slacks, boots, and a now wrinkled red dress shirt as he scurries to intercept Mr. Zhongli and redirect him anywhere that isn't here.

But with what excuse? This whole event is so way above the paygrade of a toy salesmen — even an executive one. With only moments to make his decision and years of acting the part of a dumb foolish boy, Ajax ruffles up his hair to make himself look a little bit more unkempt and physically bumps into Zhongli like a drunkard stumbling home on his way back from a night out with co-workers. ]

[misfittoys]

Oh, hey— hey! Sorry, sorry. Didn't see you there—

[ The pause and gasp is purposefully dramatic; the surprised widening of his eyes practiced: ]

Mister Zhongli?

[arcaico]

[Zhongli continues on his path, weaving through the night towards the venue. As he turns the corner, he finds Xiao waiting, a stoic presence in the middle of the street striking him with his light golden gaze. Their eyes meet, and he sees him stiffen, his shoulders hunching, his gaze wanting to cast low out of mere habit. Xiao's gaze flits behind Zhongli, scanning the area for potential threats.

The Glaze Lilies in his arms, chosen for their significance, hold a weight of nostalgia. Zhongli can almost hear laughter in the rustling of the night breeze, feel warmth that makes the lanterns and the city lights feel cold to the sight despite their orange hue. The Liyue Harbor, with its bustling streets and serene sea, witnessed countless moments, wisdom, compassion, dedication to balance, and the inevitable departures from this world. The Glaze Lilies are his silent tribute, a gesture of remembrance for the one who brought him solace in the chaos of existence.

Approaching Xiao, Zhongli offers a small, appreciative nod, acknowledging the enforcer's silent vigilance. Xiao, in return, glances towards the shadows once more, ensuring that no unwanted eyes linger on their path. Zhongli continues forward, his steps steady and contemplative.

As he nears Director Hu Tao, the lively figure amid the night, Zhongli is drawn back to the present.] Good evening, Director Hu, [Zhongli greets her with a composed smile, the contrast between their personalities evident, but not without warmth nonetheless.

Madame Ping, the wise tutor and artisan, awaits the bouquet with a knowing gaze. Zhongli hands it to her, a momentary sadness flickering in his eyes.] In memorial, [he murmurs, lips forming the words with a quiet reverence. Madame Ping touches his arm in understanding, and their shared exchange carries the weight of many things unspoken.

Zhongli declines Madame Ping's suggestion to step inside, his gaze lingering on the venue's entrance.] My respects are incomparable to the blooms of these Glaze Lilies. Make sure they stand right in the center of the venue, [he says, the Madam stopping for a breath before she nods, despite a veil of melancholy in his tone. With a farewell nod to the trio, Zhongli turns to leave.

The streets, now devoid of the earlier bustle, guide Zhongli on his solitary journey home. The Glaze Lilies, once a symbol of shared laughter and understanding, now serve as a link to a past that shaped him. The night whispers its secrets, and Zhongli walks with the weight of memories, unaware of the approaching encounter that fate has woven into the fabric of this Liyue night.

Suddenly, Zhongli is jolted from his introspection as a young man collides into him. The unexpected encounter breaks the somber atmosphere, and Zhongli steadies the stranger with a gloved hand on his elbow.] Oh. We meet again, friend. [A faint smile playing on his lips as he looks into the surprised eyes of the young man. The memories of Guizhong, momentarily set aside, and Zhongli returns to the present.] Are you alright, Ajax?

[misfittoys]

[ So caught up was he in his descent, Tartaglia had missed some of the finer details of "Mister Zhongli's" arrival and presence at the venue.

Most prominent being how Xiao circled Zhongli the most like a patient hawk, waiting to retaliate if anyone were to dare strike. (If Childe was not so single mindedly obsessed with leading Zhongli away from danger, he might feel the burn on those golden eyes upon him now. It was only the enforcer's self-imposed promise to not get innocents involved that stays his hand and his distance as he watches from afar.)

Secondly— despite being of lower employment status than the energetic Director Hu, all eyes rose to meet Zhongli's, heads lightly bowed in deference for those who knew the true nature of the man in their midst. How the glaze lilies he had brought would indeed be displayed front and center of this prestigious event. A feat outside the capabilities of most consultants — no matter how wise and charismatic they may be.

No, Tartaglia— now Ajax only has eyes for the slightly awkward and humble chess player as well as thoughts of his safety. He stumbles a step forward, wrapping his arms around one of Zhongli's as he takes another stumbling step away from the venue, attempting to drag Zhongli with him. ]

Xiansheng~

[ His voice comes out like a petulant whine. ]

You can't spring a surprise meeting on me like this. I haven't even had time to go buy the cookies yet!

'Sides, isn't it past your bedtime? You strike me as the kinda guy that gets up even before the birds do.

[ Through his earpiece, Childe is dimly aware of Ekaterina asking if he's just lost his mind. ]

[arcaico]

[Ajax, as Zhongli has come to know him, seems to have a peculiar way of expressing concern. The petulant whine and the immediate arms wrapped around Zhongli catch him off guard, and he can't help but wonder if the young man might be a bit tipsy. There's a certain playfulness to Ajax's actions, and Zhongli can't help but find it somewhat endearing. Despite the unexpectedness of the encounter, he chuckles lightly. The reference to cookies is such a cute thing to consider.]

My apologies for the unexpected meeting, [Zhongli replies, his golden eyes holding a glint of amusement. He seems slightly off, like he can hold himself together but yet not want to, and using Zhongli as a support instead. No scent of alcohol reaches him, but perhaps his nose is oversaturated with the perfume of the blooms he had held a few moments ago.] And as for bedtime, I assure you, I adhere to no strict schedule.

[Ajax's attempt to drag Zhongli away from the place they're at elicits a gentle questioning, however. Is Ajax headed somewhere? Is he feeling unsafe?] You seemed to be quite rushed. Is everything alright? [Zhongli's gaze meets Ajax's, searching for any hints of distress or urgency in the young man's eyes.]

Moon in One's Cup

[misfittoys]

[ There is no rest for the wicked.

Or so Tartaglia thinks as he stumbles home bleary-eyed at dawn's first light to half a dozen missed text messages on his "work" phone. The tone is nothing less than reprimanding as he is given orders to serve petty guard duty at the upcoming meeting between the Fatui and Rex Lapis's Syndicate. He shouldn't be surprised, really. The whole point of taking out the head of the Liyue mafia (or at least someone higher up on the food chain) has been a pivotal part of the Tsaritsa's strategy to gain more bargaining power for a meeting that was already bound to be tense. Or better yet, do away with the meeting altogether with a solid show of the Fatui's might within impenetrable Liyue.

Everyone knew how well that worked out.

And they sure hadn't let Tartgalia forget about his failure for even a fraction of a second.

So the Vanguard found himself once again in the posh, high-end of Liyue's entertainment district (for powerful people like this did not hide in the shadows of black markets and alleyways). Dressed in a silver suit with just the right splashes of maroon, he really did look the role of the Tsarista's blade even if no one outside of the Fatui knew the identity of the 11th Harbinger. He famously wore a mask during missions after all. Not that it mattered when he never let a single survivor (who did not defect to the Fatui) live to tell the tale.

Tartaglia cracks his neck to one side as his hands one again find themselves sliding into his pockets. It's a soothing motion, a tic almost. For starters, it means that his hands are that much closer to his hidden weapons (a knife strapped to his inner wrist and another to his ankle), but also one hand curls around something that he had placed there as a good luck charm. A jade dragon earring wrapped up protectively so it wouldn't get scratched or scuffed but still recognizable as his fingers trace over the ridges and edges in a strange ritual of comfort. (It'd be too risky to wear a symbol of Rex Lapis so openly after his failure, even if two events had nothing to do with one another.)

His idle thoughts snap back to attention as he sees the duo of other Harbingers arrive precisely and pointedly ten minutes late for the engagement— Regrator and the Fair Lady. Dressed in opulent finery that can almost be called aggressive, they make their way to a well-guarded room where surely Rex Lapis's own officials must be waiting for them. Nonchalantly, Tartaglia circles the edge of the venue all small talk and charisma and a smile that does not reach his eyes as he puts himself into position.

Ugh.

It was going to be a long night. ]

[arcaico]

[For the next day or so, Zhongli finds his thoughts drifting back to the night spent with Ajax. The warmth of their conversations, the playful banter, and the unexpected but delightful touches, all linger in his mind like a comforting presence. The memories of the jade earrings, how Ajax's eyes lit up with excitement, and how his own heart had fluttered at the younger man's touch, are all vivid, and Zhongli finds himself cherishing them.

Yet, a curiosity blooms at the back of his mind. The sight of Ajax in the recordings from the previous event nags at him. Was he lost? Was it a mere coincidence? Could the toy-making industry be so prominent that it warranted Ajax's presence there in such an event? Or was the company he worked for involved in other types of businesses? The questions swirl in his mind, but he pushes them aside, focusing on the fond memories instead.

However, the peaceful moments of reminiscing are disrupted by the buzz of rumors spreading through Liyue Harbor. Whispers of two major elements from opposing sides seen cavorting together in the most scandalous of ways ripple through the streets, the rumor mill churning relentlessly. No one can tell him about the source, but the rumors seem to have started in the night market, for no good reason. His presence is requested at an upcoming meeting between the Adepti and the Fatui, despite his retirement, to oversee firsthand what the discussion would be about and to reassure that there would be no betrayals from the Adepti themselves.

Zhongli is not particularly concerned. Rumors are just that—rumors. They aim to stir people's hearts when things get threatened. And the Fatui have been an insistent force, trying to rattle the Syndicate. They may as well have started to spread a rumor to instill suspicion from within. He prepares himself, assuming the role of a consultant to the Adepti, a figure with immense knowledge of history both documented and not. His disguise is simple yet effective, allowing him to blend in while standing behind a lattice panel near the bar and kitchen, meticulously preparing tea. From this vantage point, he can overhear the conversation without raising any suspicion.

The heads of the Syndicate have delegated the task of negotiating with the Fatui to the younger members of the leadership, a power move in itself. Madame Ping, Xianyun, and albeit not a part of the adepti, but still a relevant member and stakeholder, the Tinquan Ningguang, are notably absent, their absence a statement of the perceived insignificance of the Fatui representatives. Instead, it is the newer leaders who sit at the table, Yanfei, Ganyu, and Keqing, facing off against Regrator and Signora with composed expressions and sharp minds.

Zhongli's attention is focused on the tea preparations rather than the Fatui forces mingling with Syndicate members and interested parties alike across the whole room, his movements precise and deliberate. Yet, his ears are attuned to the conversation unfolding at the table in the corner.]

[misfittoys]

[ The twist of Signora's lips (terrible diplomat that she is) gives away her obvious displeasure at meeting with such lessers, but Regrator's pleasant (if obviously fake) customer service smile is hopefully enough to smooth out a little of her rough edges. He starts with pleasantries and gifts of fur from Snezhnaya as a way to break tension between the two parties.

"Why, after all, would it not be more profitable for everyone if the Fatui and the esteemed Adepti were mutually beneficial partners instead of at each other throats?"

It's a feint and it is flattery for the most part as then discussions open up to such things as territory (taken by force and blood and mora slipped into the palms of powerful people) and safe passage. The offers are aggressive just barely toeing the line of insulting — a plan devised and hastily edited when they had calculated the loss of any significant figure of Rex Lapis's organization under their belt. It has no hopes of success but Regrator is a known risk taker and La Signora is prideful. Best to be talked down from a lofty perch than be seen as an underdog begging for scraps.

Which is to say that Childe tunes most of it out within the first few minutes. Booooooring~

But like a good little Vanguard, Childe hovers near the entourage — not close enough to cause a stir of another person sitting at the table, but close enough to get on the action is this whole endeavor turned out to be more interesting than slithering wordplay and compromising over useless baubles. ]

[arcaico]

[Zhongli continues his meticulous tea preparations, movements deliberate and precise. The tea he has chosen for this occasion is a simple Chenyu blend, designed to calm the nerves and brighten the mind. It's a subtle reminder that Liyue's most prominent family does not resort to intimidation or rudeness but rather leads by example, treating every collaborator, and even potential adversaries, with respect and grace. The tea is carefully brewed to perfection, each cup a small gesture of hospitality.

He gestures for the tea to be served, ensuring that each guest receives a cup with the utmost attention. The young leaders accept the gifts with grace and explain what the staff is bringing them in return. Zhongli had warned them that Regrator enjoyed showing off his deep pockets (his financial power) with lavish gifts. It is only fair to reciprocate, not just to the Harbingers themselves but to the entire entourage.

As the tea is served, each cup is accompanied by a small token of appreciation. A single gold collector's Mora coin for Regrator, a beautiful hairpin for La Signora, and small, exquisite trinkets for the agents around Childe. On Childe's tray, however, is a pair of chopsticks—a subtle and symbolic gesture. The chopsticks, intricately carved, are a welcoming gift, signifying the potential for a prosperous relationship with the youngest of the Harbingers, an invitation to immerse himself in the culture of Liyue.

Zhongli sips his cup of tea, his demeanor calm and composed as he listens to the ongoing conversation. Yanfei, with her characteristic poise, thanks the staff for the tea, sips at it carefully (to show it's not poisoned), and clears her throat before speaking. Her voice is clear and steady, a testament to her confidence and training.

"While we acknowledge the potential benefits of our collaboration, it is imperative that we address the overreaching presence of the Fatui in our region. Certain contracts have been breached, and this goes against the very foundation of our family's business. Trustworthiness and adherence to agreements are paramount if we are to move forward."

Keqing speaks up, her voice crisp and clear.:

"We need concrete assurances that the Fatui will honor their commitments and respect the sovereignty of Liyue. Only then can we discuss a truly beneficial partnership."

"We seek a partnership based on mutual respect and adherence to agreed terms," Yanfei continues. "Our contracts are and have always been the foundation of trust and cooperation. We hope that the Fatui can demonstrate their commitment to these principles."]

[misfittoys]

[ Regrator is perhaps a bit longwinded in his praise of the received gifts and the craftsmanship of the tea, prone to long drawling conversations that can show off his knowledge. He is polite and poised in his response, taking stage in the land of commerce (his home turf on many levels) in lieu of La Signora's more aggressive tactics.

"The Fatui have no interest in encroaching on the sovereignty of Liyue." Puppet governments are so useful after all. "It is our sincere regret if that is what appears to be the outcome of our business negotiations."

Tartaglia, on the other hand, spares a few moments to pick up the intricate pair of chopsticks, marveling at their beauty. He holds them carefully between his fingers just as Mr. Zhongli taught him, the lacquered and gilded finish making the movement smooth and fluid. This is a expensive gift, which means that perhaps the Fatui are making more progress into Liyue than he first had thought. After all, such finery would not be wasted on those not worthy to sit at the table. Rex Lapis's people either mean to acknowledge them as equals or flaunt their wealth in an act of intimidation. A victory indeed for Her Majesty.

Pantalone continues, fingers laced carefully in front of him and with a feigned air of confusion at the accusations.

"Might you inform us of how exactly our contracts with your honored family have been breached so that we may best avoid such misunderstandings in the future?"

For Regrator came to this meeting to weave an infuriating web of technicalities. Each aggressive act and overreach explained with a loophole in each contract, honoring only the words agreed to but not the spirit. He (and other like-minded Harbingers) had spent months scouring each and every document, finding the weakest links among them (those not penned by Rex Lapis's hand or any of his most trusted advisors). It was a gambit that surely could work only once in the Land of Contracts, but a well paid off one if it had already afforded them a meeting such as this, junior members of Rex Lapis's family or not.

"It is, after all, quite the heavy accusation that you are laying down against us." ]

[arcaico]

[As Yanfei speaks, she brings forth a massive tome, setting it on the table with a resolute thud. The book is dog-eared and heavily annotated, having been submitted to meticulous scrutiny. She opens it to a specific section, her eyes meeting Regrator's with a composed intensity.

"Oh, no, we're not accusing. We are merely expressing our concerns, considering you may not be aware of how we do things here in Liyue. We have documented instances where the contracts have been breached. We appreciate your business and understand that there are learning curves as we navigate without the direct assistance of our elders. However, these breaches have given us the opportunity to create new addendums that address these issues and ensure the integrity of our agreements moving forward."

She flips through the pages, highlighting several breaches noted in the tome. "We recognize that there have been contracts with some openings, but this provides us a chance to solidify the terms of our future engagements, which, as you know there are plenty. This is why it is essential that we establish clear and mutually beneficial guidelines, especially given the numerous new contracts awaiting approval. I'm sure you understand?"

Ganyu steps in, her voice calm and firm. "We have not imposed any of the protocoled fines on the Fatui thus far, assuming no ill intent on your part. However, it is important to note that the cumulative fine cost for these breaches amounts to a significant sum." She mentions an exorbitant amount of Mora, the weight of it hanging in the air and making some people in the entourage swallow something hard in their throat. "We are willing to cooperate and move forward, but as you understand, we cannot withhold our own due diligence in the next negotiations. It would not be fair to play favorites if we face our other collaborators, and we're sure it's in both our best interests that we keep things by the book."

Zhongli maneuvers himself through the corridors around the room, covered by lattice panels, his movements unobtrusive. He hears an agent's voice, laced with a mocking tone, "Yeah, we're sure to keep your 'interest' in more ways than one, from what we hear on the streets."

The young leaders clear their throats, choosing to ignore the dig and maintain their composure. Zhongli, however, does not let the comment pass unnoticed. He sends a subtle signal to a waiter, who places a reassuring hand on the shoulder of a Millelith enforcer sitting at another table and already patting their waist, searching for a weapon that had been left in the lobby as per meeting policy. The enforcer relaxes slightly, the tension easing from their posture.

Zhongli remains calm. The infamous Liyuen trap is set—pull at its foundations, and it will trap you further. He's very curious as to what comes next.]

When the mountains are crumbling, the dragon leaps forth

[dragonfell]

[ The body hits the floor with a sickening thud.

Not good enough.

Azhdaha steps over the body like one might step over a discarded box left in the middle of the floor — an eyesore that had outlived its usefulness but with no time to tidy it up at the moment. Not knee-deep into Osial's territory as he and Morax were. The clever serpent had obviously been tipped off that they were coming and had obviously ordered his lackeys to take out the leader of the syndicate at any cost.

But that was why Azhdaha was here after all, pacing behind Morax like a shadow instead of leading his own trusted lieutenants. He had been there when Rex Lapis had warmly welcomed the ambitious young Osial into his ranks, watched him prosper under the leader of the syndicate's tutelage like a starved plant being brought into the sunlight. He also watched Morax's blooming pride fade to an expressionless mask when Osial's schemes saw the first of his men betrayed and fallen. Young Sky Bracer had been brave and loyal to a fault, a fault that had saved many lives at the cost of his own. But the clever serpent has disappeared into the depths of the Black Market, whittling away at the Syndicate's defenses for years in his almost single minded in his obsession to take down Rex Lapis.

But still— not good enough.

It would end all here today — this very night. Azhdaha himself would ensure that Rex Lapis made it home safe after Osial was banished from Liyue one way or another.

And yet his tone still carries a careful warning (and perhaps a fond exasperation) that his dear friend had stubbornly decided to lead the charge instead of stay back where it would be safe. ]

Morax.

[ Azhdaha moves to stand beside Rex Lapis — always on his right side, patient and watchful like the "Eyes of the Dragon" he was so often called. Even as he speaks, his pistol is raised and ready to deal with any threat the moment it appears. ]

You know this to be a trap.

[arcaico]

[The room is a decaying theatre of shadows and blood. Every creak of the floorboards and flicker of the dim, yellowed lights seem to conspire against their mission. Zhongli moves with deliberate but reluctant grace, predatorially seasoned but disliking his return to it. Each step a testament to the weight of years and the burdens of leadership, that wear him down bit by bit by bit. It's not so much the weight of the weapons he bears, the stench of blood he sheds, but the ache grating the voices of those around him.

The body on the floor is nothing but a punctuation mark in the long, tragic tale of Osial's betrayal.

The air is thick with the scent of gunpowder and the metallic tang of spilled blood. Morax stands at the precipice of heart, as much as it is about power. The underbelly of Liyue is a labyrinthine expanse of loyalty and deceit, where the shimmer of gold masks the darkness within men's hearts. It is a realm he has governed with a hand that is both iron and merciful, a paradox that Osial has sought to exploit. Sky Bracer had been the embodiment of the Syndicate’s core values—values that Osial has tried to erode.

The memories of Sky Bracer’s sacrifice still linger, a haunting echo in the corridors of Zhongli's mind. The bitterness of betrayal stings like a blade, a wound that festers subtly. He had taken Osial under his wing, nurtured his ambitions, and watched with a paternal pride as the young man thrived. That pride had turned to ashes, a stark reminder of the fragility of trust.

Yet, amidst this chaos, Azhdaha stands beside him, a constant presence as reliable as the mountains. Zhongli feels a warmth in his chest, a pillar of unwavering strength, a beacon in the murky depths of their world. Their bond is forged in the fires of countless battles, tempered by moments of quiet moments of tea, of stories, of stargazing.

Azhdaha's voice cuts through the silence, a grounding force that pulls Zhongli from his reverie. The concern and exasperation in those words are a melody he has come to rely on, a reminder that even in the darkest corners, he is not alone.]

Indeed. Osial believes he can undermine our foundation. But he underestimates the strength of our bonds.

[Zhongli’s gaze sweeps the room, seeking within every shadow for a potential threat. The remnants of Osial's presence lurk, goading them forward. Yet, it is not fear that stirs within him, but a profound sense of purpose. He has ruled Liyue’s underworld with a vision of stability and prosperity, of contracts honored and lives protected. Osial’s betrayal is a wound, surely, but it is also a challenge to be met.

He steps closer to Azhdaha, the subtle brush of their shoulders a silent reassurance. The warmth of Azhdaha's presence is a balm to his soul, a reminder that even amidst betrayal and bloodshed, there is still a light that guides him. In the short moment of silence, Zhongli can see the fire in Azhdaha’s gaze, the unspoken promise of protection and solidarity. He feels a profound sense of gratitude for the man standing beside him.] We will reclaim what was lost. We will restore the balance. And we will remind him that the dragons' eyes see all.

Follow me, [he says, his voice carrying the authority of a leader but the warmth of a confidant.] Osial may think he knows this place. But I was the one to first show it to him.

[dragonfell]

[ When Morax brushes shoulders with him, Azhdaha leans into the faint touch offering himself as a place for the other to lean upon, a support that would not crumble no matter how violent or different the world spun around them. It is not even a conscious thought so much as it is act of muscle memory— an ingrained habit after years of walking this path together. On yellowed scrolls of parchment that Morax had always favored, Azhdaha had offered his eternal service to Rex Lapis. Signed and sealed and kept safe like all of his other contracts. But that was just a formality, a pebble in the foundation of their shared efforts and dreams for the many years that they had spent together.

As cliche as it sounded, Morax had been the one to bring light to Azhdaha's darkness. He would follow the other to the ends of the earth. Which made Osial's betrayal that much more bitter to stomach. That he would squander Morax's generosity so. And worse yet, use it to hurt him. ]

Osial is a fool. But a crafty one at that.

[ What Morax had bartered through fairness and principles, Osial had bought through avarice and grandeur accompanied by risks that would inevitably result in someone paying the price. As long as Osial was fluid enough to dodge the consequences of his actions, then the house of cards remained standing. Perhaps even looking more fortified and plentiful than what Rex Lapis had to offer.

Surely there was a generous bounty on Morax's head even as the two of them crept farther and farther into the serpent's layer. And though many would not succeed, all it would take was one. One misstep. One miscalculation. One chance of a thousand or a hundred thousand or a million.

(A chance that would not happen under Azhdaha's watch.)

He falls into step behind Morax even before he is asked to follow. As if there was anywhere else for him to be beside the right hand of Rex Lapis. ]

It is a pity really that he succumbed to his own pride and greed. But there is no mercy for those who renege upon their contracts.

[ The polished floors are damp the further in they go, and in the distance there is a haunting dripping sound that echoes through the hallways.

For many quiet moments, they pass no more guards and meet no resistance. The only sign of life around them are the hastily ransacked rooms of panicked traders and merchants and other non-combatants (those who knew better than to stick around in the rising tension between two dons). It is only when they approach the core of the complex which would house Osial and his lieutenants that the disorderly chaos stops. The water is now an inch deep, enough to catch their reflection across its surface as they walk.

Drip. Drip. Drip. ]

[arcaico]

[The corridor ahead looms, an expanse of shadows and secrets, where each step sends ripples through the shallow water, distorting their reflections into ghostly apparitions. The dripping sound a countdown to the inevitable confrontation.

Mind mapping out the intricacies of the building he had once known so well, every twist and turn is a journey through memories, both bitter and sweet, of the times he had spent molding Osial into what he had hoped would be a beacon for their cause. The irony that this very place would become a den of treachery is not lost on him.

With each step, he can feel Azhdaha’s unwavering presence behind him, a steadfast guardian. The warmth from their brief touch lingers, a brush of solidarity and protection. Zhongli’s thoughts drift thankfully to the countless moments they have shared, the battles fought side by side, the silent nights of strategy and camaraderie.

Osial’s ambition has twisted this place, turning it into a labyrinth of deceit. Zhongli knows that their path is fraught with danger, and that every corner could conceal another threat. Yet, he feels no fear, and part of it is due to his steadfast companion.]

This way, [Zhongli murmurs. He glances back at Azhdaha, the shadows casting their features in stark relief.] Stay close, [he says, the words holding a depth of meaning beyond the immediate danger. It is a plea, a command, and a promise all at once.]

[dragonfell]

[ The hallway grows dimmer and damper the farther the two progress until the main source of light is two old-fashioned lanterns lit around a sturdy sandalwood door. The end of the hallway and their ultimate destination. There's something else there, too— or rather someone else. A person that makes Azhdaha raise his weapon and train it on the figure even as she holds up two hands in a show of non-aggression.

Dark inky hair like the moonless ocean at midnight cascades down her shoulders. The ornamentation on her dress and silver jewelry draping over her form announces her rank within this place— for there was only one who held such a high position of trust in the Sea Serpent's court. Osial's confidant. His right hand and some would even say his better half.

Beisht raises her piercing blue eyes towards Zhongli, lips pursed in the hint of a frown in realization of just who had appeared upon her husband's doorstep. ]

"Rex Lapis."

[ There's an undertone of a hiss to her words as if even being cordial in such a dire situation taxes her patience before she remembers herself. ]

"To what we owe the honor of a visit from the Lord himself to our humble establishment—? Is what I would say under normal circumstances, but these are hardly normal times."

[ With a slight incline of her head: ]

"I wish to propose a contract."

[arcaico]

[Zhongli regards her with a calm, unflinching gaze, the weight of time and more time of experience settling over him like a mantle. The name she speaks—Rex Lapis—is a title he wears with the same gravity as the foundations he once shaped, the ease with which he shattered others. It is a name that carries the weight of the contracts he has upheld, the lives he has changed, and the hardships he has endured.

Allowing her words to hang in the air like a mist that has yet to settle, he studies her, noting the subtle tension in her posture, the way her gaze flickers between him and Azhdaha. She is calculating, weighing her options even as she speaks.]


A contract, [he repeats softly, the words rolling off his tongue with the practiced ease of one who has spoken them countless times. He steps forward, the shallow water rippling around his feet, the soft sound filling the silence. Zhongli’s expression remains inscrutable, a mask of granite that betrays nothing of the thoughts swirling beneath. A contract—how fitting, he muses, that in this moment of treachery and bloodshed, Beisht would turn to the very foundation upon which he has built his legacy, but how interesting that she'd pick that.] You know well the weight of such an offer, Beisht.


[His voice, calm, measured, an undercurrent of steel beneath the surface. The warmth he had reserved for Azhdaha moments before is gone, replaced by the cold, unyielding resolve of Rex Lapis. Zhongli’s gaze locks onto Beisht’s, his eyes like molten gold.] You stand before me, seeking to negotiate in a time when trust has been shattered and oaths have been broken. Why should I entertain such a proposal, when it comes from the very heart of betrayal?

[There is no anger in his tone, no bitterness—only the cold, hard logic of a man who has spent what felt like lifetimes navigating the treacherous waters of Liyue’s underworld. But beneath that logic lies something deeper, a flicker of the pain and disappointment that Osial’s betrayal has wrought. It is a scar that may never fully heal.

But Zhongli is not a man to be swayed by emotion alone. He is Rex Lapis, the arbiter of contracts, and the guardian of Liyue’s secrets. And he will hear Beisht’s proposal, weighing it with the same meticulous care he has applied to every contract before it. For in the world of shadows and blood, the value of a contract is determined not by the words alone, but by the truth that lies beneath them. And it is as Rex Lapis that he orders:]

Speak.