Shadows of Winter

Wendy's youthful guise often snared him in petty woes like this tavern denial.

It wasn't his first brush with such nonsense, nor would it be his last.

To mortals, he looked like a boy, far too green for their sacred wine.

A wind god, ancient as Mondstadt's hills, rejected by his own flock—laughable.

The irony stung, a silent jest that left men stoic and women misty-eyed.

He vowed to crack this riddle, to craft a trick for his next boozy quest.

After Ye Ruo slipped away, Wendy's antics faded into the city's hum.

Ye Ruo, oblivious to the bard's scheming, strolled past a quiet sidewalk.

There, two Fatui lingered, their garb a stark clash with Mondstadt's breezy style.

Mikhail, cloaked in black and red, whispered to Lyudmila, draped in black and purple.

Both wore masks, badges of their Snezhnayan allegiance, cold and foreign.

"Did you hear about last year's Invitation to the Lantern Rite?" Mikhail murmured.

"They say Keqing, that Yuheng Star, spat some bold words at the Geo Archon," he added.

Lyudmila tilted her head, "Huh? I don't keep up with Liyue's gossip."

Ye Ruo passed them, his presence a silent gust they couldn't ignore.

Mikhail clamped his mouth shut, terror flashing beneath his mask.

Lyudmila opened hers to speak, but his frantic glare silenced her.

They held their breath until Ye Ruo's figure receded into the crowd.

Relief washed over them, a weight lifting from their trembling frames.

Mikhail wiped sweat from his brow, voice low and bitter with dread.

"Why stick us in Mondstadt with this killing machine roaming free?" he grumbled.

"If the Wind Knight snaps, we're dead in a heartbeat—diplomacy be damned," he fretted.

Lyudmila, equally shaken, clung to reason, "It's not that bad, right?"

"On paper, Snezhnaya and Mondstadt are allies—we're just envoys," she argued.

"He's fearsome, sure, but he won't touch us without cause," she reasoned.

Diplomatic ties held a fragile peace, a veneer over their shadowed wars.

The Doctor's vendetta with Ye Ruo simmered in secret, not on this sunlit street.

At the table, they'd trade smiles, venom laced in every polite word.

Mikhail shuddered, unconvinced, "You don't get it—he's a butcher in knight's clothing."

"The Doctor sent elites to ambush him once—all slaughtered, bases razed," he hissed.

"He's a storm— unpredictable—and we're just flies in his path," he muttered.

Lyudmila's bravado faltered, fear creeping into her masked eyes.

Death loomed too real, a specter neither could outrun.

She sighed, "Our Harbingers wield the Ice Queen's divine might—godlike power."

"The Doctor's beyond mortal limits, yet this knight slips his grasp?" she marveled.

Mikhail snapped, "Of course the Doctor's stronger—his prosthetic's a terror."

"But Ye Ruo's wind bends space—too fast, too slippery to pin down," he explained.

"He can't kill the Doctor, but he reaps us grunts like wheat," he spat.

Lyudmila's wry laugh trembled, "Let's pray a kinder Harbinger takes over."

"With the Doctor, we're pawns in his grudge—cannon fodder waiting to drop," she whispered.

She glanced around, words trailing off, wary of unseen ears.

They dared not curse their master aloud, dread a leash on their tongues.

Mikhail slumped, Liyue's tales forgotten, mood soured by Ye Ruo's shadow.

Ye Ruo, meanwhile, walked on, unbothered by their whispered panic.

These Fatui were mere diplomats, cogs in Snezhnaya's grand machine.

Unless they stirred trouble, he'd leave them be—no blood on this day.

The Fatui served the Ice Queen, her will a chill wind across Teyvat.

Every nation hosted their envoys, a dual-edged blade of peace and pressure.

Many loathed them, their schemes a blight on freer lands.

In Mondstadt, their fangs stayed sheathed without a Harbinger's lead.

The Doctor's return might shift that, but for now, they cowered.

Ye Ruo turned homeward, mind drifting to Noelle and his next tale.

Idol Debut and Windhaven had built his name, a foundation of fame.

To soar higher, he'd pen Mondstadt's soul—Barbatos versus the Stormterror.

The system pulsed, fame ticking up, a quiet fuel for his quill.

He'd fled the Fatui's grasp once—now he'd outwrite their reach.

Mondstadt's streets faded behind him, a canvas for his growing legend.

***

Support me on Patreon to read 50+ advanced chapters: patreon.com/Nocturnal_Breeze