Chapter Text
Liuli Pavilion was full to bursting, the waitstaff bustling to and from the kitchen with great trays of sizzling stir fry and steaming soups. Chairs had been pulled up to already overfilled tables, and other patrons had been slotted in at folding tables off to the sides. The din of conversation and laughter, the buzz of excitement about another year of Rex Lapis’ predictions, nearly drowned out the storyteller.
Childe had a small table to himself, right up at the front, which was fortunate because this was one of his favorite stories. He dug into his seafood soup and waited impatiently through the description of all the horrors of those early days, millennia ago.
“And so Rex Lapis called his Yakshas to fight the demons and monsters,” the storyteller boomed, and the room got a little quieter at his commanding voice. “To protect the people, they became warriors without equal. They bore the burden of slaughter, so that our ancestors might endure and eventually thrive.”
The restaurant was almost still now save for the bustle of waiters hurrying to tables. Even though Childe and everyone else there already knew the story, the Yakshas commanded such respect that no one would dare talk over the storyteller at this point.
“Burdened by thousands of years of karmic debt, the Yakshas began to fall. They perished, or turned on each other. Of the six who led them, only two remain to this day.”
Childe set his chopsticks aside and turned his full attention to the stage.
“The Conqueror of Demons continues to carry the burden of his karmic debt,” the storyteller said. “To this day, he fights demons and monsters across Liyue so that our paths may be clear and our hearts empty of fear. When the moon is full, and the sound of the Dihua flute floats gently on the air, he may appear, but he will not linger for long.”
The storyteller paused, letting the solemn silence roll over the room.
“Ah,” he said, and Childe leaned forward. Finally , the good part. “But that leaves one other Yaksha, doesn’t it? The one they called the Bloodthirsty Riptide, Tartaglia himself. They say he was the most vicious and deadly of the Yakshas, that he personally tore apart thousands of demons and monsters with his own bloody hands.”
Childe grinned as a soft murmur of alarm went through the crowd. He was glad to hear someone who knew how to tell it right.
“Just as the Conqueror of Demons appears when the moon is full and the air filled with music, so too does Tartaglia have his own signs. Beware when the night is dark and blood appears on the water, for Tartaglia still stalks the enemies of Rex Lapis, and they say there is no escape once he’s marked you for his own.”
Childe’s smile was sharp as a knife, as he watched the flickers of fear on the patrons around him. Although in truth they had nothing to be afraid of, as not a single one of them would make for a decent fight, and that wasn’t why he came to Liyue Harbor anyway. For the Rite of Descension, he would be on his best behavior.
He finished his food and made his way up to Yujing Terrace, a few hours early but he wanted to get a good spot. And maybe practice what he came here to say.
First, he stopped by one of the censers to bow and make a wish.
Take me with you. Please, please, please take me with you this time.
He pressed his lips together and straightened his spine. He was Liyue’s Yaksha, chosen by Rex Lapis’ own hand, and he would not beg. Even though it had been five hundred lonely years, even though Rex Lapis took all the light and color and joy in the world away with him when he went into seclusion, Tartaglia would not beg.
He would ask, though. This year he would set his pride and his anger aside and ask. Because nothing could be worse than another year without Rex Lapis.
Or so he thought, until the Geo Archon’s dead body fell out of the sky and nearly into his lap.
He stared at it for a very long moment, an island of stillness amidst the civilians and Millileth frantically rushing about. A darkness opened within him, deep and cold and silent, a soul wound he thought Rex Lapis had healed ages ago.
But without Rex Lapis’ light, he was broken as ever. Standing there amidst the humans scurrying like ants, he understood how the madness had taken his Yaksha brothers and sisters.
He wanted nothing more than to drench Liyue Harbor in blood, and it was only due to the last, lingering reverence he had for Rex Lapis that he left before he could.
Instead of killing, he walked.
He put one foot in front of the other until he was down by the docks, and continued until Liyue Harbor was but a haze in the distance when he glanced over his shoulder.
He walked and walked. He did not stop to eat or sleep, habits that he’d picked up from living amongst the humans for so long. He walked on trails most mortals would not dare to tread, through the hidden places of Liyue, winding among the towering peaks and through the humble valleys. The beauty of the land surrounded him, but he did not see it. All he saw was Rex Lapis’ corpse, fallen at his feet.
The adeptus Tartaglia was created by the god of blades, in the days of the Archon wars. He was that god’s most treasured weapon, honed to a deadly edge, and at that god’s hands he killed more humans than now live in Liyue Harbor.
Then Rex Lapis defeated the god of blades, and as the victor, claimed the spoils. But he had given Tartaglia a choice—the first he had ever been allowed to make.
“Fight for me, or fight against me.”
For Rex Lapis, Tartaglia had mastered every weapon. For Rex Lapis, Tartaglia had fought and killed gods and humans alike. And for Rex Lapis, Tartaglia had learned when to stay his blade.
Rex Lapis, in turn, had given Tartaglia hope, blessings, and a new name that he bore proudly.
“How about… Childe?” On that day, which was still engraved flawlessly in Childe’s memory, Rex Lapis had worn a rare smile, soft with fondness. “I believe it suits you, my Yaksha.”
And so it had. But now it tasted bitter on his tongue, and he wanted to cast it aside along with every other gift Rex Lapis had given him. None of it was worth the pain he felt at the knowledge that Rex Lapis no longer lived.
Nothing could be worse than this.
He walked through the days and through the nights, northward until he reached the very edge where Liyue met Mondstat. Invisible to the mortal eye, the thrum of Geo energy died away as though cut off at a cliff, and the song of the wind danced just beyond.
“I will avenge him,” Childe said to no one in particular, and turned around.
Halfway back to Liyue Harbor, it began to rain. Trees thrashed and the wind howled and tore at his clothes. The Conqueror of Demons appeared before him, eyes wild and bright.
“Brother,” he said. “I am glad to find you. Your aid is desperately needed.”
“Does Rex Lapis call me?” Childe said. At Xiao’s silence, he shook his head. “I am no longer bound by the contract he made.”
“Liyue Harbor will sink,” Xiao said. “A foolish foreigner has loosed Osial. We must fight him back.”
“Then let it sink,” Childe said. “WIthout Rex Lapis, what does it matter anyway?”
“We have defended it for thousands of years,” Xiao said, and then paused. He sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. “I always knew you were little more than a mercenary.”
Childe scowled. “So what if I am? I can’t disappoint him anymore.”
“It will be a fight the like of which won’t be seen again for a thousand years,” Xiao said, donning his mask. “I will meet you there.”
Childe let out a short huff of frustration, then slid his mask around to cover his face and began making his way rapidly to Liyue Harbor. Xiao always did know his weaknesses.
Order was restored, as Childe knew it would be. Two days after all the trouble with Osial was ended, and already Liyue Harbor was nearly back to normal. Rex Lapis would have been proud.
Xiao met him in the harbor, and they stood on the edge of an isolated dock, watching the ships come in.
“Thank you for your assistance in protecting the city,” Xiao said. “Rex Lapis would have been pleased with you.”
“I’m going to hunt down his killer,” Childe said. “I won’t stop until I’ve avenged him.”
“The Millelith claim he was not murdered,” Xiao answered. “Their declaration holds weight. What mortal or god could have stood against him?”
Childe didn’t answer. It was nothing he hadn’t considered already.
“The Rite of Parting is happening in Yujing Terrace today,” Xiao told him. “In case you’d like to attend. I’ve already said my goodbyes.”
“Right.” Childe cleared his throat. “Thanks.”
“And I’m sorry,” Xiao said, a little awkwardly. “We all loved him, but I know you… you loved him best.”
Childe hunched his shoulders and stared into the water. He wished he had remained with the god of blades, because that god’s death did not threaten to break him the way he was now breaking.
“If it helps… you were always his favorite.” Xiao patted him on the back, and in the next moment, he was gone.
Childe went to see the Rite of Parting. It was all in order, the ancient traditions followed to the exact letter, just as it should be. He was surprised to find the mortals had done it so well.
“It was the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor,” a woman beside him said to her companion. “Mr. Zhongli specified just how it should be done. And my, how precise everything is!”
Zhongli of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. Childe heard his name twice more, as the citizens credited him with everything that had been pulled together for the Rite.
Someone so knowledgeable in the ways of the adepti, who had seen the Exuvia and presided over Rex Lapis’ funeral might be the perfect person to ask about the mysterious circumstances of the Archon’s death. Maybe this Zhongli could provide some leads for Childe to investigate.
At the very least, it helped him focus on something other than the aching hollowness in his own chest, a grief he would probably spend the next thousand years becoming accustomed to.
The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor was tucked away near the center of the city, and there was no one at the front desk. Childe rang the bell, and after a long moment, a man stepped out of a hallway into the atrium. He was tall and dark-haired, with a regal, elegant bearing that could not be mistaken by those who knew him well.
Childe looked into his amber eyes for a long moment, then crumpled to his knees. He buried his face in his hands and began to sob.