Chapter Text
Not many would ever bear witness to a Harbinger lying crumpled on the floor, hunched over, distinguished attire impressing nobody but the ground. Harbingers were terrifying, acted with impunity, and were known for being ruthless even to their own agents. The only thing standing between this one and dying alone in the darkness was a newbie who nearly tripped over him.
“Mister Childe,” she barked, willing the man to rise as she dropped down at his side. “Childe. Sir. Can you speak?”
A cave should have been quiet. She heard clanking, rhythmic and mechanical, thudding in the depths. The man stirred, groaned to confirm he needed help. His crimson banner had pooled under him in a way she’d mistaken for blood.
“Ngh… I–”
“Sir, you’ll be all right. Try to open your eyes. I can help you to the way out.”
Childe was able to push himself up on his forearms and lift his head, his face barely visible under the drooping mess of his ginger hair. His injuries seemed strange - no cuts, grazes or apparent limbs broken, only bruises contouring under the skin of his arms and neck, presumably all over. As if all damage had been taken internally.
The Harbinger tried to put weight on his legs and stumbled.
“Slowly,” she said, reaching to take his hands. He was not wearing his mask, so she quickly doffed hers.
“Your name?”
She let him lean onto her palms and then throw an arm around her shoulders. “Fez.”
“You’re new.”
“Can we focus?”
He breathed an awkward chuckle. “Very new, if you’re taking your mask off just like that.”
“Sir. Can you walk?”
With another grunt and a searching grab against the wall too for support, he did manage.
“All right, Fez, do you by any chance know how to heal? Do you have a Vision?”
“No. Sorry, sir.”
Childe squinted up from under his bedraggled hair. With an unkind pinch to his eyes, he let out a wearied sigh, but focused on her with a renewed clarity.
“A shame. And an odd choice for a rescue such as this,” he mused with an easygoing lilt, with a lopsided smile and once eye wincing closed.
“I’ll have to do, sir.”
Childe adjusted his arm clinging around her shoulder, trying to hold his own weight but trusting his companion to steady him upright. He didn’t quite have the warmth another human body should have, nor the solidity and weight.
“Lean as much on me as you can,” said Fez, taking a step and waiting for him to move forward before she took another. He was a tall man, far taller than her, but he hunched over to such a degree that they could see eye-to-eye. He looked as though it hurt to simply keep his head up. “I came in just around that corner, it won’t be far. Come on, now.”
They shuffled in the gloom, accompanied by the distant sound of clunking machinery and the young man’s occasional huffs of effort. Each noise made Fez panic that he might tumble down from the strain of walking, but his expression shown no sign of the pain he obviously felt.
“Not… not going to let me waste away in the dark, hm?” he said, dreamily, losing focus again, so Fez pulled his stride forward with a firm jerk.
Sunlight beckoned them slowly, with colour and clarity. Weak and misty from the end of an underground passage, then stronger with clearer air and the sound of rustling grass. They emerged from the crevice and into the afternoon sunlight of Liyue - a wispy-clouded sky, majestic cliffs risen between verdant hills, gold burnished and gleaming like the ember-dancing scattered trees. Fez expected the Harbinger to sink from her grasp and need rest before they continued once he’d seen daylight again, but he stood unmoving at her side, then looked at her.
His hair had such a fiery glow she hadn’t noticed in the cavern. His eyes, though, were dull to the brightness of the world, exactly as they had been back in the depths.
“I need to get back to Liyue,” said Childe. “I have to get back as fast as possible.”
“Wh– why? My journey here took over an hour, how can we–”
The Harbinger tapped her with the hand braced on her shoulder. “Now, I didn’t say anything about ignoring our natural laws. All I stated was our goal. We get back to Liyue as fast as we can.”
He stared at Fez, while still slouched and wincing. Without knowing if he were mortally wounded, impatient, or had opera tickets for that evening, Fez’s brow lowered and she nodded.
She stepped onto the grass, and he followed, with as much of his meagre weight on her as before. They descended a hill with miniscule steps, Childe humming occasionally with effort. Two figures moving as one, the pale, haggard ginger and the shorter, tanned and sturdy support with an eye-catching head of purple. Liyue’s famed mountains and their timeless presence haunted their progress. Fez risked giving the Harbinger a look over, careful to support his arm, and saw his pale face even more gaunt in the sunlight, wasted, dark prints around his eyes and an unhealthy mottling under his skin.
She wasn’t sure if he noticed her glance of concern, but Childe stumbled.
“Sir. If you don’t mind me asking… are you going to be all right?”
“Not your concern, recruit.” Childe limped up and stared forward to will himself on. “You have your orders.”
“Very well,” said Fez, watching the sun set behind a distant peak, promising a reprieve from stumbling through overwarm closeness in the open sun. “You clearly have made up your mind, and I won’t ignore that by questioning if you are sure. I will simply observe that you look like you’re about to die."
“Not a chance,” breathed Childe. “Lotta people would love to see it. I’ve been through worse. Didn’t get this far by not knowing my limits.”
He stumbled again.
“I will walk into Liyue with your lifeless body in my arms,” Fez continued. “Lie and say I bested this Harbinger. They will shower me with adoration and many lovely wines. Then I am promoted. Become Harbinger in your stead. Then more wines.”
Childe laughed. Weak, watery, but with true mirth. He shifted his weight and paced forward noticeably faster.
“Well, write home for me and tell Tonia I met a glorious end for Her Majesty. I don’t- I don’t want Signora to do it. Ah– drat-”
The Harbinger braced his arm against the ground, breathing through his teeth. The sun was setting over Liyue, gleaming from her Xie Shan roofs. There was salt on the breeze. Childe stared up at the city’s profile, between looming cliffs like pillars barring them from entry, and he didn’t get up.
“Sir… we must keep moving.”
“I know.”
“On the outward journey I saw a geovishap, what if it stalks us? I can’t protect you.”
“I can take it,” Firmness came together in Childe’s voice as he rose back to his feet. “Not– not a problem.”
“The other fatui speak of your strength with wide eyes, behind secret hands,” Fez clasped to him once more, helping him to move, but trying to match his pace as he took the lead. “But even you… in the state you’re in, and– what if there were two geovishap?”
His steps ever surer, Childe’s brow furrowed as threat coalesced around him. “Don’t you dare doubt me. I do my best work at death’s door.”
“There may be a group of treasure hoarders behind that next turn, waiting and hiding for adventurers they can rob-”
“If I can breathe then I can draw a bow. None of them would leave alive.”
“The valleys of Liyue might exert punishment on you and crush us with falling rocks, any second.”
“I would like to see it try!” Childe’s heels dug hard into the dirt path. He pushed himself forward in a haze. Obsession had kindled in his eyes, fuelling him up to the guarded entryway to the pavements of Liyue, where he finally staggered to the ground and his breathing stuttered too much to talk.
Fez raised her eyes to the upper walkway, the red bannisters in the moonlight, where Northland Bank overlooked the City of Contracts, and she pulled Childe’s body up, under his arms, gathered him like a pile of rags to hoist over her shoulder, and then, ignoring the surprised faces of the Millelith, took the unconscious Harbinger towards the stairs.
Fez spent the following hour alone, and unburdened. She had relinquished the 11th Fatui Harbinger to Ekaterina in the foyer, and let him be whisked away for medical care. Vision bearers who could restore vitality simply by calling forth the natural elements would be tending to the man furiously.
As a recent addition to the Fatui contingent of the bank she had no friends with whom to discuss her excursion and successful mission, and so rewound it in her head for a while. Childe, his title, Tartaglia, his given name, didn’t seem the terrifyingly imposing young lord as regaled by the other recruits, but then, she supposed those stories were supposed to scare the newbies. Or perhaps they were true, when Childe was in full health.
The bank itself seeped gold from every exquisitely carved tile. Even the back rooms that housed the majority of Fatui personnel were panelled with the finest woods, painted red and gold leaf, and richly carpeted. The rule at the bank was to do your duties and not pry, for every hallway held business rooms in which deals were done and many things were agreed that should not be overheard. Perceiving that which was not meant for you was a high offence, accidental or not. As long as you made yourself look focused on your goal you could roam the near labyrinthine corridors, high-ceilinged and lavished in mahogany. For the most part, Fez did not dare to wander.
However, she slipped out and made for the public entrance anyway, staring at the ground as if it made her invisible.
She found the receptionist coming from the opposite direction.
“Oh, Ekaterina!”
“Yes?”
“I was concerned about the status of my earlier mission. Is the 11th Harbinger recovering?”
“Yes, I believe so. Healing is a simple routine, but we couldn’t convince him to rest - he’s in the foyer currently.” Ekaterina walked away. “Just don’t get caught.”
Luckily the bank’s receptionist enjoyed pretending she had influence by letting anything go under her nose.
Fez came up to the upper balcony of the bank’s service floor and pressed herself to the doorframe. This was the most stately room by far, the hall for the public entrance, perfectly symmetrical with walls of rows and rows of banking drawers and framed, richly green banners depicting tree branches blossoming with coins. She caught sight of two fiery redheads. One, Tartaglia, hiding behind the front desk barricade, but at least standing steady. The other, a child, small and spindly, taken quickly through the main entrance by an entourage of Fatui staff.
In the centre of it all, a blonde woman whose age felt hard to place. She waved to the young boy as he left before rounding on the hidden Tartaglia and having words with him. It was something to behold, the Harbinger whose reputation made the Fatui here lower their voices, spoken to with no fear by this outsider.
Fez left and skirted back to the inner chambers of the bank well before anyone could spot her.
Duties for the next two days were light. Deliver this to Liuli Pavilion and pick up an order, see what can be overheard during a routine walk past the Ministry of Civil Affairs. Fez couldn’t help her mind wandering throughout. Most people in the world would never converse with a Harbinger of the Fatui, let alone carry one.
News of the escapade spread through their ranks instantly. Fez was not friends with anyone at the bank, and barely knew her cohorts, but they came to know her in short order. She was elbowed with teases about whether she had handled the Harbinger like a sack of potatoes, or opted for a bridal carry through the city streets. She said nothing to these inquiries and had nobody to chatter with. One of the cloaked agents, the type oozing confidence gained from their recently assigned elemental weapon tech, pointed out that if their Harbinger recovered he might see fit to send Fez back to Snezhnaya for the insubordination of a jostled ride.
The morning after that, she was in the process of organising client paperwork in the bank’s records library when a familiar mop of fiery hair bobbed into sight around the shelves.
“Mister Childe,” she blinked, peering upward slowly as it registered how immensely tall the man was when not slouching.
“Hey. There you are.”
“Sir Harbinger looks much better. …Were you looking for me?”
“It would be remiss for me not to offer my gratitude,” he smiled, carrying the over-formality with the most casual tone in the world. “A service done to Her Majesty’s army - but also to me. You obeyed the orders given and you didn’t question me. I believe appreciation should be given when due.”
Fez tried to keep her eyes on the floor and hide her face under her hair. “Glad to have been of use, sir. You might have guessed I’m usually a correspondence-runner or fetcher of files.”
“I can put in a good word for you if you’re angling for something more dynamic.”
“There’s no need. I- um– sir, you’re telling me this because you are due to set out from Liyue, I’m thinking?”
“Yes, I am. I still have recovery to do, but, well, I’ve been told my presence here has drawn enough attention.” He buffed a hand through his hair, leaving it more erratic than before. “Shame, I enjoy Liyue, but I understand the need to cool things off.”
He made to leave, causing Fez to dart forward and catch his attention.
“I’m sorry to tell you so suddenly, sir, but you aren’t going alone. My mission was not your retrieval from Dottore’s workshop, it is to be your retainer. Er, concierge .” She wheeled her hands while searching for the term. “The Tsaritsa’s orders - I am to…. prevent any similar mistake such as the one that stranded you.”
Tartaglia put his hand over his heart and inhaled deeply. “She worries for me. I sincerely regret that the steps I took gave her such pause. Hm.”
He was silent, thinking. Fez fidgeted and tugged on the hem of her cape.
“Well. Are you prepared for travel?”
She blinked. “Um. Yes. I keep an excursion bag prepared for a moment’s notice.”
“Good. Grab your things and meet me at the door. It’s a two day walk toward Mondstadt.”
The city bid goodbye in a flash of colours still visible as they continued further and further afield. Crimson and gold beckoning the errant traveller and promising food, warmth, and comforts. Fez had grown to feel fairly at home with its dignified and luxurious establishments. In fact, their departure was delayed by last-minute sightseeing as Tartaglia continually pressed mora into her hands, gestured to one of many street-side stalls, and had her buy durable foods and snacks to keep for the road. Fez thought this meant he would miss it here, too.
He had also paid a visit to the Bubu Pharmacy himself, spending more money putting down an order, before they could leave.
“When in Mondstadt, at least you won’t need to send someone to make purchases,” said Fez.
“Hmm. I wonder how perceptive they are. Not that I care if the ordinary folk realise who I am. It’s easier to get work done in Mondstadt, going without leadership as they do. Do you know the region?”
“No,” said Fez, chewing her lip and yet again eyeing Tartaglia as they walked.
“You’re from Fontaine, aren’t you.”
“Mm. I never travelled until now.”
“They’re good to newcomers. Reckless, even. Liyue may have just lost its archon, but Mondstadt has been abandoned by theirs for as long as anyone remembers.” Tartaglia looked from their path to the horizon. “Must be wretched, don’t you think? Not having anyone to live in service to.”
Fez’s eyebrow quirked up. “Mm…. hmm. Well, I would like the chance to try their wines again. They were very good.”
“Bah. That’s lightweight, fruity stuff. A bottle of fire-water’ll keep you on form for a whole day and night.”
“Snezhnayan alcohol is to be tolerated, not enjoyed.”
“And how! Do you think we’re lazing around a fireplace, having a book club, taking tiny sips of sunsettia juice? In Snezhnaya we drink to survive-!”
They chattered as Liyue disappeared behind them and made them untethered wanderers in the unfolding world. A Statue of the Seven watched them pass by from its lone pedestal. They crossed an ancient stone plateau and several fields of orange and yellow stalks, while the sun came lower in the sky. Tartaglia walked like someone who was not at their best, but at least not slow and injured. He was a thin, lanky man, who seemed at home for hours on the road.
“May I ask,” Fez started, after a long companionable silence, “are you truly comfortable accepting someone along with you? I always heard Harbingers prefer to work alone.”
“I do. But… given what just happened, I think I can see the sense in it.”
“It’s not the sense - do you mind?”
Tartaglia chuckled. “Well, it is less lonesome so far. It’s not bothering me, if you’re worried about that. At least you’re not a hapless skirmisher that I’m in charge of training. I really have no time for weak recruits that can’t keep up.”
Fez silently accepted his answer.
“In turn, can I ask why you keep looking at me?”
“Oh! Sorry, sir. Simply hoping you have indeed recovered from your…. affliction. You were quite hurt, and it has not been long.”
He smiled, grimly. Nothing ever seemed to bring life to his eyes. “Oh, I’m quite well. Enough to travel, at any rate. I mustn’t… exert myself too much for a time.”
“Your wounds were not of being attacked. And moreover I hear you cannot be bested. How in Teyvat were you hurt?”
“Ah.” The man took a breath and held out one hand, flexing his fingers and holding his eye to it. “That’s not something you need to worry about. I pushed myself past my limits on purpose. I knew full well what would happen.”
“Well, I… hope your reasoning was worth it.”
Tartaglia just laughed.
“Actually,” he said, “I’m not quite ready for as much walking as I’m used to. There’s a sign here that points to an inn down this pass. That’s where we’ll be tonight.”
The inn was about as rustic as they come in Liyue’s outlands. Cosy, if one was the rambling type. Three separate green-roofed huts, two situated down a hill and overlooking a lake, with a bamboo-fenced courtyard and some tables and chairs. Tartaglia honed in on the main building to pay for lodging and met Fez at one of the humble outdoor tables, where she’d already ordered them food as instructed.
“Innkeeper seems an upstanding fellow,” Tartaglia said, swiftly devouring a plate of stir-fried meat and chili. “Not really hiding the fact they don’t get a lot of business. Means we’ll get good service.”
“You know, the sun hasn’t set yet. I could already see Wangshu Inn from the path, only a little further on. Why not rest there?”
“Rumours, you know, can let you in on as much local history as reading a book.” Childe leaned his elbow on the table, either side of his finished plate. “And it’s faster. Wangshu Inn has a dozen stories about lingering spirits. And it’s the most prominent, best situated midway rest stop between here and Mondstadt. Everyone goes there. Including people who might remember the little mishap we had in Liyue.” Until this point he had avoided acknowledging the reason for leaving the city at all. “So what interests you?”
“Well… it is high up, nestled in a tree. Also perhaps I would like to see the lingering spirits.”
Childe rose from their outdoor dining table, with a short sigh and a wistful glance at the gathering clouds.
“I’ll check the rooms are prepared. A little further down the hill if I remember correctly. And relax, all right? There’s all the time in the world tomorrow to reach Mondstadt.” He watched the glassy Luhua Pool fetch the oncoming moonlight and trotted off, hands in his pockets.
Fez leaned on the fence edging the table. She trusted the Harbinger to know a thing or two more about the local specifics. Perhaps Wangshu would feel too tourist-driven anyway.
“Excuse me?”
Still nibbling a rice bun, Fez blinked up at the young lady who’d approached, not having noticed her.
“Hello?”
“Hi, welcome to the Emerald Maple Inn! Sorry to impose,” said the woman, meek and unenthused. Fez had seen her bustling about as one of the inn’s small staff - very simple clothes, just a stately dress and apron, a testament to the abysmal business the place must do with the better situated and more famous inn down the road. Her black hair, tied back, fell slightly into her eyes and she clutched a serving platter to her chest. “Your rooms are ready. I wanted to just check your specifications. You’re sleeping separately? The gentleman you’re with... are you not…?”
“Ah, I see the confusion,” said Fez. “We’ve been together two years. Married to his job, he is, but brought me on this trip to prove otherwise… From a very traditional family in Snezhnaya, you know how they are. Separate beds until after marriage.”
The woman seemed to fluster. She clasped her tray behind her back with a giggle. “Sorry for the odd way of asking. I’m Bluffy,” she stared at her feet and annoyed Fez by being barely audible. “I’ve worked at the inn here for so long, my romantic heart wanders. Instead of settling down with someone I know, I keep hoping that a handsome and exciting man might stop at a room here, someone who’d notice me and whisk me away from my old life. I know it’s a little silly…”
“Oh, not at all. You must keep hoping. And when the handsome and exciting man does come, may he be quicker to realise he should propose than some people.”
Bluffy giggled again, blushing, and took away their plates.
The sky darkened at a fast pace. Sunset was snuffed out by the glow of an unlit storm. When the rain started Fez abandoned the table and ran for cover, then for the inn’s guest rooms, even as the rain suddenly ratcheted down.
The quaint shack wavered happily near the edge of the cliff with a sprawling view of Luhua Pool. Rain splashed giddily off the curved tiles, getting Fez soaked as she tried to navigate the uneven wooden stairway down the cliff-face that ended at the building. Once inside, however, the lighting was warm and cosy. She stood, dripping, in the tiny hallway, which had doors to two separate rooms.
“...Tartaglia?”
After a moment, one of the doors opened to reveal him. The small interior made him feel taller still, now dressed only in a baby blue cotton pyjama two-piece, with a collar and all, and a toothbrush in his mouth. He jabbed his thumb at the opposite door. Rain continued hammering the roof. The Harbinger glanced down at Fez’s wet clothes for a moment before silently pulling the door back in on himself.
Fez quickly threw off the wet garments, hung them up, and fell into bed, hoping she’d be able to spend one day soon with the man without making a fool of herself.
Many things kept her awake for some time, even as the hammering rain subsided and allowed for a peaceful night.
At dawn she woke to the sounds of activity outside. More rickety stairs made a path between the dotted bamboo shafts and connected to a lower plateau, nearer the enormous lake, where Tartaglia threw a steady chain of punches and kicks at the air. His jacket and shirt lay tossed on the ground; his skin dewy as the grass.
“Thought the Lord Harbinger was supposed to be recuperating,” said Fez.
“Oh. It’s you,” he barely glanced over his shoulder. “Warm-ups are an essential aspect of physical well-being. You missed twenty minutes of stretches.”
Fez picked a sunsettia from a nearby tree and rolled it on her sleeve. “Oh no. What a shame.” Her eyes flicked back to the man’s physique - incredibly lean, pale, built for finesse and never brute strength, his skin absolutely dashed across with old scars. Fez blinked and realised he had said something and was expecting an answer. “Hm?”
Tartaglia looked impatient. “I said, get your accessories off and you can catch up. Come on, now.”
Refusal came to the edge of her tongue, on the verge of wrapping her hopelessness around herself like a shield. To rebuff him even if just for the sake of it, because he would probably insist. Then Fez’s brow hardened and she huffed a short breath.
“There’s something I need to say, sir.”
Tartaglia gave her a sliver more attention as she approached. “Mm? What’s that?”
“I do have a Vision.”
She unhooked her mantelet, undid the bow that hung at her neck, took off her hat, and laid them all aside. From her waist, tucked away on a watch-chain, she clipped up a gleaming anemo Vision clasped in the Snezhnayan crest.
“Huh,” said Childe, hands on his hips. “Why tell me now?”
“You’d find out eventually somehow,” she shrugged one shoulder. “If you want me to train with you, perhaps I can learn better how to use it. I haven’t… had it long.”
“A Vision-bearer after all. Hm.” He tilted his head, gestured Fez closer, and bid her to put up her fists. “For now, forget that. You could keep me sharp as a decent enough sparring target, but I need to see what you’re capable of first. What’s the most athletic thing you know you can do?”
“Some acrobatics,” said Fez, bobbing her fists, and his covering hands, up and down. “I can move, but not so much fighting.”
“Okay, make a fist. Like– no, no, thumb here. Reach back– uh-uh, elbow out, take up space. That’s it. Right. Hit me.”
“Hit you?!”
Tartaglia tapped his chest. “Put weight into it. You won’t hurt me.”
Fez winced while drawing back and did not put her weight into it. Her fist bumped off him.
“Ah. Sorry.”
“I did say, you will not hurt-”
“No, no, sorry the punch was inferior.” Her brow furrowed. Again she drew back her fist, more focused, some power in it, but she reflexively turned her hand to connect with the side of her palm. Then she growled with impatience.
“Look at me,” said Tartaglia, who she hadn’t met eyes with since revealing her Vision. He had a winning, comfortable smile, regardless of the cavernous depths of his eyes. “You don’t want to hit me, sure. You’ve no reason to. No matter how you want to fight, your success will come down to one thing. You have to be decisive. That’s it. You will sink your blade into your opponent and wrench the life from them. You won’t get what you want unless you’re sure. Understand? Combat favours the certain.”
“This is at odds with my mission,” Fez lamented. “Though I know I won’t harm you, still… I’m here for your safety.”
“Ah-ah. Don’t think about me.” He enveloped her fists with his hands again, willing warrior spirit into them, standing even closer with his battle-worn skin boasting his prowess. “Put yourself in whatever state of mind is the most fierce. There must be someone you know who deserves to be slammed into next week. That’s who’s standing in front of you.”
Fez clasped a fist together again and stared at the ground.
Tartaglia let her wind back her arm as he waxed motivational. “This is your chance to do what you always wanted t–”
Not only was he hit at full force, but on contact, a burst of anemo energy rattled the air and sent shockwaves through the grass. Tartaglia stumbled back with one hand to his chest, going down on one knee as he lost his balance.
“Perfect!”
He beamed, skipping the notion of getting up.
Fez had been staring at her hands, snapping her attention to him and finding her Harbinger genuine and proud.
“That wasn’t for you,” she said. “You know this, right.”
“Ahah. I know. Come on, try it again. I… had to try so hard to suppress the urge to counter, balance took a backseat. C’mon.”
The sun rose higher over the duo hard at practice. Fez swept at him with slow but steady blows, watching the Harbinger effortlessly stop her hand with his own before it met his body, and each time her fist protected itself with a thick, cushioning burst of air. Her Vision bounced at her hip with each movement, gleaming joyfully in the light. Tartaglia tirelessly commanded instructions on her stance, her level of force, her aim, watching the woman’s movements become fluid with applied motivation.
Something became them, a force above their unfamiliar distance and difference in rank, something in the way they held each other’s eyes, unbroken, feeling each blow surge and fall in a rhythm solely for them. Tartaglia was focused, content, in a lull with the ease of constant practice, and had stopped speaking at all. His companion learned in doing, every hit sharper, every deflection coming faster.
Eventually, with a confident surge, Fez kicked out her leg and swung it as she’d seen him do. Tartaglia dropped. It swung over his head and he sprang back up with almost rehearsed fluidity.
They stared at each other, out of breath, sweating.
Fez blinked away first and gave a languid nod towards the northward path.
“I suppose we should really get to the road before we use up all our energy.”
Tartaglia agreed, despite looking the most spirited he had since they’d met, like a puppy whose body was too small for it, and gathered up his things.
