Chapter Text
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The Traveler dashes up the ramp to the Sanctuary of Surasthana, somewhat out of breath and nauseated. Nahida telepathically contacted him, sounding anxious and a little distressed. Immediately upon thinking something terrible happened, Aether ran from completing his commissions out in the middle of the desert with Paimon in tow. The little god asked him to come see her as soon as possible, opting to show him rather than tell him. It was something he would have to see to understand, to even believe apparently.
The Traveler had teleported near the Archon’s abode, using the mechanisms that, curiously, nobody else in Tevyat could use. He usually chooses to avoid having to teleport to avoid needless questions from those who don’t know, but also because of the wave of nausea that hits him every time (Paimon is never afflicted by such symptoms). Now at least, the Traveler can hold onto his meal after teleporting. First arriving in Mondstadt and using a waypoint had been a completely different story.
Aether catches his breath quickly and wills away the heavy, rocking motion in his head…unsuccessfully, but it would fade soon anyway. There were more important issues at the moment. The god Aether is looking for stands outside of the Sanctuary, appearing rather small compared to the massive front doors as she paced back and forth in front of it.
“Nahida!” Paimon shouts loudly to announce their arrival.
The little Archon lifts her attention away from her pacing feet and looks up in the direction of the fairy’s voice. “Traveler, Paimon, thank goodness.”
She smiles softly at them, but the slight crease in her brow betrays her outward display of serenity. The traveling duo reach her quickly and Aether gives the Archon a polite nod as a greeting.
“What’s the matter?” Paimon asks for Aether. “What did you need to show us?”
“That…” Nahida pauses with pursed lips. “Well… I’ll show you, then explain.” The little Archon turns away from the duo and opens the massive doors with a flick of dendro energy from her hand. The three of them begin walking down the long pathway to the center of the room.
Paimon audibly gasps. Aether freezes in his tracks.
In a large cube of dendro—not unlike the prison Nahida was once trapped in—contained a slumbering person. The familiar silhouette suspended in the air, the indigo hair in a ridiculous style, and eccentric navy blue clothes with red and white accents.
“What…?” Aether thinks out loud.
“Your eyes do not deceive you, Traveler,” the Archon also stops along the ramp and looks up at Aether with wide emerald eyes. “That is the Balladeer, but that is not the only thing I need to show you.”
“But what about the Wanderer?” Paimon exclaims. “Did he turn back into the Balladeer or something? But didn’t he get erased? Oh! Did Dottore make another Balladeer puppet? Ah! That’d be awful! Do we have to fight him again?”
“Paimon…” the Traveler quietly hushes her. He lifts up his hand and places his palm on her head to calm her anxious babbling. Paimon grabs onto his forearm like it is her lifeline and pouts. Nahida smiles with her eyes closed at the pair, and then opens them, her attention on the Traveler. The emerald pools contain a sea of infinite knowledge within them, and she stares at Aether with that gaze. The Traveler stares back, waiting for her to speak.
“I have yet to inform the Wanderer of this predicament, but frankly I do not know if I should.” The little Archon turns on her heels and walks the rest of the way to the glowing green prison with her tiny hands clasped behind her back. Aether and Paimon trail behind, sharing a glance between each other. Aether’s gaze tells her to stay quiet for a moment. Paimon gives him one firm nod of understanding and immediately covers her mouth with her hands.
“So, you mean this Balladeer is a separate being from the Wanderer?”
“Yes, you are correct.”
“I think…you should let Wanderer know,” the Traveler tells the god. “He accepted his past, his sins. He should know that his biggest one is somehow here.”
Nahida stops in front of the prison and looks sadly at the Balladeer’s form. Her shoulders fall in defeat. “I feel the need to keep the Wanderer from knowing, almost as if I feel as though it would shield his feelings, but logically I know it would be better, respectful even, to tell him…is that strange?”
The Archon looks back over her shoulder, pinning the Traveler with the same infinite gaze, seeking answers, wisdom. Aether shakes his head. “You just worry about his feelings, you care about them. It is not strange.”
Nahida smiles. “You’re right. I’ll ask him to come back from his wandering and brief him on this incident since it does concern him—his past.”
The Traveler silently nods his approval. He thinks Nahida only asked for his opinion on explaining how she felt about Wanderer rather than what to do about informing him of the Balladeer’s appearance. The Archon closes her eyes for a moment, reaching out for the Wanderer the same way she connected with the Traveler. It takes only a moment, and then Nahida is refraining from giggling out loud as she blinks open her eyes. Paimon and Aether look at her with curious expressions, wondering what she had suddenly found silly. Nahida shakes her head and lets out a satisfied sigh with her hands placed on her hips. She has a renewed shine in her gaze and her smile is soft and genuine; a parent feeling proud of something their child did.
The smile is infectious. Paimon’s mood is boosted, which is noticeable in how she bobs in the air more enthusiastically. Aether simply shares Nahida’s newly-refreshed demeanor.
“I’m sorry, the Wanderer’s retort made me feel appreciated,” Nahida tells them. “Which, I’m sure, was not his outwardly displayed intention.”
She regains the composure of an Archon, stating, “now, to explain how the Balladeer exists right now. It’s a long story and I do not know the cause, nor do I yet know how to fix it.”
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Nahida reaches out her hand towards a glowing blue sapling. She was entranced every time she entered Irminsul, a place she had not been granted access to until she was freed from the Akasha. There was so much knowledge she had yet to get her hands on, yet to completely engross herself with. All the knowledge she had before could be condensed into books and only fill up a small house, but Irminsul’s books could fill up a whole world. Mountains of bookshelves reaching farther than the eye can see in all directions—upwards, downwards, right, and left. It was a massive library, filled to the brim with everything Nahida wanted to learn and understand. Each little sapling was a record to witness, a book to read, and knowledge to be uncovered. The library at the Akademiya was minuscule compared to the Tree.
When the Archon had some time to spare, she would pilfer every nook and cranny, and leave no bookshelf unchecked. She opened completed and uncompleted ones, absorbing every piece of information like a sponge to water. The more she looked, the more she could find; it wasn’t long before she found a sapling that could barely be called one, tucked deeply into one of Irminsul’s nooks. It was barely even a sprout, but any information was still information so Nahida waved her hand over it to open the record.
Initially, she was surprised. She stumbled upon the record of the Wanderer, and watched the Tree’s eyes on him. The little Archon smiled and then closed the memory. He seemed to be much happier as a new incarnation, beginning his new story as her “little helper”. He was not healed yet, but he was still growing. It’d take time, but he was working in the right direction now.
Just as she was about to wave the sprout away for another random sapling, Nahida noticed that the sprout seemed to have roots. She tilted her head in confusion.
Irminsul’s saplings were branches of the Tree. They lack true roots and merely grew more branches as they obtained and stored more records.
The sprout was actually growing.
The Archon lifts a small hand to her chin in contemplation. It was an interesting development that she would have to study. There must be more about Irminsul than she didn’t know.
Carefully, because this record was Wanderer’s, Nahida opens it again, this time going deeper into the memory. She passes by Wanderer first arriving in the Traveler’s Teapot, receiving a new name from the Traveler, meeting the Traveler for the first time (as his new incarnation). She didn’t have time to look fondly at the memories since she wanted to get to the very start of the sprout.
At the last scene, one where Wanderer is simply wandering without anything to hold onto other than the desire to find something beyond himself (this forest area was where Irminsul had discarded the forgotten Balladeer after his erasure), Nahida reaches out into the imaginary greenery. Dendro energy glows around her with tendrils snaking off her outstretched hand and jumping to the edges of the memory.
It takes a second, but the forest slowly fades away, revealing small cubes of dendro containing something. Nahida takes a closer look, pulling two of the three cubes into her awaiting hands. She examines them for a moment, wondering if they were records she locked away and forgotten, like what she had done with the Balladeer’s memories. The little things could each fit in one of her palms, so they must’ve only been small fragments of memories. They were not nearly as large as the cube that contained all of the Balladeer’s copied memories.
Just as the little Archon was going to place the harmless cubes back where she found them, one of them roused, glowing a bright blue color and washing out the dendro energy. The second one was caught in the crossfire and began behaving the same way. Nahida gasped and immediately locked the two inside one of her prison cubes. The third began glowing the same as the first two, but the little Archon closed the opening she created within the memory. It did not escape.
The ones she trapped in the dendro prison changed shape, morphing to vaguely humanoid figures. Nahida’s eyes widened and she enlarged the prison to hold them—the Balladeer and the Kabukimono.
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“It was a poor decision on my part,” Nahida admits. “I was indeed unprepared for this to happen.”
“I do not think anyone could have predicted this,” Aether gestures to the Balladeer.
“No, but I should have been more careful while investigating something unusual in Irminsul.”
Thankfully Paimon remains silent throughout the whole story and exchange, only glancing between the two conscious entities in the room. Her silence does not last long, and is broken by a terrified squawk. She jumps back in the air and hides herself behind Aether’s shoulder. The Traveler instinctively throws his arm out protectively, unconsciously moving to defend the fairy from whatever threat she found. Aether didn’t sense anything amiss, glancing from his traveling companion to the imprisoned Balladeer. His gaze shifts to the left, where a face is half-obscured by the dendro energy forming the Balladeer’s cell.
“Ah…Kabukimono was here the whole time,” Nahida tilts her head away from Aether and towards the other person in the room. They quickly peek their head out from behind the glowing green prison in the center of the room, perking up like when a dog hears their name being called. They make eye contact with the Traveler, visibly tense up, and look down shyly in one fluid motion. They suddenly find the ends of their white sleeves very interesting and nervously begin plucking at the ends.
Aether stares with wide eyes at the puppet that had the same face as the Wanderer and Balladeer. Unlike either of his future selves, the puppet’s clothes were less eccentric, and he had ball joints on exposed parts of his body: the fingers, toes, knees, elbows, and ankles. He also didn’t have a permanent scowl on his face. His expression is soft, much like the Wanderer before the return of his memories (or the expression Wanderer has while making bitter tea or sewing a little doll. Aether’s caught him looking so innocent and serene like that a few times before). The puppet had been so quiet, not even the slightest breath left his lips the entire time the Traveler had been in the room.
Aether knows the story of the kabukimono, and has seen the innocent puppet be emotionally tormented and wounded, feeling so hurt and betrayed that he finally twisted himself into a being known as Kunikuzushi, and then Scaramouche, the Balladeer.
“Kabukimono,” Nahida calls. “Come and say hi to the Traveler. He’s here to help.”
The kabukimono hesitates for a moment and then comes out from behind the glowing prison. He walks cautiously over to stand right behind Nahida. Softly, he says hello, as Nahida instructed him to, and bows stiffly to Aether. He glances up at the Traveler and then averts his gaze away. Aether’s posture returns to normal and he mimics the greeting of the kabukimono (without averting his gaze though).
“Hi!” Paimon waves enthusiastically. “Wow! He’s so different from the Balladeer, or even Wanderer!”
The kabukimono stares at Paimon before waving back, a small smile on his face. Paimon reacts by ducking behind Aether again, and in a hushed, horrified whisper to her companion: “He smiled at Paimon! It’s so weird to see it on his face! Wanderer only smiles smugly at Paimon! And the Balladeer only pretends to smile!”
At the mention of the Balladeer, the puppet looks up toward the prison and curls in on himself further. Nahida notices and places a reassuring hand on his arm, acting like a strong anchor for him to hold onto.
Aether furrows his brows. “…did something happen before we came?”
Nahida purses her lips sadly. “Yes…Kabukimono definitely had a rough start after materializing into existence…
“The Balladeer tried to murder him the second he laid eyes upon him. It is the reason why I locked the Balladeer away, though I do not wish to.”
Paimon sputters. “But…but the kabukimono is the Balladeer! Why would he do that?”
Nahida refrains from answering, only expressing a solemn face. Paimon looks between the two of them, confused but also a little hurt, like the Traveler and Nahida were keeping a secret from her. It’s Aether who explains. His tone is not sad, nor sympathetic. He simply states it as fact.
“…He despises himself. It is the same as him attempting to eliminate himself from Irminsul last time…just more physically.”
“Oh…” Paimon falls quiet.
The Traveler pats her head reassuringly, then addresses Nahida. “Do you have a plan in mind? How to handle this…situation?”
Nahida nods once. Her hand is still on the kabukimono. “I apologize for always asking for your help when I am an Archon myself…but I need you to hide Kabukimono in your Adeptus Teapot so the Balladeer cannot hurt him.”
“Why not just keep the Balladeer locked up?” Paimon asks.
Nahida shakes her head. “That would be very wrong, Paimon. I do not wish to confine anybody, and just like when the Wanderer was the Balladeer, I wish to help him, not isolate him.”
“That makes sense…” The little fairy quickly understands Nahida’s aversion to imprisoning someone.
“Paimon,” Aether calls quietly and shuffles in his bag for a second before pulling out a teapot nearly the size of the fairy’s body. “Can you show Kabukimono the Teapot?”
Glancing from the Traveler to Nahida and back again, Paimon nods. “Oh! Okay then…uh,” she opens her arms to accept the teapot and manages to float it and herself over to the puppet, “Kabukimono! Paimon will show you how to get inside.”
The puppet stares at the teapot for a good moment. “Pardon? Inside?”
Paimon rolls her eyes, feigning exasperation, like an older sister having to deal with an ignorant little brother. She seemed rather excited to be explaining something that made her look smart. She picks off the teapot’s lid and puts her hand inside to grab the visitation sigil, pulling it out as dramatically as possible and then dangling it in front of the kabukimono’s wide, curious eyes. “Ta-da! This is a Realm Dispatch, and you can only enter this Adepti Abode if the Traveler or Paimon accepts you!”
“Ah…okay…” the kabukimono’s attention flicks over to Aether for a second before panning back to Paimon, after she instructed him to hold out his hand. The little fairy slaps the Realm Dispatch token on the puppet’s palm and then puts it back inside the Teapot. He stares warily at his mechanical hand like Paimon had just given him an explosive. “…Now what?”
“Now you enter the Teapot, silly! Just put your hand on it and think about going inside—it’s kind of like pushing open a door. You just enter.”
The kabukimono hesitates slightly, but then puts his hand on the pot. He immediately lets out an audible gasp of fright when light engulfs his palm and the world around him distorts into swirling waves that then suck him right into the floating kettle. Paimon follows him afterwards, giggling about how shocked the puppet was. Aether begins wondering if letting Paimon babysit by herself was a bad idea.
“The Wanderer will be arriving soon,” Nahida informs him.
Aether nods then looks up at the imprisoned Balladeer. “What about him?”
“I…do not wish to confine him like a caged bird any longer, so I will set him free in a moment.” the little Archon stares at the Traveler, the same gaze as before. “Are you going to stay for that? I do not mind whether you decide to stay or not. The choice is entirely up to you.”
The Traveler looks downwards, contemplating before speaking. “…I will stay. In case he is still angry.”
Nahida waves him off. “He won’t do any harm to me, and besides, I can sense that he does not possess the power of the Balladeer. He seems to be the same as the Balladeer I had you accompany to Irminsul.”
“He was still quite capable of destruction then…”
“True,” Nahida smiles. “But that was part of my plan, was it not?”
Aether sighs, shaking his head a little. He looks up at the Balladeer then. Nahida begins dropping the prison around him. The ex-harbinger is slowly lowered to his feet and dendro energy fades around him. His eyes slowly open, and in that second, Aether accidentally lets his guard down. Perhaps he is too accustomed to the Wanderer’s presence that even being with the Balladeer made him have a slight misjudgment of the Wanderer’s past incarnation.
Scaramouche’s eyes snap open, a snarl plastered to his face as he wildly lunges forward. Aether’s eyes are blown wide, and he catches the Balladeer’s wrists in his hands before the mechanical hands could reach his throat and choke him. They’re both sent tumbling backwards, Aether wincing with a gasp after landing straight on his ass. Scaramouche is on his knees between the Traveler’s legs, and the hold on his wrists keeps him from smashing his forehead on the Traveler’s nose. He raggedly gasps for air, anger seething off of him in waves before he quickly realizes he’s looking at the Traveler and not whatever he thought he was seeing.
The Balladeer immediately rips his hands away from Aether's and shakily pushes himself to stand up. He brushes off nonexistent dirt from his shorts, obscuring his face with his hat. He sees Nahida standing close to them with her arms crossed over her chest. She seems completely unbothered by the scene that played before her. The Balladeer clicks his tongue in annoyance and then barely looks back over his shoulder to watch Aether push himself to his feet.
“I’d say I’m pleasantly surprised to see you here, Traveler, but I’d be lying. Your presence is neither pleasant, nor is it surprising because of your annoying savior complex.”
A long forgotten feeling stabs Aether then. A rubber band in his head snaps in a way the Wanderer had not been able to freshly recreate in months.
“Nahida,” his right hand itches to summon his sword. “May I kill him?”
The little Archon hums and rocks back and forth on her feet as if amused. “No, you may not, Traveler.”
Scaramouche opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted when the large doors of the Sanctuary open up. All three heads turn to the top of the polished white ramp, seeing a slightly disheveled figure step inside.
“Lesser Lord Kusanali,” he calls, then his feet leave the floor in a burst of anemo and he floats down the ramp. He expression is neutral at first but quickly devolves into confusion and then scorn. Aether watches the Wanderer and Balladeer openly glare at each other, feels a silent spark of electricity in the air between them.
And then, as if they had practiced, both snarl: “the fuck?”
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