Jean summoned a squad to Warehouse 16, her orders crisp and swift.
Among them strode Nimue, a captain adorned with a Hydro Vision.
Vision bearers towered over most, their potential a cut above.
With training, they wielded power that left ordinary knights in the dust.
Most Favonius captains bore Visions, their strength a badge of rank.
A rare few, like Hertha of logistics, climbed by grit alone.
Nimue led the Eighth Squad; Hertha, the Sixth, handled supplies.
The Knights boasted eleven captains now, one more than before.
Ye Ruo's rise had tipped the scales—his shadow loomed large.
Jean blinked in surprise as Nimue approached, her blue hair a bright flag.
"Nimue? What brings you here?" she asked, brow arching.
The petite captain scratched her head, a sheepish grin breaking through.
"My team's back for repairs—heard something wild was up," she chirped.
Her eyes sparkled, voice lifting with a hopeful plea.
"Jean, can't we drag Lisa back? She'd ace the Eighth Squad," she urged.
"I'd step down to assistant—no shame in that," she added quickly.
"It's not surrender—Lisa's a beast, but I'm no slouch!" she huffed.
Jean's lips curved into a wry, familiar smile.
"Your desk's buried in captain rec letters this year," she sighed.
"Lisa swears you're fit to lead—I can't sway her," she admitted.
"You're thriving out there, Nimue—give yourself some credit," she encouraged.
Nimue stomped, frustration bubbling over in a pout.
"Why's it always like this?!" she groaned, fists clenched.
Lisa's return from Sumeru had sparked a storm in the Eighth.
She'd claimed the captain's seat, fresh from scholarly halls.
Nimue, then an officer, bristled at the newcomer's ascent.
A greenhorn academic? She'd sneered—Lisa'd crumble in the field.
Their duel proved otherwise—Lisa's magic crushed her flat.
Yet Lisa stepped aside, naming Nimue worthy of the helm.
Off she went to the library, leaving Nimue fuming.
Arrogance had sparked it, but pride kept her fighting.
She'd begged Jean, penned pleas—Lisa stayed stubbornly put.
Now a Hydro Vision gleamed on her chest, a captain's mark.
Lisa's Thunder Vision ruled the stacks, untouchable.
Ye Ruo, watching, raised an eyebrow at Nimue's spark.
A Hydro Vision suited her—water's grace in a fiery soul.
She'd flickered in his old game's lore, a background whisper.
Her name echoed a blue-winged angel from another tale.
Nymphs of myth danced in springs—water was her kin.
Lisa's mastery made sense; Nimue's pride was her own.
The Eighth hadn't marched with Falga—Ye Ruo shrugged it off.
His presence warped the Knights' weave, threads shifting fast.
Falga's exodus claimed half the captains, elites in tow.
Some, like Ehrendil of old, rose sans Vision, pure might.
Effort carved paths—godly eyes weren't the only key.
Jean led the squad to the yaks, her voice steady with purpose.
She spun a tale—Ye Ruo's gift, no questions needed.
The knights gaped, awestruck by the herd's sheer bulk.
"Massive!" a rookie gasped, eyes wide as saucers.
"Strong as oxen—perfect for heavy loads," Hertha noted.
"Twenty of them? Mondstadt's got none like these," Nimue marveled.
"How'd they get here unnoticed?" a veteran muttered.
"No whispers, no tracks—impossible," another frowned.
Question marks hung thick, disbelief etching their faces.
Jean's claim—Ye Ruo's doing—twitched their mouths in doubt.
The Wind Knight again? His feats defied mortal sense.
"Did he gust them in on a breeze?" a knight jested.
"No way—we'd have seen something," another scoffed.
Mystery cloaked him, his legend swelling with each tale.
Sumeru beasts in their midst—Ye Ruo's reach baffled them.
Seasoned as they were, the yaks' value dawned quick.
Logistics gleamed in Hertha's eyes—her mind raced with plans.
"Round them up—set a pen for these beasts," she barked.
The herd lumbered out, stirring gasps through the garrison.
Ye Ruo's name echoed anew, a wind that wouldn't fade.
The system purred, fame ticking up with every knight's awe.
He'd sown wonder, and Mondstadt reaped the harvest.
***
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