The Lady stood in her lavish suite at the Goethe Hotel, her mind turning over the day's debacle with a calculating hum. "I'll visit this Galehaven Comics tomorrow and uncover its secrets myself."
More pressing matters demanded her focus now—Stormterror and the Sky Lyre, keys to tracing Barbatos and tightening her grip on Mondstadt.
She fixed her icy gaze on Luke, the trembling Fatui at her feet, her voice cutting like frost. "Tell the Thunderhammer Vanguard to secure the Sky Lyre tonight—no delays."
The lyre held traces of Anemo power and a path to the wind god, a prize she wouldn't let slip through her fingers.
Luke's squad had been gutted by Jean's outburst, leaving manpower thin—she'd spare him punishment, for now, to keep things moving.
"Yes, Lady, I'll relay it at once," Luke stammered, scrambling to his feet with a nod, relief flooding him as he fled the room.
Sweat soaked his back—he'd dodged her wrath, a mercy rare from a Harbinger famed for ruthlessness and dread among her underlings.
"I'd better find the Vanguard fast," he muttered, knowing another failure might cost him more than a scolding next time.
His figure vanished into the hotel's shadowed halls, haste driving his steps toward the Fatui's next move.
Across Mondstadt, Harlan Flint strolled from his alley, the city's night unfurling before him in a tapestry of light and life.
"What a vibrant place," he thought, taking in the bustling streets—crowds swelled despite the late hour, their energy infectious.
Unlike the game's compact map, this Mondstadt sprawled vast and vivid, yet its core layout echoed the familiar—fountain here, restaurant there.
The Deer Hunter beckoned, its sign a beacon near the wishing fountain, pulling him along a route etched from countless playthroughs.
He stepped up to the counter, his voice casual. "One fried pork with carrots in honey sauce, please."
Mondstadt's signature dish was a must—why visit without tasting its sweet, savory comfort?
Sarah, the server, blinked at him, her cheeks tinting pink. "O-okay, take a seat over there—it'll be ready soon."
His easy charm threw her off, her words stumbling as she fumbled with his order, a reaction Harlan met with a polite smile.
He paid and claimed a quiet corner table, the din of the growing crowd a distant hum from his secluded spot.
"If Galehaven Comics sat here instead of that back alley, I'd be swamped with customers," he mused, eyeing the throng with a twinge of regret.
The system's choice baffled him—prime real estate trumped obscurity in any business, yet here he was, tucked away.
As he waited, the Deer Hunter filled up, every table buzzing with chatter—except his, a lone island in the bustle.
Two figures approached from afar—one in red with chestnut hair and a bunny knot, the other in blue, her knightly garb crisp and cool.
Amber and Eula, Knights of Favonius, weaved through the crowd, fresh from duty and seeking a rare break.
Amber had coaxed Eula out, unwilling to let her friend brood alone in her quarters after a long day's tasks.
"I'd planned to hone my blade, but you've derailed me—this slight's noted," Eula said, her tone icy but familiar.
Amber grinned, undaunted. "Oh, sure, blame me—I'll make it up with fried pork and carrots in honey sauce, my treat!"
She knew Eula's prickly front hid no real malice, tugging her toward the counter with practiced ease.
"Good evening, Sarah!" Amber chirped, her warmth lighting up the exchange as Eula offered a curt nod.
"Evening, Miss Amber, Miss Eula—two fried pork with carrots, please," Sarah replied, smiling at the regulars.
"It'll take a bit—busy night," she added with an apologetic tilt, gesturing to the packed tables.
Amber scanned the room, her scout's eyes sharp. "Ugh, it's packed—nowhere to sit."
Eula shifted, her voice low. "Let's pack it to go—I'd rather not crowd in and stir trouble."
Her Lawrence lineage drew wary glances, and she'd hate to dim Sarah's business with her presence.
"No need—look, that table's nearly empty!" Amber countered, spotting Harlan's solitude and striding over.
Eula trailed reluctantly, her cool demeanor clashing with Amber's bounce as they reached him.
"Hi, mind if we join you?" Amber asked, her smile bright and inviting.
Harlan glanced up, recognition sparking—Amber's cheer and Eula's frost were unmistakable. "Sure, go ahead."
What were the odds of crossing paths with these two tonight, right here at his table?
***
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