Chapter Text
PART 1
THE ROAD OF STONE
The night ended, as it so often did for Mona, with ringing ears, a spinning head, and a cup of warm fruit punch.
She smiled to herself as she stood over the stove, stirring the dark drink in the pan. Master Diluc had been the one to recommend she always finish a night of drinking with something non-alcoholic, and right now, the mixed scent of apples and spices couldn't have been more soothing for her head.
A glance over her shoulder showed a window still spattered with rain. Mona frowned. While hardly unexpected – it had been showering all the way back from the Angel's Share, after all, hence why she was standing in her underwear and a loose shirt right now – she'd been hoping the rain would have died down enough that she could sit on her balcony and watch the sky as she drank her punch. Alas, nothing obscured the stars like storm clouds, and so she had no option but to stay inside.
At least, she told herself, she wouldn't have to put on trousers this way.
Once the punch had just started to bubble in the pan, Mona turned the heat off and chose a mug from her cupboard. She took her time pouring the drink into it. She'd had some burns in her time, hot stoves and Pyro Slimes and Whopperflowers, but nothing scalded the skin like hot sugar.
While she waited for the steaming punch to cool off, she staggered over to her larder and opened it up. The stone shelves were predictably empty, save for a few vegetables, half a loaf of old bread, and a few jars of pickles she'd bought on sale months back and never touched since. Mona was always quick to defend herself when her friends joked about her Mora-pinching, but even she couldn't deny what a sorry state her food supplies were in right now. In the end, she settled on a jar of hazelnut biscuits Amber had made for her birthday tucked away in the corner and brought them into the kitchen.
Amber was probably back at her house by now. Kaeya and Huffman, too. Mona only hoped they hadn't gotten too wet in the downpour. Seeing that her punch had cooled slightly, she picked it up, took a biscuit from the jar and slipped it between her teeth to hold. Then she started towards the living room.
Her apartment wasn't large, but it could be a bastard to manoeuvre around in the dark, especially with all the clutter she hadn't yet gotten around to picking up and one hand occupied and her... less than sober state. Mona almost veered into a side table stacked with books as she entered her living room, catching her balance just in time to avoid spilling hot punch down her legs. After venting her annoyance with a curse, she spotted her table and headed over. She set her mug down and was just reaching for the lamp, when two thuds cut through the air.
Mona froze. The sound was coming from her door, but it felt too heavy to be simple knocking, as if the person behind it were using their entire fist. Mona shook her head. It was probably some drunkard who'd stumbled up to the wrong house. They'd leave once they realised nobody was coming to greet them.
But they didn't, and as the thuds sounded again, Mona found herself gritting her teeth. Her apartment windows were angled in a way that made it impossible to see who was standing in front of the door, and her astrology was weaker on cloudy nights like this. Regardless, she reached out and tried to latch onto a slither of insight. Sometimes, it worked. In this case, whether due to the fault of the random nature of the art or her state of mild intoxication, she was left none the wiser.
With a sigh of resignation, Mona walked into the hall and reached for the key on the hook. She paused a moment to listen for voices on the other side, but all she could hear was the rain pattering against the wood. It had gotten heavier since the kitchen. Clearly, the storm was here to stay for the night.
Mona slipped the key into the lock, turned it, and pushed open the door. A gust of cold hit her face-on, but apart from that, the space was empty. Frowning, she leant out and looked up and down the street. Nobody was there.
They must have run off, she told herself. Perhaps it really had been a drunk who was now slinking back through the rain. Mona only hoped they found shelter before the storm got any worse.
She closed the door, brushed away the water droplets that clung to her face, and made her way back into the living room. The lamp illuminated the table, the mug of punch, and the biscuit she'd left on the side.
The sound of knocking cut through the air again.
This time, Mona didn't hesitate. She grabbed a candlestick from her shelf, rushed into the hallway, and threw open the door. Once again, the only thing that greeted her was the rain.
“Who's there?” she snapped.
At best, this was Captain Kaeya or someone she'd been drinking with playing a joke on her, though that felt uncharacteristically tasteless even for him. At worst... Well, she didn't want to think about that. Still, she walked into the street and looked around, searching for a hint of movement, a shadow that would betray a fleeing figure. All she found instead was darkness.
She returned to the house quickly and closed the door. Although she'd only been outside for a few seconds, her body was drenched from head to toe. Shivering, she headed for the kitchen, grabbed a tea towel from the side, and wiped away the worst from her shoulders. Then she returned to the living room.
The sight that met her almost made her scream.
He was sat at her table as casually as if he'd been there for ages. The light of the lamp illuminated dark, glossy hair, a sharp profile, pale hands wrapped around the mug of punch. It had been over a year since Mona had seen him last, and yet here he was, like he'd been pulled straight from one of her nightmares.
Mona raised her hands defensively, ready to pull on her Vision if need be. “What in the name of the Archons are you doing in my house?”
Scaramouche turned to her and smiled, and the simple gesture was so smug, so tinged with entitlement, that she wanted to throw up.
“What an atrocious way to greet a guest,” he said.
“You're not my 'guest', and you will never be welcome here, Harbinger,” Mona spat back. “Get out.”
She tried to inject as much rage into the command as she could, but Scaramouche sneered like she posed little more threat than a kitten gnawing at his ankles.
He took a sip of her drink and sighed. “You know, I think I might stay right where I am. At least until you've heard what I have to say.”
He's only trying to rile you up, Mona told herself. Not that it did much to stop her shaking hands. She dropped her gaze to his clothing, the blue and white kimono damp from the rain and the sheer gloves that covered the length of his forearms, a stark change from the red and black outfit he'd worn last time they'd met. It wasn't the only change. Something else was different about him, a shift in his aura, though without using her astrology, she had no idea what it was, and she wasn't about to take her eyes off him for a second to find out.
“And what makes you think I'm going to listen to you after you broke into my house?” she snapped.
Scaramouche glanced down at the drink, swirled it around in the mug a little, and sipped at it again. “I didn't break in. Didn't you hear me knock?”
“Several times. You didn't respond when I answered.”
“I only approached your door once. Unless you're referring to those two angry-looking gentlemen who were hammering at it before my arrival.” Finally, Scaramouche looked up at her, his lips turned up in that mocking smile once again. “A pair of spurned lovers, perhaps?”
Mona thought back to the heavy knocking she'd heard the first time around and felt a shudder seize her spine. The gesture must have been more outward than she'd planned, as Scaramouche cocked his head inquisitively. “Yes?”
“No,” Mona muttered with a scowl. The thought of him knowing anything about her private life, even that which he'd fabricated himself, was only slightly more nausea-inducing than having him here in her house in the first place.
“I'm going to give you one final warning, Harbinger,” she said. “Leave Mondstadt tonight and never come back. All I have to do is give the Knights of Favonius the word and they'll come running.”
“Oh, the Knights of Favonius. I've heard a lot about them.” The chair scraped against the floorboards as Scaramouche stood up. He made his way towards her slowly, sandals clicking. Mona had to fight the urge to back up. “But the question is, will they arrive on time?”
It was hard to tell from his tone alone whether he was being serious in his threat or merely taunting her. In any case, Mona wasn't about to take a chance. She flicked her hands and summoned forth a pair of Hydro ribbons that snaked and shimmered around her wrists, ready to move at her command.
“If you touch me, I'll—”
“You'll do what?” Scaramouche cut in, stopping just a few inches away from her. “Call for the Knights? Fight me? I assure you I'm not here to hurt you, Mona.”
Once again, Mona felt that strange energy. She wasn't sure why, but her eyes were briefly drawn to the area around his heart.
“And I'm supposed to believe that, am I? Last time we met, you tried to kill the Traveller,” she said stiffly.
Scaramouche shrugged. “I'm a changed man.”
If her own intuition hadn't refuted that claim, then the sarcasm laced through his voice certainly did. Despite her terror, Mona snorted. “People like you never change. No matter what you do, you'll always be the same scumbag Harbinger in my book.”
A hint of emotion flashed through Scaramouche's eyes then. It wasn't quite anger – disappointment, rather? In any case, it passed so quickly, Mona couldn't pinpoint it. Neither did she particularly care.
Scaramouche clicked his tongue and moved forward again. Mona raised her hands until she realised he was heading for the hallway. He paused again as he passed her, and all of a sudden, Mona found herself caught in the gaze of a pair of dark blue eyes just inches from her own. He held her there for what felt like a lifetime, studying her.
“I came to Mondstadt for your help,” he mumbled at last. “Who knows? We might even end up helping each other.”
The confession felt oddly out-of-place given the taunting that had come before it. Still, Mona scowled.
“I don't need your help,” she snapped.
“Don't you?”
Just for a moment, Scaramouche's eyes flicked towards something on Mona's bookcase. She stiffened, wondering whether his attention was simply a fluke. The moment of distraction gave him an opportunity to continue past her. His hand brushed against her waist as he did so.
Mona turned to him with wide eyes. The urge to blast him with Hydro on the spot rose within her, but she forced her hands to still. There was no use starting a fight at the last moment. At this point, she just wanted him out of her house.
She watched him pick up the large hat he'd rested against the wall (another change from his original outfit, albeit largely similar in excessive size and ornaments) and fit it to his head. The twin ribbons at the back fluttered as he turned his head and smiled at her over his shoulder.
“Come and talk to me if you reconsider, Mona,” he said, as casually as if he were a vendor trying to talk her into a clothing sale instead of a criminal who'd just broken into her house.
“Trust me. I won't,” Mona hissed.
Scaramouche scoffed in a 'We'll see' kind of way and opened up the door. The blast of cold air from the storm raging outside was immediate.
“By the way,” Scaramouche said, lifting something small and round for Mona to see, “please do let that Outrider Amber know her biscuits are delicious.”
It was the breaking point for Mona. Clenching her teeth, she surged forward and grabbed the door. Scaramouche giggled as Mona hustled him out onto the porch, and then she slammed the door shut, leaving her in the darkness once again.
Something wet touched her face. Looking down, she realised her Hydro ribbons were still circling her wrists, although they'd become messier and more disjointed since her attention had been pried away. She dispelled them with a wave of her hands.
The whole altercation felt like a dream. Mona might even have believed it to have been so were it not for the trail of wet footprints she could see shining on her floor and the adrenaline coursing through her veins. To think that the Harbinger who'd attacked her and her friends last summer would track her all the way to the city and ask for her help... What kind of help could he possibly want from her? It all felt like a trap. Mona was just relieved she hadn't walked into it.
Still, that sense of relief didn't last long. Making her way back into her living room, Mona noted the mug of punch on the table and the pushed-out chair. Her hand travelled down to the spot on her waist Scaramouche had touched, then curled into a fist.
Without thinking, she surged forward and knocked the mug off the table. It hit the ground with a crack, spraying hot punch across the floorboards.
Mona's breath came in shaky gasps. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her head, the way she often had to before making a divination. It worked somewhat. When she opened her eyes, the room looked a little clearer, the rage in her head a light pounding instead of the all-consuming pressure it had been a moment ago.
She turned to the bookcase and picked up the letter that lay on the shelf. Her master's looping, archaic handwriting spelt out her full name on the envelope: Mona Megistus, the Astrologist. There were only a couple of ways Scaramouche could have known it was there. Either he'd managed to master some form of higher intuition like her (an unlikely option, given the disdain with which he'd regarded her astrology the last time they'd met), or he'd taken the opportunity to snoop through her shelves in the brief time he'd been in her house before her. If so, then he probably hadn't had time to read the letter and wasn't aware of its significance.
Why, then, had he looked towards it so deliberately?
Mona grimaced. In any case, it wasn't a question she'd be able to find the answer to tonight, not with her mind as scattered as it was. She glanced down at the mess on the floor, then the window. A flash of lightning lit up the sky, illuminating the rain that continued to batter the pane.
Mona walked over and pulled the curtains sharply closed before heading to the kitchen for a mop.
*
“Well, well, Ms Astrologist. Fancy seeing you here again.”
The familiar voice broke Mona from the train of thought she'd been lost in. She looked up to see Kaeya strolling towards her from the other side of the market square, sword at his hip and mantle swinging behind him.
“Just doing some shopping, Captain,” Mona said with a gesture to the bag of food she'd picked up from Mondstadt General Goods. “I thought you were on duty today.”
“You thought right. Jean's got me on patrol.”
The hint of weariness in his voice at being made to do a duty that was clearly below his station quickly melted back to cheer. A flash of insight revealed the reason behind his good mood.
“Albedo back in the city, is he?” Mona asked.
Sure enough, Kaeya's smile widened. “Every time I forget about that astrology of yours, it comes back to prove itself a marvel.”
Well, she had cheated a little, too, Mona thought. Amber had mentioned last night that Albedo was returning from Dragonspine for a few days. She reminded herself to pay him a visit while she had the chance. As fascinating as Dragonspine was from the ground, the two day trek through the snow to see her friend often left her cursing the mountain from the very depths of her soul.
She matched Kaeya's languid pace as he walked through the square, following the shadow of the city wall the morning sun cast over the cobblestones. Around them, vendors bellowed out special deals or rearranged the wares on display in their stalls, from fruit and meats to jewellery and clothing. The market was usually fairly quiet during this period between the morning rush and lunchtime, which was when Mona tended to visit it.
“So,” said Kaeya, “feeling the squeeze, are you?”
Mona screwed up her face. 'Squeeze' was certainly the right word.
“I want to rinse my brain under a water pump,” Mona mumbled back.
Kaeya laughed and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Believe me, I've been there. Many, many times.”
While she knew he was only trying to be friendly, Mona couldn't help feeling a hint of jealousy. Kaeya had drunk twice as much as her last night, and here he was, strutting around like the picture of health.
He must have noticed her thoughts play out across her face, because he laughed again. “You'll be fine by the end of the day. But until then...” He walked over to a stall selling fruits and vegetables, nodded a greeting to Quinn, the owner, and picked up a sunsettia. “Use this.”
He threw the fruit to Mona, who almost dropped her bag in an attempt to catch it. She'd always found the fruit far too sweet to eat on a regular basis. Even now, the pungent scent turned her stomach.
“Mulch it down with a little lemon juice, and you'll be feeling better in no time. Worked wonders for me at your age.”
Mona almost snorted at those last words. Kaeya couldn't have been more than a few years older than her. Still, she was grateful for his concern, and slipped the sunsettia into her bag. “I'd better take it from the expert, huh?”
“Indeed you should.”
Kaeya was just walking back after having paid Quinn when something seemingly caught his eye. Mona followed his line of vision to an alley nearby, where a figure lurked against the wall. He was doing his best to try and give the impression he was minding his own business, though the frequent glares he shot at Mona made it obvious he was doing anything but.
“A friend of yours?” Kaeya asked, and despite the lightness in his tone, there was no hiding the warning underneath.
“Not exactly,” Mona mumbled. “But I do know him. I should find out what he wants.”
“Need a hand?”
As much as Mona wanted to say yes, this was something the Knights couldn't help her with. She shook her head, thanked him again for the sunsettia, and walked over.
It was probably because the alley fell just outside of the sun's rays, but the area felt colder than the rest of the square. Mona suppressed a shiver as she slipped between the buildings.
“Well?” she snapped.
“How about you tell your Captain of the Knights friend to sling his hook before we get talking, hm?” said the man, jerking his chin back out towards the square.
Mona glanced back to see Kaeya staring at them, one eyebrow raised. She forced what she hoped was a reassuring smile and nodded her head at him. Relief swept through her when he nodded back and began to walk away.
“You shouldn't have come to find me, Mat,” she said, jaw hardening as she turned back to the man. “And I don't appreciate you turning up at my house last night, either.”
Scaramouche had called them 'angry-looking gentlemen', and Mona had no doubts that Mat had been one of them. His sneer confirmed it.
“I'm afraid you're not really in a position to call the shots right now.”
Mat motioned for Mona to place her shopping at her feet, then dug into his pocket and handed her a small jar. She glanced at him warily before unscrewing the lid. Inside was a fine grey powder.
“Starsilver ore,” she said.
“The very stuff you sold us last week. Now, I have a question for you, Mona Megistus.” Mat dug a finger and thumb into the powder and let it filter through. The grains sparkled as they caught the light. “Does that look like fucking starsilver to you?”
Mona swallowed. “I see nothing wrong with it.”
“Don't you?” Mat's voice was practically a growl. Mona had the impression that were they not in partial view of the street, his hand would be around her neck, pinning her to the wall. “Boss had his suspicions, too. That's why we had it checked by an alchemist. Turns out that 'premium product' you've been selling us has been topped up with iron ore.”
Mona screwed the lid back on, if only to have an excuse not to look Mat in the eye. “That's just the way it comes. Pure starsilver is virtually impossible to produce.”
“Anything over eighty percent is standard. This horse shit barely scraped forty-five.”
“Well, I hardly see that as my fault, considering it was—”
A hand closed around Mona's, making her freeze. She looked up at last to see Mat glaring down at her. The rage on his face stopped her heart for a beat.
“You supplied the product to us. You assured us of its quality. And, quite frankly, the boss is getting sick of it. First it was that canvas full of holes. Then it was the blunted swords. Don't think we haven't picked up on the nice little scam you have going on.”
Mona jerked her hand free and took a step back. “Like I said, it's not my fault. Everything I sell you is in the same condition it was picked up in.”
She tried to keep her voice level but insistent, an attempt to appeal to Mat's better nature and convince him she wasn't lying. Either way, it quickly became obvious it made no difference. He had always just been the messenger, after all, and from the hard set of his face, a decision had already been made.
“Well, it's not good enough anymore,” he muttered. “The boss wants the rest of the debt paid back in Mora.”
A sigh left Mona's lips. She'd have been lying if she said she hadn't expected something like that. “Fine. I can probably gather the most part by the end of the week. As for the rest—”
“Today.”
Mona's heart dropped to her stomach. She looked up at Mat, searching for a hint in his expression that he was messing around with her. She found none.
“But that impossible!” she stammered. “I don't have anything close to that amount of Mora saved. What am I supposed to do, pull it out of thin air?”
“Beats me,” said Mat with a shrug. “But I notice you have enough lying around when it comes to going out on the piss with your friends, hm?”
Mona was hardly surprised the Treasure Hoarders had been watching her at the Angel's Share last night. The tavern attracted all sorts from across the nation, petty criminals included. However, her astrology meant such things rarely went unnoticed – something else she could no doubt attribute to the storm and her drunkenness.
“Look,” she said, trying not to let the panic she felt leak into her tone, “how about you give me three days? I can work out something out in that time.”
Even that was wishful thinking, Mona thought, but it was better than the alternative. And yet, perhaps predictably, Mat shook his head.
“No more leeway. Boss is gonna be at the Crooked Tree tonight at sundown. If you have a sensible bone in your body, then you'll meet him there with the rest of the Mora.” A sudden smile pulled at his lips, and he leant forward. “After all, you wouldn't want the Knights of Favonius to find out you've been stealing from the Adventurer's Guild to pay back your debt, would you?”
Mona's breath hitched in her throat. She shoved the jar back into Mat's hands, an action that took him by surprise if his grunt was anything to go by. Before he could protest, she picked up her bag and started towards the main street.
“I'll be there with your Mora,” she hissed over her shoulder. “Tell your boss not to be late.”
She'd find a way. Archons knew how, but she would.
It wasn't like she had any other choice.