Chapter 14 - Severed Bonds

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By xTeaAndSconesx


Romanski was dead.

Childe walked through the tunnels, the body in his arms growing ever colder.

Romanski was dead.

An abyss hound charged at him, but Childe didn't blink as he summoned a hydro orb, sending it toward the creature with a flick of his wrist. It connected, the riptide mark reacting with the hound's own bodily fluids, tearing it apart from within. Childe readjusted his hold around the boy he carried.

Romanski was dead, and it was his fault.

It was his own foolish, selfish fault, because he couldn't say no. He couldn't say no to Romanski's desire to follow him back into the depths. He couldn't say no when Romanski followed him to Mashkov's hideout. He couldn't say no to the excitement in those eyes and the way Romanski's cheeks lightly dimpled when he gave him one of those boyish grins.

For that, he was foolish and selfish.

It was his fault that Romanski was dead and not basking in the morning sun, waiting to go home.

It was his fault that the next time Romanski's mother would see her son, it would be at a funeral.

It was his fault that Romanski's sister no longer had a little brother to dote on.

His throat tightened, but Tartaglia had no more time to mourn. Tartaglia had taken command of the situation in the Chasm and fucked it up, and now Tartaglia had to live with the consequences of his failures.

This shouldn't have happened.

This should never have happened. None of these men should've been left abandoned here for so long.

Abandoned by the people they'd hoped to aid, abandoned by the Millelith soldiers who'd worked beside them, and abandoned by their own Archon.

The Tsaritsa.

How had Her Majesty let this happen to her people? He'd known the passionate fires of love had long been extinguished within her heart, replaced by the icy thorns of heartbreak and vengeance, but for her to show such apathy to her own people, to those who had committed their lives to her cause...

How easy it was to rule from a throne. How easy it was to ignore the plight of those on the ground, those most willing to give their lives for her cause.

A deep simmering, a fetid bitterness that rose like bile in his throat, a tension throbbing between his eyes – she'd let this happen.

No, that was wrong. Her Majesty was a gentle soul, a peaceful soul; she wouldn't let this happen willingly. Childe shoved those thoughts away as quickly as they rose. Her Majesty had tried to solve this. Her solution was the mission entrusted to him for the past half a year, the mission he'd failed to take swift enough action on to avoid this happening.

Her Majesty had done everything right.

Again returned the uncomfortable truth: it was his own incompetency that had caused this. Some protector of childhood dreams he was. He couldn't even manage to keep Romanski alive, but this was his burden to bear; there was no other who could've changed Romanski's fate.

Oh, but you're forgetting someone, aren't you? Someone who could've told you the truth all along...

The words wrapped around his ear, whispering their tempting suggestions.

Zhongli.

Zhongli could've changed things here.

If Zhongli had taken him aside from day one, told him there were people in the Chasm, he would've charted the entire course of his mission differently, regardless of contracts and diplomacy. It wouldn't have been difficult to find some ancient creature to cause a bit of chaos for a while to distract the Millelith, no more than prison guards to their sordid torture chamber. It would've given them something productive to do for once.

He would've entered by force, brought the soldiers to the surface – all of them – and fought his way out. Even if all the forces of Liyue came after him, he could defeat them. He could defeat them all.

See, look what he's done...

The whispers curled through his mind, pulling at his thoughts and weaving them the way It wanted.

It wanted to twist him.

It wanted to take his smallest hint of a doubt and twist it and warp it until it was something unrecognisable and cruel. If that was the case, he could be missing something, some small flaw in his logic that It had put there.

Perhaps it wasn't true.

Never before had Childe so badly wanted to be wrong.

When he got out of here he'd take a walk, clear his head, and decide what to do.

He shifted his hold on Romanski, arms beginning to go numb from keeping them held up for so long, and tried to avoid looking at his face. The path had evened into the shallow incline Childe recognised from his way in, and the camp was around the next corner.

"Hey buddy, time to go home," he said to the boy who couldn't hear him, before taking the bend in the path.

The campsite buzzed with activity, Fatui hauling crates, carts and armfuls of goods. Others supported the wounded as they led them to the designated exit route, preparing for them to be the first to leave.

Danila and Radomir directed the operations on the ground, Danila's fierce instructions balanced with Radomir's cheers of "Good job, comrades," and, "Not long until we're out of here now." Temur stood alone, packing some mechanical looking scraps into a crate, muttering to himself, "if not us, then who?"

Anton stood on a nearby platform overseeing the arrangements, directing those who came to him to be assigned a new task. A young recruit presented him a question, arms drawn stiff by her sides and a stutter in her voice, and Anton gave her a brief answer before sending her back to her task with a friendly nod. As she scuttled away, he caught sight of Childe, gaze falling to the body in his arms. Mouthing a quick, "No," Anton launched himself to the ground and sprinted over to him.

"There's the boy!" he said, looking over Romanski's limp body and avoiding Childe's eyes. "He's got himself in a bit of a way, hasn't he? Thought he must've run off to find you when he disappeared. Quick, we need to take him to the medical tent, they can–"

"There's no need for that."

Anton looked up, his mouth parted and he sighed. All he managed to say before he turned away was, "Did it have to be him?"

From his spot by the crate, Temur craned his neck, examining the proceedings between Childe and Anton. He tilted his head in consideration for a moment before he slung a mechanical part from his hands into the crate and rushed over.

He slowed as he approached, looking to Childe to confirm what his slumped shoulders said he already knew. Childe gave him a solemn nod in response.

"Ah," said Temur, placing a hand on Romanski's neck, a useless attempt to seek the pulse he wouldn't find. "Shit."

"Yeah... shit," repeated Childe. He had nothing else to say.

Their group of three began to draw glances, other Fatui glancing over toward them and whispering into ears behind cupped hands. Danila and Radomir weren't blind to the commotion either, and they dashed across the camp to join the others. As they crowded around, Radomir utilised his considerable size to block the group from the view of the rest of the camp.

"So this is the fate of those once hailed as Heroes of Liyue, huh?" spat Danila. "Someone remind me of this next time some high up officer starts prosthelytizing to us about the 'greater good' and 'noble sacrifice'. Pathetic. No offence, Lord Harbinger."

"None taken."

"Poor kid..." Radomir leaned in, brushing a strand of hair from Romanski's face. "Here, let me..." He attempted to slide his arms under Romanski's body, but Childe pulled back, clutching him close to his chest.

"I'll be taking him," he snapped, "no-one else."

The group stepped back, exchanging nervous glances, but uttering no protest. A silence fell. Radomir continued to look over Romanski's body, occasionally shaking his head with a pained expression. A few other Fatui dared venture closer, attempting to peer at the proceedings, but Temur pulled away, heading them off with a few sharp words and a new task to be undertaken.

"I'd better go and help him," said Danila after a pause. "Better look after the rest of the expendables and all that."

As he turned to leave, Radomir followed behind, muttering something to himself about the "poor kid" and how he "deserved better".

Only Anton and Childe remained, lingering in silence occasionally interrupted by a short cough from Anton. After three such attempts, he managed to speak.

"Well, we should be prepared enough to leave soon, Lord Harbinger."

"Good, ready the troops."

"I er... I presume none of Mashkov's crew decided to join us."

One cold look was all Childe needed to convey his answer.

"I understand, Lord Harbinger. We'll be away soon."

*   *   *

The operation proceeded smoothly. Childe led their number, grasping tight to Romanski's body despite numerous offers from others to carry his burden. But it was his to bear, his duty to take Romanski as close to home as he could, even if he could not accompany the boy for the entire journey to Snezhnaya. Four armed Fatui joined him at the front of the group, prepared to see off any potential threats, but there were none as they continued down the same passageways Childe and Romanski had only a few hours prior.

Romanski had done his duty well.

It was a quick march to the cavern with the lake and although Radomir had some trouble navigating the slippery rocks to the island, everyone made it safely across and into the dark, winding tunnel.

Two pyroslingers took the lead, lighting the route with their flames' honey-toned glow. The light flickered across Romanski's motionless face, and if Childe pushed all the day's grave memories from his mind, he could almost believe Romanski was sleeping, unburdened and peaceful. That was but a fanciful dream, and when they stepped into the sunlight, the sickening pallor of Romanski's face reminded him of the cruel reality where that could not be so.

The reality that he'd allowed to happen.

The reality that Zhongli may have played an unspoken part in.

There would be time for that later; perhaps Zhongli had been as ignorant as he had been, and perhaps his doubts were nothing more than Its manifestations.

"Sir!" Anton's call pulled him from his thoughts. "There is space under here if you require shelter."

Shelter?

Childe turned back to question the statement, only to find the emerging Fatui huddled under the wooden roof of the mineshaft, a curtain of water fanning over the edge. Radomir hung by the entrance, offering a helping hand to those clambering out of the Chasm, while Danila and Temur organised the able-bodied troops into groups, assigning the injured who required assistance between them.

Raindrops funnelled through Childe's hair to run like tears down his face, seeping into his shirt that clung to his skin.

Oh. It was raining.

"We need to keep moving," he said, "Ekaterina will be waiting to escort you to your ships. We can't keep her waiting longer than necessary."

Anton glanced toward his people. "But the injured need to–"

"They need to keep moving," said Childe. "It's been a long journey, but it's not much further – there's no time to rest now."

Anton gave a resigned sigh. "Yes, sir. Of course." He raised his voice, addressing the forming crowd. "Right, you lot, you heard that – we follow the Lord Harbinger. We make haste to the ships and finally leave this cursed place. We go – home to the cold winds of Her Majesty's embrace."

There were a few half-hearted cheers and a larger number of groans as Anton led them from their safe haven into the pounding downpour. Childe had no words to add; the stage set for the role of Harbinger held no appeal, the seeping guilt stemming from the lifeless body in his arms drowning out any desire to perform for the masses.

Leaving the organisation of the troops to Anton he pressed on along the path to the location where Ekaterina waited for them. The ground beneath his feet grew slick and sodden, his boots sinking an inch into the mud with each step.

Stood in the mud, a young face set in a determined expression before him.

"I just can't stand bullies, sir...people like that need to be put in their place. And that's why I need to help you fight them."

"A noble cause."

"I'd like to hope so. You'll let me join you, right?"

He would've let Romanski join him. Harbingers worked alone by nature, but they were free to request assistance as required; what a coincidence it might have been had the same recruit been assigned to him again and again.

Harbingers worked alone by nature, and Childe hadn't minded that one bit.

But during his time in Liyue, he'd grown quite accustomed to company, and the prospect of returning to a solitary life seemed rather...

...lonely.

Such was the fate determined to him, and there was no time to dwell on the what-could-have-beens. There were soldiers still living who needed to return to their families, and there would be no more mourning if he could prevent it.

"Lord Har– I mean, Master Childe!" A drenched Ekaterina waved from under an overhang in the cliff face from a hundred metres or so down the path, her braid plastered flat against her uniform. "It's good to see you arrive safely. I've just checked with our scouts and there is a safe path to the ships through..." she trailed off as her eyes fell to the body in Childe's arms.

Subtly slowing his pace, Childe also took in the features he'd allowed himself to grow so fond of. The sun poked through the thinning clouds of the western horizon, but in that dire pit they'd forged a bond that could've been born of years opposed to hours. In a few more paces, he would hand Romanski off to some random soldier who didn't know there were four siblings waiting for him at home, that he hadn't liked math, but was good at running, or that he'd once held that beautiful, honest dream to rid the world of those who would willfully cause harm to the innocent.

Five paces.

They would never fight side by side again.

Three paces.

They would never share another conversation as they had in the mud-filled cave, Childe listening to Romanski's dreams, his ambitions, ready to mentor and guide the sweet youth. It would've been good to have a friend who understood Its call, even if it was never something he would've wished on the boy.

One pace.

Ekaterina closed the final step, lowering her voice to a level at which the approaching mass behind him wouldn't be able to hear their conversation. "Sir, is he....?"

"He is."

"To be taken with us back to Snezhnaya?"

"Yes. Ensure those with cryo visions do their job."

"Of course." She studied Romanski's face with a frown. "He is rather young, isn't–"

"Katya, don't."

"My apologies and–" she touched a hand to Childe's arm, lowering her voice further "–my condolences."

He shrugged it off. "Tell that to his family."

Ekaterina's face fell, but she quickly pulled it back into an expression of stern professionalism as the rest of the Fatui forces caught up. They crowded around Childe and Ekaterina, forming a semi-circle. An excited chatter built among them while Anton unsuccessfully attempted to quieten them. The rain continued to pound down upon the group, and the wind whipped through the air, yanking the hoods from the heads of several unfortunate cicin mages and agents.

"Alright, that's enough." Childe stepped carefully onto a nearby boulder, granting him a head of height over even the tallest Fatuus among their number. The crowd fell silent, a few nervously eyeing the bundle in Childe's arms. Childe continued, "We might be out of the Chasm, but we're not clear yet. Ekaterina here will be taking you to the ships we've organised for your transport back to Snezhnaya. I'll be leaving you here, we don't want to enlarge our numbers more than absolutely necessary, but you are to listen to her every word – if I hear of a single one of you causing her any trouble, you'll all be facing a demotion. You are to treat her with the same respect as if I were taking you there myself. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir, of course, sir," returned the troops, some offering an enthusiastic nod with their words.

"I'm giving you all ten minutes for the injured to gather their strength, but no longer – the longer we hang around here, the greater the risk. Rest well, and make sure you're prepared when the time comes. Now, dismissed."

He stepped down, leaving the troops to their devices.

Ten minutes. It was time to say farewell.

Not with a pat on the shoulder and a promise to meet again, as it should've been, but with a silent handover and the knowledge they would never again draw weapons together.

Childe weaved his way through the crowd, heading for the man he trusted to take the most care in this precious task.

Radomir crouched by a cryo cicin mage, finishing wrapping a thick bandage around her head. "There you go, miss," he said. "It's not perfect, but it should get you by until someone can see to it properly."

She touched a hand to the bandage, allowing Radomir to guide her to her feet. "Thank you, I appreciate the help."

"No problem. Let me know if it comes off again. We all have to stick together, right?"

Radomir guided her to another waiting Fatuus before turning back to the crowd, hand sheltering his eyes from the rain as he scanned it.

It was rare indeed to find a soul untarnished in the harsh reality of the trials of enacting Her Majesty's will, yet Radomir conducted himself with an unblemished genuinity.

Childe walked to him and nudged him with his elbow. "Hey, could you...?" He looked to Romanski then back to Radomir. "He needs someone to take him home."

"Ah..." Radomir softened, holding out his arms. "Of course, sir. Please, let me. I'll... I'll keep him safe."

Radomir's arms were open, the perfect safe haven to return Romanski to his family, yet Childe hesitated. He hesitated to let go of the boy he carried, of the one person in that dark place he would've liked to call a friend. It should've been him taking Romanski back, for it was his failing that had led to this.

And someone else's deception.

Or not.

The rain continued, unrelenting, as it washed away the remaining droplets of blood from Radomir's treatment site, as well as the layer of the fog that had settled over Childe's mind. It was possible Zhongli didn't know. It was also possible that Childe, like Romanski, had fallen too far to Its call, and It had caused him to doubt.

If that were the case, it wasn't Zhongli's fault at all.

If that were the case, it would be entirely his.

Both options were a stab to his heart.

"Sir? You want me to take him?" Radomir waited, safe and kind, and Childe could delay the inevitable no longer.

"Yeah, please." It was with a quiet and unceremonial shift that he slipped Romanski into Radomir's waiting hold. As he pulled his arms away, he leaned in and whispered, "Was an honour to work with you, kid...you'll be home soon."

Childe stepped back, arms strangely empty as Radomir curled Romanski closer to his body, looking down at the boy with a fond smile.

"He was a good one, huh?"

Childe curled his empty fists at his sides. "Yeah... yeah he was."

With one final look at the boy's face, he turned away.

Childe returned to Ekaterina, who held her position at the front of the crowd, engaged in intense discussion with Anton. The two of them exchanged fierce whispers, each pointing in different directions. Ekaterina stood firm, one hand on her hip, while Anton shuffled from foot to foot before turning away with a sigh, his head hung low.

"What was all that about, Katya?" asked Childe, coming to stand beside her and watching Anton slink away.

Ekaterina let out a huff, squeezing out her drenched braid. "He wanted to take the carts at the front, let the injured rest on them. As sincere as his intentions were, it's quite infeasible; the troops need to go first to leave the path clear in case there's a need for us to move quickly. The injured can be carried part of the way, if need be."

"Well, it's good to hear you've got them under control. Are you ready to lead them out soon?"

"Yes, Master Childe. They have another two minutes of rest, then I shall gather them together for us to depart."

"Very good."

Childe settled on a dry patch of grass under an overhang, sheltered from the downpour. The crowd milled around, some assisting the injured, others chattering amongst themselves, and some stood, arms held wide as they bathed in the rain – a simple indulgence, but one that had been absent from their lives for far more months than was natural. It wasn't everyone who had set out to the Chasm, but a good three to four dozen soldiers made up their number.

More than half of the original sixty-four were to return home safely. For all his failings, Childe could at least say he'd done this much.

The rain settled to a light drizzle and Ekaterina stepped forward, raising her voice to carry over the wind's howl.

"All right, that's enough rest – it's time for us to move." She paused, waiting for the crowd's attention to shift to her. "Our scouts have worked out a safe path for us and it will be a simple trip if everyone cooperates. Injured who require assistance are to walk at the front with whomever is accompanying them, followed by those who are able to walk alone. The able bodied are to follow behind and supply carts are to be at the back–" she shot an intense look at Anton "–in case we need to drop them and leave quickly."

Ekaterina commanded the crowd with ease, murmurs of acknowledgement accompanying her instructions and when she finished, the crowd flowed under her direction as she sent the stream of Fatui forth along their path.

Childe stood to see them off. Ekaterina led the way, looking back at him with a brief wave and a sympathetic smile. Radomir trundled along behind her with Romanski in his arms, searching the group and shifting to hover behind the most unsteady of the injured. Danila and Temur teamed up in the middle, sharply correcting any soldier who began to dawdle or chatter too loudly. Anton bookended the rear, fussing over the carts, directing them this way and that. As he shuffled the cargo between them, he espoused the benefits of Anton's Special Operations Plan: Optimal Weight Distribution Edition to any Fatuus unlucky enough to be in earshot.

The final rattle of a wheel around a corner, then they were gone.

Childe was alone.

It was unwise to linger; the longer he stayed, the longer he was tempting trouble.

He pulled himself to his feet and set out through the fuzzy mist of rain, climbing the cliff faces and hiking across the hilltops. He was to return to Liyue, to send a letter to Her Majesty to confirm it was done, that their troops were heading home and he was successful.

Success; a funny thing to call it, he thought as he clambered up a cliff.

Success; when there was a child who would never again smile for his parents.

A child who had been failed by the nation he'd come here to save, failed by his commanders for failing to shelter him from the Abyssal ooze, failed by The Tsaritsa for–

No, Her Majesty wouldn't stand by and let this happen. Any sentimentality aside, her people were her assets; there was no reason for her to sacrifice her resources so easily. He was the one who'd failed. He'd been watching over Romanski, and Romanski had died under his leadership. It was his fault.

And potentially someone else's. Someone who might have known all along about the soldiers in the Chasm and said nothing.

As he pulled himself over the ledge, a flash of gold, a figure of brown came into view, coat and hair billowing in the breeze.

He froze.

Face to face they stood, and in a state of mind quite foreign to him, Childe had no words to speak, his lips shackled with uncertainty.

The part of him that loved – yes, still loved – Zhongli wanted to run to that familiar figure. Zhongli's face was peaceful, serene, and that part of him hoped that Zhongli was as horrified by the Fatui in the Chasm as Childe was, and that Zhongli came to him in support.

And yet...

There was another voice within Childe, a nasty, twisted thing that took hold of all his doubts, his fears, clumping them into a singular mass of distrust.

He knew.

Zhongli stepped forward, holding out his hand. "Ajax, it is good to see you have returned safely. I happened to pass above the soldiers Lady Ekaterina was leading through the Chasm. I am glad to see your mission went well and that so many were able to be brought out safely–"

"You knew?" Those shreds of doubt wove into a thread of dark realisation and Childe took a step toward Zhongli, not taking the hand he offered. "You knew they were here all along?"

Zhongli frowned, letting his hand fall to his side. "Of course I was aware, Ajax. In fact I–"

"Don't call me that."

He knew.

He knew.

He knew.

"Childe, what is wrong? What is it that upsets you so?"

"Upset?" Childe let out a wild, bitter laugh that cut through the air like a knife through flesh. "Oh I'm not upset, xiansheng, don't you worry yourself over that."

He was furious.

He was furious at Zhongli, for knowing all along, for stringing him along as though he were some fancy form of entertainment, something to occupy the days of a bored, retired god; furious for his men, who had been left to languish in the Chasm while the person who could've told Childe about their existence, who could've helped them all – including Romanski – had remained silent; and furious at himself, for letting himself play the part of Zhongli's puppet.

Again.

"Why?" he spat, "Why didn't you tell me?

Anger bubbled within him, frothing and foaming and vile.

Again, Zhongli showed no remorse. Instead he tilted his head to the side, hand brought up to his chin as though considering a literary topic, not discussing the reason he had left men to die in a dark and lonely place, all while not bothering to speak of it to his...

His...

What were they?

"It was not my place to tell you, Childe. Rather I presumed that you–"

"Your place? Not your place?" Childe took a step toward him, fists clenched.

"No, it was not. After all, I am not the Cryo Archon and therefore have no involvement in Fatui matters. Even so, despite my contract with The Tsaritsa, I–"

"I don't want to hear it. You knew about my mission, you knew about those people in the Chasm. All those months with your 'you can tell me anything', while you were the one hiding everything from me. You're a hypocrite."

"And you refuse to listen." Zhongli's face hardened, and Childe caught a flicker of the legacy of Morax, that unmovable visage willing to trample over anyone he saw fit to realise his vision. Morax, who had done exactly that, turning Childe into the perfect tool for his dramatic retirement plans. Morax, who now deceived him for a second time.

Childe was no stranger to deception, it was well embedded into the nature of the game they all played, and coming from a known enemy, it was an easy pill to swallow.

From Zhongli, it stuck dry and bitter, jammed against the walls of his throat.

"I don't need to listen; we've been here before, remember? You leading me on a merry little hunt while you watch from the sidelines – it's all very fun for you, I'm sure. So tell me, what did you get out of me this time? What was the grand plan of the great Rex Lapis?"

Zhongli sighed. "I understand you are not going to listen to me today, so I shall hold my words for now. When we return home, I shall give you time until you feel ready to hear it."

An incredulous puff of air flew from Childe's lips. "Home? You really think I'm sticking around that place? Don't you worry, I've got my room at Baiju Guesthouse to go back to. I don't think we need to stay holed up together now this is all over."

"There is no obligation for you to leave, Childe. You are quite welcome to stay, should you wish it."

"Stay? You're seriously asking me to stay, after all of this? We were using each other." Childe swallowed, a whispered thought suggesting that he was being too harsh with his words, that he should calm down and listen, but it was too late – his anger erupted from him, uninhibited and uncontrollable. "That contract of ours helped me get in real good with the Qixing, and your connections at that party even helped turn things around with Ningguang."

Zhongli flinched at the shoulders, but took another step toward Childe, attempting to reach out once again. "You are always welcome to stay. Please don't–"

"Oh don't give me those puppy eyes. You were using me too, for your so-called 'human relationship experience', right? Well you got what you wanted – I put on quite a show for you, didn't I?"

"And from this..." Zhongli took a deep breath, wiping at the raindrops running down his face. "Am I correct in presuming that is all our contract was to you?"

What a ridiculous question, the God of Contracts himself questioning the very nature of a contract. Not even a year into retirement and already forgetting the very rules he'd forged his nation under.

Another laugh, dark and twisted with rage. "Of course that's all it was. I know what it means to forge a contract with the God of Contracts; I even read all of your terms. Aren't you proud of me?"

The God of Contracts smiled, although his smile was not a happy one, instead marred with discontent.

Good. Let him know that his puppet would dance no longer.

"Anyway," continued Childe, "I'll be leaving for Snezhnaya soon. I'll be writing to Her Majesty when I get back to Liyue, and I'll be out of your city soon enough after I've tied up a few things. Hopefully the Qixing won't kick me out when they see the mess I've made of their seals, but if they want to fight me on it, I'll gladly take them up on it."

Something colder settled across Zhongli's face. "Soon? How soon will you be leaving, precisely?"

"Don't know, maybe a week or two. Not that it's any of your business."

"Ah, that is where you are mistaken." Zhongli waved his hand and a golden, crystalline scroll materialised in the air before him, unravelling to trail across the ground. He ran a finger down the translucent page before settling at the top of a lengthy paragraph. "According to Clause 5C, if either party wishes to cancel the contract, they may do so with one month's notice. I do not believe two weeks are equivalent to one month, Childe."

To break a contract within Liyue's borders was to suffer the Wrath of the Rock – Childe had learned this early on during his trip. Now he stood atop the Chasm, only the sheets of rain between himself and Morax as he was about to break the contract they'd kept for the past five months.

Zhongli still owed him a duel from their first rendezvous with using each other.

If Childe had any doubts in his course of action, it was then that they melted away.

"Sure it isn't, you're right." He took a step forward, summoning his polearm. "So how about it, Morax? Suppose you have to do the whole Wrath of the Rock thing now, huh?"

"Correct," said Zhongli, not producing any weapon of his own but dispelling the contract with a single hand gesture.

Childe advanced, testing his swing. If Morax wanted to fight, it would be worthwhile getting warmed up for once. "Come on then, I'm ready. You don't have to go easy on me."

"Oh? No, we won't be having any of that." Zhongli's eyes glowed bright and a finger of geo burst from the ground beside Childe, knocking his polearm from his hand effortlessly. "The Wrath of Rock you shall receive... is the truth."

Childe watched his weapon bounce away, letting it melt into the already sodden grass. Arms held wide, he approached Zhongli to stand within arms reach of him. "The truth?" he scoffed. "Oh that's funny of you. Would've liked to hear the truth the day I arrived in this place. How kind of you to humour me at last."

There was no humour in Zhongli's expression as he delivered his next words.

"If all that has transpired between us since the start of our contract was contractual and contractual only, if you valued nothing of our... friendship, then it appears I was mistaken when we spoke at the Liyue Trade Exchange. You are the most flawless weapon I have met, so apt at shattering stone as you are. As you wish nothing more from me personally, I shall also make sure to regard you in that way and that way only from this moment forth."

Childe stood silently while Zhongli spoke. There was nothing new in his words. Childe was a weapon, he was well aware of the fact. He considered it a point of pride, in fact. From the day he'd received his missive from The Tsaritsa, from the time they'd signed their names upon that page, he'd been acting as such, playing a perfect role for Zhongli to learn from. That was correct. He was a weapon.

But coming from Zhongli's lips, the statement was more a condemnation than an honour.

He'd liked Zhongli, even if any meaning was fated to end. Even if Zhongli had been deceiving him from beginning to end. It hadn't meant nothing... to him anyway.

And it hurt.

Zhongli wouldn't be hearing that though. Childe wouldn't give him the gratification. So he grit his teeth and growled out one, simple response to Zhongli's speech. "Fine."

"Is that all?"

"Yes. Goodbye, xiansheng."

Childe was done with this. He was done with it all. Without another word he turned on his heel, back to Zhongli as he stormed away. They were done. He was done.

A weak call from behind him. "Wait."

Childe halted, eyes cast downward on the dull mush of brown and yellow-green covering the ground. "What is it? Haven't you done enough?"

"Before you leave, let me inform you of one final thing."

Childe offered one, final backward glance. All semblance of Morax had faded from Zhongli's face, leaving only the image of a mortal man, eyes pleading and desperate, one hand extended toward him.

Whatever, one thing wouldn't hurt.

"Fine, but don't take too long. Places to be and all that."

"Impatient as ever." Zhongli shook his head, folding his arms. "I shall speak free of any pretence: After I received your letter, my purpose in coming here was to re-seal the Chasm on your behalf. I can replicate the seals in such a manner that the Qixing shall be none the wiser to your interference. Before speaking to you now, I was hoping it would lead to an extension of our contract, but now I see that is rather unlikely–"

"Right, it is."

"–so I partake in this gesture as a final offer of kindness to you. One that shall be held... above the nature of our contract, although perhaps this notion is a little sentimental of me considering your latest statements."

"Offer of kindness? I don't need your pity, xiansheng. Do it for the men who were left in that Chasm for months because you hid them there, do it for the squad who went so insane from the corruption down there that I had to end them with my own hands." He paused, looking Zhongli squarely in the eye, perversely eager for his reaction. "Do it for Romanski. He was a child, xiansheng. A child who died today under my command. A child who died today because help arrived too late."

Zhongli's eyes widened, his arms dropping loosely to his sides. "Childe, I... I was not aware." Taking a step forward, he tentatively reached toward Childe. "I am truly–"

"Save it. I already said I don't need your pity." Childe turned away, eliminating Zhongli from his sight. "I'm going now. See you around... maybe."

If Zhongli said anything further, Childe couldn't hear it, drowned out by the squelching of his boots in mud and the wind in his ear. Not that he wanted to hear it. He'd been a fool, played by the very man he'd stupidly allowed himself to fall for.

No more.

From today, he was to return to his regular life as a Harbinger – unattached, independent, self-sufficient.

Alone.

*   *   *   *   *

Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed another round of angst \o/ Come yell at me in the comments >:-)

Anyway, Childe I get you're upset, but please stop and let Zhongli explain :(

Although it may be surprising with how this chapter ended, we are lifting off out of the angst from here on. There's three full chapters left to resolve things, and I've added an extra chapter to the chapter count to make room for the epilogue, because I apparently can't count.

Fun fact: In the original outline, Romanski was already going to be on his deathbed when Childe arrived, and would die just before they evacuated, but I needed to get Childe more attached than having him just be a voiceless body. Sad as it would be, it wouldn't justify Childe being in a volatile enough mindset when he speaks to Zhongli, so that's how the current version of Romanski came into being.

Anyway, Childe I get you're upset, but please stop being an ass and let Zhongli explain :(

Although it may be surprising with how this chapter ended, we are lifting off out of the angst from here on. There's three full chapters left to resolve things, plus an epilogue chapter.

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