The first morning of my life as an official Knight of Favonius began not with a trumpet's call to arms, but with the quiet, mundane reality of a sunbeam illuminating the neatly folded uniform on my chair. The fabric was a deep, noble blue, the silver embroidery of the Favonius sigil catching the light. It looked heavier than it was, weighted not by thread and cloth, but by the silent promise it represented. The boy who had spent years in this room practicing his secret Mana Burst by disintegrating tiny patches of his blanket was gone. In his place was a knight, a Vision holder, and as of yesterday, a member of Mondstadt's most secretive company.
Downstairs, the aroma of toasted bread and coffee filled our small, comfortable kitchen. My mother, Elara, fussed over me, adjusting my collar and brushing an imaginary piece of lint from my shoulder. Her smile was bright with pride, but her eyes held the timeless, shimmering worry of a mother sending her child off into a dangerous world.
"You look so handsome, dear," she said, her voice a little thick. "Just... be careful. Please."
My father, Gunther, was sitting at the table, sipping his coffee. He observed me over the rim of his mug, his expression as stoic as ever, but I could see the deep-seated pride in the set of his jaw. He had been a knight. He understood what this day meant.
"The 8th Company," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Under Captain Kaeya." It wasn't a question. The news had surely made its rounds through the veteran knights' grapevine.
"Yes, sir," I replied.
He took another slow sip. "Varka sees something in you. So does the Captain. That can be a blessing or a curse." He finally set his mug down and looked me square in the eye. "I've served with many men, Arthur. Some were strong, some were smart, some were brave. Kaeya Alberich is all three, and he hides it all behind a charming smile. He plays games within games. Do not mistake his pleasantries for friendship. Do not underestimate him. Not for a second. Watch his hands, but listen to what he doesn't say. That's where the truth of him lies."
It was the most I'd heard my father say at one time in years. His words, born of experience, echoed the conclusions my own Tactics skill had already drawn. I nodded gravely. "I understand. I'll be careful."
My mother packed me a small lunch of sunsettia and smoked meat, a nostalgic habit from my trainee days that I didn't have the heart to tell her to stop. With their blessings and warnings settling in my mind, I stepped out into the crisp morning air of Mondstadt, my new boots making a solid, purposeful sound on the cobblestones. This was it. The first day.
The headquarters was already a hive of activity, but my destination was not in the bustling main halls. Captain Kaeya's office, the heart of the 8th Company, was tucked away in a quiet, almost forgotten wing of the building. The air here was different—cooler, more still. There were no cheerful greetings from passing patrols, only the occasional nod from a grim-faced knight who moved with a silent, economic grace. These were the spies and investigators, the "shadows" of the Knights.
Kaeya's office door was unassuming, but as I pushed it open, I was met with a scene of organized chaos. The room was larger than I expected, dominated by a massive map of Mondstadt and its surrounding regions that was covered in pins, strings of colored yarn, and cryptic notes. Shelves overflowed with leather-bound reports, strange artifacts from resolved cases—a rusty dagger, a sealed alchemical pot, a hilichurlian shaman's staff—and books with esoteric titles. The room smelled of old paper, ink, and faintly of cryo mist.
Captain Kaeya himself was not at his desk. He was standing by a barred window, which looked out onto a small, secure courtyard. In that courtyard, a captured Treasure Hoarder sat chained to a chair, looking utterly defeated. Kaeya wasn't even looking at the man. He was casually tossing an apple in the air, his back to the scene, yet his presence seemed to dominate the entire interrogation.
"…And so," Kaeya was saying, his voice light and conversational, "while you are more than welcome to continue wasting my time with protestations of your innocence, do consider this: the sun is rising, the birds are singing, and in about an hour, the kitchens will start baking their morning bread. The smell is quite delightful from this window. It would be a shame if you were still in this rather uncomfortable chair when it starts."
He turned as I entered, his charming smile snapping into place as if it had never been gone. "Ah, Knight Arthur! Punctual. A fine quality in a new recruit." He tossed the apple to the knight guarding the prisoner. "That will be all for now, Ben. Our friend here needs some time to contemplate the virtues of fresh bread."
As the guard led the prisoner away, Kaeya gestured for me to enter, his one visible eye glittering with amusement. "Welcome to the 8th, Arthur. I trust you're not disappointed by the lack of ceremonial trumpets?"
"No, Captain. I prefer the quiet," I said, my gaze sweeping the room, absorbing every detail.
"Good. The 8th Company thrives in the quiet," he said, moving to sit on the edge of his cluttered desk. He picked up a cryo-infused throwing knife and began to clean his fingernails with its razor-sharp tip, a casual display of deadly precision. "So, the hero of the hour. The boy who tamed the wind. Tell me, what do you think your purpose is here, in my company?"
It was the first test. My father's words echoed in my mind. Listen to what he doesn't say. He wasn't asking what I wanted to do. He was asking what I thought he wanted me to do.
"My purpose is to serve the Knights of Favonius and protect Mondstadt, Captain," I began with the standard, correct answer. "As for my purpose in the 8th Company… I imagine it is to learn. To see the city not just as a collection of streets and buildings, but as a living entity with its own secrets. To provide a fresh perspective where needed. And to use my… unique talents as you see fit."
Kaeya's smile widened a fraction. I had passed. I hadn't boasted about my power or expressed a naive desire for glorious battle. I had shown deference and an understanding of the subtleties of his division.
"A refreshingly astute answer," he commented, setting the knife down. "Many new Vision holders, especially ones with such a dramatic awakening, believe their power is a key that opens every door. They want to be on the front lines, smashing Abyss Mages and hunting dragons. But power is a blunt instrument. Information… information is a scalpel. It can excise a problem before it even has a chance to grow."
He hopped off the desk and walked over to the grand map. "This city," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone, "runs on freedom. But freedom can be a messy, complicated thing. It leaves gaps. Gaps for criminals, for spies, for the Fatui… for all manner of threats that don't announce themselves with a roar. We, in the 8th, operate in those gaps. We are the listeners, the observers. The silent guardians of Mondstadt's fragile peace."
He turned back to me, his expression unreadable. "Which brings me to your first assignment. You will not be given a patrol route or desk duty. Your task for today is much simpler, and much more difficult." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I want you to get to know the city again. Not as Arthur the boy, or Arthur the trainee. But as a knight of the 8th. Walk the streets. Visit the markets. Linger by the taverns. See what the people of Mondstadt don't say. Listen to the whispers between the words. At sundown, you will report back to me with one, and only one, piece of information you learned that wasn't spoken aloud. Do you understand?"
It was a brilliant assignment. A riddle disguised as a task. It was a test of my observation, my intuition, and my ability to understand his cryptic nature. "Yes, Captain. I understand perfectly."
"Excellent. Off you go, then. The city awaits."
I spent the rest of the day wandering Mondstadt, a ghost in my own home. I was no longer just walking; I was observing, my mind a quiet whirlwind of analysis. I used my Instinct skill not as an alarm, but as a subtle divining rod, feeling for ripples of tension and deceit in the everyday crowds.
At the central plaza, I didn't just see merchants; I saw a complex web of commerce and gossip. I watched a florist discreetly pass a note to a man who, according to my passive observation over the years, worked as a dockhand. A simple friendly message, or something more? I overheard two cloth vendors arguing, their hushed tones not about prices, but about a shipment from Liyue that had gone "missing" near Stone Gate.
At Good Hunter, I bought a Fisherman's Toast and chatted with Sara. I didn't ask about monsters directly. I asked if the fishermen were having good luck lately. She sighed and mentioned that a few of the regulars who fished the southern banks of Cider Lake hadn't been coming by. "They say the fish have all vanished from that area," she said with a shrug. "And they've heard strange noises at night. Probably just the wind." My Instinct tingled. It wasn't just the wind.
I walked past the Angel's Share, the midday sun glinting off its windows. Master Crepus Ragnvindr exited, having a brief, stern word with his son, Diluc, who looked every bit the perfect, dutiful heir. They were the sun around which Mondstadt's economy orbited. My gamer knowledge knew the tragedy that awaited them, and a pang of helplessness hit me. I couldn't change the grand tragedies. Not yet. But Kaeya's assignment wasn't about changing the world. It was about seeing the cracks in it.
I deliberately took to the winding alleyways behind the main streets, the places tourists never saw. Here, the whispers were more overt. I saw a known petty thief slip something to one of the city's guards—a bribe for looking the other way. I saw two figures huddled in the shadows, their conversation ceasing the moment I rounded the corner. I didn't engage. I just observed, a silent witness. I even used my new Palm Vortex in a minuscule, controlled way. A stack of crates looked unsteady; I sent a tiny, invisible puff of wind to rattle them, creating a distraction that allowed me to linger for a few seconds longer and overhear a conversation about a "shipment of fire-water" that was "too strong for the usual clientele." Smuggled Snezhnayan liquor, most likely.
All of this was useful information, but none of it felt like the answer to Kaeya's riddle. These were things spoken in hushed tones, but spoken nonetheless. I needed something unspoken.
As the afternoon wore on, I found myself near the city's main docks. And that's when I noticed it. It was subtle. The docks were teeming with stray cats, drawn by the smell of fish. They lounged everywhere—on crates, on mooring posts, under carts. Everywhere, except for the area directly in front of one specific warehouse at the far end of the pier. Warehouse No. 7. Not a single cat would go within twenty feet of it. They would approach, then their fur would bristle, and they would turn and walk away, some even hissing at the building itself.
My Instinct skill, which had been a low hum all day, sharpened into a distinct feeling of wrongness emanating from that building. It wasn't overt danger, not like the Mitachurl. It was a cold, unnatural stillness. A void.
I had my answer.
At sundown, I stood before Captain Kaeya once more. The office was now lit by a few flickering candles, casting long, dancing shadows on the wall map.
"So," he said without looking up from a report he was reading. "Did you enjoy your stroll, Arthur? What unspoken secret did Mondstadt share with you today?"
"I learned that the city's finances are more fragile than they appear, and that a new, stronger type of liquor is being smuggled in through the back alleys," I began, showing him I had done my due diligence. "But that's not the secret."
I took a breath. "The secret is that the stray cats are afraid of Warehouse No. 7 at the docks. They'll starve before they go near it. Animals have an instinct for things that are wrong, things that are unnatural. And something in that warehouse is deeply unnatural."
The scratching of Kaeya's quill on his report stopped. The silence in the room became heavy. He slowly lifted his head, and for the first time since I'd met him, his charming, lazy smile was completely gone. His eye was narrowed, sharp, and held a glint of something that looked like genuine surprise.
He stared at me for a long, silent moment before a slow, appreciative smile—a real one this time—spread across his face. "Well, I'll be," he murmured, leaning back in his chair. "We've had our eyes on that warehouse for a month. Vague reports of shadowy figures. A strange, cold feeling reported by a patrolling knight. But nothing concrete. Nothing to act on."
He stood up and walked to the map, tapping the pin that marked the city docks. "A knight of the 8th doesn't just look for drawn swords, Arthur. We look for the ripples in the water when there is no stone. We listen for the dog that doesn't bark. And today… you noticed the cats that won't go near the fish." He turned to me, his approval palpable. "You have a gift for this, Arthur. A true gift for seeing the unseen. You passed."
The day ended where it so often did, at the foot of the great Barbatos statue, watching the city lights twinkle to life. Jean and Eula were already there, having waited for me.
"So?" Jean asked, her brow furrowed with concern. "How was your first day with Captain Kaeya? He didn't give you too much trouble, did he?"
"It was… illuminating," I said, the understatement of the year.
"I had the most dreadfully boring patrol along the Springvale border," Eula complained, kicking at a loose stone. "I saw three squirrels and a particularly insolent boar. I was hoping for at least one Abyss Mage to vanquish. How can I possibly exact vengeance on my enemies when they refuse to show themselves?"
Jean recounted her own day, a bewildering saga of requisition forms, supply chain logistics, and budgetary disputes. It was clear our paths had already diverged dramatically. Theirs were the visible, structural components of the Knights. Mine was taking me into the shadows.
As they talked, I looked out over the city, now armed with the knowledge of the secrets festering just beneath its peaceful surface. The weight of Kaeya's trust and the burden of the things I'd learned today settled upon me. I was a knight of Mondstadt, yes. But I was a Knight of the 8th Company now. And I was beginning to understand that protecting the city's freedom was a far more complicated, and far more secret, war than I had ever imagined.