Orion had never seen Decarabian with his own eyes. His image of the lone king was one he could only piece together from the legends and stories he had heard.
His father had once been a skilled musician in a noble's manor. Merely because a piece he played at a banquet slightly displeased the noble lords, he was accused of 'desecrating art' and thrown into a sunless prison.
On that cold night, his mother led him by the hand to kneel outside the tightly shut gates of the noble's manor. The frigid flagstones hurt their knees as they cried out and begged again and again, but the only sound from within was the faint, distant music of pipes and songs.
The next day, after settling him, his mother resolutely forced her way into the manor, demanding an explanation, some measure of justice.
And then... there was no 'then.' His parents, like dust swept away by a fierce wind, vanished without a trace. In the vast city of Mondstadt, no one dared to ask what had become of them.
In that moment, Orion picked up the bone pen his father had left behind. Dipping it in hatred and tears, he began to write upon a small, precious piece of parchment, again and again, pouring out the sorrow of his heart and the curses he held for the nobility.
This continued until an old poet, a secret resistor of the nobles' tyranny, found him. The old man saw his anger and his talent, and invited him to help draft a petition to the King of Gales.
They all believed that the king was merely being deceived, that if only the nobles' evil deeds were brought before Him, He would surely dispense justice.
In dangerous, secret meetings held away from the eyes of the nobles and the cavalry, he met Lumiere and many other companions who, like him, hoped to change the status quo.
He took up his pen once more. This time, what flowed from its tip was not just his private grief and indignation, but the blood-and-tear-filled accusations of countless Mondstadt commoners. He felt that the bone pen in his hand was sharper than any knight's sword, and with it, he would pierce through all the nobles' lies!
In the petition, with the most sincere strokes, he painfully detailed how the nobles levied exorbitant taxes, how they treated human life as worthless, how they silenced all dissent... He believed that the king, upon seeing all this, would surely not remain indifferent.
However, the king's response...
'...The minions of Andrius cannot possibly breach my storm wall! I will protect you as I always have, just as I have guarded this land for hundreds of years!...'
Why?! I weighed every single word of the petition, and I never once mentioned anything about Andrius!
After immense disappointment and anger, Orion blamed everything on the nobles' treachery.
They must have tampered with it during its delivery!
And those attendants and priests who serve the king, they must not have relayed the message faithfully either!
That white-haired female attendant who was responsible for delivering the petition that day, she must have acted on her own assumptions, twisting the people's pleas and misleading the king!
'The king's great power is beyond question! He built the storm wall that shelters us, fending off the bitter cold and the monsters of the outside world for over four hundred years! He is Mondstadt's only light! His will is supreme!' Orion told himself repeatedly. 'However, around the king... there is no one left to trust!'
"Thud!"
The stone platform shuddered to a halt, interrupting his thoughts.
Orion took a deep breath and opened his eyes. They had reached the top of the tower. A personal guard pushed him forward.
Before him was an enormous high-backed throne constructed from raging winds, emitting a cyan glow. Its towering back obscured most of Decarabian's figure, but a crushing pressure, heavy as a mountain, could be felt.
...
Decarabian was recalling the anomaly of that strange stone from moments ago, as well as the tremor from the explosion.
Several days prior, an attendant had reported that two suspicious foreign travelers had come, asking for the strange stone He had captured from the sky.
Just now, in the perception He had cast over the ruins, He had caught a strange wisp of wind—it was completely unfamiliar, yet exquisitely controlled. It did not belong to Him, and certainly not to Andrius.
Could it be that another god has set their sights on this place...
A few personal guards brought a mortal before the throne, and He temporarily set aside His thoughts.
'Why create an explosion?' His voice was a convergence of a thousand whistling gales.
The mortal took a step forward and began to speak. His voice was pleasant, though it trembled slightly.
The mortal launched into a lengthy account, speaking of how the nobles created false pretexts to drain the commoners of their grain; of how the innocent were casually demoted to slaves or thrown into prison, their fates unknown; of how the people struggled with starvation while the nobles' manors were filled with music and song night after night; of the injustice of policies, and the return to order and peace...
The order I established has been this way for four hundred years, it has never changed. What is there to 'return' to...
Not a single word about the explosion. No useful information at all...
The mortal was still rambling on. He grew annoyed and cut straight to the point:
"Another, foreign god has infiltrated Mondstadt."
The mortal was stunned, and hastily denied it, "A foreign god? I... I've never heard of any foreign god."
The anomaly I sensed earlier could not have been mistaken. That wisp of strange wind is clear proof.
He asked again, "If not for the bewitchment of a foreign god, why would you destroy the homes my subjects toiled to build?"
The mortal grew more agitated, repeatedly emphasizing words like 'nobles,' 'oppression,' 'tyranny'...
Decarabian's patience was wearing thin.
What benefit is there for them in making enemies of the nobles? There must be some power they cannot resist controlling them.
"Which foreign god is it," His voice, tinged with impatience, cut off the mortal's speech, "that has bewitched you and disrupted the relationship between my subjects?"
"There is no foreign god bewitching us!" The mortal's voice rose with urgency. "This is us! This is the choice made by countless people of Mondstadt who could no longer survive after being pushed to the brink! It has nothing to do with any god!"
It seems I will get no clues about the foreign god from this mortal's mouth.
"This person has been deeply bewitched by the foreign god. His mind is in chaos; he is completely incapable of communication..." This was said to the white-robed attendant and the few personal guards behind the throne.
"Incapable of communication?!" The mortal looked as if he'd been struck by lightning. "I... no! My king! It's not like that! Please, listen to me!"
The mortal tried to rush forward, to get closer to the throne.
"Insolence!"
The personal guards on either side immediately moved in, holding him down firmly.
The mortal struggled violently, roaring like a caged beast, "Look at us! Listen to our voices! It's not some foreign god! It is your people who are suffering!"
An irrational emotional outburst. He is indeed deeply corrupted...
"Lock him at the base of the tower. The raging winds will cleanse him of his filth." He gave the order to the guards, then said to the mortal, "After I have dealt with the infiltrating foreign god, I will naturally pardon your transgressions."
...
A gale with an even more oppressive force suddenly struck from the direction of the throne, instantly seizing Orion's throat and turning all his shouts into silent gasps.
He... He doesn't care at all... He doesn't care what the nobles have done, doesn't care if we live or die... He only cares about His authority, only about that nonexistent 'foreign god'...
This realization, like the coldest dagger, pierced through his final shred of illusion.
The base of the tower... The tower is surrounded by eternal, raging gales. To be sent there meant to be perpetually pierced by violent winds.
Just a few seconds of those gales were agonizing enough, but now he had no idea how long he would be forced to endure them. Even if he wasn't physically injured, he would surely go insane.
He felt a suffocating fear and wanted to cry out in protest, but his body had no strength left.
Several personal guards propped up the nearly strengthless Orion and dragged him away from the throne, heading back the way they came.
___
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