The faint light of dawn barely pierced the eternal wind barrier shrouding Mondstadt, casting a bleak, pale gray hue upon the cold stone walls of the high tower.
Amos followed a familiar path to the entrance of the staircase leading to the tower's base.
Several members of the personal guard, clad in light armor, stood watch there. Upon seeing her, they uniformly placed their right hands over their chests and bowed slightly in salute.
Amos paused, her gaze sweeping over the deep, dark entrance.
"The criminal below, the one who caused the explosion," her voice was steady, "how long is he to be confined?"
One of the guards looked up, his expression rigid. "The King said he will be pardoned after the outer god is eliminated."
Amos asked no more questions and stepped onto the descending staircase.
The further down she went, the more violent the wind became, tearing at her white robes and white hair. The sound of the wind escalated from a howl to a deafening roar, as if countless colossal beasts were bellowing in her ears.
The space at the base of the tower was far wider than imagined, but here, width only meant a larger surface area to be battered by the wind.
The relentless, gale-force wind was the sole occupant of this space, day and night.
Whatever decorations or patterns might have once existed on the stone walls and floor had long been scoured away by centuries of wind blades, leaving only smooth surfaces behind.
It was impossible to linger here, impossible to converse, impossible even to think.
Orion was bound tightly to an isolated stone pillar by several heavy iron chains.
He had endured the ceaseless devastation of the gales in that very spot for an entire night.
His hair was a tangled mess, and his face and bare arms were covered in fine bloody scratches. His lips were chapped and peeling, oozing blood, his eyes were sunken, and his pupils were unfocused. His body trembled violently and uncontrollably.
When Amos's figure appeared in his blurred vision, he reacted as if seeing a phantom. A hoarse sound escaped his throat, and his chained body began to writhe and struggle frantically, trying to get closer, trying to cry out.
But every sound was utterly consumed by the raging wind.
Amos watched his near-broken state, her brow tightly furrowed.
She knew in her heart that he couldn't be left here any longer.
Another day, even just a few more hours, and this man, even if he were lucky enough to survive, would become a lunatic capable only of muttering nonsense.
Besides, he was the man who had just had an audience with the King last night. If people were to find out that someone who had remonstrated with the King to his face was driven mad or to death at the tower's base in the blink of an eye...
Who knew how much their already-faltering faith would weaken.
She recalled the recent gathering, when countless commoners had petitioned before the high tower. She remembered how the initial hope on their faces had slowly turned to confusion, then fear, and finally to unconcealable disappointment, even to the suppressed curses against the 'tyrant' rippling through the crowd...
No. Absolutely not. The King should be surrounded by thousands of devoted followers, singing his praises. His achievements should be celebrated, His protection met with gratitude.
He cannot, and should not, be forsaken by the very people He wishes to protect, to remain eternally and solitarily entrenched at the pinnacle of this cold tower.
Amos shook her head forcefully, as if to banish these pessimistic and irreverent thoughts from her mind.
She took a deep breath and, bracing against the gale that scraped her skin like tangible blades, shuffled step by step to the stone pillar.
She reached out, her cold fingertips touching the equally cold chains, fumbling to undo the complex lock.
The chains clattered to the ground. Orion, having lost his support, slumped down limply.
Amos grabbed one of his arms and half-dragged, half-supported him from the central area where the wind was strongest to a corner of the staircase that led back up.
Here, the wind abated slightly. Though it still howled, it was at least possible to hear someone speak.
"Do you want to go back?" Amos asked, raising her voice as she looked at the man curled up and shivering on the ground.
Orion had not yet fully regained his senses, but a profound terror was already etched into the marrow of his bones.
He clutched his head with both hands, his body curled into a ball, and repeatedly mumbled, his voice broken and filled with dread:
"Mercy... mercy... I don't dare... never again..."
Amos said no more. She helped him up and led him up the long staircase.
When they returned to the pinnacle of the tower and once again faced the throne shrouded in gales, Orion's legs gave out. He fell to his knees with a thud, pressing his forehead firmly to the ground.
"I... I was wrong!" His voice was hoarse, laced with lingering terror. "There really... there really is an outer god deluding the people!" he stated hurriedly, his mind racing, driven by the will to survive. "But that outer god... it has no physical form! It hides in people's minds, in their thoughts of discontent! It excels at concealing itself and sowing discord! I... I don't know how to find it, how to catch it! But it truly exists!"
Above the throne, the gales swirled. The magnificent yet indifferent voice sounded, tinged with the flatness of a problem resolved:
"It seems the gales have cleansed you of your delusions and allowed you to see the truth. Acknowledging one's error is the beginning of loyalty. I forgive your transgressions. As for the outer god that dares to delude My subjects, I shall find it and tear it apart with My own hands, to avenge you who were led astray."
"Thank you for Your forgiveness, my King!" Orion kowtowed deeply once more, his body trembling uncontrollably.
Amos silently stepped forward, helped him up, and led him from the throne room. She settled him in a clean but simply furnished stone chamber within the tower.
Amos ordered for food to be brought. It was a plate of perfectly roasted poultry, accompanied by white bread drizzled with honey and an assortment of fresh fruits and vegetables. Within the wind wall, only the nobility could afford such fare on a daily basis.
"Eat," Amos said, pushing the plate in front of him. "This is a gift from the King."
Orion stared blankly at the food, his Adam's apple bobbing, but he didn't immediately start eating.
Amos looked at him, assuming he was still terrified, worried that this was his last meal before execution. Her tone softened involuntarily. "Go on, eat. It's alright. When you're finished, I will personally escort you back home."
Only then did Orion cautiously reach out. He picked up the food, chewing in small bites at first, but his pace quickened until he was practically devouring everything on the plate.
The food warmed his cold stomach and restored some of his strength and senses.
He looked up, getting a chance to properly see the female attendant who had rescued him for the first time. The long white hair, the upright posture, and those eyes... he felt he had seen them somewhere before.
Fragments of memory began to piece themselves together. He remembered! It was at that mass petition gathering! It was she who, as the King's attendant, had accepted the heavy petition from their hands—the one filled with the blood and tears of the common folk!
After the petition failed, he, like many others, had assumed she was in league with the nobles, that they were the ones deceiving the lonely king, preventing him from hearing the people's pleas.
But now... For a moment, he stopped all movement, just staring at her blankly, his feelings complicated.
Amos noticed his gaze but couldn't decipher the complex emotions in his eyes, assuming he was still just unnerved.
"Remember," she repeated her earlier point, her tone serious, "after you go back, do not abandon your faith in the King. The King loves his people; it's just that external enemies are currently dividing His attention. You must tell everyone to believe in Him as they did before, to wait for Him. At the same time, you must also help keep an eye out and find that hidden enemy who sows discord. Only then can Mondstadt return to true peace."
Orion lowered his head, avoiding her gaze, and answered obediently, "Understood, I understand."
The warmth from the food seemed to thaw some of his frozen emotions. Orion suddenly felt his eyes grow hot and moist.
He hastily lowered his head again, hiding his loss of composure.
He had thought she was no different from those apathetic nobles and brutal guards, but now it seemed he had misjudged her.
He recalled the cold eyes of the white-robed attendant from last night and the merciless way the guards had bound him to the pillar, and a chill ran through him.
Serving the same lonely king, yet the difference between people could be so vast.
After watching him finish eating, Amos fulfilled her promise, escorting him all the way to the edge of the chaotic and crowded commoners' district where he lived.
Before leaving, she stopped, turned back one last time, and urged him solemnly, "Remember what I said. Your faith must not be shaken. You must help the King find the enemy."
Orion stood at the entrance to a filthy alley, watching as Amos's figure disappeared around a bend in the winding road.
The obedience and gratitude on his face vanished in an instant, replaced by a profound exhaustion and lingering fear.
He immediately cast aside Amos's words about faith and finding the enemy.
Leaning against the cold wall to support his weak body, he let out a long, trembling breath.
"Lumiere... I wonder if they heard my warning?" He gazed in the general direction of the resistance's base, his voice low and hoarse, almost inaudible even to himself. "They have to know. That tyrant... is completely beyond saving!"
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