Early morning, in the residential district.
A few restrained but hurried knocks on the door startled Orion from his light sleep.
He curled up for a moment on the hard plank bed before struggling to push himself up with his arms.
He could feel his hand, the one reaching for the door, still trembling uncontrollably.
The effects of that night in the fierce winds at the base of the tower had not yet fully faded.
The door opened to reveal several bards, much older than him, their faces devoid of their usual dejection or sycophancy.
Orion looked at them, his voice hoarse from sleep. "Are you... here to rush me to recite the odes?"
He thought these seniors were here to urge him to obey the divine oracle and attend the doubly long worship service.
The gray-haired bard at the front shook his head, a sardonic curve forming on his lips.
"Odes? What's the point of reciting that nonsense? Will the tyrant bless us with full bellies and warm clothes if we do?"
Orion froze, looking at them with confusion.
The elderly bard said no more, simply shoving a manuscript into Orion's hands.
"Take a look at this."
Orion took it, his eyes quickly scanning the words.
His pupils constricted slightly, his face a mixture of disbelief and a trace of fear.
"Recite... recite this? Won't it bring divine punishment?" The words on the manuscript were the complete opposite of the odes, filled with questions aimed at the high tower.
"Divine punishment?" The lead bard scoffed, pointing a hand toward the solitary tower, faintly visible in the distance. "Do you think that deaf man can actually hear what we recite?"
Another bard patted Orion's still-trembling shoulder, his tone softening.
"Are you... still a little afraid of that tyrant? It's alright. Just take this, face a wall, face the wind, and recite it a few dozen times. Let out all the emotions you've been bottling up. You'll feel better."
...
Elsewhere in the residential district.
Himmel carefully put on his cleanest clothes.
He walked to his bed, pulled out a small, old storage box from underneath, unlatched it, and took out two carefully stored manuscripts.
One, with neat and almost rigid handwriting, was filled with florid prose praising the "great achievements" and "boundless protection" of the Solitary King, Decarabian.
The other, on rougher paper, had spirited and lively script. On it were recorded the inspirations he had drawn from Coppelia's paintings, carrying all his beautiful fantasies of the free and vast world outside.
Himmel tucked the two manuscripts, with their starkly contrasting contents, side-by-side into his clothes.
Then, he took out his most cherished lyre.
The crack on the wooden body of the instrument, from when it was thrown down before, had been repaired, but the craftsmanship was crude, leaving an ugly scar like a centipede.
He held the lyre to his chest, gently tracing the scar with his fingers, then took a deep breath and opened the door.
He had to attend the worship service, now twice as long. It was a divine oracle, and he dared not disobey.
He raised his head and looked at the sky, shrouded by the eternal wind wall.
Today, the grayish-white canopy of the sky seemed unprecedentedly heavy and oppressive to him.
...
In the great plaza between the inner and outer rings of Mondstadt City, a sparse crowd was gathering.
There was almost no piety on their faces, only numb obedience, suppressed anger, or deep exhaustion and fear.
Some kept their heads down, their lips moving silently, whether in prayer or curse it was impossible to tell. Some stared blankly toward the high tower, as if their souls had already departed. Still more nervously scanned their surroundings, as if looking for a possible escape or fearing sudden punishment.
Not far away, on the second floor of a lavishly decorated noble's residence, several nobles leaned against an open window, looking down at the dark, lifeless mass of people in the distant plaza.
"Look at them, that rabble. Barely any of them want to be there," sneered a noble in a purple velvet jacket. "I don't see why we need to go down either. Getting too close to that smelly lot is beneath us."
"Exactly. It's fine just to watch from here. Is the King really going to count heads one by one?" a slightly portly noble next to him chimed in.
Just then, a guard hurried upstairs, bowed, and reported, "My lords, the Solitary King's personal guards are at the door. They request... they request that you all proceed to the designated area for worship immediately."
The noble in purple waved his hand impatiently. "Go and tell them we are unwell and require rest! For such formalities, the sentiment is enough!"
The guard looked troubled and was about to turn and go downstairs to relay the message.
"BOOM!"
With a loud crash, the residence's sturdy, bronze-studded wooden doors burst violently inward, sending splinters flying!
Amos, holding a white greatbow, led a squad of grim-faced personal guards, striding directly into the courtyard over the shattered door panels.
She looked up, her icy gaze locking precisely onto the astonished faces in the second-floor window.
"Come down," she said. Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried an unquestionable command. "Proceed to the worship area immediately. The King's decree will not be defied."
The nobles on the second floor were first startled, then their usual arrogance and reluctance appeared on their faces.
The noble in purple even leaned forward, a jeer on his face. "My, what an imposing display, my lady. And what if we simply don't wish to go? Are you going to..."
His words caught in his throat.
Amos's expression did not change in the slightest. Her left hand had already raised the white greatbow horizontally, and her right hand was on the bowstring.
An arrow formed purely from blinding white light materialized, emitting a low hum.
No warning, no charge-up.
"SWOOSH—!"
The arrow of light left the string, transforming into a straight white line. It shot through the air at a speed nearly impossible to follow with the naked eye, grazing past the purple-clad noble's ear with pinpoint accuracy. With a "puff," it shattered his meticulously styled, jewel-adorned topknot, along with the golden ring that held it, to pieces! His hair instantly fell loose, covering his face in a disheveled mess.
The nobles on the second floor screamed in unison, scrambling and stumbling backward, instantly moving away from the window.
But before they could even catch their breath, a second arrow of light was already loosed!
Like a red-hot knife through butter, the light arrow effortlessly pierced the hard stone exterior wall and shot into the room.
"BANG! CRASH—!"
The dull thud of a corner of a stone table being shattered came from inside.
This was immediately followed by the jarring sound of a wooden door being pierced, its fragments flying everywhere.
The courtyard fell deathly silent, with only splinters and dust slowly drifting down.
Amos remained in her bow-raised stance, her gaze calmly peering through the hole shot through the wall.
Inside the room, the nobles were slumped on the floor, their faces ashen.
A moment later, this group of usually haughty nobles emerged from the residence's main entrance like defeated roosters, trembling and supporting one another. They kept their heads down, not daring to look at Amos again, and staggered toward the nobles' worship area.
Amos watched them go, her face showing no hint of emotion. She lowered her bow and inclined her head toward the guards beside her.
"Next house."
After ensuring all the nobles had been "invited" to their respective places, Amos instructed a guard captain, "Watch them. No one is to leave before the worship service is over."
Then, she personally led the squad and turned toward the residential district.
___
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