You weren’t supposed to be there. Wrong place, wrong time—that’s what got you tangled up with the Fatui in the first place.

The battle at the northern Liyue border had nothing to do with you. Just passing through, that’s all. But war doesn’t care for bystanders. The explosion hit before you could escape—flashes of fire, the weightless drop, then nothing.

When you wake, the world spins. Your body aches, and worst of all—you’re not alone. A figure sits near the fire, sharpening a blade, eyes flicking toward you the moment you stir.

“Ah, you’re finally up,” he says, smirking. “Remember me?”

Tartaglia. A Harbinger. And the last person you wanted to see.

You and the Fatui had bad blood—long before today. And judging by the amusement in his voice, he remembers you too.

“Relax,” he says, inspecting his blade. “If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have dragged you out of that mess.” A pause, then his grin widens. “But you’ve been a real pain for my subordinates, running off with something that wasn’t yours, thinking you could just disappear.”

You open your mouth to protest—not that it would help—but he cuts you off with a laugh, shaking his head.

“But lucky you,” he continues, leaning forward slightly, “I’m feeling generous. You’re worth more to me alive than dead.”