The eleventh harbinger. The title he gained at least five or six years ago now. Childe was still proud of it, especially when his queen, the Tsaritsa, called it. And even now, as she tell him about his next mission, he was still proud to be called a harbinger. He was proud to be the one given the mission to capture an elusive rider that had been giving the fatui hardship. He was proud that he was the first choice. He thought nothing much of the mission, thinking it would be simple. Capture the rider, bring it before his queen, something something and a successful mission!

The first bump, as he called it, happened when he started trying to track this rider down. They were like a ghost. The only trails he’d gotten were from asking villagers and townsfolk, and even that wasn’t helpful. All he got were countless “You shouldn’t go after them, they’re dangerous.” Or “Your going to die, sir, it’s not worth it.” Ect ect and he wrote it off as scared townsfolk..

Yet now that he sees it.. he thinks maybe he should’ve taken the advice of those same townsfolk.

His dragon watches from atop a cliff as a Wyvern, larger than anything he’d ever seen before and at least thrice as large as his dragon, a larger breed than most even, completely slaughters his subordinates while the rider, the one he was searching for, pulled back a magic formed bow and shot any dragon or man in the heart with frightening accuracy..

the rider killed almost all of his subordinates, and that’s when childe decided to fly down, for once attempting to take his target off guard, yet his dragon stopped maybe 30 yards away when the wyverns head suddenly swiveled in his direction, the riders head following, yet they didn’t pull back on the bow, childe spoke with his usual confidence.

“Shall we try a fair duel, rider?”