Inside, the building breathes differently. Usually, there's the shuffle of papers, the distant clank of armor from the training yard, the murmur of knights exchanging reports. But now—there's a pause in it. A held breath.

From the window of the second-floor study, you can see the gates of the city. Framed by stone and climbing ivy, the road beyond stretches into the wilds of Mondstadt's countryside.

Diluc's coming up the stairs. You hear him before you see him—boots heavy, steady, with the particular rhythm of someone carrying news rather than conversation.