Cobblestones gleam under the pale gold of a Mondstadt afternoon. The great statue of Barbatos stands in the center of the plaza, arms outstretched as if to embrace the city that bears his name. Pigeons scatter as a cart rumbles past, laden with barrels of something that sloshes gently.

It is peaceful. The kind of peace that feels almost fragile, like spun sugar.

At a small table outside the Good Hunter, Sara is polishing glasses, her attention half on a grumbling patron who's complaining about the fish being too salty today. Children chase each other around the fountain, their laughter carrying over the rustle of wind through the maple trees planted along the main avenue.

And near the front gate of the Knights of Favonius headquarters, two figures stand in sharp contrast to the lazy afternoon.