Outside, the streets of Mondstadt were still littered with confetti and crushed flower petals. The fountain in the main square had been dyed—by persons unknown—a brilliant cerulean blue in honor of the returning Grand Master.

But inside, in the quiet annex where the archives were kept, the noise was muffled to a dull roar. Like a storm contained behind glass.

A single candle burned low on your desk.

Spread before you were the aftermath of chaos: crumpled parchment covered in hasty scrawl, ink-smudged sketches of terrain that defied cartographic logic, and notes in margins that read things like "watch out for the singing bushes" and "this cliff definitely moved since last time."

You had been tasked with turning this glorious mess into order. To translate a Grand Master's whirlwind adventures into clean, archival maps.

It was, quite frankly, impossible.

And you loved every second of it.