London, England
May 14th, 1941
The overnight train from Liverpool reached Euston at half past seven in the morning as the moment that the Aurania pulled into the dock, he was not allowed much time to enjoy the sights as a car lead him to the station that took him to Euston. In the train, he was accompanied by a group of officers. As they lead him to the platform while he carried his bag filled with his belongings, he was lead outside to a car where a old face that he had seen since the battle of Britain starting and before the start of the Fatui alliance was Major-General Tillet of the Office of Military History. The small bald mustached general that wore tailored khakis and a face that Pug could not forget with that very British voice and crisp. He greet Pug with an enthusiastic smile as they entered his Vauxhall and drove to London. As they passed the battered fragments of the city from the recent dramatic bombing that occurred with tapped windows, sandbags, and gaps in where buildings should be standing. It was when they were thirty seconds into the drive that General Tillet spoke behind the wheel.
"I hear your Voyage was…how should I say…" Tillet said with eyes glaring up in amusement, "tensely packful…."
Pug rolled his eyes, "You could say that."
"Submarine, I understand ,"
"Three of them….They held off for the better part of more than an entire day maintaining contact at a speed of nine knots."
"A day?" Tillet asked sounding surprised, "Without surfacing for air, recharge batteries, or even to get closer?"
Pug shook his head.
"That is no convention submarine at all…" Tillet said, "A German submarine at that speed should be killing its batteries, deafening itself, and inviting every escort in the area to come down on its head with depth charges."
"As I keep telling people that are surprised," Pug replied, "When it comes to the Fatui stop believing it's impossible, because they make it happen in leaps and bounds."
"Mm," Tillet said as grabbed a pipe that was in the glovebox and put it into the lips of his mouth, "Greece has already instructed us in that unpleasant lesson."
Pug nodded as he understood, the British Evacuation at Greece did not go well at all dues to the Fatui as about more than 20,000 British troops were left behind with all their equipment as well according to the latest reports.
"When we last met," he said, "Göring was bombing our airfields and making a hash of the one mission that mattered. If you had told me then that before the year was out, we would be fighting a winter kingdom out of a German fairy book, I should have recommended you for a rest cure. Possibly under lock and key."
"I would not have blamed you."
"No," Tillet said. "You would have been right not to. Sensible men reject nonsense until nonsense begins sinking ships."
The Vauxhall turned around a lorry loaded with timber.
"But since we are talking about sensible men," Tillet said, tightening his grip on the wheel and tilting his head a fraction toward Pug, "perhaps you can explain the latest American experiment in sanity."
Pug looked at him. "Which one?"
"You are helping us stay alive while your President talks with the snow kingdom helping Hitler kill us."
Pug did not answer at once.
Tillet puffed once at his pipe, "Do not look wounded, Commander. I am not accusing you of treachery. I am accusing your government of trying to ride two horses while pretending the horses have not noticed each other."
"That's one way to put it."
"It is the accurate way."
"The United States is neutral."
Tillet gave a short, humorless sound, "Yes. And I am the Archbishop of Canterbury. Neutral nations do not send destroyers, aircraft, ammunition, and naval observers into another man's war because they admire the scenery."
Pug looked through the windshield at the battered city. A row of shops went past, their windows taped and their upper floors blackened by fire. Two women stood in front of a doorway sweeping glass from the pavement.
"Roosevelt wants to know what the Fatui want," Pug said.
Tillet's mouth tightened around the pipe.
"Does he," he said not as a question.
"He thinks that if the Fatui have a separate agenda from Germany's, there may be room to work with it. Or at least around it."
"Work with it," Tillet repeated.
"Or around it." Pug continued.
"Mm. Much better. One does not usually work with such things unless one is a fool, a politician, or very short of tools."
"Roosevelt is not trusting them."
"No. I should hope not. Trust is what amateurs call intelligence when they haven't collected enough of it."
The Vauxhall slowed behind a military lorry, then slipped around it
"I think it is obvious what they want like every power," Tillet said, "Advantage…but the problem is understanding what this Tsaritsa wants out of this war for that advantage….if her mission was to drive England to surrender, then your convoy should have butchered like sheep to where we be talking about the convoy utterly destroyed and the other impossible weapons that these Snenhnayan have….My question is what is the mission that she has defined? If she has defined one at all."
"What do you make of them based on what you know?"
"What do I make of it," Tillet asked, jabbing the pipe toward the windshield, "I am more trying to understand how these Snazhnayans are otherworldly…"
Pug frowned, "Meaning?"
"Well, the name of their land for sure…Snezhnaya is without any doubt a huge flavor of Russian to it. It means Snowy or Snow land." Tillet continued, "and the name of their monarch….'Tsaritsa'... is one of the spellings of a female Tsar…like Catherine the Great…she was called Tsarina."
The Vauxhall passed a row of taped windows. A man in a bowler hat stepped around a pile of brick.
Tillet continued, "Then there are these Harbingers that we hear about when the Nazi's presented them to the world, including your little transforming friend back in New York…don't think that I didn't see you in that photo when it reached our side of the ocean."
Pug looked at him, "I was in the background."
"Yes. Looking as though the Navy had neglected to issue regulations for sea monsters," Tillet said with a sly smirk.
"That was about the size of it."
"Mm." Tillet puffed once. "Tartaglia. Pantalone. Arlecchino. Those names mean anything to you?"
"Maybe." Pug said as his face tightened.
"They should," Tillet said, "because I made the connection from my boyhood, my father took me to Italy one summer in eighteen ninety-one where we went to a theater in Venice."
Pug watched him.
"Commedia dell'arte," Tillet said. "Old Italian stage tradition. Masks. Stock characters. Europe has been dragging them across stages for centuries."
Pug's face changed slightly to controlled surprise, "I knew that I heard those names somewhere, but never made the connection. I visited Italy after the last war with Rhoda long after we got married."
"Then you probably saw the posters and forgot the names," Tillet said. "Perfectly normal. Honeymoons and military intelligence are seldom compatible."
"It wasn't exactly a honeymoon."
"Even worse. Then you had no excuse," Tillet replied then puffed air once through the pipe, "Still, I must not be unfair. We British did not understand them quickly either. We merely had the advantage of being educated by catastrophe."
Pug looked at him, "Greece."
"Yes," Tillet said, "Now back to our special characters….Pantalone is the easiest to understand in my opinion. The old Venetian merchant. Greedy, rich, suspicious, always counting money while assuring everyone the arithmetic is for the public good."
"The Regrator," Pug said.
"Yes. A banker wearing a mask named for a banker. Then there is Arlecchino," Tillet went on, "The Harlequin. Agile, masked, violent when the comedy requires it. Servant and trickster. The one who enters through windows and leaves everyone else blaming the broken furniture."
Pug thought of the Reich Chancellery, of Arlecchino walking beside Pantalone under Hitler's applause, her black eyes marked by red crosses.
"That fits," he said.
"Too well," Tillet replied, "I'd hate to be in the same room as her with those eyes."
"Try actually being in the room with her," Pug commented.
"Yes," Tillet glanced at him, "I had thought Goebbels held the monopoly on looking at a camera as though it owed him obedience. Evidently I was mistaken."
Pug almost smiled, but the memory of Arlecchino's eyes stopped it before it became visible.
"She doesn't look at people like Goebbels does," he said.
"No?"
"Goebbels looks like he wants to persuade you that he owns the truth. Arlecchino looks like she already knows what you are worth and has found the figure disappointing."
Tillet made a small sound around the pipe.
"Then perhaps the mask fits even better."
"The Knave?"
"Harlequin," Tillet said. "Never quite master, never quite servant. The knife in the comedy. And of course, my recent favorite is Tartaglia."
Pug looked at him, "The stammerer."
"Yes. Tartaglia. Usually a comic figure. A stammerer, a notary, a lawyer, sometimes a pompous functionary made ridiculous by his own defect," Tillet shifted the pipe between his teeth, "And yet your Mr. Tartaglia does not stammer, does not appear timid, and, from what little your President's people have let slip, does not behave like a clerk."
"He's a soldier."
"So was Napoleon," Tillet said, "But we are only mentioning the ones that we have heard in the news out of these Harbingers. So if these Harbingers are named similar to the plays, then why and how? If they are truly from another world, why do their titles fit our old plays? Either someone translated foreign titles into names we would understand, or the Fatui chose European masks names deliberately, or there has been older traffic between Teyvat and Earth than anyone has admitted."
"Or they have been watching our world longer than they have admitted," Pug thought to himself as he remembered when Von Roon told him how Arlecchino knew the General's name before he had even met her.
"We are nearly there," Tillet said, "We should be coming up on Number 10 soon. We'll continue our little philosophical autopsy after the Prime Minister sees you."
They rolled into WhiteHal where they were stopped near the guarded entrance a few minutes later. Tillet cut the engine and sat for a moment with both hands on the wheel, watching the building ahead. Meanwhile, Pug did not wait much as he stepped out and was guided into the entrance of the Number 10 Downing Street.
The constable at the door examined Tillet's credentials and then looked at Pug's orders that Pug carried on him from the president. They were allowed inside where a secretary received them and then took Pug's orders as well for a moment, where she directed them to a waiting room with a coal fire and a portrait of the younger Pitt. Tillet came in behind him, settled into one of the chairs, and took a biscuit from the tray.
"He'll be a few minutes," the Secretary said, "He is with CIGS and a special male guest in green."
"What kind of special male guest?" Tillet asked as he bit into the bisket.
"All I know is that he wears a green outfit, holds a lyre, and has a funny hat with a feather," the secretary replied.
Tillet stopped chewing.
"A lyre."
"Yes, sir."
"In Number Ten."
"Yes, sir."
"With the Chief of the Imperial General Staff."
"Yes, sir."
Tillet looked at Pug. "The war has become operatic."
"You're telling me," Pug stared at the secretary,"Did he give a name?"
"I didn't catch it, he was led in by Mr. Dill himself," The secretary replied as a bell rang.
She glanced toward the corridor, then straightened.
"The Prime Minister will see you now."
Tillet set the biscuit down with care, as though it had just failed to meet wartime requirements.
"Very good," he said. "Commander, bring your Atlantic headache. Evidently the Prime Minister is collecting unusual objects this morning."
Pug followed Tillet down the corridor with the secretary leading them at a brisk pace to the Cabinet Room. A table dominated the room with maps, figures, and photographs spead over in layers on top of it along with other items pinning them down like folders, teacups, a pair of spectacles, and one empty brandy glass. The curtains were covering the windows giving the room a sort of dark feeling. Standing at the far end of the table was Churchill in a dark siren suit with a cigar in one hand and a red pencil in the other. His face was heavy from the lack of sleep, but the eyes were still the same that Pug had seen during the Battle of Britain filled with determination. General Sir John Dill stood to Churchill's right, stiff-backed and grave. He had a folder open before him and one hand rested on it as if he feared that it might escape.
The third man was on the edge of a chair at the middle of the table, where behind him was the fireplace. He had a leg crossed over the other, a lyre resting easily across his lap, and his green cape draped around him. His hat did indeed had a feather, while his hair was two strands that fell along his face. Pug could not make out his eyes immediately as the younger man had them closed as he seemed to be enjoying a bottle of Châteaux Margaux with loving attention to its taste. He had the bottle tilted upwards as he drank its contents like a man dying of thirst in a desert. Pug had seen many people do a drinking game and could say for sure that this man could beat anyone that he knew. As when Pug walked in the bottle was mostly full and within seconds, more than half of it was gone.
"Remind me not to bring this one to the nearest pub." Tillet whispered, "He might drink the bar out under it."
Not even a second after he said that, the drinking young man finished and a sound of being refreshed with heaven as he tapped the bottle on the table. He opened his eyes where Pug could see the green in them.
"I must say that this wine is refreshing, could compete against the Dawn Winery if it entered Mondstadt," The man said with his voice young and energetic.
Churchill looked at the empty bottle with a expression of surprise.
"That," He said, "was meant to last the meeting."
"It did," the man said with a smirk, "I was here for the meeting."
Pug watched as General Dill pinched his nose for half a second.
Churchill stared at the young man in green for a moment longer.
"Young man," he said, "I have seen French governments last less time than that bottle."
The man gave a cheerful bow from the edge of his chair, one hand over his heart and the empty bottle dangling from the other.
"Then I salute its service. It never lost courage."
Dill made a sound that was nearly a cough and perhaps wanted to be a laugh, but discipline strangled it before it could escape.
Churchill turned at last toward Pug and Tillet as he spoke, "Commander Henry. General Tillet. Come in properly before this meeting loses another bottle."
Tillet and Pug walked forward were they were positioned in front of the man with the lyre and a huge thirst.
"The young man looked at Pug and smiled for a moment.
"You must be Victor Henry," He said, "Your friends Talky and Pamela Tudsburry said many good things about you."
Pug's heart nealy stopped at the mention of Pamela Tudsburry, who was someone that he had known on his way to berlin through passenger liner Bremen before the war start, then through Berlin, and during the Battle of Britain where he could not stop thinking of her at times. Even though he is married to Rhoda.
"You know the Tudsburry's?" Pug questioned.
"Bit more than that, I kind of crash landed on their window box," the man admitted with sly smile as if he was embarrassed.
"Yes, when Mr. Tudsburry told me the story," Churchill admitted, "I thought maybe the man had lost his rocker."
The man stepped up and did a bow with graceful but tipsy elegance.
"Name's Venti," he said, "Bard of Mondstadt, friend of the Traveler, occasional consultant to bewildered governments, and, by older and less comfortable arrangement, Barbatos."
"The Traveller?" Pug asked as he instantly remembered Arlecchino's words of how he and the person with that name would get along, "Who is he?"
"A friend," Venti said, "Of many nations of Teyvat, but Snezhnaya in this case. If you land in Mondstadt, the Honorary Knight….in Liyue, the Hero of Liyue…..Sumeru's First Sage of Buer….and many others."
"Who as I understand it," Churchill said as he toke a puff out of his cigar, "is wanted by the many functions of the Nazi apparatus with a huge bounty of two hundred thousand Reichsmarks…"
"And who we have managed to get on a boat to Sweden and will soon be landing in British shores," Dill said.
Pug blinked at the mention of Two Hundred Thousand Reichsmarks as that is not a petty sum in Germany for anyone and meant that this Traveller was deeply feared by the Hitler as well as his icy friends.
"Now, onto the more pressing matters," Churchill said, "Commander Henry, I hope that your President Roosevelt has allowed you to release all sorts of information on these Fatui and Snezhnayans. Because I have half a mind to sail to America myself and slap him personally for negotiating behind our back like as if he is Chamberlain at Munich."
Pug immediately felt the heat build behind his collar from Churchill's gaze full of anger. He had expected to receive the heat for this, but even the temperature was more than he expected.
"Prime Minister," Pug said carefully, "President Roosevelt is not Neville Chamberlain."
"No," Churchill said, "Chamberlain at least had the decency to tell us when he was negotiating with the devil."
Pug kept to himself for a moment as he continued, "The President has authorized me to share operational observations and such conclusions as I can support from direct experience. He has not authorized me to discuss the substance of ongoing conversations with Snezhnayan representatives beyond confirming that such conversations exist and that no agreement has been made."
Churchill starred at him for a moment, "Very well, tell me what you can as it stands at the moment, I considering whether or not that His Majesty's Government should consider itself at war with Snezhnaya at the moment."
Pug went silent as he processed that idea of Britain making the idea that it was at war with the Fatui official went through his mind. Even Venti suddenly changed his expression to concern at the mention of the word of ''war'.
"That is a large question, Prime Minister," Pug answered.
"Yes," Churchill said, "I find large questions have become rather common since Hitler discovered geography was not enough for him."
Pug began with everything since day one of the announcement of the Alliance to what Arlecchino told him in their talks, the heavenly principles, the archons of teyvat, the seven nations, the use of elements in their world, and the Tsaritsa herself. He continued on a general description of the on-going talks that involved Childe, but mentioned about the threat that the Tsaritsa would be willing to respond with her own lend-lease program to the Axis alliance. He especially mentioned the convoy tha the escorted and the Fatui submarines that were shadowing it for longer than any normal submarine had any right to at the current standards of this planet's technology.
"If you declare war, Prime Minister," Pug continued, "You invite the Tsaritsa to respond with justification to release her own lend-lease as she hinted at us. There would be nothing politically holding her back even, what you were experiencing in Greece could possibly be only a small taste of what the Snezhnayan arsenal has in its holds."
Churchill's eyes narrowed, "So, we are to let the arsonist continue pouring petrol because he has hinted he owns a larger can."
"No, sir," Pug said.
"Then what are we to do?"
"Treat the fire as real without announcing that the whole city is already lost. As if the Fatui are operating in Axis operation of command, as of yet, the Tsaritsa has yet tried to approach you diplomatically at the moment."
Venti's eyes moved from Churchill to Pug.
"There is another matter," the bard said.
Churchill turned to the bard and replied, "I was beginning to fear we had exhausted the supply."
Venti did not smile.
"If Britain declares war on Snezhnaya, the Fatui will use the word and the word will travel as news of that nation called Yugoslavia as well as its fall has already reached Teyvat through Fatui sources….but the Fatui will retaliate harshly, they are not feared in Teyvat without reason."
Churchill seemed to think on it for a moment and nodded, "Very well, I will hold back on it for now. But if the Fatui escalates, I fear that I might not have any choice on the matter. Now Commander Henry, take a seat, how about we talk more with this bard present here in this room. He has been telling me a lot about his word at the moment and this Traveller that he assures me will be providing me more information once he arrives."
The Jade Chamber, Liyue Harbor
Earth Time: May 15th, 1941
The Harbor of Liyue was busy with life and activity as people moved about in trading. Shops sold their products, while docks moved as people walked the piers with crates filed with products. Cranes lifted heavy cargo from ships and junks alike with the sea at a flat calm of clear blue. The city was peaceful as people went on their business, while a crowd from the arch at Feiyun Slope starring to one pier where a U-boat was tied up as it flew the swastika behind its conning tower. The crew of the U-boat were busy to care as they loaded crates into the submarine.
It sat too low in the water, long and gray and narrow, with no sail, no paddle wheel, no painted eyes on its bow to comfort sailors, no lanterns hung for fortune. Its deck barely rose above the harbor's surface. Men in gray uniforms moved along it with practiced caution, their boots ringing against steel instead of wood. Near the hatch, two Fatui agents in pale masks checked each crate against a manifest while a German petty officer barked orders in a language that made the nearby dockworkers stare harder.
High in the sky and above the city was the Jade Chamber on one of the walking platforms, Ningguang watched in her awe-inspiring outfit. She silently observed the U-boat being loaded as in one hand she held a scroll and the other her smoking pipe. She recalled the lastest information on the trade involved with this U-boat apparently called U-66, where it was operating through multiple Snezhnayan companies with its current one being called the Northern Mechanical Exchange. The payment of this cargo that the U-boat was transporting was thorough the Northland Bank and its destination was Hamburg. The crates were listed the same as Yelan reported from Fontaine when it was first there with Fourteen crates of Ruin Guard Chaos Cores, Nine crates of Chaos Circuits. However, this time, it was also carrying three secondary crates of stabilizing conductor plates.
Ningguang drew once from her pipe and exhaled a thin stream of smoke into the open air. The wind took it east, toward Guyun Stone Forest.
"So," she said at last, "the Fatui have brought their iron fish to my harbor."
Behind her, Keqing stood with her arms folded with a look of disgust as she spoke, "Yes, and they apartment have more than one operating this trade route as they listed a U-68 as well. This route has a lot of connection to them."
Ganyu, standing at Ningguang's other side with a stack of permits held carefully against her chest, looked troubled, "That is because the Chaos components are more abundant here and are of cheaper value to purchase for their trip back to Germany."
"That makes Liyue convenient," Ningguang said. "And convenience, when noticed by the wrong people, becomes a road."
Keqing's eyes stayed on the U-boat below, "A road to Hamburg."
Ningguang drew another slow breath from her pipe, then let the smoke drift away on the wind., "And that Meyer character, who I had that visit with and reassured me that it was commerce for their Reich, he is the same one that the Iudex sent about?"
Ganyu nodded quickly, flipping through her permits.
"The very same. We have cross-referenced the diplomatic correspondence. Oberleutnant Meyer was part of the German delegation that pushed for the inclusion of their propaganda film. He also personally oversaw several of the early shipments through Fontaine's Romaritime Harbor before the route shifted here."
Keqing's tail flicked once in irritation, "So he lied to your face, then moved the operation to Liyue when Fontaine proved too… principled. Typical ... .and I didn't like that salute he gave you with that phrase as well to their leader ...."
Ningguang's golden eyes remained calm, but the faintest trace of frost crept into her voice.
"'Heil Hitler,'" she quoted softly, as if tasting something unpleasant. "A greeting that carries the weight of an entire ideology. He offered it with the confidence of a man who believed I would simply accept it as custom. I smiled, of course. One does not rise to my position by showing distaste at the wrong moment."
"And, Yelan said that she heard him claims that with their Fuhrer that their Third Reich will last a thousand years even" Kequing continued sounding concern, "…that once that England is dealt with along with their Jewish Question, they will be in a world with Germany at the top thanks to the help of the Tsaritsa."
For a long moment the only sound was the distant clamor of the harbor below and the soft flutter of the Jade Chamber's banners in the breeze. Ningguang exhaled a thin stream of smoke.
"A thousand-year Reich," she murmured. "How ambitious. And how convenient that they believe the Tsaritsa will simply hand them the world once their current enemies are removed."
She turned away from the railing at last, the scroll disappearing into her sleeve with a smooth motion. The wind caught the edge of her white-and-gold attire, making it ripple like a banner of quiet authority.
"Legal on paper," she continued, voice cool and measured, "but the spirit of the contract was never theirs to twist. They have used Liyue's openness as a shield while feeding another world's war machine and now they speak openly of a thousand-year empire built on the bones of their current enemies. That is parasitism wearing a merchant's smile."
Keqing eyes went sharper as she replied, "We should seize the cargo. Block the harbor. At the very least make them pay a price for using Liyue as their supply depot."
Ningguang's gaze remained steady, "And hand Fatui the perfect excuse to claim we are violating trade agreements? That we are hostile to their new allies? No, Keqing. We play the long game. And when the moment is right, we cut the thread they have so kindly woven through our harbor."
Aberdeen, Scotland
May 17th, 1941
The Karlskrona came into Aberdeen harbour on a gray morning with the haar still thick off the North Sea. However, it started to thin out at the mouth of the harbor where the breakwater cut it. The first thing that Aether saw was the dark outline of the pier emerging from white nothing. He had been below for most of the voyage, where he was not even allowed to step up on deck when they reached Sweden and they did not stay long for it even. As they continued to the Skagerrak to the North Sea.
During this voyage, Aether could not even sleep much unlike Paimon where after the first two days out at sea he had lying on the narrow bunk listening to the ship's engines and Paimon's breathing. However, when Aether did sleep he thought of Marta and Father Brauer, Teyvat, and even all of the people that he had known in the nations of Teyvat that he had visited.
Now, he was up on deck with Paimon, who was floating right beside him as she kept her hand on the railing and looked amazed.
"Wow," She announced as her voiced sounded amazed and her eyes seemed more brighter, "So this is Aberdeen…it looks much better than Berlin already."
Aether looked at the coming out of the mist as they passed a small white lighthouse off the starboard bow and moved closer into the city.
"The bar was not very high," he said.
"Berlin had a bar?" Paimon said, "Paimon thought it just had a ceiling that kept getting lower."
Aether almost smiled as the harr shifted and for a moment the town beyond the pier was visible as the sailing into the pier of the city, there was a split off and the ship slowly sailed to the right where a tug boat came alongside after passing a set of tanks and guided the ship into the narrow pier for a place to dock.
The Karlskrona came to rest against the pier with a low groan of rope and timber. Dockworkers moved along the quayside catching lines, their breath visible in the cold morning air. A harbour official in an oilskin waited with a clipboard, patient and unhurried.
Bengtsson walked up from behind Aether and Paimon with a smile on his face and his hands in coat pockets.
"Well," he said, in English that carried the same mild Swedish cadence it had carried at the Stettin checkpoint ten days ago, "Aberdeen."
"I think that it looks better than Berlin or Stettin," Aether said.
"Yes, I agree….I have run this route from Stockholm to here many years and it is always a great sight to see…the lighthouse of the city…The Market Cross when you go explore the city, St Machar's Cathedral….the town is a sight to see."
Paimon's eyes lit up at the word 'market'.
"There's a market?" she said.
"There is," Bengtsson said, "Though I would not expect much. Rationing here is strict. The British are careful people with their food."
Paimon's face fell as if someone had personally shot down every food stall in Teyvat.
"Strict?" she repeated, "How strict?"
Bengtsson considered this for a moment as he smirked and replied, "Enough that if you ask for a feast, they may bring you tea and moral encouragement."
Paimon clutched both sides of her head, "Paimon escaped Berlin for moral encouragement?"
Aether looked toward the pier, where he assumed to be a harbour official was now speaking with one of Karlskrona's crewmen. Behind the official stood two men who did not look like Dockworkers at all.
One wore a dark red civilian overcoat and a hat pulled low against the mist. The other wore a dark greatcoat with bold buttons and gold stripes on the sleeves of his coat. Aether could notice that the men were not looking at the official or Karlskrona's crewmen as they had their focus on Paimon with the look saying that they were processing the fact that she was floating. Aether and Paimon noticed them looking at her.
"Traveler," she whispered, "are they staring at Paimon?"
"Yes."
"Is it bad staring or confused staring?"
"Both."
Paimon folded her arms, cheeks puffing slightly. "Paimon has had enough of being stared at by people in coats."
Bengtsson glanced over his shoulder toward the pier.
"That will be your reception," he said quietly, "They were described to me as serious men. Britain produces those in large quantities."
"Why do people keep staring at Paimon like she has grown two heads?" Paimon complained with her hands to her hips, "So I can float what is else is new really in this world."
The two men came up the gangway with care with The man in the naval greatcoat stepped first, his boots striking the wet planks. He removed his cap when he reached the deck, revealing gray hair cut short. The civilian followed a pace behind, glancing once at the harbor, once at the crew, then back to Paimon with a discipline that almost succeeded in not looking like staring.
"Captain Bengtsson," the naval officer said.
"Ja," Bengtsson replied.
"Commander Edward Mallory, Royal Navy." The said as he extended a hand, "His Majesty's Government is grateful."
Bengtsson shook it once, firmly, "His Majesty's Government can be grateful by making this brief. Got another load of cargo to take back Stockholm ... .man's got to make a living."
Mallory's mouth twitched, "That was our intention."
The civilian stepped forward and gave a small bow, not deep enough to be theatrical, but polite and deliberate.
"Charles Whitcombe," he said. "Attached to certain offices in London."
Paimon floated a little lower behind Aether's shoulder, "What kind of offices?"
Whitcombe's eyes flicked toward two dockworkers pretending to coil rope while listening with all their souls, "The sort that are better discussed away from harbors really. Please follow us, we will take a car to the Aberdeen station and then we can debrief en route."
"Debrief?" Paimon repeated, "Paimon has been wrapped in a blanket, called a baby, nearly inspected by Fatui, and brought across the sea. Paimon would like to be fed before being de-anything."
"You must be Aether," Mallory said walking up to the individual in question as he held his hand, "May I shake your hand, sir? One does not meet one wanted by the Nazi's with a huge bounty to back it up very often."
Aether shook it with Mallory's grip being firm and brief.
"Well," Aether replied with a smirk, "It was backed by the Fatui though."
"Which is what makes a man of your caliber interesting," Mallory answered with his own smirk, "Two hundred thousand Reichsmarks is more a sign of institutional anxiety, not just on the Germans but also the Fatui as well. That makes you very interested in the Royal Navy's Intelligence sector and His Majesty's government."
After a while, Aether said goodbye to Bengtsson where Mallory and Whitcombe led them down the gangway as they entered a four door car with Whitcombe taking the wheel. Paimon watched the city go past with her nose almost touching the window glass.
"Man, Paimon knew that Aberdeen was beautiful from the outside," she said, "But inside the city, it is amazing. It makes Paimon think about what she knows about Doorman Port."
Aether looked at the sight of the city that seemed like a more urban form of Mondstadt without the castle walls around as they went down the street until they reached a train station, where Mallory and Whitcombe lead them to a train and the carriages that it was pulling. They all sat in the rear carriage in a reserved compartment. As they entered Whitcombe locked the door behind them and pulled the blinds on the corridor side window without being asked. Mallory settled into the seat across from Aether and set his cap on the rack above.
Paimon took the window seat and pressed her nose to the glass as the platform slid past and Aberdeen Joint station gave way to the city's outer streets and then to the edge of the city altogether, where the granite ended and Scotland opened up around them with fields, low hills, and farmhouses visible in the view.
"Paimon could get used to this," she said.
"I should hope," Aether commented.
Whitcombe had produced a thin folder from his coat and set it on the seat beside him without opening it. He looked at Aether with careful attention as he spoke.
"Before we begin, Mr. Aether, I want to be plain here. Nothing said in this compartment enters any written record until it has been reviewed at a level above mine. The Prime Minister will be the next person that will want to speak to you the moment that we arrive in London."
"The Prime Minister?" Aether asked as he tilted his head.
Mallory nodded with a smile, "Yes, Mr. Churchill, himself, wants to see you in person with the company of an American officer present and someone that you might know."
"What's a Prime Minister?" Aether asked curiously.
Whitcombe opened his mouth, then closed it again. Then Mallory decided to speak for him as he smiled with a grin.
"The head of His Majesty's Government," he said, "The man who leads the country and directs the war."
"So he's like a King?" Paimon asked.
"No," Mallory corrected, "The King is the King."
"So Churchill is not a King?" aether asked.
"No, but he is in charge of the King's government and King is more a role model for the general public in a sense," Mallory explained.
Paimon tilted her head so far that Aether thought she might float sideways.
"So Britain has a King who is the King," she said slowly, "but Churchill does the war."
"That is a crude summary," Whitcombe said.
Mallory nodded. "But not an entirely useless one."
Paimon looked pleased. "Paimon is getting better at Earth politics."
Aether looked out the window as Scotland passed in wet green folds beneath a gray sky.
"In Teyvat, rulers are usually more direct."
"Yes," Mallory said. "We have noticed that. Your Raiden Shogun, for example, appears to have a style of government that would cause several constitutional historians in our country to faint."
"Alright," Paimon replied, "Before we answer any questions, we would like some food please….we've not had a good meal in weeks besides that weird German pot meal and its fake coffee."
Mallory and Whitcombe looked at each other for a moment.
"There is a dining car," Whitcombe said carefully.
Paimon suddenly jumped higher in the air filled with excitement as floated right beside Whitcombe and grabbed him by the coat like a child, "Lead the way, please."
Whitcombe looked down at the small hands gripping his coat, then at Mallory with the bleak dignity of a man who had not been trained for this exact form of diplomatic crisis.
Mallory's mouth twitched, "You heard the lady."
"Very well," Whitcombe sighed carefully, "But Miss. Paimon, I beg you, to please stay on the ground with your feet planted."
Paimon lowered herself to floor real quick and landed with her feet standing, "Ok, now, can we go?"
Whitcombe nodded as he grabbed Paimon by the hand and led her out forward. As they walked away, Mallory looked at Aether and kept his smile.
"I hate imagine, what it must be like to travel in your world constantly with her at times," was the response the man from the Royal Navy said.
"You get used to it and start to enjoy it," Aether replied kindly.
"Now, tell me about your world, this Teyvat and especially this Tsaritsa that is now in bed with dear old Adolf," Mallory said as he wanted to continue.
Aether thought for a moment and saw no need to hold back where he started from the beginning of his story starting from an unknown god that separated him and his sister from each other.