Chapter Text
Tartaglia heard snatches of a distinct Cyro vision wielder from Signora herself, one whose dark skin had caught her attention after she had quashed Barbatos to the ground by merely lifting an arm.
“After I seized Barbatos’s gnosis, I laid my eyes upon a curious man. A cryo user, but most startling of all was his dark skin and eyepatch. Why - he could have passed as a Khaenri’ahn at a passing glance - but I saw his star pupil, and realised immediately that he was indeed from the old country.”
Tartaglia, temper still fueled by Rex Lapis’s trickery, was itching for a fight. The Abyss in him wanted to pummel this Cryo user to the ground and stake another claim among his endless victories. It did not matter where it happened. He would soil Mondstadt’s ground with this man’s blood if he had to.
More so than that, he had never met another Khaenri'ahn human. He thought all the Khaenri'ahn folk had morphed into hilichurls, Abyss mages, heralds, and the like. This was an opportunity to test the skills of another being so similar to him; tainted by the Abyss.
Departing with a mere mention that he had ‘family businesses’ to take care of, Tartaglia made towards Mondstadt, a cold, mischievous gleam in his eye.
The journey was as arduous as he had expected. He was still recovering from his injuries, and the exertion of a journey on foot was saping away his vitality steadily. Still, he persevered on, a rare bitterness in his veins charging him on, reminding him of his utter defeat in Liyue.
At last, ahead of him, the city of Mondstadt came into view. It was everything pleasant and homely that Snezhnaya lacked. It was dawn, and there was mist clinging to the spiraling steeples of several towers. On closer inspection, those were windmills.
Not surprising, considering it was the City of Wind.
Sunlight fell like a field of gossamer strands, and instantly the toils of his journey were forgotten; the long boat ride, braving tumultuous waters, the endless treks, and the often mediocre, unappetising food.
This painstaking journey was part of his atonement for failure.
He slipped past the main gates to make a fool out of the guards, then ducked to the right, merging with the shadows along the alley. Unfortunately it led downwards, so Tartaglia scaled a flight of steps that brought him closer to the heart of the city.
There was a wine tavern at the top of the flight of steps. He spotted a red haired man unlocking and entering the tavern, and unless he was mistaken, it was a Ragnvindr.
Tartaglia tilted his head. It was Diluc Ragnvindr, wasn’t it? The famed Fatui stronghold destroyer. Always a lone wolf. It had been over a year since the Ragnvindr had relocated his activities back to Mondstadt. Tartaglia toyed with the idea of confronting him, though his better instincts knew better than to torment a famed enemy in his injured state.
He had another target to pursue, after all. He would need to conserve his energy.
So focused was Tartaglia on his options that he missed the way a tall, lithe figure crept up from behind him with cat-like grace and ensnared him with fingers trapping both sides of his shoulders.
So touchy feely, this stalker… thought Tartaglia, before he came face to face with a dark-skinned man.
“Strange yet respectable traveler… I find it strange that no one else has escorted you into the city of Mondstadt before I. And I find it more strange that you have business in a discreet alley way of Mondstadt. Care to enlighten me?”
Childe stared at his captor up and down.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” His mouth widened, revealing a white-toothed grin. “The cryo user of Mondstadt.”
The man had a purely exotic appearance. His skin had a consistent, dark tone, upon which elegant, arched eyebrows sat, and his periwinkle iris was parted by a perfectly shaped star pupil. A black eyepatch lined with gold patterns at the top covered his right eye.
Those eyebrows were furrowed slightly now. “Come again?”
“I want to fight you, comrade. I’m not a tourist.”
Kaeya, from the corners of his carefully ordered brain, experienced a sensation of deja vu. Lumine had once returned to Mondstadt after her epic stint in Liyue and stayed for dinner in his apartment. She had ranted about a gangly ginger man who liked to address others colloquially by “comrade”.
It was not till the end of dinner that she had casually remarked that he was a Fatui harbinger.
A sharp thrill ran through Kaeya’s blood. He had nothing but distaste for the Fatui.
“Unfortunately, you can’t fool me. What brings you here, Fatui harbinger?”
Tartaglia licked his lips, looking too smug for someone who had been implicated.
“I said I was here to fight, comrade! You have no idea of the depths to which I’ll go to fight someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” Kaeya did not like the sound of it. “Who sent you here?”
“Enough talk! Let’s bring out our fists.”
“Don’t call me comrade. We hardly know each other,” Kaeya retorted smoothly before meeting Childe’s fist with his own.
It was a messy, dirty fight. For some reason, Kaeya’s opponent was quite determined to pummel him towards the ground - Kaeya had to swivel away in the nick of time a few times. Their backs scrapped against bricked walls, minor aches settling into their bones.
Every opportunity to use either of their blades was prevented by the other. It was extremely dangerous to use weapons in such a cramped space, after all.
Similarly, at the close proximity, their respective visions crackled with compressed energy. It did not take long for Kaeya to create a layer of frost armour around his skin so that the man's hydro attacks would have no effect on him.
That was until the Fatui revealed himself to have an Electro delusion, which was no surprise.
Kaeya's armour broke, and he grunted as he ducked under the man's heavy blows. The man was slightly taller than him and both hefty but agile - still, Kaeya had the advantage of speed.
He propelled himself off against the wall into the man's unprotected torso.
Tartaglia gave a cry of "oof" before staggering backwards. In an instant, his opponent was on him, straddling his waist against the ground in a manner that brought the back of his head colliding with the opposite wall.
They were in a narrow alleyway, after all.
Tartaglia gasped for air, as enthralled in the heat of battle as he was with the skill of his opponent. Oh, and his head hurt like hell.
Kaeya narrowed his eyes dangerously, not desisting his hold on the offensive man until a dribble of blood bloomed at the corner of his lips.
I didn't even hit him that hard -
"Why're you bleeding? A simple tackle to the ground shouldn't be causing that," Kaeya said sharply.
"None… of your… business," Tartaglia wheezed back.
Kaeya stared down at him, deciding on his options. The man's skin was ashen and sweaty, and he had breathing difficulties as well. He was not in a fit fighting state, yet his earlier demeanor had been all bluster and bravado.
"Did you come to fight me unprepared? Are you that desperate?" Kaeya asked incisively.
Tartaglia let out a gurgle of laughter, tasting vile defeat on his tongue again.
"Yes, I'm desperate. Now kill me if you so desire. I have nothing else to live for, anyway," he whispered.
Kaeya titled his head, not believing in his resolve. The man's orange hair and freckles gave him the appearance of someone who lived life on the edge of the cliff. He had to be used to escaping from near-death scenarios.
"I don't think that's what you want. Tell me why you're here," Kaeya said, poised and lethal as his voice. He could conduct an interrogation anywhere, anytime.
Something dislodged in Tartaglia's chest. For a moment, all he felt was unbridled rage and chaos.
"I live to kill. A strong conquest is a worthy one."
"If you live to kill," breathed Kaeya, "Then why are you losing this battle with me? Surely you would have calculated the stakes?"
Another chuckle. The dribble of blood trickled down his lips, and Kaeya mercifully loosened his straddle.
"You are desperate to kill me. That I know, at the very least. Am I correct?" Kaeya asked, bringing a hand against the man's neck.
"Yes."
There was something remarkably bloodthirsty about that tone. Kaeya made a highly risky gamble in his head, and went along with it.
"Unless you want me to report you to the Acting Grandmaster for launching an unprovoked attack on a Cavalry Captain, you'll do as I say," Kaeya spat out.
"And in return, I'll let you fight me. You may try whenever you feel like until I lose. Or even die." Kaeya added the last part for good measure, and the gleam in the man's eye intensified.
"I'll have your word?" the man asked with surprising naïvety.
Kaeya let out a hasty bark of laughter. "My word is as good as any others as long as you stay within my sight."
"So you're keeping an eye on me?" the man asked softly.
Against his better judgement, Kaeya let his predatory instincts recede in favour of some compassion. He hadn't forgotten the way the man had been so blasé about parting with his life.
There had been something so desperate and vulnerable about him at that moment. It reminded Kaeya starkly of himself at the mercy of someone else on a night with torrential rain...
"You are clearly injured," Kaeya pointed out, swiping his soiled knuckles against the sides of his pants.
“Are you a masochist? Tending to the enemy who’s supposed to kill you,” the man teased.
Kaeya blinked. This man was a cocky asshole, not that he hadn't expected it -
“Make no mistake,” said Kaeya, baring his teeth, “I won’t hesitate to kill you. I’m just keeping you close because it doesn’t hurt to know the enemy better.”
“Ah, of course.” The man still looked very winded, and did not reject the hand Kaeya offered him to pull him up.
Kaeya snorted, before roughly throwing his arm over his shoulder.
"You're a pathetic sack of shit, but if you lay a hand on anyone in this city, I'll end your life immediately."
"I get it," Tartaglia groaned. Nothing had gone as he had expected. He had lost, and was at the mercy of his own bloodlust and the man who had defeated him. Yet, his strength had waned faster than he had anticipated. Or perhaps his opponent was simply stronger than he'd thought.
Either way, Tartaglia was too grateful about being spared mercy to let the reality of the situation sink in. As his extravagantly dressed companion guided him to walk, it dawned on Tartaglia that he was being invited to stay at a stranger's house of his own volition.
No stranger had ever been so quick to extend such intimacy, if Tartaglia took the "keeping an eye on you" out of the equation.
The man kept them close to the shadows, escaping the notice of citizens who were milling about the market square in the early morning.
Tartaglia, once again, made an observation that his captor was dressed more fancifully than the average person in this city.
He stumbled a bit just to irritate his companion, whom he had a suspicion was more charming than he let on. Why else would he flaunt his chest and wear complicated attire that accentuated his rakish, good looks?
He felt his flippant suspicion was confirmed when the Cavalry captain seized his hand to prevent him from tipping over.
"Watch where you're going. You don't want to be tripping over in my house like that."
Fuck, thought Tartaglia. If I trip in your house, will you catch me in your arms?
Tartaglia enjoyed toying with every living creature within a fifty metre radius of himself, including himself. Nothing would come out of it. He would kill this man and redeem himself in the eye of the abyss within him.
The Cavalry captain’s home was as charming and serene as the city. It did not exude the cold, untouchable beauty of a frozen lake in Snezhnaya, around which stout, hardy houses gathered.
Kaeya swept into the house with a rhythmic flourish, spilling his outer coat onto the back of a chair and pouring pre-steeped tea into a glass of ice.
He set the glass before himself, drained it and closed his eye briefly.
When he opened it, Tartaglia was observing him intently, not having moved from the doorway. Kaeya noticed how blue his irises were from beneath the messy crop of ginger curls.
Then the man's eyes slid shut, and he dropped like a stone to the floor. Kaeya immediately cursed, deciding that nothing could lessen the absurdity of the situation from then on, and so he hauled him over his back and deposited him onto the sofa.
The next step was to fish for his medical kit in a cabinet in his room. Returning to the sofa, he found that the man had regained consciousness and was massaging his head gingerly.
"Don't touch your head. Have you got a concussion?" Kaeya blurted out.
The man winced, replying, "I hit my head against the wall back there. Dizzy spell."
“Got it. Be quiet while I tend to your wounds.”
Ignoring the relieved look on his enemy’s face, Kaeya assessed his physical injuries. Blood trickled from his mouth, which meant there was either an internal injury in his stomach, or a blow to his jaw had cut the inside of his cheek.
Kaeya remembered socking his jaw a few times before pinning him to the ground.
He brought out cotton swabs and disinfectant.
"Did you bite the inside of your cheek after I hit you?" Kaeya asked tersely.
"Tartaglia," the man bit out.
"What?"
"Call me Tartaglia, otherwise Childe is fine as well," the man said with quiet resignation.
Kaeya stared at Tartaglia unflinchingly.
"Mind telling me all your injuries? You look terrible."
"Really?" Tartaglia raised his hand feebly.
"Yes. Did you take a beating before this?"
Tartaglia laughed in a way that neither denied nor confirmed his question.
"I'll spare you the details. What's your name, comrade?"
"Answer my question first," said Kaeya wearily, "Did you bite your cheek after I hit you?"
Tartaglia rolled his eyes, and Kaeya's eyes flashed in warning.
"I think so? I cut the inside of my cheek accidentally."
"Good. Open your mouth."
"Wha - "
Tartaglia didn't get another warning before Kaeya shoved a swab of non-adhesive cotton bud, drenched with a little disinfectant solution, against the small mess of blood clots on the right side of his cheek.
"Ow!" he yelped in indignation.
Kaeya's lips quirked up a little.
"Sorry," the captain said somewhat sincerely.
"You," Tartaglia wagged his finger at the man's face, voice laced with consternation, "You enjoy tormenting me, don't you?"
His voice was muffled and his syllables were loose due to the effect of having his mouth slightly open, and the captain merely hummed as he wiped away the worst of the blood.
"Don't want you dribbling blood onto the sofa. Let's keep it that way."
"Alright, didn't take you for the prissy kind," replied Tartaglia, shifting away from his probing fingers, "Now, do you mind telling me your name?"
"For what end?" the man asked, a lilt in his tone, as if he was half-teasing him. Again.
"For convenience!" Tartaglia protested. "I can't keep calling you "Oi", "Excuse me", "Chest-window man" or "Flamboyant jerk" all the time, can I?"
"Didn't know your eyes were down there," the captain answered both coolly and coyly.
"You take the entire responsibility for what you wear. I know you're not dressing up for anyone, but I just happened to enjoy the view."
The man huffed before replying at last, "I'm Kaeya Alberich, and I am not your comrade."
Tartaglia rolled his eyes again. Fair enough, he mused to himself.
Kaeya wiped away the last of the blood mingled with saliva for now, before applying a generous dab of disinfectant. Up close, Tartaglia could sense a savage energy prowling underneath his seeming composure. Only those who were intimately acquainted with this energy knew what to look for. Interesting how it resonated with his own abyssal core.
He perused the immaculate star pupil again, realising that all Khaenri'ahns were tainted by the abyss to some degree.
He did not resist when Kaeya asked to inspect his abdomen. There was a large, ugly bruise that Kaeya took absolute credit for. But he was surprisingly gentle as he bandaged the half-concussed Tartaglia. Next, Kaeya bandaged his throbbing head, winding cloth around it a few times before tying a secure knot.
When he was done, Tartaglia was almost asleep.
Kaeya fixed him a drink that Tartaglia suspected to be filled with the right dosage of sleeping pills to keep him knocked out until next morning.
He did not protest or voice his suspicions. Right now, it could be perceived as part of the bargain - after all, there was no reason for Kaeya to trust him.
And so he dozed off by Kaeya's fireplace, incognisant of everything except his body thanking him for being taken care of at last.
As for Kaeya, he took off in the hour of mid-morning. The sleeping potion in Tartaglia's drink had been brewed by Chief Alchemist Albedo himself. Albedo kept a steady supply for the Knight's use when they had prisoners they needed subjugating. Only persons of rank Captaincy and above were allowed to use the potion at their discretion.
At any rate, it was time to meet up with his informant within the Fatui.
Vagrant, his latest informant, had settled rather easily for the job after he realised that Kaeya paid handsomely for his services. As a former spy in the black market, he was proficient at gathering intel from confidential places.
Kaeya had helped to bail him out of a tight spot after a few of Vagrant's clients exposed his dealings in the black market. The clients had pinned the blame on him for extortion and blackmail when a sharp-eyed lawyer questioned their business records.
Kaeya, seizing the chance and taking pity on him, had taken Vagrant out of their hands, stating that he would be formally enlisted to help him.
It was fortunate for them both that the lawyer ceased his questioning after Kaeya abolished evidence of Vagrant’s illegality and the lawyer’s involvement. Jean might sternly disapprove of Kaeya’s methods, but Kaeya had simply felt that Vagrant’s potential should be better recognised.
Kaeya came to him for updates once every few months. As per their custom, Kaeya was invited into his hut in Springvale.
"Good day to you, Sir Kaeya. May I interest you with some imported wine from Liyue?"
"You certainly know how to treat me, Vagrant," replied Kaeya smilingly.
Vagrant gave a wry smile before bringing out a labelled bottle of "Osmanthus wine". Kaeya recognised it as an aged bottle of Liyue's finest, traditional wine.
"So what kind of information do you require?" he asked.
Kaeya took a long, indulgent sip. Its flavour was fragrant, subtle and sophisticated.
"Just today, Tartaglia, a Fatui Harbinger, said it was his desire to kill me. He confronted me and lost, and I've decided to keep an eye on him. I'm leaning towards guessing that it is out of personal ambition rather than the Tsaritsa's orders. I'd like you to ascertain which it is."
From across the table, Vagrant stared at him with a skeptical eye. "And by keeping an eye on him, you mean - "
"That I've kept him in my house, yes," finished Kaeya for him. He drummed his fingers unstoppably against the table, hoping to wrap up this conversation quickly.
“No questions asked,” commented Vagrant, raising his hands in deference. “I will see what I can do.”
“Where has the Tsaritsa sent Tartaglia to? I thought Mondstadt was La Signora’s assigned region.”
"Liyue," affirmed Vagrant, "He was the one to resurrect Lord Osial from the depths to harm the citizens of Liyue."
Kaeya blinked in shock at the new piece of information. Wow, that was just unexpected. Already, he felt a tingle creep up his back that could be Tartaglia's impish gaze, belying immense cruelty.
"Well, it looks like I've got my work cut out for me. A pleasure to do business with you as always."
"Likewise, Sir Kaeya." Vagrant stood up, holding the door open for him.
"I'll pay you after that as per usual," Kaeya told him, to which he nodded.
Kaeya made his way back to the apartment, wanting to check on his we house guest before getting to work. It was a Saturday, but it was common knowledge that the shorthanded Knights often had to work on the weekends. He decided on a whim that he would show up today, but not tomorrow.
Tartaglia was still passed out against his couch, his head tilted backwards on the sofa’s armrest. His mouth was slightly open, and he was snoring slightly. Kaeya frowned at how utterly knackered out he looked, before remembering that he had given Tartaglia a strong sleeping pill.
Thus, kneeling down, he felt for the man’s pulse. There was a slow flutter of a heartbeat that sped up when his fingers applied greater pressure against it. His pulse felt erratic.
“Effects of overusing one’s delusion,” Kaeya muttered to himself darkly. This criminal had overexpanded his energy in trying to take down Liyue. Kaeya had never imagined he would meet Lumine’s sparring partner, an international criminal at the same time. But Lumine apparently saw something salvageable in him, because she hadn’t told Kaeya of his criminal status.
Kaeya left promptly for work after that. Jean was at her office, and, absorbed in her paperwork, only nodded at him in greeting.
"Pleasant to see you this early, Kaeya," murmured Jean.
"I had a sober night," Kaeya informed her. He was going to need many more sober nights with Tartaglia in his house, and he was going to need every ounce of his sanity.