"Your Majesty, the road to Springvale is completely finished," Seamus reported. "It opened to traffic yesterday afternoon. Carts and horses move freely, and all the passing merchants praised it. So… when are we heading for Stone Gate? I can't wait."
Morning of the next day, Seamus all but sprinted into the palace to deliver the good news.
Rowan had just gotten up. After a quick shower, he wandered out in a set of pajamas. A bit casual, sure—but Seamus didn't find it improper at all. The palace, in the end, was Rowan's home; aside from the central council hall, everything else was his private domain. What he wore here was his business. So long as he treated public affairs with due gravity, the people were content—especially a people who'd learned to dearly value freedom after a thousand years without a god's guidance. Mondstadt accepted Rowan's habits with ease.
"Mm. Well done," Rowan said. "If you're all that eager, we'll start today. Gather the craftsmen at the city gate; I'll tidy up and go with you myself. I'll oversee Stone Gate in person—and I'll need Klee to help."
He skimmed the written report Seamus handed over, nodded, and closed it.
"Understood. I'll see to it at once." Seamus withdrew, hesitating—there was one more thing he desperately wanted to ask.
Namely: what on earth had happened between Rowan and Jean?
Ever since Jean had visited the palace a few days back, she'd walked a little oddly—carrying some… hard-to-describe grace. Not the air of a maiden, but the poise of a grown woman. In her, Seamus saw a shade of Frederika—her younger days.
And normally, a report like today's should have been delivered by Jean. Yet lately, no matter what anyone said, she refused to come to the palace at all. Strange. What had transpired between her and the king?
Surely His Majesty hadn't… done that to Jean?
No… surely not?
He had no idea his wild guess had struck home.
Days earlier, Jean had come to submit a portion of reports, only to find Rowan collapsed—mana and stamina drained, lying unconscious on the floor. She feared he'd been attacked and rushed to help him up—whereupon Rowan pulled her into the room, and the two engaged in a very… profound exchange.
Those who've followed the Fate series know the term "mana transfer." In the original context, replenishing mana could be accomplished by exchanging bodily fluids—anything from a kiss to a deeper connection—though the latter worked best.
That day, Rowan, utterly spent, mistook Jean for Istaroth.
No need to linger on details readers don't care to see. The upshot: after that day, Jean had no idea how to face Rowan, and didn't dare come see him. Rowan himself remained in the dark, still thinking it had been Istaroth—which also explained why "Istaroth" hadn't visited these past few days. She must be angry, he thought, and let the matter lie.
When he would discover the truth, who could say?
Not long after Seamus left, Rowan put on his knight's gear and departed the palace. He fetched Klee from Albedo and boarded the caravan with the craftsmen bound for Stone Gate.
The road was peaceful; the ranger squads had swept it once already. With the Ley Lines still recovering, monsters needed time to reappear—certainly more than a day. By Rowan's estimate, a week at least for general spawn to normalize, and a month for major threats—things like the Electro Hypostasis, Anemo Hypostasis, or the Cryo Regisvine.
Even so, the route was brutally bumpy; speed never picked up. Those sections simply weren't built yet, and the convoy had to crawl. Not until midday of the second day did the craftsmen straggle into Stone Gate.
They set to work immediately—surveying, measuring, calculating. By nightfall, they had ten decent revision plans for Rowan to review. He had no objections. After discussing with Klee, the little one patted her tummy and swore she could handle it—provided she got to go fish-blasting afterward.
Rowan readily agreed. Let the experts handle the expert work. In all Mondstadt, no one knew blasting better than Klee.
After a short night's rest at Stone Gate, dawn came.
They ate the fish Klee had spiritedly "caught" at first light, then the craftsmen began mixing cement and preparing materials, while Klee followed the placement map she'd spent the whole night perfecting—dashing about to set charges and bombs. Rowan watched nearby, just in case.
Yes, with his strength he could split a roadway through Stone Gate by himself. But he wasn't here to do everything for Mondstadt. Teach a person to fish, and all that. Only by learning the method—and reaping the benefits themselves—would the people truly grow. If he did every little thing, he'd turn into a glorified nanny—and he wasn't keen on becoming another version of Jean, overburdened and indispensable to a fault.
Truth be told, he preferred Liyue to Mondstadt—the customs felt like home. Liyue was, in many ways, a Teyvat mirror of his homeland, and he was more at ease there. It was a pity he hadn't descended in Liyue, but he could visit in the future. He wasn't one of the Seven, and didn't need to honor their mutual non-interference pact.
"You sure she can do it?"
A familiar voice sounded behind him. Rowan turned to find Venti, chewing on an apple, idle as ever. Since Rowan took Mondstadt's reins, Venti had completely let go of the city's day-to-day—either drinking at Angel's Share or busking at the plaza for mora, living his best life. Today he'd come only because the project might catch Liyue's eye—and Zhongli might show up.
Rowan just smiled at Venti's doubt. "Heh. Don't underestimate Klee. In demolition, she's not far off from you, 'best bard in Teyvat.'"
Venti chuckled, tossing the core and clapping along to the distant echo of timed charges as they began to bloom across the cliffs—Klee's precise, rhythmic blasts carving a modern road through ancient stone.
(End of Chapter)
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