Jean tilted her head slightly, curious. "Stories? I've heard plenty, but go on."
"Alright," Vale said, leaning forward, hands gesturing animatedly. "Once, there was a city carved entirely from ice. People lived there in tunnels, with glowing crystals for light. And the weirdest part? They didn't really… sleep. They rested in suspended animation, floating mid-air, dreaming collectively. They called it… the Dreaming City. Or so the story goes."
Jean's eyes softened as she listened, a small smile forming. "That… actually sounds fascinating. Did they survive?"
Vale shrugged, feigning casualness. "Depends. Sometimes the traveler saves them, sometimes he just watches. Stories rarely care about happy endings—they care about the journey."
She chuckled lightly, leaning on her elbows to get closer to the river's edge. "You make it sound… real."
"Eh, just a story," Vale said, waving a hand dismissively, though his eyes twinkled. "I'm just a storyteller, not a hero. No grand quests, no fame. Just… tales."
Jean's expression softened further, her gaze lingering on him. "I like that," she said quietly. "Sometimes, listening to stories is enough to feel like you've traveled far, even if your feet stay in one place."
Vale grinned. "Exactly. And some stories… might even be true. But you can't tell which ones."
For hours, they talked. Vale spun whimsical tales of floating islands, talking beasts, cities in clouds, and forests that shifted with the wind. Jean listened intently, occasionally laughing, occasionally furrowing her brow at the clever twists. The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in oranges and golds, reflecting in the river as the world grew quieter.
When the first hints of twilight arrived, Vale leaned back with a sigh. "Guess… that's enough stories for today. Even storytellers need a break."
Jean nodded, glancing at him with mild concern. "So… you aren't planning to spend the night in Mondstadt?"
Vale shook his head. "Nah. I don't have anywhere else to stay… not really. Cities aren't really… my thing."
Jean's lips pressed into a thoughtful line, then she shook her head slightly, exhaling. "You really shouldn't stay out here alone," she said. "At night, Windrise gets… cold. You'd freeze under the Statue of The Seven."
Vale offered a faint, sheepish smile. "I can handle cold."
Jean's eyes narrowed just a little, but there was no scolding—only a calm, determined glint. "No. You'll freeze. Tomorrow, I'd probably find you encased in ice or… something equally ridiculous. Follow me."
Vale blinked, surprised. "Follow you?"
She gave a faint shrug, already rising to her feet. "Yes. If you want to live through the night comfortably, you follow me. I won't let a storyteller—no matter how interesting—turn into a popsicle under my watch."
Vale chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief, but he got to his feet. "Alright, alright… lead the way, Vennessa."
Jean offered a small, almost amused smile, turning toward the path that led back to Mondstadt. "Quickly, then. Night falls faster than most people think."
The path to Mondstadt was bathed in the soft glow of twilight, the city's towers visible in the distance, their lights beginning to flicker as night approached. Vale walked beside Jean, trying to match her measured pace. The air grew cooler with each step, and he hugged his jacket tighter around himself.
After a short while, Jean stopped near the outskirts of the city. From a small pouch at her belt, she produced a few coins. "Here," she said, handing them to him. "This should be enough for a night in Mondstadt. Inns aren't cheap, but you should be comfortable for one night at least."
Vale accepted them with a grateful nod. "Thanks… really."
Jean gave a soft smile, adjusting her cloak. "I have some duties to attend to. I'll leave you here, then."
Vale watched her start to turn away, but a thought struck him, and he moved slightly to intercept her path. He cleared his throat and gave a small, awkward smile. "Uh… Vennessa?"
"I… I don't have much," he said, scratching the back of his neck and forcing a small, awkward smile. "I mean… I'm not a knight or a hero, just… a storyteller. Ordinary, really. I… don't know if someone like you would want to be friends with… someone like me."
Jean's expression softened, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Her eyes lingered on him thoughtfully for a moment. "Someone like you?" she repeated, her voice gentle. "I think… even a storyteller has value, Vale. Stories can change how we see the world, even if the storyteller isn't a hero himself."
Vale blinked, caught off guard by her sincerity. He hesitated, then extended his hand. "Then… would you… like to be my friend?"
From the breeze above, a single dandelion floated down, landing delicately in his palm. It seemed almost to acknowledge the moment, fragile and bright in the twilight.
Jean's eyes widened slightly in surprise, and a small, genuine smile appeared. She reached out, taking the dandelion carefully between her fingers.
Jean's fingers closed gently around the dandelion, holding it delicately as she looked up at him, her smile soft and warm.
"Are we not… already?" she asked, her voice quiet but steady, almost teasing.
Vale blinked, caught off guard for a moment, then chuckled softly. "Well… I suppose you could say that," he admitted. "A storyteller and a knight—friends by chance, if nothing else."
Jean tilted her head, considering him for a heartbeat, then let out a light, amused laugh. "By chance… or perhaps by fate," she said softly. "Either way, I think I'll allow it. Just… don't make a habit of sleeping under trees, Vale. Even friends have to stay safe."
Vale laughed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Noted. Though the stories might get less interesting if I stick to inns all the time."
Vale watched as Jean—Vennessa, in her carefully chosen name—smiled faintly, adjusting her cloak before turning away.
With a small sigh, he started walking toward Mondstadt proper, the city gates glowing softly in the twilight. The cobblestone streets were quiet at this hour, the occasional lantern casting long shadows.
A few moments later, Vale found the inn—a small, cozy building tucked between larger stone houses. He pushed the door open, the warm light and smell of firewood welcoming him. Patrons glanced briefly at him, some nodding politely, but he hardly noticed. He slipped inside, counting out the coins Jean had given him, then took a room at the top floor, the windows offering a quiet view of the sleeping city.
As he sat on the edge of the bed, looking out at the glowing streets below, he thought to himself: He's really good at talking, isn't he? Already friends with Miss Jean—the acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius. But… what should I do next? Spend some time in Mondstadt, then head to Liyue? Maybe even Inazuma after that?
With an ability like mine, I shouldn't waste it. No one should be able to stop me… or do anything to me, for that matter.