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Neuvillette always has a unique pair of eyes. They don't look like something humans would have. They are inhuman, resembling the spark of a vishap’s eyes. More otherworldly, able to see about something a human couldn't see, especially to anything related to water and more obviously, Primordial Sea Water.
It has been his nature to be perceptive to any droplets of water since he could remember. Flows of water seems like a chain of history of humankind. If the tale from the neighbouring nation believes the forest would remember, then the water in Fontaine would record everything like a roll of film. Something that Neuvillette could watch with a mere touch to the tranquil water.
His senses are always like that. His skin is sensitive to the temperature, tongue can sense the delight of its taste, and his nose can differentiate fresh and foul-smelling water. What about his eyes? Everyone could see water, they can separate which one is pure or not by looking at its colours.
Then, what makes his eyes different?
As everyone believes, Hydro Dragon is the creature of ancient water that could command any form of sea and alike. After the trial of the ever whimsical Hydro Archon, people of Fontaine are found to be made of the combination between tears of Egeria in the form of oceanid and Primordial Seawater. To put it simply, though it is not a wide spread knowledge, Fontainian humans have always been creatures under the Sovereign of Water’s rule now that they are turned as true humans by the same entity.
Despite the fact that he has turned them into actual humans that would not dissolve into water anymore, the composition is there. He has allowed them to live on this land unlike other humans who are never aware that their existence is not blessed by the original people of Teyvat.
And his eyes can see.
Memories entwined in the water, voices recorded in its gentle substance, traces left behind by the people like footsteps from wet shoes—he could perceive them all with all five senses he has, making him always the audience of two worlds that co-exists together, yet also separated by nature itself.
He has always used seeing more company following the steps of any human in Fontaine, although the company never looks like a complete human. See-through pale blue body hanging around and sometimes trying to say something into the open air. Some people would call them ghosts—they are not.
Souls.
Traces recorded by the Primordial Seawater and tailored into the leylines—the unfulfilled wills refusing to immediately leave the land, waiting to be fulfilled with so little possibility to come true. Even though at the end, they will leave with tattered dreams that will not find its realisation.
Neuvillette has seen various traces of souls tailing alive humans, yet he never intervenes. He never asks those souls though he has the ability to do so as they bow under his words. That is the cycle of life and it is normal. The souls never stay long, they would vanish after one or two months and leave their attached human for real back to the leyline.
It should have been like that. It is always like that.
That is why his eyes could not believe the sights before him when he first met the new self-appointed administrator of Fortress of Meropide. The same souls he once saw during the trial are still trailing the young man. After fifteen years of sentence, the same souls remain behind him.
One tall boy, face blurred but his body is in solid hue of blue. The other ones are two smaller little girls, always holding hands together though their bodies are not as solid as the boy. These three were present during the trials even until the current days. Accompanying the convicted one in all years of his sentence time. Such persistent beings, what causes this abnormality?
Curiosity appears though Neuvillette does not really want to intervene with it. He could hear the souls murmuring a different name, as in begging the man to look behind him and face them. The rest of the whispers are unclear unless Neuvillette really wants to focus.
It is Wriothesley’s previous name.
As their meetings continue to grow more frequent with Wriothesley's new duty as the Duke, he sees the souls more often. Catching their murmurs, they don't actually sound haunting or depressing compared to other souls that die of misfortune—even though they were also being cut off from life with the same cause.
[ ] no … hurt …
No … [ ] no more sad …
[ ] love ……
In fact, there is no grudge laced inside those whispers. The tall boy will always whisper that he is not hurt, the two little girls chant that they love him. They sound so loving yet so sad, continuously sending messages just to be not heard.
What did Wriothesley do to have these three keep trailing behind him?
“Wriothesley,” one day he calls the name’s holder. Mind is still contemplating but the abnormality should be addressed.
The Duke, along with the other three, shifts his attention to the Judge who is having trouble painted on his face. Neuvillette paces his breathing and then finally looks at the four curious faces.
Questions stuck in his throat, confused on how to express it well. However, questions are used as the first step to reveal actual problems which are getting concerning. Souls latching on someone for more than a decade is not a good sign. Neuvillette is not fond of making exceptions but this time, he has to interfere.
“I am just curious about something but if you feel no comfort to answer it, you do not have to,” he made his introduction before the actual questions, giving the other man on the other side of the tea table reassurance that his questions are not something that he has to answer that time.
“Well, it is a question from the Iudex. I would try my best to entertain you,” responded the man, all smiley and positive. The contrast with the three sorrowful souls behind him is too uncanny.
The softer kind of vishap kin’s eyes look straight to the other eye’s beholder and he swallows the lump in his throat. It is going to be difficult but he is really on board with the idea of helping these poor souls.
“I am wondering whether you … whether you have unfulfilled wishes about your siblings.”
He just acted that he would welcome the questions with open arms, yet his face currently shows nothing of it. The casual grin falls and is replaced with something more mellow. The smile remains but it is tainted with doubt.
“I … do not,” and the short answer all Neuvillette could get.
The two are wrapped in stillness, the cheery atmosphere dissipates and silence slowly takes over the two highest figures in the archon-less nation of Fontaine.
Slow nod and Neuvillette’s fingers entwined on one another on the tea table. “I see. Then what do you think of them?” Tentative, the hesitant question is asked and welcomed by a raising eyebrow from the other man.
“Ho? Why is the Iudex suddenly questioning me about my past?” There is an attempt to set a wall, but Neuvillette has seen the man’s faltered smile. Wriothesley tries to defend himself from whatever feeling he is feeling whenever this topic arises.
He shifts his vision to the snacks and tea on the table, the supposedly joyous weekly afternoon tea has turned bitter with opened scars and wounds. “You never talk about them, and I am just curious.”
“I loved—love them, dearly. All of them, but there is a line I couldn’t cross after everything else.” Words uttered, reopening memories locked in the deep of his mind.
“A line?”
“A line,” Wriothesley parrots the question. Languidly, fingers play with the cup of tea before him as it could lend him steadiness and anchor to the real world. “Monsieur, I took their home and family. Calling them my siblings now feels like adding more guilt on my side.”
Neuvillette sits still and listens, he neither probes nor presses the man to explain more. He waits while also yearns to be able to lend his shoulder to the already-tired looking Duke. They have not gone into the deep yet and Wriothesley already is exhausted.
The three souls around him try to pat his shoulder, try to reach his hand, and call that foreign name with quiet remorse.
“Remember what I told the court during my trial? There were three siblings of mine who became victims due to my extreme actions. They didn’t deserve their life being taken like that. What I wanted to do was to free them, but it took life that shouldn’t be taken. It wasn't me who killed them, but it was me who drove our parents to do it. They could have lived a fulfilling life and I took the chance from them.”
Neuvillette remembers the same exact explanation. Thus, his eyes wander again to the soul and realises that the three souls are, ninety nine percent, the three victims on the night of that homicide.
Another smile is put on that handsome face. He shakes his head and throws his vision to somewhere else but the Iudex.
“Sorry.”
Surprised but it is to be expected, Wriothesley would be sorry for souring the air between them. However, Neuvillette cannot help but to ask, “What is it for?”
“I dumped too much information. Sorry for ruining the mood for our afternoon tea, I wasn't supposed to lash out like that.” And Neuvillette’s guess is correct though Wriothesley has nothing to apologise at his end. It is him who started this specific conversation.
“It is alright. It is on my side to ask you such a personal question.”
The souls behind the duke shake their heads slowly, transparent hands reaching the edge of his coats only to find their hands go through the solid coat. They do it again, and fail miserably again.
These traces of soul left behind by water that once having life inside it, manifesting into sentient beings to some extent, seems to grasp the situation in the room. They shake their heads in the wake of self-blaming Duke, showing their disagreement only to be seen by themselves and the Iudex.
“Neuvillette, sometimes I wonder if I deserve everything I have now.”
They now want to reach him closer, bring him to their embrace but hands only go through the Duke’s body. No matter how much they want it, they could not do it.
No ….. [ ] love ……
Pain … no pain …….
Drizzle of rain heard from the outside, silence comes again to eat them whole. Their whispers are not haunting nor depressing, but they are more than enough to stir the Hydro Dragon’s compassionate core. He cannot stop himself but partly blaming himself for allowing such misfortune to happen on his land.
It is not hard to deduce the only reason these three keep hanging for fifteen years is only to tell their dear sibling that they serve no hatred over everything that has happened.
Neuvillette is at a loss for words because no matter what kind of comforting words he is going to say, to ease the Duke’s mind out of his guilt, he is not the person who has the right to say it.
“You deserve it, everything.” Those are all he could deliver. These three nods, they are aware of their surroundings.
Soft chuckles heard from the other side of the table, he neither accepts nor refuses the Iudex’s words. And again, Neuvillette does not want to pry. He has pried enough though he finally knows what he is going to do after this.
“If you do not have something to attend, do you mind joining me to visit the Fountain de Lucine tonight?”
Cold breeze mellows the heart, under the false sky freckled with constellations, there Neuvillette stands, waiting for the Duke to show up from the other side of the road.
It is midnight, only some people away enjoying the icy dark night and some Gardemek patrolling here and there. Quiet and perfect for a personal agenda related to the Fountain.
It is an impulsive decision, his intervention can be seen as an act of breaching nature but he has to do this. In fact, he should have done this ages ago when he first saw the anomaly.
“So, what does the esteemed Iudex want to do in the middle of midnight, with me, in front of the fountain?”
He hears the charismatic voice come behind him, the man walks with such casual air. He does not see the souls until the man stands next to him, the souls appear tailing behind like a group of lost children. Had Neuvillette not known the background of their nature, not going to lie, Wriothesley looks cute with smaller souls following him.
He looks at the water fountain with fondness in his eyes. Being near it brings a sense of strange calmness, though there are convoluted memories from thousands of people, alive and not. It sends a sense of familiarity with his own element.
“It is no secret to you that I am sensitive to the element of hydro. This fountain is where all the water of Fontaine gathers, millions of memories are passing by through this place.”
Rough hands reach out playing with the water and unlike Neuvillette, all water is the same for the man. It will not send him to various recollections of someone’s life like a movie to his brain. “Yeah? I know that?”
“I want you to listen to something,” he begins the plan that has been there the whole day.
The Chief Justice touches the stream of water, expanding and commanding them as he needs. Nothing happened, they are still in the same place, the same position. Nothing magical like water infused with gold shimmers or soft glow he could find in the fantasy books he has read.
Confused, Wriothesley looks to his side where Neuvillette seems finished with whatever he commanded in his head.
“He can hear you, may the three of you leave your message.” He talks to the open air, acting as if there are other people than the two of them.
Before Wriothesley manages to voice his bewilderment, he hears a voice. Soft, small, and too familiar .
[ ]
Pale blue widens hearing his long lost forgotten name. He looks to his side, his behind yet finding none.
Love …… [ ] love …. we ….. okay
He is tied up by an unseen icy rope crawling from his own mind.
…… [ ] …… love you
The three souls crowd the front and sides of Wriothesley, still trying to reach him in futile attempts. On the other side, the Duke throws a gaze asking for an explanation from the only one person that has the ability to explain what is currently happening.
He hears voices, but there is no body. He senses the presence of people, but his eyes discover nothing.
“They are not ghosts. They are traces left behind the soul created with the help of ancient water, carrying last unfulfilled wishes before they leave for good and reincarnate.”
A pregnant pause, as if the two are waiting for the best revelation but actually, Wriothesley could guess where their conversation will go.
“Those are their unfulfilled wishes and I am here just to help them. They have spent long enough waiting to be heard.”
The voices keep softly calling his name, the similar yet also so foreign name. They have been waiting for this moment and all they want is just the man to listen to their message.
“How long?”
Neuvillette cannot deduce the emotion hidden in that question. Shame, guilt, longing, regret, sadness? For once, Wriothesley is hard to read.
“Fifteen years. I once saw them during your trial and saw them again after you finished your sentence, until today,” answers the man while sparing a glance to the souls.
“Fifteen years … that long and all they want to do is to tell me they love me?” another question, Neuvillette still could answer.
“Traces of souls would go away after months no matter if their wishes come true or not. However, yours have been persistent and I thought it would be wise to help them. This is the furthest I could do. They show neither look nor shadow, but I have allowed their voices to be heard.”
The Duke stands still while the three souls keep murmuring and whispering words, to leave a message that they love him, they bear no grudge, they have no pain. Message that Wriothesley does not have to bear all the guilt accumulated for fifteen years.
“Say, Neuvillette, can they hear me?” a wishful question, the droplets of water could tell him that.
“They have always been able to do so.”
The Duke takes another time to think, until he exhales a deep breath and faces the Fountain. He could not perceive the siblings with his eyes, but he knows whose souls have been following his steps. He may try to leave everything behind, their faces are almost forgotten though there are some memories arise, but not even once their names eroded in the back of his mind.
With the last exhales of breath, a heavy one, Wriothesley begins unloading the pile of fifteen years of regret.
“First of all, I am sorry for my selfishness that the three of you caught in the fire between me and our parents.”
First is the apology.
“Camille. I should have told you clearly enough to get out of the house before the incident yet I was too angry … too focused on finding mom and dad, ignoring your calls to me.”
Second is regret.
“Helena. I still remember the cookies you gave me before I escaped, and your relieved face when you saw me coming back—only to have our parents used you to bait me.”
Third is the guilt.
“Etienne. I have always dreamed of seeing you get into the Institute but you sacrificed yourself to protect me. You could have been a great investor, playing with machinery and I took that life from you.”
Fourth is a mix of the three feelings bothering his mind for years.
“I couldn’t see you, but please give me a chance to apologise.”
Unlike the previous response of them seeing the Duke dwelling in his self-guilt, this time, they are silent. Hands still out wanting to reach him, but now they are listening patiently without an attempt to disagree with him.
“I am sorry.”
“I love you guys.”
“I wish in another life, you will have a true family that loves and raises you well.”
There is no murmur from the soul, they are looking at him like statues. Supposed to be dead, bereft of life, but they look so alive. They spout no words, but warmth is there despite their lifeless form.
“And my name is now Wriothesley, remember that newspaper we read back then? I randomly choose that name so the Gardes will have difficulty pronouncing my name.”
Wriothes … ley …
A quiet whisper from the tall boy, which Neuvillette believes is Etienne’s soul.
I … no … regret … protecting …
We … love … you
The first genuine smile appears before Neuvillette chooses to close his eyes, leaving only his ear waiting for what comes next from the Duke’s lips.
“Thank you. I will remember that.”
The souls begin to fade as their last words have been heard clear and loud. Rarely does Neuvillette witness the dissolving entities gracefully becoming one with the flowing water in the Fountain, finally joining the cycle of life after the death of Fontainian and he wishes for their peace in the nature’s chain.
The man next to him is now perhaps overwhelmed with everything that has just happened. Buried in his own silence after a string of apology and gratefulness. The strong and reliable Duke, now left as one ordinary human named Wriothesley by himself. He wants to call the prison warden, but then swallows the name back to his throat.
He does not look at the Iudex, eyes looking far to the sky, hiding anything he wants to hide. Exhaling a sigh, finally he utters some words.
“I didn’t know you could do that.”
Neuvillette follows the same line of sight, thinking he needs to manage his emotions before being able to look at the other man’s face directly. “Fontainian has always been unique in my eyes, this nation’s human compositions are under my authority so I could sense some … things. Let’s just call it like that.”
“I understand, I would not pry more. However, thank you, Neuvillette.” And there he is being true to his words, he does not ask for any more information. He is just there, processing anything. The usual Wriothesley will probe with jokes and lighthearted comments, yet he hears nothing of that from the same man this time.
Neuvillette always aches to be someone dependable to the Duke, resulting in a little want to ease his human brain over the harsh reality of life. He wishes nothing but the best for one of the trustworthy humans he encounters in his long life.
“I hope it will not bring another weight of burden to your mind.” He truly wants the man beside him happy, and he knows three lingering souls mean that there is unfinished feeling remaining from both side, eating him slowly from the inside.
Another sigh, exhausted, and all. Wriothesley chooses to sit down on the edge of the fountain, caring no less whether the water will wet his coat and clothes. He is just so tired. “I have always thought they despise me, that I was selfish, that they could have lived. Hearing their words … feel weird, but also relieving for some reasons.”
He could see the man before him shed no tears. If Neuvillette can go honest, it would be easy to find Wriothesley consumed by emotion—either he cries or angry, but facing a man that just unloaded his whole past guilt without a single tear is difficult. What could he do? Wriothesley is too hard to read.
Yet he lets his mind and heart speak, if his brain could not find anything to read the Duke, then his heart will.
“You may take your time, it is not something that would happen to everyone. Still, I only wish for the best for you. If it is too much, you can find me and let me help you ease your thoughts.” There it is. One step closer to reaching the Duke. The souls were trying their best for over a decade to have their voice reach him, he could do the same.
“I would appreciate that. Once again, thank you.”
The Duke offers him a smile. It is faint, but Neuvillette can predict that there is something fascinating that is going to happen after the whole thing happened on one cold day.
“And if the offers still stand, would you mind accompanying me for a midnight tea? I feel like I need to dump all my thoughts to a good company, someone who is fun to talk to.”
Who is Neuvillette to reject him?