Led by her guard, Anastasia walked through the slightly chaotic procession towards the front.
The further she went, the looser and less formal the originally neat and solemn ceremonial formation became.
The Fairy guards, dressed in exquisite platinum ceremonial robes and light armor, were busy in small groups.
Some were hauling firewood chopped from nearby woods, others were digging through snow to clear the ground, and some were assembling tent frames.
“Your Highness,” the guard leading her explained in a low voice, “His Majesty ordered us to set up camp here ahead of schedule.”
Anastasia nodded slightly, her eyes sweeping across the surroundings.
When she had just passed His Majesty’s magnificent carriage, it was empty.
Knowing Morgan, that restless Majesty of hers must have run to the front to personally direct operations or find something to do.
Sure enough, in the open space ahead, the main tent with a deep blue canopy had already taken shape, and the banner of the Court of the Pale Star stood before it.
More eye-catching was a circle of crystal-clear, two-person-high ice walls that were rapidly “growing” to form around the camp, clearly a windbreak casually conjured by His Majesty using his element.
However, what made Anastasia pause were the figures inside and outside the ice wall that seemed out of place among the Fairies.
About a hundred people, men, women, young and old, were dressed in rags, their faces flushed red from the freezing winds of the North.
They wore clothes that looked thick but were actually worn-out and thin, shivering in the lingering chill of early spring.
Each household dragged a crude wooden cart, piled high with carefully bundled “belongings.”
In the eyes of the worldly Fairies, those were nothing more than old utensils and patched bedding.
They were clearly refugees, struggling to survive in the buffer zone between the two nations.
Although the Archon War had ended, the remaining monsters and the barren land still made life arduous for these unprotected humans.
When Anastasia, an elegantly dressed and imposing Fairy noble, approached, those humans visibly shrank back.
They lowered their heads, hurriedly clearing a path for her, their eyes filled with awe and unease.
Anastasia passed through the crowd with a calm expression and arrived before the main tent, where a guard lifted the heavy curtain for her.
It was much warmer inside the tent than outside, with several floating ice lamps emitting a soft glow.
Her Majesty was indeed here, but there were not only Fairies inside; about a dozen of the youngest or oldest humans had been temporarily sheltered here to escape the cold.
“Anastasia,” Morgan’s voice came.
Anastasia looked in the direction of the voice and was slightly taken aback.
The Azure Star Emperor, known for his elegance and coldness, was currently sitting on a temporarily conjured low ice stool.
The fur cloak he usually wore over his shoulders was gone, replaced by a swaddling cloth he held tightly in his arms, with a human infant wrapped inside.
His Majesty was even carefully adjusting his posture, seemingly afraid of hurting the cub in his arms.
He lowered his head, strands of hair falling against his cheeks, and his eyes held none of their usual detachment or majesty, only a near-focused gentleness.
Morgan looked up and gave Anastasia a faint smile.
Then, he carefully handed the infant back to an elderly human woman nearby who was nervous and at a loss.
“Your Majesty.” Anastasia stepped forward, lifted her skirt, and bowed.
“No need for formalities.” Morgan stood up and brushed off his unwrinkled sleeves, “As you can see, we have encountered some unexpected circumstances.”
He motioned for Anastasia to follow him to a corner of the tent to avoid disturbing the exhausted refugees with their conversation.
“This group comes from an abandoned village to the north.” Morgan’s voice lowered.
“Their home was occupied by a large monster, and it is said that the land has been corrupted by the monster’s filth, making it impossible to farm.
They were forced to migrate south and happened to run into our procession.”
“You ordered us to set up camp because you wanted to help them?” Anastasia asked, though she already knew the answer.
“Yes.” Morgan nodded.
“Hunting the monster that occupies their home is merely a trivial task for us.
But the problem is, even if we take back the village, the land cannot be restored for the time being.
They have decided to abandon their homeland and seek a new settlement.”
He paused, his eyes looking toward the direction of the voices faintly audible from outside the tent.
“I asked about their intentions.
Since we are heading to Mondstadt on this trip, I plan to take them with us and entrust them to Barbatos for resettlement.
The God of Anemo loves humanity, and the land of Mondstadt is more suitable for humans to thrive in than the North.”
Anastasia immediately thought of the crucial point: “Then our itinerary will be delayed.
The meeting time agreed upon with the Anemo God…”
Morgan’s lips curled slightly, carrying the ease of someone who had already considered this.
“It does not matter.
I have already sent an Anemo Sprite Messenger ahead to convey the situation to Mondstadt.
Barbatos…
that deity of poetry and wine surely won’t mind this little ‘accident’.”
His tone was firm, as if he had already foreseen how that free-spirited Anemo God would smile, wave his hand, and say “no problem.”
“I understand.” Anastasia nodded.
“Then, for the camp, do you need me to help with the arrangements?”
“Yes.” Morgan looked at her approvingly.
“Leave the main tent for these elderly, weak, women, and children.
Give priority to humans for the subsequent tents; Fairies have a much higher tolerance for cold than humans.”
He then added, “I recall there is a batch of spare fur cloaks among our supplies; take them out and distribute them to these refugees to keep them warm.”
Anastasia noted everything down, then raised another question: “What about food?
Our ceremonial guard did not carry large quantities of rations.”
The Fairy race was special; created by the people of Hyperborea and the Third Descenders in ancient times, they were a life form inclined toward conserving resource consumption.
Eating was more of a ritualistic behavior inherited from the habits of their “old masters” rather than a survival necessity.
Therefore, the food carried during long-distance visits was mainly for etiquette and occasional indulgence, and the amount was not enough to support the sudden addition of over a hundred mouths.
“I will have the guards go hunting nearby…” Anastasia suggested.
Morgan shook his head slightly: “Living creatures are scarce in this season; even if we catch some snow rabbits or foxes, it will be a drop in the bucket.”
“I will solve the food problem.” Morgan said, “You go first to arrange the camp and distribute the warm clothing.”
“You are going alone?” Anastasia asked, eager to try.
She did not doubt His Majesty’s power, but she had not hunted with him for a long time.
Morgan saw her thoughts and reached out to pat her shoulder gently; this action drew envious glances from several Fairy guards in the distance.
“Sorry, I must hunt alone this time; it has been a long time since I encountered something that required my action.
Then please guard our home and take good care of these people.” He was referring to the refugees inside and outside the tent.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Anastasia felt a bit regretful, but said no more and respectfully accepted the order.
Morgan turned and walked out of the tent.
When he lifted the curtain and stepped into the cold air outside, his gentle expression receded like a tide, restoring the calm and imposing demeanor of the Cryo Archon.
He did not summon a mount or carriage, but simply gave a brief instruction to a Fairy general waiting outside: “Guard the camp well and follow the arrangements of Grand Duchess Anastasia.”
As his voice fell, his figure dissipated in a sudden breeze mixed with fine ice crystals.
He did not transform into wind and snow, but rather sped off toward the village described by the refugees at an incredible speed.
Inside the tent, Anastasia withdrew her gaze and began issuing orders.
The Fairy guards acted efficiently, distributing supplies, helping to set up more tents, and leaving the warm main tent for those most in need of shelter.
Those human refugees were initially still terrified and uneasy.
But upon seeing this young, beautiful, yet imposing Grand Duchess personally handing thick cloaks to the trembling elderly and children, the fear in their eyes was gradually replaced by gratitude.
As she worked, Anastasia occasionally glanced in the direction where His Majesty had disappeared.
She remembered the stories Morgan told, where powerful beings often decided the survival of billions of lives with a single thought.
Yet her Majesty, the Cryo Archon of Teyvat, was currently personally clearing out monsters for a hundred strangers in rags.
He even had to worry about how to conjure enough food to feed them for many days.
This “mercy” might not fit the image of “gods” being high and mighty in some stories.
But Anastasia felt that this was how His Majesty had always been.
Showing thunderous means and supreme majesty when needed, but never hesitating to stoop down when facing weakness and suffering, providing the most practical protection and warmth.
Outside the tent, the north wind was still howling, but inside the ice wall, a new bonfire had been lit, its orange light dispelling the chill.
It also illuminated the faces of the humans, which were gradually relaxing.