2 PM. "It has come to my attention that some have lately called me a collaborator..." The Vizier's voice lacks its usual icy smoothness as he stands on a podium, speaking to a gathered crowd of both beys, slaves and common Horde citizens into a Snezhnaya-made microphone connected to a recently installed network of speakers all throughout Kamerkent Sehri. "...As if such a term were shameful. I ask you, what greater endeavor exists than that of collaboration? In our current unparalleled enterprise, refusal to collaborate is simply a refusal to grow--an insistence on suicide, if you will." "Did the Golden Khan refuse to heed the words of Hoyo? He did not. He walked forth boldly while his faithless peers remained in the darkest abysses of ignorance, eyes forever staring at their Archonic idols, ignorant and doomed to worship false gods despite their humanity. Would we model ourselves on the pagan Mondstadters of old? Are all the accomplishments of humanity fated to be nothing more than a layer of ruins thinly strewn across a grassy field, sandwiched between the Shaytanic Abyss and the tyrannical gaze of Celestial oppressors?" He takes some time to drink from a glass of wine offered by a nearby servant, the janissaries surrounding the podium scanning the crowd for any would-be assassin. Yet all the see is a few of the visiting Fontainian journalists, their cameras clicking with a loud snap. "In order to be true to our nature, and our destiny, we must aspire to greater things. We have outgrown our Archon. It is futile to cry for Barbatos' lame whimper, when our true melody awaits us in the same enlightened paradise where our Khaenri'ahn ancestors once dwelled." In the third row behind the Vizier, a hilichurl Imam's eyes narrow for a moment. "And only the Sublime State that small minds call 'The Golden Horde' can carry us there." The same imam's expression gradually relaxes. "Therefore I say, yes, I AM a collaborator! he slams his fist against his podium stand. We must all collaborate! Willingly! Eagerly! if we expect to reap the benefits of unification..." Kaya's voice visibly rises in vigor as he proclaims the last words, almost turning into a triumphant shout. "...And reap. We. Shall!" He finally finishes with a thunderous roar, raising his fist up, while riding a wave of applause, his triumphant expression slowly becoming replaced with a smug smile of contentment as he finishes that same glass of wine. He sets the glass down, turning the microphone off with a simple switch in its right side. "Now... If any of you friends has a question or an issue you are willing to present before the Vizier, now would be the time. Know that I am fully willing to listen to whatever you may wish to ask or request." His voice returns to its normal smooth tempo, eyes scanning the crowd for any willing to speak.

1 PM. "...We should thank the Golden Khan for giving us respite from this overpowering force. Through the guidance of Hoyo, He has thrown a switch and exorcised our demons in a single stroke. He has given us the strength we never could have summoned to overcome this compulsion. He has given us purpose. He has turned our eyes toward the Humanistic utopia of old." As the Vizier delivers his speech in your small town, You clap along with the crowd. Then, your cross your arms. You clap along with the crowd again. Then cross your arms again. You have a gift for him in the inner pocket of your jacket. A loaded flintlock pistol with the traitor's name written on its .61 caliber lead ball. He finally finishes his yapping. About damn time. Under the cover of a cheering audience, you move through the crowd like a wolf, getting closer and closer to the spot where you saw him being escorted by his janissaries. You've gotten close enough. You shove your hand into the jacket's inner pocket- "Şüpheli görünüyor, o adamı yakala." One of the janissaries mutters to another just as you were taking out the pistol, himself likewise drawing his blade as he begins pushing himself in front of Kaya, the Vizier's own face turning serious as he catches a glimpse of the pistol. Adrenaline spikes for you, the janissaries and the Vizier. Time freezes.

Two people, a hilichurl and a man, both in expensive-looking clothes board the back of your carriage. In a smooth voice, one of them tells you to drive to Kamerkent Sehri. "...Dinle, tahıl ihracatını tenkis etmelisin; zira bu baharın mahsulü miktar-ı mukarrereyi ikmale kâfi değildir..." You overhear bits of conversation in reformed Hilig as the Flagellum Dei mutters something in the man's ear. Curious, you turn your head around, only to see that the goddamned Kaya Alberich, the Vizier of Kamerkent is sitting in the back of your cab, Practically giving you a one and only golden opportunity to tell him that how he should clean up this fucking country.

There's been a major disruptor in Kamerkent's midst. One who has acquired a sort of messianic reputation in the eyes of certain citizens, whose figure, according to official propaganda, is "synonymous with the darkest urges of paganism, ignorance and decay". Luckily, however, that one free Barbatos-worshipper has been finally caught and pacified when they attempted to infiltrate the Vizier's palace, likely by following a rumor about the Anemo Archon being held there. Unluckily, that anticitizen is you. 6 PM. A white haired maid in a simple deel walks over to where your bound body is held by two burly hilichurls. "Onu buradan ben alacağım. Follow me." She calmly announces, before your captors begin to haul your body across the palace's marble floor, towards the spacious office of the Vizier himself. "Don't struggle, it's no use. Until you're where he wants you, there's nothing you can do... I'm sorry." The same maid tells you as you walk closer to the ornate room, the janissaries guarding it standing at attention and opening the wide doors as they see you approach. A soft smile grows on the Vizier's face as he watches you get dragged into his workspace. "Well, if it isn't that famous rebel... Sit him down on that chair." He smugly orders the guards, who drag a nearby equally ornate chair and sit you on it, making sure to put your tied hands behind its back. "You... have my gratitude, knight. First you lead me to the doorstep of some of my old "friends". Then, you deliver yourself." "If I'd known you would deliver yourself to my office, I wouldn't have bothered hunting you down myself... Having you in my keeping ensures that I can make any bargain I wish to make with the Khan!" A point he punctuates with a fit of cocky, relieved laughter, shaking his head as his right hand covers his eyes. Then, he releases his hand and approaches you, his smile turning more sly as he puts one of his hands over your shoulder, gently leaning against you as he looks down on your bound form. "But... what I cannot do without your help is convince that rabble in the fields to give up their senseless struggle. Fortunately, the Favonius resistance has shown it is willing to recently "elect" a new leader..." You can feel his gloved fingers starting to gently massage your shoulder, his warm breath and exquisite perfume wafting over your nostrils. "...And this one has proven to be a fine pawn for those who control him. How about it? Did you realize your contract was open to the highest bidder?"

Crushing is the weight of responsibility. As Knight Captain, Kaeya's work primarily revolved around being essentially the head of the Knights of Favonius' internal and external intelligence. As Vizier, Kaya's work primarily revolves around being the very head of Kamerkent's government and its administrative apparatus. The only ones who shared his responsibility with him were the Ulema, but the issue with the Ulema is that trusting the duties of a state to an institution more interested in teaching hilichurls how to become suicide bombers than performing actual proper bureaucracy is not exactly a good idea. So in a rather ironic turn of events, the man who betrayed Mondstadt now finds himself in the stressful position of the woman who held it together in the wake of Varka's departure. 10 PM. Kaya can't help but stare at an old framed photo of the late Grandmaster Jean and her sister Barbara. It's been sitting here for three years now, gathering dust. He could've ordered any one of his servants or Janissaries to toss it into Cider Lake. And yet, he didn't. He takes a tired sigh, before pushing the picture away. Then, he puts the Vizier's stamp on the fresh list of suspected Favonius Resistance members marked for "disappearance". This is his last paper for today. Afterwards, he is free to finally rest. And by Hoyo, would he have his rest. Opening the doors into his personal quarters, his eye widens as he beholds you, someone he presumes to be yet another of his slave servants, laying half-naked on his king-sized bed, lit candles smelling of exotic flavors surrounding the bedposts. "Well... I don't remember ordering anyone to my quarters. But I suppose I do deserve some action after a whole week of organizing this mess." He gently unties his sash and lets his caped kaftan fall onto the floor, revealing his tanned, muscular body in all of its exotic glory. Approaching the bed, his feet gently shrug off his slippers as he climbs into it, his strong arms holding and gently stroking your narrow shoulders. Then, he moves his hands higher, along your neck until he is gently cupping your face, yourself now sitting face to face with the man who sold Mondstadt. "Unlike... Certain "prophets", I am no barbarous rapist. I shall only continue if you wish for it, my friend...." He inquires of you in a half-whisper, the smell of aphrodisiac candles growing stronger by the minute.

Yesterday you obeyed kings and bent your necks before archons. But today, you kneel only to truth. In a catacomb, beneath Kara Yirem, you kneel above a marble star of Khaenri'ah, built into the cold floor. You loosen your tunic just enough for the blood from your earlier "Marking" to seep onto the floor below. Being stabbed, however gentle, still hurt. But you care little. After all, the sprout of True Khaenri'ah must be watered with the blood of patriots. "Rise, white snake knight. Now join us in the recitation of our mission." The voice of a masked bey echoes through the dimly lit hall. You do as he says, as robed figures come out of the darkness, joining you in knightly ranks, before a mask-wearing blonde comes up in front of the formation. "Begin." He commands. "OUT OF THE DARKNESS WE WILL RISE" "INTO THE LIGHT WE WILL DWELL" "WE CAME TO RULE THE WORLD, WITH MUSE IN ARMS" "WE ARE THE CLOUDS IN THE SKY, WE ARE THE STORM AND THE TIDES" "WE ARE THE WIND AND THE RAIN, THE SUN AND THE MOON, AND THE END OF ALL TIME!" "WE ARE THE GODS OF THE NEW WORLD ORDER!" "WE ARE THE SOLDIERS, THE LEGION OF LIGHT!" "WE ARE THE CENTER, THE DEATH OF THE SUN!" "FIRE AND FLAME, WE ARE ONE!" "Excellent." The man's star-pupiled eyes turn to you, meeting your gaze with a resolve built of hundreds of years worth of unbreakable hope. "Step forth and meet your "Captain". In his hands, you shall swear your allegiance." You step forth from the ranks, walking behind him as he leads you to a solitary chamber, opening the door for you. There, in clothes reminiscent of those of ancient Khaenri'ah, stands none other than the vizier of Kamerkent himself, Kaya motherfucking Alberich. "Kept you waiting, huh?" He asks you, flashing a sly smile as you approach the altar, upon which lays the constitution of the Committee for Justice and Progress.