Chapter Text
Paperwork. The current bane of Cyno’s existence. The Mahamatra would much rather be out on a mission in mortal danger - it would be far more interesting than the stacks of papers and files covering the surface of his desk.
While he had an office, there was often a layer of dust covering the surfaces. After all, it was the Matra’s duty to bring in criminals and nothing more. Cyno himself was often chasing more dangerous leads, handing off cases once he felt the situation was under control. He didn’t mean to pawn off most of his paperwork onto the other Matra, he just happened to be out in the field most of the time - or out of commission recovering from dangerous missions…holed up in Gandharva Ville and being scolded by Tighnari.
Currently however, the investigation into the missing Il Dottore turned out to be more of a history lesson on an exiled scholar named Zandik.. The more he read, the more things he added to his list of reasons to hate the second Harbinger. At least he hadn’t been the one to go through the paper files to find records on the man. AlHaitham had been the one to do that - adept at rifling through the complex organization system the Akademiya had.
Cyno had been tasked with reading over all the files Alhaitham had found while the Acting Grand Sage and Nahida continued to discuss establishing new political relationships with the other nations of Teyvat. It was something Cyno wanted nothing to do with, and hoped his involvement would remain at a minimum.
Nahida seemed to value his input however - and would sometimes have him sit in on her and Alhaitham’s discussions. It was because of this that Cyno was aware of Nahida’s almost nightly conversations with the Tsaritsa. The cryo archon seemed wildly adept at navigating damage control, and Nahida was having little success convincing the other god to remove the majority of her Fatui forces from Sumeru, especially those that acted under her second Harbinger.
Apparently, Harbingers carried out missions for the Tsaritsa, and many also conducted private missions. That wouldn’t be concerning except for the fact that those extra-curricular undertakings were not kept track of. Nahida recounted from the cryo archon that The Doctor had always been an unpredictable wild card. It seemed most of her orders were given through The Jester, so Alhaitham and Nahida had most recently been drafting letters to the director of the Harbingers.
Obviously he wasn’t in on all the details - that much Cyno knew. It wasn’t his place to ask about what was said in a conversation between two archons, and was grateful for the brief summary of events he was let in on. All he had to do as the General Mahamatra was follow up on any possible leads that might involve Dottore, since the Fatui weren’t going to be doing anything for the time being to reign in the mad man.
Everyone was anxious to find The Doctor, just so they could sleep soundly at night without fear. Even better would be any sort of evidence to suggest he’d actually left the country - but it seemed even Snezhnaya was unaware of his current whereabouts, especially because of the loss of his “segments,” whatever that meant. Cyno hadn’t asked. Official orders had been released among the Matra and the Corps of Thirty to report any possible sightings of the Fatuus - with an emphasis on not engaging with the man in any way.
The most important reason for gathering information on Dottore was the ability to provide evidence of every crime he had committed on Sumeru’s soil. If the Harbinger did turn up, the hope would be he’d leave without conflict to avoid further damaging the already strained relationship between Sumeru and Snezhnaya.
Compiled in neat stacks were all the paper records of Dottore’s time in the Akademiya - which included suspected murder of a fellow researcher. He’d also committed several Akademic sins - among which was interfering with human evolution and tampering with life and death. The punishment had been banishment, but there was new evidence to suggest that the man had continued to conduct such heinous research in Sumeru after having become a Harbinger. The punishment for which would be imprisonment, but they couldn’t just arrest a Fatui Harbinger - especially one as dangerous as the second.
Cyno was feeling the stress. It was frustrating to be in a situation that couldn’t be fixed by a swing of his pole arm or a well-placed swing of his fist. He’d only been stuck behind a desk for three days, but was getting more restless by the hour. He feared for the safety of those he considered family, and felt helpless knowing there was little he could do to ensure their safety.
Leg bouncing, Cyno lifted his hands from their hold in the messy mane that was his hair - neatly stacking away the old cases and files he’d read that day. They had also been collaborating closely with the Traveler, who was far too adept at poking into every nook and cranny of Sumeru. Aether had been popping in and out, providing locations that Dottore had a history with, along with a pile of tattered notes that seemed to be first hand accounts from the man himself back before he’d been exiled from the Akademiya. Back when he’d still been called Zandik.
How the adventurer was able to find those was beyond Cyno, but he and Paimon were happy to look for the information as long as they were rewarded. In fact, the day before, a grease and sand covered Aether had waltzed in, grinning from ear to ear and holding out a stack of developed photographs and another tattered record.
Aether had stayed for a while, recounting his and Paimon’s most recent adventures - walking into and restarting not one, but three ancient Ruin Golems. Cyno had been thoroughly impressed, flipping through the photographs that’d been set down in front of him.
The note was another penned by Zandik, and Cyno had skimmed it - adding it to the currently small pile of documents he was going to hand off to Nahida. It seemed unnecessary to send any Corps or Matra members to any of the Golems, seeing as Aether had already thoroughly investigated the withered machines.
Cyno wished that anything exciting had happened today, but all he’d done was catch up on old case paperwork that his co-workers had happily handed back off to him when they realized he was stuck behind a desk. They usually seemed to be mildly scared of him, but apparently it didn’t spare him from the horrors of paperwork.
At long last the opportunity to go home presented itself, and Cyno donned his headpiece - leaving the dreary office and locking up its doors. He nodded to the other few Matra who were stuck doing desk work that day as he made his way out of the winding halls of the Akademiya.
Humid air brushed against Cyno’s face as he exited the institution, trotting down the winding stairs that led to the lower levels of the City. He didn’t head home however, turning instead towards the Corps of Thirty Citadel. Retiring for the day now would end up with yet another sleepless and restless night for the Matra.
The Eremites on duty acknowledged the Mahamatra, curious to see what the General might be needing. Cyno wasn’t here on official business however, and approached Rukh Shah.
“Good evening General Mahamatra Cyno, what can we assist you with this fine evening?”
“No need to stand on formalities. I haven’t come on professional business.” Cyno summoned his polearm, twirling it between his fingers, “I came to request a friendly spar.”
Rukh Shah agreed with a cordial smile and a firm handshake, going to the weapon racks to grab a scimitar. The other Eremites had moved to stand against the walls of the Citadel, leaving room for the young Mahamatra and the burly Parchamdar.
Cyno swept to the far side of the circular area - warming his body up with practiced swings of his body and jabs of his polearm. He stretched out his arms - pulling off his headpiece and setting it aside, swiping his hair into a bundle at the back of his neck.
His opponent was waiting. The two men approached each other, shaking hands before returning to their respective sides of the makeshift arena. Cyno took a deep breath and readied himself. He then lunged forwards, using his body’s momentum to swing his polearm at Rukh Shah.
The sharp sting of metal on metal rang across the Citadel, Cyno pushing himself away from the other man’s blade and dashing to his left. His polearm followed, sweeping in an uninterrupted arc as he swapped the pole from his right to left hand behind his back - spinning his body with the weapon and flashing behind Rukh Shah’s back.
A smaller, leaner body often meant Cyno would be much faster than a burly man like Rukh Shah - but the Eremite’s reaction time was impeccable as he turned on his heel to block Cyno’s polearm. The Matra danced away, blood pulsing from the adrenaline and Heranubis howling in glee at the chance to be on the hunt again.
The next several seconds found Cyno on the defensive, taking advantage of his weapon’s length to deflect a series of skilled jabs and slices. Though it only lasted for a few minutes, the spar left both men breathing hard and covered in a layer of sweat. Cyno was the victor, having disarmed his opponent - pinning him on the dirt-covered stones. Excited whoops from the other Corps members serenaded the Matra’s win as he offered a hand to pull Rukh Shah back onto his feet.
The anxious buzzing had yet to release from underneath Cyno’s skin, so he suggested another round of sparring - this one without weapons. Rukh Shah readily agreed, setting aside his scimitar and shaking out his hands - fists at the ready as he crouched down.
It wasn’t unexpected when the young Mahamatra ended up face down on the ground, the much larger and heavier weight of the Parchamdar pressing him down. He reached a hand up to slap the man’s arm, and the weight was released.
Cyno rolled onto his back, taking in a sharp breath. As he’d done earlier, Rukh Shah offered a hand, and pulled Cyno back onto his feet. His body was thoroughly bruised and worn out - and the Matra thanked the Corps member for providing them time to spar.
Rukh Shah set his hands on his hips, giving the other man a toothy smile, “Not a problem, sir. Is’ always a pleasure havin’ a brawl with someone as strong as you. Gave me a run for my money.”
“Ah, I see. If your money’s been on the run, then as General Mahamatra, I suppose it’s my duty to capture it.” Silence met his words, and Cyno waited a few moments before opening his mouth again.
“You get it? Though a ‘run for your money’ is just a turn of phrase, I switched around the words to imply that your money has been running,” Cyno paused, eyebrows raised, waiting for nods, “Running…like a criminal does? And as General Mahamatra it’s my job to apprehend criminals? It’s simple really, though I’m happy to explain it again-“
He was interrupted by a small chuckle from Rukh Shah, “Ya sure are something, sir.”
At least someone seemed to get it. Cyno definitely wasn’t pouting as he left the Citadel - sure, it wasn’t his best joke, but no reaction? Surely he wasn’t the only person in Sumeru with a sense of humor.
Mind calmed by exertion, Cyno made his way towards home - bare feet feeling the coolness of the smooth stones that made up the winding streets of Sumeru City. His headpiece was tucked underneath his arm as he used his free hand to pull a key from his pocket, stopping at his doorstep and clicking open the lock. The door swung in, and the Matra leisurely went about his evening routine.
Showered and settled at his dining table, Cyno ate a simple meal - one hand holding a mist flower press to the aching bruise on his side. Paper and quill were set in front of the man - Cyno wishing to pen a letter to Tighnari since he was too busy to visit Gandharva Ville himself.
Tighnari could handle himself, and so could Collei, but Cyno still worried. He wanted to make sure that the Balladeer had been behaving, and he wanted to let Tighnari in on what they currently knew about the Fatui and Dottore. The Valuka Shuna was just as involved in this situation as Cyno or Alhaitham, and might be able to offer a different perspective - so Cyno recounted what he deemed relevant onto the paper.
He planned on handing the letter off to the Adventurer’s Guild the next morning, to be delivered before the sun reached its peak. Letter sealed, Cyno left it on the table - heading off to his bedroom, hoping for a somewhat restful sleep now that his body was sufficiently worn out.
