As the Port Ormos clock tower strikes three, the docks are otherwise quiet, save for the splashing of ocean waves in their rhythmic ebb and flow. This is a time for afternoon naps and midday meals, and there is little sign that armed combat is about to take place, or so was scheduled.

"He did say 'the pier in front of Pharos Lighthouse,' right?" Paimon mutters. "Why did we get here so early?" She flutters around the docks in annoyance, disturbing some of the sea gulls, who flap vigorously away.

I am about to reply, but as soon as Paimon finishes speaking, I hear Alhaitham call out from behind us, "I do believe I am right on time."

"I didn’t believe you were foolish enough to show up," says another voice, this time from somewhere ahead of us. From behind the lighthouse, a small band of Eremites steps out, armed to the teeth. I recognize some members from the restaurant the other day, including that Tariq who tried to scam us, but other members are new to us. As Paimon spins in both directions at once, I cross my arms and stand my ground.

"It was you who demanded that these negotiations take place," Alhaitham continues, walking forward. "I was more worried you would renege, but it seems that you've kept your word." He stops beside us and nods at me. "This is quite the occasion, so I brought backup. I assume you don't mind."

"The brat from the restaurant!" Tariq says in recognition. "Only a lunatic would help such a lunatic." He raises his sword and points it straight at me. "Welcome to your funeral. You'll be fish food by the time we're done today."

"I would be more worried about yourself," Alhaitham says coolly. He leans back and gestures towards me. "In fact, I'll let her handle your whole lot herself."

Sword arm shaking in rage, Tariq charges straight ahead. "Get them!" He cries. The men roar and lift their arms – spears, knives, and all forms of foreign blades.

"Uh oh," Paimon gulps. "Here they come."

With a side glance at Alhaitham, I step forward into the fray. Shouting and swinging their blades vigorously, the Eremites are feisty but unorganized. I parry blow after blow, disarming a man here and kicking away some others there. In between swipes, I deliver gusts of Anemo – not the most lethal element – directly into the faces of those who come too close. Despite our odds, I don't want to harm them. One by one, the Eremites who were once so enthused now either lie on their backs dazed, or stand on guard, too wary to face me head on.

"What's wrong with you boys?!" Tariq yells, panting hard, his own sword tip pointed down. "Akademiya scum, Mizri will have your–" He never finishes his sentence, because at this moment, a large man stumbles onto the scene, screaming, head in his hands.

"Boss!" Tariq cries. "Did you use it? What's wrong?" Dropping his sword, he rushes to support the newcomer.

Mizri gives no response and instead barrels headfirst into Tariq, who lands prostrate on the ground, stunned. With Tariq out of the way, Mizri backs up and turns towards us with fire in his eyes. In a flash, Alhaitham lunges past us and tackles Mizri to the ground. "Your leader has gone mad," he breathes, struggling to keep the flailing man down. "We have to cut his Akasha connection – now!"

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Lifting my sword, I dash towards Mizri and slice towards the Akasha terminal on his right ear. Seeing this, Mizri makes a sudden jerk to his left and my blade digs into the wooden planks beside his head. Keeping one hand on Mizri, Alhaitham draws a hidden knife and slashes. Click. The blade contacts the device, which sputters, cracks, and goes silent. Disconnected, Mizri falls to the ground, deflated.

Behind us, footsteps thud down the dock. "Drop your weapons!" Someone shouts. Robed matra surround us, and several men pull Alhaitham away from Mizri, who continues to make incoherent noises.

I sheathe my sword and raise my arms in the air. We can at least claim we were ambushed by Eremites, right? Fortunately, no one pays us any heed.

"Do not impede our work," One matra says to Alhaitham. "Is that understood?"

"Of course," Alhaitham replies curtly, pocketing something discreetly. "I was only trying to help." He steps back from the crazed man and presents a polite smile.

"The rest of you, scram!" Another matra calls out. The Eremites need no further encouragement. Helping their fallen up, the Eremites pick up their weapons and stagger away.

With one last glance, the matra turn away and proceed to tie up their quarry. Between his moans, however, I seem to hear guttural traces of world, forget me coming from his voice. I feel a chill down my back as he's dragged away.

After all the commotion, the return of the salt breeze is refreshing and soothing. The air fills with sound of gulls swooping down on their prey and the crashing of wave after wave.

"What in Teyvat just happened?" Paimon says, breaking the silence.

"He used the capsule," Alhaitham says. His expression is blank and unrevealing.

"A scholar once told us that researchers can go insane after contacting Irminsul," I say, recalling Haypasia's warnings.

"Yes, I've heard of numerous incidents where researchers in Satyavada phase go insane," Alhaitham confirms. "The state that man was in may be similar."

"Thank goodness we didn't have a chance to use the capsule ourselves!" Paimon exclaims. "Still, it's a shame that the matra retrieved the divine knowledge capsule in the end."

I glance suspiciously at Alhaitham, whose stony expression doesn't reveal that he pocketed anything during their fight. Instead, he says, "as things stand, there is no reason for me to remain in Port Ormos. I believe our collaboration has also reached its end."

This divine knowledge capsule has been yet another dead end, but it's time for us to return to Sumeru City anyways. "Our original goal was to find out more information about Lesser Lord Kusanali," I say. "Since you're a member of the Akademiya, do you know how we can meet with her?"

Alhaitham shakes his head. "Truthfully, I do not. Lesser Lord Kusanali appears to exist outside of Sumeru's entire administration. Most of the time, you wouldn't know she exists at all."

So in summary, our trip to Port Ormos has confirmed that the Dendro Archon is shrouded in mystery, and nobody cares about her. I sigh in resignation. We had been so close, yet so far away.

Seeing my disappointed expression, Alhaitham continues, more gently, "from a practical perspective, since the Akademiya controls the Akasha, which in turn represents our deity's wisdom, scholars have no reason to make contact with the deity herself anyway."

I suppose that does make sense. There's no need to leaf through a physical book in search of a specific passage, if the desired knowledge can appear instantly in your head.

"Well, I need to wrap up a few loose ends here before I head back to the Akademiya," Alhaitham says. "How about you two?"

"It's almost time for the day of the Sabzeruz Festival," I say. "We need to head back to the city soon."

"Then this is where we part ways," Alhaitham says. "Fair travels, and perhaps we shall meet again."

"Goodbye," I say. Though our trip to Port Ormos ended in disappointment, we did learn a lot more about Sumeru and the technologies the Akademiya possesses. Perhaps we will have more luck when we return to Sumeru City for the Archon's birthday. When we get there, we'll see.