"Yes, my lord," the Hanamiita tavern's intelligence chief said, wiping sweat. "We've got backups of the intel here."
"Let's see it," Reisen Riou demanded.
The chief fumbled through a large chest, pulling out a dossier. "Here, my lord."
Reisen Riou smirked—amateur move, not even haggling. Weaker than Inazuma's branch head. He flipped through the pages, diving into Khaenri'ah's secrets. The North Continent intelligence network's reach impressed him; only a high-ranking Khaenri'ahn noble could've fed them this. The report detailed Khaenri'ah's fractured state: two factions clashing fiercely. One, led by his old friend "Gold" Rhinedottir, held the upper hand, bolstered by her Learning Device that skyrocketed national strength. The other, headed by an unfamiliar Pierro, pushed a conflicting vision. The royal family, instead of mediating, fanned the flames, ensuring one side's victory. Reisen Riou grinned—Khaenri'ah's infighting suited Inazuma perfectly.
Beyond politics, oddities caught his eye. Khaenri'ah's factories multiplied, churning out machines that vanished to unknown ends. Their alchemy outpaced Sumeru, Teyvat's second-best, by a wide margin. Most alarming, their archaeologists probed forbidden sites like Dragonspine and Inazuma's Tsurumi Island, braving brutal conditions. Losses were heavy—team after team perished—but Khaenri'ah's officials and royals poured endless resources into these digs. Enough, Reisen Riou mused, to forge seven or eight Great Youkai for Inazuma. Wasted in those death traps.
"Good work," he said, tossing a pouch. "Three million five hundred thousand Mora—three million for the intel, fifty thousand for you. Keep tracking Khaenri'ah. Notify me of updates."
He left, mind racing. Tsurumi's exploration was news. Nominally Inazuma's, it housed no living souls, its history mere ancestral tales. Shrouded in time and fate's fog, laced with the Thunderbird's lingering power and warped ley lines, it repelled mortals. Ei's thunder once shredded the mists, but they regrew, their essence too potent for standard seals. Sealing the entire island would drain immense resources for little gain—Tsurumi's barren soil and unstable ley lines defied development.
"Sir, are we sure about deploying the Tiller Series to archaeological teams? Won't it alert other nations?" a Khaenri'ahn technician asked, eyeing rows of gleaming machines.
"The Seven Archons' nations won't see these as threats—just alchemists' parlor tricks," the official scoffed. "Finish testing. The archaeological push is urgent. We need those relics for a technological leap. No letting Rhinedottir win this."
"Yes, sir!" The technician, fuming at Rhinedottir's name, checked the machines. "Three hundred forty Tillers, twenty Heavy Units, ready for deployment."
"The archaeological teams are here. How do we distribute?" another asked.
The official rubbed his temples. "Give more to the Silverwhite Ancient Tree team in Dragonspine—those hilichurls are brutal. Next, Tsurumi's Thunderhelm Lawachurls are vicious. Then, the Chasm's underground kingdom…"
Assignments done, the scholars marched off with their Tillers. "When will the Automaton Series be ready?" the official sighed. "Tillers are strong but unfit for ruins."
"Heard the scholars prototyped four types: Cruisers, Strikers, Scouts, Defenders," a technician said. "I'm a Class 002 graduate—not much myself, but classmates in the Automaton Department mention their work. Biomimicry focus, building an underground ecosystem. Automatons will be powerful, mass-producible, cheaper than Tillers, and double as civilian toys."
"Impressive," the official mused. "Hope they're fielded soon. Our capable archaeological teams are dwindling."