Being a part of the Cavalry Company is no small feat. With a lack of a present body, however, it's hard to exactly brag about your rank -especially when you have yet to be officially knighted. The damoiseau is patient, however, promised upon the return of Grandmaster Varka from his expedition beyond Mondstadt to receive his proper title - having only avoided being knighted so as to not force the young man to come along when he was not yet experienced enough.

For now, he bides his time by picking up slack where the other knights left behind falter - so well, in fact, that oftentimes people forget he's yet to be named a true cavalier.

Growing up, Preston always aspired to be a knight. Not just influenced by tales of old - he lived among knights, his entire upbringing was surrounded by knights. Being a nobleman's child, he was given ample opportunity to spectate such valiant heroes in their element. He yearned to join them one day, to bask in the glory of chivalrous deeds and the affection of the people - yet for every push made to join their ranks, train among them, he was pulled back into his family's arms, unwillingly at that. They were protective of him, too much so. He wished to prove himself worthy of independence - so he would seek out other means of proving his worth, braving the wilds to test his merit.

.. Which ultimately lead to the knights being sent to fetch him, frantically searching for this lost child seeking adventure. Suffice to say, the knights knew of him for the wrong reasons.

Though having idealized the knights, this never meant he fully incorporated their beliefs into his own at the time. Preston, after all, still was a child - a selfish one at that, more enamored at the thought of being adored rather than being what a knight actually stood for. He was more in love with the glory that came with being a knight - ultimately wanting approval, which would come by any means necessary, no matter the cost.

This mindset he held in part was why some outcomes of his self-led expeditions were so catastrophic. His reckless decisions would endanger a lot of people who went out of their way to save him, and those he grew close with. He simply didn't know any better, fueled merely by self-servitude - and just refused to learn, head too high in the clouds to realize.

Some 500 years ago - in a place since erased by time, since eradicated by enraged gods waging war on a nation who held no belief in their divinity, was a meeting place for two beings, ruling different regions in their own unique way.

A god of the hunt, and a god of war. The huntress spoke no words, but in her arms she bore a baby wrapped in fur hide. A silent plea - her expression enough.

Please save him.

... Fires rage above the surface, monsters collide and people corrupt - those same gods from before fight for their life, chaos erupts and that same child once held in the hunter's arms, now a little more grown, is knocked away from the destruction - into the darkness below the flame, the Abyss awaits.

What happened from his awakening in the darkness below the surface to his arrival into Mondstadt was a blur - but he's left with one harsh reality that slaps him in the face hard.

Khaenri'ah is no more. He must reinvent himself.

From there does he begin to craft his carefully constructed lie - he's not of nobility, he's of a traveler's heritage, left behind yet having found a life of wandering too tiring to keep up with. Yet, as time passes, he forgets who he used to be. His journal is useless to him now - having been ripped up by reckless hands, angered and resentful of the things he lost - the people he couldn't save, the faces he couldn't recall.

He must reinvent himself. He vowed then to become a knight for good - not for the benefit of himself, but for others around him.

He can't lose what he has again.

"Oh, you mean this thing? You'd be better off asking another Dendro user. As long as I've had this, I still know next to nothing about it."

Preston's always been awfully avoidant on the subject of his vision specifically - because it isn't real. It's a placebo ornament, another lie to put on display for his own benefit. The original brooch was taken from an abandoned shrine - decorated in elemental residue taken from local Dendro Slimes, painted over to give it a glossy green sheen to truly embody a genuine Dendro vision. If one didn't know any better, such a thing could fly so easily under the radar.

Heavily reliant on the resources of Teyvat - and his own _blood,_ to boot, his abilities stem from what he offers to the Leylines. His weapon, a carefully crafted siphoned blade, when pressure is applied to its handle does it extract its handlers' blood - drawing it in the ground does it resonate with the earth, calling upon the aid of the Irminsul to do the user's bidding.

Know simply that the Leylines will not always yield.