Childe's face flushes, for just a moment, embarrassed. No, he didn't know. But he figured since he'd been through worse before, it'd be fine. He sighs, shaking his head.

"You're right. I don't know. But I'm used to being covered in wounds and scrapes. I'm not an easy guy to kill."

She asks about his title, and he beams, pride swelling in his chest.

"Oh, yeah. The god of my region is called the Tsaritsa. I am honored to be her Eleventh Harbinger, which are kind of. The lot of us handle the military and government on her behalf. She has bigger concerns. I usually get sent on missions in faraway regions. I'm the guy that's usually sent behind enemy lines."

He sounds deranged. This poor woman.