Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fanart by Fain!

            It’s been a long day, but the end is finally in sight. Not just that, but it seems like it’s coming early. It’s one of those rare nights where all the customers at Angel’s Share have cleared out on their own, a full hour before closing time . . . which means Diluc can close up early.

            It comes at a good time. He’s been working since this morning, because catastrophic inventory errors had to be sorted out. Somehow, the tavern was grossly understocked, so naturally there was a sudden spike in demand, equivalent to the increases they’d see during a festival. No less than five transport balloon trips were needed to bring their stores back up to a level that would get them through the night, and even more will be needed tomorrow . . . but that’s a problem for tomorrow.

            His final problem for tonight is cleaning three more glasses then loading the transport balloon with empty barrels and escorting it home to Dawn Winery. It’s testament to how tired Diluc is that he’s considering just . . . taking it home empty . . . but he knows he’ll regret it in the future if he does that. Those barrels do need to make it back to the winery so they can reuse them, and since he needs to take the balloon home anyway, so they can load it up with more wine tomorrow morning, there’s no sense in wasting the trip.

            Just as Diluc resolves to do the right thing, another problem walks in the door. Kaeya.

            The first thing Diluc notices about his estranged brother is that he looks as tired as Diluc feels. Not overtly, of course, because Kaeya is a master at covering things up. Diluc knows that only too well . . . and it kind of makes him hate himself that even after everything, when seeing Kaeya like this, his first instinct is to ask if he’s okay, if something’s wrong, if he can help . . .

            Ridiculous.

            “Awfully empty for the hour,” Kaeya says, approaching after giving the empty tavern a quick once over. “I do hope you didn’t just chase them all away so you could go home early.”

            “No, as it so happens,” says Diluc, giving his brother a deadpan look, “but since, by fortunate coincidence, all my customers left of their own accord, we are closing up early.”

            Kaeya’s presence here changes nothing. His plans to turn in early remain intact, despite the puppy dog expression Kaeya turns on him as he hauls himself onto a barstool.

            “You would really turn away your best customer, after I spent all day working hard for citizens like you?” Kaeya whines, leaning on the counter, and not so subtly scoping out the area for bottles he can try to swipe.

            Diluc returns to his task of cleaning the last few glasses, but keeps a wary eye on Kaeya, and sure enough, there it is. Kaeya leans over the bar, hand snaking out for a bottle of wine. Unfortunately for him, Diluc is wise to his tricks. He reaches out and snatches the bottle away, right before Kaeya’s thieving fingertips can make contact.

            “I said we’re closing.”

            “How cruel of you to leave a stalwart Knight of Favonius, of the City of Mondstadt, high and dry,” complains Kaeya.

            “Stalwart nuisance more like it,” Diluc returns.

            “I feel I’ve hardly done anything wrong, coming here as a paying customer, just looking for a drink, and you won’t even give me the dregs of a bottle. If anyone is being difficult, it’s you.”

            It’s then that, for just a moment, Kaeya’s mask slips, and anyone looking at him would see that yes, he is exhausted . . . and despite everything that’s happened between them, it still tugs on Diluc’s heartstrings, damn it. So . . .

            “If I give you the bottle, will you stop being a pest and just go?”

            Kaeya perks up minutely, mask back in place. “I think we can make a deal.”

            Diluc picks up the same bottle Kaeya had designs on. He’s not sure if Kaeya wanted that one specifically, or was just going for the easiest one he could get his greedy hands on, but it’s what he gets now. Diluc walks around the bar to hand it over, shoving the bottle into Kaeya’s chest, perhaps a bit harder than he means to . . . but it’s been a long day. Kaeya almost stumbles, and for a second Diluc feels bad, as his brother shifts his stance to stay balanced and grasp the bottle before Diluc releases it and lets it slide to the ground. For a moment they’re looking each other in the eye, and they’re both too tired and moody to sort out their issues tonight, but wildly, Diluc almost kind of wants to.

            Then common sense wins out and he begins herding his estranged brother toward the door.

            “Then good night, Sir Kaeya.”

            “You know, dear Brother,” Kaeya says melodramatically as he grips the door handle, “you should perhaps treat those around you more kindly. Your temperament may be what leaves you alone one day, and you’ll have none to blame but yourself.”

            There’s a lot Diluc could say, but he’s just too tired. He settles for scowling at Kaeya instead, and Kaeya seems to realize that he’s done for the night.

            “Good night, Master Diluc,” he says, and finally makes his exit, leaving Diluc to his solitude.

            Once the annoyance that is Kaeya is gone, Diluc makes good time with closing up. He gets the last few glasses cleaned, gets the transport balloon loaded with empty casks, then gets on the road home. On his way out of town, he passes two carts coming into the city, even at this late hour, which makes him wonder if there really is an upcoming festival he’s forgotten . . . but one of his people would surely have reminded him of it had that been the case. Perhaps the knights are preparing for a joint training session with the Millelith, or another nation’s military or . . . well, Diluc is too tired to think of any other possible scenarios and doesn’t much care right now either way.

            All he wants is to get home and get a few hours of sleep before he has to roll out of bed and begin hauling more wine back to Mondstadt in the morning . . . and yes, he could delegate, but after coming back from near crisis levels of low stock, he’d be remiss if he didn’t see to it that Angel’s Share is properly restocked himself.

            Adelinde waited up for him, as is her way. Normally Elzer would have stayed up as well, but he’d been forced to work overtime today too, and has to be up just as early as Diluc tomorrow. Diluc is glad he’s already gone to bed. He makes a few notes then turns in for the night, sinking down onto his bed, overtop of the covers, too exhausted to even bother undressing.

            It seems like he’s barely closed his eyes when he’s startled awake by a scream. One of the maids. Hillie, he thinks. She’s the one who rises earliest to bake the estate’s bread each day . . . which is not important now, because her scream is followed up with a shout of, “Fire! Fatui! Help me!”

            Diluc bolts off his bed and summons his claymore. Then, rather than rushing to his bedroom door and down the stairs, he leaps through the window, onto his balcony, then vaults over the railing.

            His plans were to make a beeline to the kitchen, and with one of his employees in danger, from the fucking Fatui no less, he had absolutely no qualms about taking the shortest damn possible route to get there . . . but he quickly realizes that the Fatui that are terrorizing his maid are not the only ones on the property.

            “We’re under attack!” Diluc shouts, to rouse the rest of his staff. Then he leaps to return the favor.

            Skirmishers, Agents, Cicin Mages, and Mirror Maidens . . . there are dozens of them . . . and in addition to them, there are . . . others. Normal humans that go down real quick. Only about as tough as Treasure Hoarders, but slightly better armed and armored. Sort of ragtag, probably mercs. That’s Diluc’s first impression of them, at least. Foreign mercs by the sounds of their swears and accents when Diluc cuts them down. Then he sees the emblem they’re fighting under.

            The patches are the only thing all the mercs have in common, and they stand out because they’re new. Only the dim light kept Diluc from noticing them immediately, but once he does, they’re all he can see, because the symbol they bear is unmistakable.

            The symbol of the Lawrence Clan.

            Renewed fury grips Diluc, both at the realization that the Lawrence Clan has teamed up with the Fatui, and just the sheer number of enemies they’ve brought to bear. He unleashes Dawn on the mercs where they’re thickest, even though they’re angled so his flaming phoenix is bound to singe some of his vines before rising skyward, then spins to lay into the Fatui, his sword alight with flames. This is taking too damn long and his people are in danger!

            His people, however, aren’t exactly helpless. Especially the ones who were raised at the winery. Crepus made sure all his employees could fend off at least a hilichurl or two, in case the need for them to escort a transport balloon shipment ever arose. Those who were raised on the property were given the chance to be tutored in swordsmanship by retired knights. Many became knights themselves . . . but many more who were good enough to become knights stayed. Elzer and Adelinde included.

            Diluc doesn’t have time to keep track of everything, but he catches glimpses out the corner of his eye. Adelinde wielding her Cresent Pike like silver lightning, dancing past the cicins to carve up the mages who control them. Elzer rolling under a Fatui Agent’s circling flames and inside his guard, then cutting him down like a dog. Ernest with his claymore holding his own against an Anemo Boxer, while Connor directs the employees flocking up to help from the outbuildings to help suppress the fire that’s been started inside the manor house. Whenever an enemy gets too close, Connor flicks his rapier through their throat. With so many of his people there to help keep things under control, Diluc is able to turn his focus on the most dangerous enemies.

            It’s slow. Too slow . . . but there are so many enemies to kill. While Diluc has often dreamed of slaughtering so many Fatui, he’d rather it not have happened here, at his home, putting his household and employees in danger . . . but it is what it is, and Diluc is happy enough to kill every last one of them. He summons his flames as often as he can, and cuts, and strikes, and slices, and burns until there’s nothing left to kill.

            It happens rather abruptly. He quite literally cuts a Cryo Cicin Mage in half, then leaps over her corpse to the Mirror Maiden behind her and engages, and perhaps some part of him registers that there’s a lot less enemies to choose from now, but Diluc is in full on slaughter mode, so if he notices, it doesn’t really register. He lays into her, and with her hydro powers she is admittedly not the greatest match up for him, but it doesn’t matter because he’s stronger. Then there’s a flash of silver, and Adelinde is standing there as the Mirror Maiden falls. No one at Dawn Winery is above cutting down an enemy from behind. Especially not when their master’s life is on the line.

            “Master Diluc? Are you injured?”

            “I’m fine.” Diluc’s a little cut up, and the tail of his coat is singed, but he doesn’t even need a healer. “What’s our status? The fire? Hillie?”

            “Hillie is alive. Injured and burned, but she’ll pull through. Moco was able to reach her in time. The fire is under control. The men doused it with wine.”

            Diluc nods, unphased, even though the monetary loss is probably in the tens of thousands. The scarcity will drive up the price of his other barrels, so he can recoup some of those losses, and mora is of no consequence next to his employees and his home.

            “Anyone gravely injured?”

            “I don’t believe so, but I’ll double check. Master Diluc, some of the outlander mercenaries broke ranks and fled. Should I give the order to give chase?”

            “No.” With a head start, at night, trying to hunt down the Lawrence Clan’s mercenaries will be more trouble than it’s worth and he won’t risk his people in the process . . . not that it’s actually night anymore. Dawn has broken, Diluc sees. It will soon be fully light . . . but his decision remains the same. “I’ll go after them myself.”

Thank you for reading! This fic is actually my first ever collab. Its plot is entwined with its sister fic’s, Song of Resistance: Frostborn Loyalty by TheOpticalMouse, which tells the story of those trapped inside Mondstadt when the city falls. 

Both of these fics will be updated at least once a week for the next seven weeks, until the plots collide, and the stories conclude on October 27^th. We hope that you’ll enjoy the ride!

Feel free to check out my Twitter for our posting schedule and other information: https://twitter.com/StrangeDiamond5

Special thanks to Fain for the fanart! https://twitter.com/f_ai_n

Mondstadt Forever!

(I recommend reading Chapter 1 and 2 of Frostborn Loyalty before proceeding on to Chapter 2 of this fic, but both fics are written so that you can enjoy them even if you read them alone, or one after the other.)

Chapter Text

If you haven't seen it already, Babs did these amazing sketches of Adelinde and Elzer. Dawn Winery's most loyal employees will stop at nothing to defend their home and their master.

            As much as Diluc would like to immediately go tearing off after the Lawrence Clan’s mercenaries, a few delays are necessary. Messages need to be sent, to Stone Gate, Springvale, and Mondstadt. The two smaller settlements on the odd chance that similar attacks might be mounted against them (if they haven’t been already) and Mondstadt because as much as Diluc loathes the Knights of Favonius . . . he could use their help now. Sending a couple squadrons to patrol the lands around his grounds isn’t just the least they could do, it’s their job. Doubtlessly Kaeya will come along and make a nuisance of himself, but . . . well despite how much Diluc gripes about his estranged brother, he knows that Kaeya gets things done.

            Adelinde quickly pens his messages then takes them to the mews, to send via falcon, as Elzer saddles their horses – one for each man, because Elzer intends to ride for Springvale and bring them the news himself. It’s only once they get underway that Diluc realizes he didn’t affix his personal seal to his letters . . .

            That, however, is the least of his worries, and since those messages are being delivered by umbertailed falcons, he’s willing to bet that those who receive them will be willing to overlook his slip up. Stone Gate will be on alert, and Mondstadt would send aid, or at least one squadron to confirm the situation, whether they believed the message was legit or not.

            Diluc’s and Elzers paths turn out to align, through Drunkard’s Gorge, and all the way to Springvale. They actually find one of their runaway mercenaries dead in the gorge. Already wounded by Diluc’s flames, he was done in by electro slimes, which Diluc dispatches of, with a slight amount of regret. They hurry onward, to Springvale, where they believe they’ll part ways since Diluc is still following the mercenaries’ trail, but when they arrive at the village, they find it already worked into a state.

            The people of Springvale rise early but even so, the entire village being awake not even an hour after dawn isn’t exactly the norm. The village seems to be completely intact though; no errant fires burning, no mercenaries or Fatui. There is a commotion going on by the road, right in their path, and amongst the hunters Diluc spies two additional archers who don’t quite belong. Outrider Amber and Fischl from the Adventurer’s Guild, Oz by her side.

            “Master Diluc!” Fischl breaks away from the hunters and races toward him. She skids to a stop, a safe distance from their horses, even as Diluc dismounts. “The timing of your arrival is most fortuitous. I – this is –”

            “Master Diluc!” Amber hurries over as well. “Have you heard? Do you know if it’s true?”

            “You know full well it’s true!” Fischl snaps. “I told you it was true, and you can see the smoke yourself, from here!”

            “What –” Diluc starts to ask, but even as he voices the question, his gaze goes to the horizon where he sees . . . smoke. Coming from Mondstadt. “What the devil?”

            “Mondstadt has fallen,” Fischl tells him, her voice trembling slightly. “I came upon the city as the attack commenced. Uncertain as to what was transpiring, I bid Oz scout, so that I might better . . . better ascertain . . . the situation.”

            “She says it’s the Fatui and the Lawrence Clan,” Amber interrupts, “but that’s ridiculous –”

            “The Fatui and mercenaries wearing the Lawrence Clan’s emblem just launched an attack on Dawn Winery,” Diluc cuts her off in turn. “Keep going, Fischl. What happened?”

            “They – they came in . . . Our knights were caught unawares and they just . . . It was a rout. The people fell back to the Cathedral, but . . . there were too many, and they had no chance to marshal our forces. It was over very quickly.”

            Diluc swears.

            “I . . . Master Diluc I . . . I’m so sorry,” Fischl says.

            “It’s not your fault,” Diluc is quick to reassure her. “There was nothing you could have done. You were right not to try and enter the city.”

            “We need to get back there now!” Amber insists. “We have three Visions amongst us now. Four if you count Diona. We could –”

            “We wouldn’t make it through the front gate! They have the city locked down! Dozens of Fatui, and at least a hundred mercenaries – more likely several hundred – hired by the Lawrence Clan!” Fischl snaps. “A head on assault will fail!”

            “She’s right,” Diluc agrees, even though there’s a large part of him that wants to storm the bridge right now and burn everyone in his way. If the city’s fallen . . . then Kaeya and Jean must have been imprisoned. Or if not, it’s very likely they’ve gone to ground in the city. They’ll need help, and Diluc means to provide it, but he can’t do that if he gets himself captured or killed.

            Instead of puffing up at being deemed right, however, Fischl actually seems to deflate. She looks at Diluc again and her visible eye fills with tears and Diluc . . . he’s not good with crying women. Maybe he can deflect . . . but Fischl is talking again.

            “There’s something you need to know, Master Diluc,” she says grimly. “When . . . I was watching . . . I saw Sir Kaeya. One of the Lawrences . . . he announced his intentions to forcibly marry the daughters of the Gunnhildr Clan into his household. Both of them.”

            “What?” Diluc growls, and suddenly the idea of storming the bridge right now sounds a whole lot better.

            “Sir Kaeya . . . he was helping Deaconess Barbara escape the city. They made it onto the lake but . . . but . . . I’m so sorry, Master Diluc.” The tears fall from Fischl’s eye. “Sir Kaeya died helping Barbara escape.”

            “What? No . . .” That can’t be right. Kaeya can’t be . . .

            “My utmost condolences, Master Diluc,” Oz speaks up. “I know that there are no words that truly mean anything when . . . when receiving news of this magnitude, but I am very sorry for your loss. Your brother was a brave man and a good friend.”

            Was. Was a brave man. Was a good friend.

            In the blink of an eye, Kaeya has become part of the past. Someone to be spoken of in past tense. Remembered only in terms of the past, because there are no future memories to be made with him, no upcoming events to include him in.

            That has to be wrong. Diluc doesn’t want to believe that it’s true. He just saw Kaeya last night, he . . .

            He called Kaeya a nuisance last night.

            He threw Kaeya out of Angel’s Share last night.

            Called him a pest. Only grudgingly gave him a bottle to take home so he wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore that night, not knowing that was the last time he would ever see his brother.

            Kaeya’s words echo in his mind now.

            “You should perhaps treat those around you more kindly. Your temperament may be what leaves you alone one day, and you’ll have none to blame but yourself.”

            He . . . he hadn’t even told Kaeya “goodbye.” Just “good night,” with a strong subtext of “get out.”

            And now his brother is dead.

            It still doesn’t seem real . . . and there are people talking to him, but he can’t hear what they’re saying, doesn’t really care either, because it’s meaningless. It’s all meaningless, and there are too damn many people talking to Diluc, but he’s never felt more alone in his life –

            Then one voice cuts through the fog.

            “Diluc! Master Diluc!”

            Barbara.

            Diluc turns back the way he’d come, where Barbara is sprinting up the road now, looking like she’s been through hell and back, her dress singed and blood splattered, hair a mess, and eyes wide and red-rimmed.

            Kaeya sent her to him, he realizes and immediately begins striding toward her. He and Barbara are not close, even though their families are technically friends (not that Diluc has a family anymore). He’s closer to Jean, since they’re of an age, but has always done his best to be kind to Barbara, allowing her to sing at Angel’s Share when she requests it, and trying to soften his words around her a bit. Still, not enough that she would feel like he was the one that she should come running to when the world was going to hell, and her sister and parents were lost to her, so this must be Kaeya’s doing, and it makes sense for Kaeya to have told her that they were rallying to Diluc, or that if anything happened to him, to get to Diluc, that he would protect her – and he will. It’s practically his brother’s dying wish, and Diluc won’t let him down again.

            Then his eyes are drawn to movement behind Barbara. They’re drawn to blue. Blue hair, and for a moment, he feels his heart rise . . . then realizes that it’s not Kaeya’s, the color is a few shades off, and that empty, soul crushing feeling is back, like he just lost his brother all over again.

            Then he realizes, recognizes, the person with Barbara, following her, it’s Eula. Eula Lawrence.

            “You,” Diluc snarls, and suddenly all he sees is red. “This is your family’s fault! Your fault!”

            “Master Diluc, wait – it’s not what you think!”

            But there’s no waiting. No thinking. Not as Diluc summons his claymore and calls forth fire to line his blade.

            There is only retribution.

            When Barbara and Eula reach Wolvendom, Eula wants to hit the ground running, but Barbara . . . just . . . can’t.

            The splatter of Kaeya’s blood is still warm on her face, and she drops to her knees, now that she’s on solid ground that isn’t going to melt beneath them at any moment, and scoops up water to splash against her own face.

            “Barbara, we don’t have time for this. We need to move. Now!”

            She’s right, but . . . but . . .

            “They killed Kaeya . . . they just . . . they killed him! I don’t – I’ve never –” Barbara’s seen people die before. The sick and the elderly . . . and it’s never pleasant, but this . . . this was something else. One moment Kaeya was there, and now he’s just . . . gone.

            Barbara doesn’t even know him that well. Yes, they’ve worked together, even traveled and adventured together on occasion, but Barbara wouldn’t have considered him a friend, they weren’t that close, but Kaeya just died for her. Maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised. She’d never heard of him being the selfish sort. She knows he caused people problems and frustration at times, but he was good at his job, and he was kind, and he was just . . . always there. A part of Mondstadt. Gunned down on the ice as he saved her life.

            Barbara whimpers and scoops up more water in her cupped hands to clean herself with. She wants – no, needs to get Kaeya’s blood off of her. Then maybe she can start to think again, maybe the world will be normal and good again, and –

            SLAP.

            Eula’s hand connects with Barbara’s cheek.

            “I’m sorry, but I cannot allow you to go into shock. Look at me, Barbara. Look at me!”

            Barbara blinks up at the Reconnaissance Captain and presses one hand to her stinging cheek.

            “Kaeya died to keep you safe. Don’t you dare make his sacrifice for nothing,” Eula says sternly . . . but there’s a slight waver to her voice . . . and tears in her golden-violet eyes.

            Barbara reaches up to gently touch one finger to Eula’s cheek, catching a tear as it falls. “He . . . Sir Kaeya was your friend?”

            Eula nods curtly.

            “I’m so sorry, I –”

            “Don’t. Don’t you dare apologize. He chose his fate, and I don’t believe he regretted it. You don’t get to either.” Eula reaches out and rests a hand on Barbara’s shoulder. Squeezes. Her fingers are cold, but somehow make Barbara feel a little bit warmer. “Now, come on. We need to keep moving. To Dawn Winery. Diluc Ragnvindr is our best bet as a leader to rally around. He has money, resources, and influence. Not to mention a Vision –”

            “And he needs to know,” Barbara says. “What happened. To Kaeya. They . . . they were brothers . . .”

            “Yes. While I don’t relish the idea of being the bearer of that bad news, he does need to know. Then we can start making plans to take back our city . . . and take vengeance on the ones who took what we love.”

            They take the path through Wolvendom, moving as quickly as they can. It feels so strange, coming here . . . someplace she knows, and has been a hundred times to gather berries. Somewhere that’s always felt safe, but doesn’t anymore. Not because of the hilichurls or oversized slimes, but because nowhere seems safe anymore.

            Not even Dawn Winery.

            They know something is wrong long before they arrive. They can smell the smoke, and as they approach the top of the hill, they can see the plume of it . . . but thankfully, it looks like the place is mostly intact.

            “Maybe they just had a kitchen fire?” Barbara suggests as they reach the cliff overlooking the winery.

            Eula gives her a sideways look. “You don’t really believe that,” she says, then leaps off before Barbara has time to admit that’s true.

            They glide down and hurry up the path. Employees of the winery see them coming, but don’t pause from their tasks when Barbara and Eula rush up to the house. Understandable, because they all seem busy . . . tending to some charred vines, removing smoke damaged items from the manor house, and . . . digging a mass grave. There is a pile of bodies at the base of the hill. All of them either Fatui or Lawrence Clan mercenaries.

            Diluc’s head maid, Adelinde comes out to meet them. The look she gives Eula is pure poison, but other than that she is polite. She takes the news of Mondstadt’s fall with a sort of stoic grace, and lets them know what transpired here . . . and where to find Diluc. They’re offered refreshments and a change of clothes, but they turn them down, except for a flask of grape juice for the road. Finding Diluc and letting him know what happened takes priority. The only other delay they allow themselves is for Barbara to use her healing powers on one of the maids, Hillie, whose arm and neck were badly burned during the fighting. Miraculously, she is the only one at the winery who was seriously injured. A very good thing for multiple reasons, not the least of which is that it would be so hard for Barbara to leave anyone injured right now untended after what just happened.

            They get underway again, and hurry in the direction that Adelinde says Diluc went in. Toward Springvale, through Drunkard’s Gorge. There’s a dead merc and some electro slimes that were put down with a claymore, but nothing else of note until they reach Springvale.

            Diluc is there . . . with several others.

            “Amber,” Eula says, and her voice trembles with relief at the sight of her friend.

            Fischl as well, and her familiar. Everyone else seems to be from Springvale . . . Barbara sees Diona prowling around the perimeter nervously, and a number of hunters that she’s familiar with; Jotun, Allen, Olaf . . . but Diluc is the one she needs to speak to, and so she hurries forward as she calls to him.

            “Diluc! Master Diluc!”

            Diluc turns . . . and she can see it in his eyes that he already knows. About Kaeya. Her heart breaks for him, and she feels guilty that she feels relieved about not having to be the one to tell him that his brother is dead. His gaze just looks so empty . . . she’s never known Diluc to look like he’s about to cry, but the expression on his face as he begins hurrying toward her . . .

            Then his gaze drifts past her, to Eula, and he draws up short.

            “You.”

            Oh no. Oh no, no, no –

            “This is your family’s fault! Your fault!”

            “Master Diluc, wait – it’s not what you think!” Barbara tries to intervene, but Diluc doesn’t seem to hear her. He summons his claymore and uses his Vision to light it with flames. Then he springs forward with a cry of fury and pain.

            “Diluc, wait!”

            “Get her, Master Diluc! Get that Lawrence slag!”

            “Death to the Lawrence Clan! All of them!”

            “She’s on our side!” Barbara screams as claymores clash. “She helped me escape! Master Diluc, please!”

            “If you hurt her, I swear to Barbatos, I’ll fill you with holes!” Amber growls, hurrying forward, an arrow notched on her string.

            “I think not!” Fischl snaps, stepping between them, her own bow leveled at Amber.

            “That’s my friend he’s trying to kill!”

            “That’s our best hope for taking back our city you’re aiming at!”

            “I’m on your side, Ragnvindr,” Eula tries to appeal to Diluc.

            “You’re a Lawrence. That’s all I need to know.”

            “Kaeya was an outlander. If people from his place of birth had invaded, would you –”

            “Don’t you dare speak his name!” Fire and ice clash as both their elementally charged claymores meet.

            “I’ll say his name because he was my friend!” Eula shouts, and her foot snakes out to kick Diluc in the chest. “Kaeya was my friend!”

            She dodges an overhead attack, then twirls around like a dancer, twisting out of range.

            “And a better man than you! He never judged me by my family name! Never scorned me or looked down on me! He was suspicious of me at the dawn of this nightmare, yes, but when Jean assured him that I was the one who brought her warning of this rebellion, however scant, that was good enough for him!”

            Diluc hesitates. Or at least he doesn’t pursue her and press his attack.

            “She’s telling the truth, Master Diluc!” Barbara says quickly. “Kaeya trusted her . . . as does my sister. The Acting Grand Master. Jean . . . she had Kaeya and Eula get me out of the city. I – I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. It was my fault. If he hadn’t been trying to save me . . . if Kaeya hadn’t . . . I . . . I’m s-sorry!”

            “Kaeya saved us both,” Eula says softly. “With . . . with the last of his strength, he froze a path all the way across Cider Lake, to the shore at Wolvendom. My cryo isn’t strong enough for that. Doesn’t work fast enough. Without that, we would have been sitting ducks.”

            “He . . . saved you too?” Diluc asks gruffly.

            Barbara holds her breath. Eula nods. Then Diluc vanishes his claymore.

            “If that was the last thing he did in this world . . . I won’t betray him by undoing it. If he trusted you . . . and Barbara vouches for this –”

            “I do!”

            Diluc nods, but doesn’t pick up his sentence where he left off. Instead, he looks across the waters of Cider Lake. Toward Mondstadt, where smoke is rising. His expression . . . it’s heartbreaking.

            “Eula?” he finally asks, crimson gaze still on their smoking city.

            “Sir?” Eula responds, and Barbara realizes what she’s done with just that one word. Given up her authority as the highest-ranking knight still free in Mondstadt. Given it to Diluc. There’s no question now to anyone just who their resistance’s leader is going to be.

            “I’m told you know a thing or two about vengeance.”

            “Oh yes,” Eula says grimly. “That I do . . . That I do.”

In case you haven’t read it yet, what happened to Kaeya is covered in detail in TheOpticalMouse’s Frostborn Loyalty, Chapters 1 and 2.

The Song of Resistance continues next week, first in Chapter 3 of Frostborn Loyalty on Monday, then Chapter 3 of Flames of Defiance on Wednesday, so check back soon!

Chapter Text

            Organizing a resistance to take back Mondstadt isn’t something that Diluc ever thought he would need to do.

            . . . Okay, perhaps there were a few childhood fantasies, games of make believe played with Jean and Kaeya in the vineyard, with sticks for swords and imaginary enemies behind every vine. Diluc tries not to think of them now. There’s so much to do. He doesn’t have time to stop and think, because if he does . . . he’s afraid the creature of rage he became the last time he lost someone he loved will rear its ugly head again and turn on Eula. He is distinctly aware of the fact that her family is the reason he no longer has a family . . . but her family will be the ones who pay for their own sins.

            Diluc immediately sets the people of Springvale to preparing defenses around the village. Their enemies will come for them, here, in this village. There is no doubt of this in Diluc’s mind. His time with the knights, as Cavalry Captain and a potential candidate for future Grand Master taught him plenty about the logistics of keeping an army running. Stable supplies of food and water are vital to an army’s survival. Mondstadt is a land of plenty, and a barren market is a rare sight indeed, but Mondstadt also has so many mouths to feed. Every single day cartloads of produce, meat, and wine are hauled in to keep the market and peoples’ pantries stocked. Disrupting that supply line for even a day can throw everything off kilter . . . and no food will be brought in today. Not from Springvale.

            If the Fatui and Lawrence Clan are smart, they’ll have brought stockpiles of food so they can hold out for some time . . . but if Diluc knows the people of Mondstadt, they won’t take this invasion lying down. They know their own history. They were raised on the Songs of Resistance. Tales of uprisings and revolutions, of supplies purges and assassinations, guerilla warfare and sabotage tactics. The anthems of defiance their bards have kept alive show them the way to victory. When this is all said and done, this will be just another verse.

            So, they’ll send their troops, once their supplies are destroyed, or once they learn those outside the city, who intend to take it back, are congregating in Springvale. Whichever happens first. More fools them for giving this resistance time to prepare.

            Diluc sends Elzer back to the winery to let them know what happened, and to begin moving supplies here by the cartload. Food, carpentry equipment, farming tools, weapons, and above all, his people. The winery isn’t a vital enough location to put up too much of a fight holding. Not now that Mondstadt has fallen. It’s far enough away that their enemies probably won’t try to take it again. They’d have to make a detour around Springvale to get to it. If they do, all they’ll have is a mansion that’s been stripped of anything that could be used to wage war and some grapes . . . but Diluc doubts they’ll go for the winery again. There will be no point to it, not really.

            So, Elzer rides away, with strict orders to send the first of his people to Springvale with his writing supplies, seal, and falcons.

            Amber, Diluc sends to bring in known knights and Adventurers outside of Mondstadt. The Base Camp at Dragonspine is where she’ll probably find the most, but Diluc knows there are others on patrol in the wild. Amber knows who they are and where they are. Her reluctance to part with Eula is obvious, but at Eula’s nod, she obeys without protest.

            Then comes the hard work. Actually preparing the village’s defenses. He sets Fischl to scouting the area around them with Oz, to make sure there are no enemies lurking, and they won’t be snuck up on. Then he and all the people of Springvale begin creating barricades. They drag all the broken wagons and old fences that line the path back toward the village, and use them to block the road to Mondstadt, from the high ground, all the way to the lake’s shore. Broken barrels and felled trees are added to the mass, then full barrels of water are rolled up to drench it. They’ll keep their barricade wet so it can’t be easily burned. They build several smaller barricades at other strategic places around the village, but the one on the road to Mondstadt is the main one.

            Draff organizes his hunters into shifts. Some will always be on watch, at various locations around the village’s perimeters. If their enemies try to sneak around, they’ll still get some forewarning. When they attack, the hunters will fill them with holes. The cliffs around the village do provide them with some natural defenses and high ground to hold, but overall Springvale was not designed with defense in mind.

            “When it comes time to fight, it’s going to be up to us,” Diluc tells his fellow allogenes. Right now they include Diluc, Barbara, Eula, Diona, and Fischl. When Amber returns, hopefully she’ll have Razor in tow. There might be another allogene or two who was outside the city when the attack happened, Diluc doesn’t know. He hopes there are. They say that every allogene is worth at least a squad of foot soldiers. Diluc knows better than to count out trained warriors even if they don’t have Visions, but they really are going to need as much elemental power as possible when facing the Fatui.

            The others nod solemnly, accepting his words as truth. Even Diona, whose distaste for him is well known. Since hearing of Mondstadt’s fall her tail and ears have been drooping, and her eyes are missing their spunky glitter. Diluc remembers the first time that happened to him, when his world felt like it was falling apart, and everything he thought he could count on was suddenly gone. It . . . was never his job to keep that from happening to anyone else, but he feels like he failed all the same. He hopes that whoever it is that Diona is so worried about turns out to be okay.

            Then, the first of Diluc’s people begin arriving, and Diluc steps away to begin sending messages, even though he is depressingly aware of how few people they have to call on for help.

            Stone Gate won’t send help. Not all the way to the city. If Dawn Winery was under attack and needed aid then maybe, but that is only because of standing contracts between the winery and the Qixing.

            The Qixing aren’t likely to send help either, Diluc knows. To involve themselves in a foreign nation’s civil war would be against all their policies. No other nation is really close enough . . . but there are still two who Diluc has hope might answer his call.

            Beidou is more an acquaintance than friend. They’ve fought together on several occasions, and got along well enough, but he barely knows her, and asking her to bring her fleet and fight in a war is a very big ask, even with promise of payment.

            Dvalin is the one whom Diluc feels is most likely to come to their aid . . . not that he can send the dragon a letter. That is a message that he will have to take to Dvalin himself. He just needs to figure out when is the most opportune time to slip away. With the dragon on their side, the tides of the rebellion could drastically turn very quickly. They might even be able to take their city back in a day. If they can get him to join them. Diluc knows his cooperation is not guaranteed, but figures he has the best chance of getting the Guardian of the East to help them.

            Tomorrow, he decides, as he sends the messages to Stone Gate, the Qixing, and Beidou off. Shortly after dawn. For whatever reason, dawn seems to be traditional as the time to attack. That’s what they did this morning, with their two-pronged attack, taking Mond and striking the winery. Tomorrow, he’ll wait just long enough to make certain their enemies aren’t pulling a fast one on them before riding for Stormterror’s Lair. They’ll be at their strongest then, with Amber back, Razor hopefully there as well, and a handful of other capable fighters.

            What reinforcements there are to be found in Mondstadt begin trickling in as the day crawls by. Those from the Base Camp and vicinity of Dragonspine arrive first, and include a handful of useful people; several seasoned Adventurers, a knight who’d been on patrol, a chef, and a weaponsmith who is immediately put to work making arrowheads and spear tips. The rest are mostly researchers, and less experienced Adventurers, but everyone capable of wielding a sword or spear is a welcome addition to their forces. Even those who aren’t can still help in other ways, like foraging for food, carrying water, gathering stones and lumber, and regularly drenching the barricades so that they’ll be saturated with water and very hard to burn.

            Two love birds who’d snuck out last night, and their mercenary bodyguard also come to Springvale, after seeing the smoke in the city. Sharp might have landed a cushy job babysitting a rich boy, but his sell sword instincts remained honed, and he knew better than to go asking for answers in a city that reeks of wrongness.

            Razor also wanders in on his own. He actually went to the winery first, Diluc learns later, after seeing the smoke, to see if Diluc needed help. Diluc’s people sent him on to Springvale with a transport balloon full of supplies. His distress at the plight of their friends in the city is clearly visible, and Diluc can see it in his eyes that he wants nothing more than to storm the city right now and get Klee to safety. Thankfully, he’s been around humans enough to learn some restraint and sense of tactics. While there might be a bit of a grudge between him and certain people in Springvale, it’s shoved aside and Razor pitches in to help with the village’s defenses. He’s willing to do everything he can to hasten them to the point where they’re ready to go save their friends, and recognizes the need to survive until that time comes.

            More researchers and Adventurers, and a few more knights arrive over the next few hours, along with a random few others. Sir Godwin, who patrols near Windrise, and Sir Harry, who patrols further North. Lynn, who hasn’t been inside the city in over a year. Chloris, who arrives with a backpack full of edible plants. Sir Mack, who has two children in tow. Lorgar, Henry Morton, Edith, Lianne, Pallad . . . Even Vind abandons her watch at Stormbearer Point. “The greatest storm in living memory is now within the city walls. The devastation they’re causing can’t possibly be worse than what the storm I was watching for would cause. If there’s anything I can do to put an end to their evils, then I will do it. This, I believe, is what Lady Vennessa would have wanted.”

            Together, they hastily erect some palisade walls to fortify the village even further. Other, smaller segments are cobbled together as well, and made to be mobile. They look more like scenery from a play than engines of war, but very well could end up saving the hunters’ lives. They set them up at strategic spots, to provide cover for their archers, for when the fighting begins.

            To make it even harder for their enemies to approach, they also riddle the ground before their barricades and palisades with rocks and dig foot deep holes, which they hide beneath pieces of cloth laid flat over them, then dusted with dirt, pebbles, and grass. If they don’t break at least one enemy’s ankle, Diluc will be sorely disappointed. For themselves, however, they do leave a path, in case anyone needs to make it through quickly. It’s off to one side, and its approach is slanted at an angle that no one would normally take when approaching, to lessen chances of their enemies taking it by accident.

            When Amber returns, late in the afternoon, she does a double take at the sight of their progress.

            “Wow . . . you’ve all certainly been busy. I barely recognize this place.”

            “Normally, in any sort of effort, there are those who would slack off,” Eula says, wiping sweat from her pale brow with the back of her gloved hand. “That is why endeavors such as this almost invariably take longer than they should. This, however, is far too important. There’s not a man, woman, or child who has slacked off here. If they had, vengeance would have fallen on their heads swiftly and it would not have just been mine.”

            “Good work finding everyone,” Diluc tells Amber.

            “Thanks. Just doing my part, though. Speaking of which, what more needs to be done?”

            “Right now, I’d like for you to rest –”

            “But –”

            “Go to Brook and Harris and tell them you’ve been slated for an early dinner. After you eat it, try to sleep. I want you awake several hours before dawn. Check with Draff; he has the exact hour you’re wanted awake. All I can tell you is that you need to get up sometime after two in the morning, and will be on guard until at least mid-morning.”

            “Oh,” Amber realizes. “You’ve made a schedule . . . and you’re right. I forgot we were preparing for another dawn attack.”

            “We’ll have people on watch throughout the night as well. There is never going to be a time that all of our allogenes are asleep. No matter when they attack, they won’t catch us unawares,” Diluc says.

            “Before I go . . . has there been any news from the city?”

            “I just had Fischl switch from sentry duty to spy duty. Oz is flying over Mondstadt as we speak. Those two will do their best to find out for us what state the city is in, how our people are doing, and the numbers of our enemies. Fischl should be checking in with Eula and I before the hour is up. If you’d like to be brought up to speed, Eula can –”

            He stops at the sound of raised voices. Hearing shouts now naturally evokes worry of an impending attack . . . but these voices are far too young to be their sentries’. They sound like children . . .

            Turns out, they are children, which is actually a surprise because the kids have been really good all day. They’ve all been eager to help in whatever ways they can.

            “But you can’t do that!” Chloris is shouting at Diona when Diluc and Amber stride over. “The consequences could be disastrous!”

            “It doesn’t matter anyway! I didn’t end up using them in my drinks because they smelled so funky. I threw the lot of them away!”

            “What’s going on?” Diluc asks sternly, just as Draff arrives as well.

            “We may have a problem,” Chloris tells him, standing up very straight and looking him directly in the eye. “While foraging, I discovered the mycelium of a cluster of Magic Matsutake Mushrooms.”

            Diluc frowns. “Wait . . . those are –”

            “Very rare mushrooms with many unique properties. Some medicinal . . . others recreational . . . but in large doses, they can make someone terribly sick,” Chloris says, “and based on the number of mushroom bases and mycelium, or mushroom roots, if you will . . . Diona picked a whole lot of them!”

            Her voice ends in a slight whine, and she points at Diona accusingly, ruining what was otherwise a very mature delivery.

            All eyes turn toward Diona.

            “I just said, I didn’t use them for anything!” Diona snaps. “I was going to, but by the time I got them to work, they had all turned really stinky, and I wasn’t sure they were safe anymore!”

            “That was because you let them oxidize . . . which isn’t the point! No mushroom should be considered safe if you don’t know what it is!” Chloris shouts. “You never eat mushrooms you’re not one hundred percent positive are safe! Let alone give them to other people! Why don’t you know this?!”

            “They were just purple Matsutake Mushrooms! I didn’t think it was a big deal! And like I said, I didn’t give them to anyone! I threw them out!”

            “And are all the more daft for it! Dried, those go for over a million mora per ounce!”

            “What?!”

            Diluc, now satisfied that they’re not likely to all be poisoned by questionable mushrooms, glances at Draff with a look he intends to convey, “Your daughter, you deal with this,” then turns and walks away as Chloris berates Diona on all the bad things that would happen if one person ate all those mushrooms that she’s picked. As morbidly amusing as it might be to listen to her shouting about how they would be out of commission for up to two weeks with nausea, the sweats, a fever, and bouts of projectile vomiting . . . well, Diluc has better things to do.

            “Everything alright?” Eula asks, as he reaches the cart where the children have been leaving the sticks they’ve been collecting from the woods.

            “Yes. Just a misunderstanding and small argument.”

            “What are all those sticks for?” asks Amber, who followed Diluc over.

            “A bonfire. We’re building one on that high cliff above the windmill,” Diluc tells her.

            “So the city can see the flames of defiance still burn here in Springvale,” Eula says. “We hope it will let them know they’re not alone.”

            Amber nods. “That’s a good idea. If you need someone to light it, and you don’t feel like climbing all the way up there, just call for me, Master Diluc.”

            “You can drop the ‘Master,’ if you want,” Diluc tells her. “We’re comrades now . . . and thanks, but we’re not lighting it tonight.”

            “We’re not?” Amber asks.

            “I wish we could, but we need Springvale to stay out of our enemies’ sight and minds just a little longer. Tomorrow I ride for Stormterror’s Lair, right after dawn, to plead with Dvalin.”

            “ . . . Do you really think he’ll help us?” Amber asks.

            “I don’t know . . . but whether he will or not doesn’t matter in the end. We’ll take back our city one way or another.”

            “Yeah . . .” Amber agrees, “but having a dragon would certainly be a big help.”

The Song of Resistance continues on Friday in TheOpticalMouse’s Frostborn Loyalty, Chapter 4, when the resistance inside Mondstadt starts organizing. Then, don’t miss the double update on Monday, when Frostborn Loyalty and Flames of Defiance both get another chapter!

Chapter Text

            Dawn comes and goes without any trouble to mark it, and an hour later, Diluc rides for Stormterror’s Lair with two horses. He doesn’t want to be away from Springvale for long, so the plan is to ride hard the whole way there and back, switching mounts halfway there, and halfway back.

            It’s still fairly early when he reaches Old Mondstadt. In the canyon leading to the ruined city, morning mist still hangs in the air. Inside, however, the wind is too strong for mist to even exist. Breezes blow constantly, rustling every blade of grass as the Windwheel Asters spin incessantly.

            Diluc rides straight to the tower, then makes his way into the ruins. His familiarity with them allows him to enter and ascend quickly, skirting the wind barrier that most anyone else would have lost far too much time trying to circumnavigate. Within minutes, he’s at the top of the tower. He hesitates for only a moment, because even after thinking the entire ride here, he’s still not certain how to call for a dragon . . . but there’s no time to waste.

            “Dvalin! Dragon of the East! Please grant me an audience!” he shouts into the winds. Then, he waits.

            Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long. He didn’t see Dvalin in the skies as he approached the tower, but now the dragon descends and enters Decarabian’s Abode.

            “Ragnvindr Knight,” Dvalin says, proving that he sort of recognizes Diluc, at least. “Bold as all your bloodline is. For what reason do you wish to speak?”

            “To request your help,” Diluc says, letting go the fact that he’s not a knight, and hates to be referred to as one. “Mondstadt has been invaded. The Lawrence Clan collaborated with the Fatui and –”

            “Against fellow humans, Mondstadt must stand on its own.”

            Diluc’s heart sinks at those words. “Its people are in danger. Many have already been killed . . . my brother amongst them,” he growls. Perhaps he shouldn’t make this appeal personal . . . but it’s hard not to when there hasn’t been an hour since this all started that Kaeya has not crossed his mind. His sleep last night was fitful. He awoke half a dozen times, and during every single one of them there had been a brief moment of hope that maybe it was all a dream . . . He had been disappointed just as many times, when he realized that it was all real, and that he won’t see Kaeya in this life again.

            “I am sorry for your loss,” Dvalin tells him, and Diluc doesn’t think it’s his imagination that the dragon’s voice grows gruff as he speaks, “and for the pain that you carry with you because of it . . . but if Mondstadt wishes to throw off the yoke of human oppressors, they must do it for themselves. This is one of the few decrees Barbatos gave when he founded your country, and I will not go against it.”

            “Lord Barbatos hasn’t been seen since the city fell,” Diluc tells the dragon. “Without his gnosis, it’s possible that he too has fallen. Even knowing he could be in danger, will you still do nothing?”

            “If Barbatos has chosen to remain within the fallen city, it’s because he is waiting to see what you and yours will do. Should you make the right decisions, he may deem you worthy of his help . . . but unless some fell beast or creature beyond mortal ken threatens your nation, you will receive no help from me. That is my final word on the matter.”

            And there it is.

            Still, Diluc thinks of arguing, because he’s not ready to give up yet. He doesn’t know how far he can push the dragon without consequences . . . but he’s willing to find out.

            Then, a streak of red catches his eye, and Diluc’s attention is drawn toward it. For a moment he thinks it’s a Windwheel Aster blossom, torn from its stem, and somehow swept up on the breeze . . . but it’s brighter, more vivid . . . and not a flower, but a leaf. A maple leaf . . . even though there isn’t a maple tree within miles of here . . .

            It drifts toward Diluc, riding the wind right within his reach, then swirls in front of him as though caught between two opposing gusts. Then Diluc sees that there’s writing on the leaf. It’s a message.

            Immediately, he snatches it out of the air with one hand, then grips it with his second so he can read it without the wind folding it over itself.

            We’re on our way.

            -Beidou

            For a moment, Diluc can’t believe it. He stares at the gold ink on the leaf for several moments to make sure the words aren’t going to melt away.

            Beidou is coming. Possibly with the entirety of the Crux. Presumably, at least with the crew of her personal ship, the Alcor. “We’re,” coming, she says. Meaning she’s bringing more people than just her.

            No indication of how long it will take them to get there, but for Diluc to have gotten a return message so quickly, they can’t be coming from any further away than Liyue Harbor. It takes a little over a day to sail around both Dragonspine and Cape Oath . . . There are no deep-water harbors in Mondstadt, for ocean going ships to moor in, which is why most of Mondstadt’s trade with Liyue comes in via Stone Gate, but on the rare occasions that ships do dock in Mondstadt, they usually do so off the Falcon Coast. That provides them the shortest straight shot inland to the city. That’s where Diluc will have someone waiting to meet her. Them. Beidou and whoever she’s bringing. Diluc needs to get back and get someone on that, right away. This changes everything.

            “Right. Bye,” Diluc says, then turns to leave.

            “What is that?” Dvalin asks . . . and if a dragon can sound miffed, he most certainly does.

            “A message,” Diluc says, and tries not to sound too smug. “The Slayer of Haishan is coming to help us.”

            Dvalin makes an inelegant noise.

            There’s a lot that Diluc would like to say. All of it over the top and gloating . . . but he resists. Instead, he gives the Dragon of the East a polite nod. “Thank you for hearing me out. I’ll leave you now. There’s a lot left to do.”

            Dvalin doesn’t speak again, but Diluc feels his gaze on his back as he leaves.

            He didn’t truly think he was in danger, coming to speak with Dvalin, though dragons are known for being violent and unpredictable. Still, it’s very nice to know now, that if anything had happened to him, he would have been avenged. Beidou would have come straight here after finishing up with Mondstadt . . . and if Xiangling happened to be on board for another cooking voyage, she would have finally achieved her original purpose in coming to Mondstadt the first time.

            They’re pleasant thoughts, but unnecessary ones, though that’s just as well. Diluc would rather not die until after he’s hung the heads of all the Lawrence bastards and Fatui from the gates of Mondstadt.

            “Amber,” Diluc calls, immediately upon his return. “Light the bonfire!”

            “Right!” Amber leaps up immediately, draws her bow, and takes aim. Her pyro-infused arrow flies, and moments later, the bonfire on the cliff kindles to life.

            “How did it go?” Eula asks, and others crowd around to hear. They can see by Diluc’s expression and posture that his news is good, Diluc is sure.

            “Dvalin will not help us, but that’s a moot point now. Beidou’s on her way, and she’s bringing backup.”

            “Ha. I guess we don’t need a dragon when we’ve got a dragon slayer,” Eula says.

            “Was Haishan a dragon?” one of Draff’s hunters wonders.

            “I think it was a sea dragon of sorts? I don’t know . . .”

            “I heard it was huge. Taller than Mondstadt Cathedral, the sinker of a thousand ships . . .”

            “The Crux is coming too?”

            “She’s bringing the whole damn Crux?!”

            Diluc leaves them to their chatter. He doesn’t have answers for them, but admitting that won’t do anything for morale. Better to let them speculate. No matter who Beidou shows up with, Diluc is certain she won’t disappoint them.

            “What’s going on in Mondstadt?” Diluc asks Fischl when he finds her near the lake’s shore.

            “The city’s quiet,” Fischl says grimly. “The people are scared. The markets are closed and from what mine familiar and I can ascertain, private homes are being entered and ransacked of their food supplies.”

            “They’re trying to starve the city into submission,” Diluc says grimly. “Keep the people too weak to fight.”

            “We can’t let them do that!” Barbara says. She, Razor, and Amber have come over to join Diluc, Eula, and Fischl.

            “We won’t,” Diluc agrees. He looks across the lake, toward the city, frowning, trying to think . . . Surely there must be some way to get food to the people of Mondstadt . . . They just have to think of it. No matter how difficult it might be . . . and unfortunately whatever they come up with is bound to be difficult. It’s not as though the Fatui will just allow them to load up a transport balloon with food and bring it right through the front gate. Wait . . . “Not through the front gate, but over the walls!”

            “Er – what, Diluc?” Eula asks.

            “The transport balloons,” says Diluc. “If we unlock the altitude governors, they can be taken however high we want them. High enough that even Lawrence merc archers and Fatui Pyrogunners can’t shoot them down. We’ll load them up with food that can hold up even after falling from that height and airdrop it to the people of Mond.”

            “Root vegetables would probably work best for that,” Barbara says practically. “Carrots, radishes –”

            “Potatoes,” Razor chimes in.

            “Hams,” Fischl adds. “Springvale keeps an ample store of those since they store well. So long as we cut them into chunks that are of a size with the root vegetables, dropping those should sustain them until they can dine on the tears of the sinners who oppress them once we strike them down!”

            “Dispersal of the food as it drops is something we need to consider,” Amber says. “Whoever is on the balloon – and I think it should be me – will need to both pilot it and spread the food over a very wide area. Which means we can’t just dump it all at once. We need to make sure everyone gets some.”

            “The dispersal problem could perhaps be solved if we were to wrangle anemo slimes, rig them nets to hold the food, release them over the city, and then shoot them down,” Fischl suggests, “and I disagree that you should be the one aboard the balloon. I will undertake that endeavor –”

            “I’m the three-time Mondstadt Gliding Champion!”

            “Well, I, Fischl, am the –”

            “We’ll send two transport balloons,” Diluc says to shut them up. He allows a shade of his irritation to creep into his voice, hoping that will keep them in line, though honestly, he’s not that annoyed. Rather, amazed at how quick everyone was to support his idea, figure out what parts of it needed more planning, and then work the problem. “You’ll both go, because you are two of the best gliders in Mondstadt, and if something goes wrong, you will need to glide for your lives. Barbara, can you organize the children and get them to start making nets? They don’t have to be high quality, just strong enough to hold a small basket’s worth of food.”

            “I’ll get right on that,” Barbara says, and hurries off to do just that.

            “We’re only going to be able to get so many anemo slimes, especially on such short notice,” Eula comments. “These two are still going to have to manually toss quite a lot of food off the balloon. Perhaps we should modify the platforms to resemble giant crates more than just, well, platforms.”

            “Good idea . . . and we should add safety harnesses while we’re at it. Amber, go to Elzer and tell him what we’re planning. He’ll put the winery’s best wood workers on modifying the platforms. Fischl, coordinate with the hunters. See if you and Oz can help them locate any anemo slimes. Eula and I will talk with Draff and Brook about the food. Razor . . . go tell Adelinde to round up anyone who can write and who can be spared from current tasks . . . and to start cutting paper into tiny strips, a bit bigger than their fingers. We’ll need lots of them. Hundreds. Thousands, if we can.”

            Razor nods then darts off to obey.

            “What’s that about?” Eula asks as they head off to find Draff and Brook, Springvale’s leader and unofficial quartermaster.

            “I’d like to send a message. To our allies . . . and our enemies.”

            “So, two messages?”

            “No. Just one,” Diluc tells her. He then looks across the lake, where the City of Freedom is silent and still. No smoke today, thankfully, but no music drifting across the water, on the wind, no merchants or farmers carting food and wine into the city, or knights and Adventurers heading out to brave the wilds. That will change soon though. Until then, they’ll do whatever they can to help their people hold on. “We’re coming for you.”

. . . I love it when a plan comes together. :P

Thank you to everyone who played my Song of Resistance Strategy Game over on my Twitter. I enjoyed seeing the schemes you all came up with for how to help the people of Mondstadt. Some of you even think along similar lines as me, haha.^^

Please join me again next Monday for Chapter 5, when Springvale’s Defenders launch their first gambit . . . and in doing so, make themselves a target.

Also, don’t miss what’s happening inside the city in TheOpticalMouse’s Frostborn Loyalty!

Chapter Text

(99 Luftballons, or its English translation 99 Red Balloons is the official soundtrack for this chapter. For the record.)

            Despite how Fischl often frames her accomplishments and adventures, she is actually well aware that few of the things she’s done have ever been truly important on a grand scale. In the past, her information and sometimes her actions have saved lives, and she does not discount that at all . . . it’s just that this is her first time doing something that is actually heroic, defiant, and of the sort of monumental importance that could inspire a bard’s song, or epic novel, or even an actual historical account.

            Ironically, now that she’s at the precipice of what she’s long wished for, she wishes that all this had never happened. That she strode into a calm, sleepy, normal Mondstadt the morning before yesterday, and bragged about an overblown adventure to Katherine, before heading home to flop into bed and sleep until mid-afternoon. She wishes that the Lawrence Clan had never rebelled, the Fatui never invaded, and the need for heroes right now was nonexistent. She would give anything to take this all back, so her friends weren’t missing, in danger, or dead . . . but she can’t. So now, she does what she must.

            Master Diluc turns out to be something of a mother hen when it comes to prepping Fischl and Amber for airdropping the food. He repeatedly goes over the steering and altitude mechanisms for the transport balloons, has safety harnesses rigged for them, so they’ll not tumble out of the oversized crate that has replaced its normal platform, makes sure they both have not one, but two knives in case the worst happens, and they need to cut themselves free from that same harness . . . his list of precautions seems endless, and would be tedious, but Fischl knows it comes from a place of concern and grief, so she endures it.

            She . . . has not told him everything about what she’s seen in the city. Not yet. She knows she needs to, and she will soon. She hasn’t held back anything of true importance, or at least strategic importance, just . . . she has omitted the details concerning how, in death, Captain Kaeya has become a martyr.

            Through Oz’s eyes, she has seen many signs of it in the city. Peacock feather motifs graffitied everywhere, like a thousand eyes watching the invaders, springing up in places the oppressors can’t help but see them. The Pavo Ocellus constellation worn on the capes of the few Inner Resistance members she and Oz have managed to get glimpses of, as they stir up trouble for the Lawrence Clan and Fatui. The oaths of revenge spoken in snatched conversations between neighbors, who venture outside for a few quick moments to scope out their city.

            Kaeya’s death has become a rallying point for them, his symbols the symbols of resistance. Fischl is sure there is a part of Diluc that will be proud . . . but she is also sure there’s an even bigger part that will feel like the news is a knife twisting in his heart. She is still trying to find the words to let him know . . . the words that will cause him the least amount of pain, but . . . she’s not good at that kind of thing.

            “If you have to bail from the balloons, do so without hesitation,” Diluc tells them, for the fifteenth, and hopefully last time, as they prepare for liftoff. “If you have to choose between failing to drop a single piece of food and getting away safely, choose to get away safely. Your survival and your safe return are paramount.”

            “We understand, Diluc,” Amber says, her patience slightly strained.

            “If anything goes wrong with the slimes, let them go. Don’t take any unnecessary risks. You’ve both got your knives? And your backup knives?”

            “Yes. We have them,” Fischl says. “Please do not worry overmuch. After all, we are not going in alone. Should anything happen to one of us, we will do our utmost to help the other.”

            “And I will be assisting, to the best of my ability,” Oz says. “If the need to abandon the balloons and glide back across the lake becomes necessary, I will help by providing covering fire or, if need be, attempting to help them regain altitude or change direction should they have difficulty.”

            “I think they’re ready,” says Eula, who also seems worried, mostly for Amber, but who is restraining herself better. Perhaps because this is Diluc’s idea, and he knows he would blame himself if anything were to happen to them. Eula is not likely to feel the same level of guilt, while Diluc is already being weighed down by the guilt of surviving while his brother is dead. Most likely the worst thing he can possibly imagine right now is if one of them were to fall to their death in Cider Lake, where Kaeya’s body, as far as Fischl knows, still lies . . . Or at least, those are the thoughts she would give him were she a writer, and he one of the characters in her story.

            “Let’s go,” Fischl says, more than ready to get underway. As much as she wishes this wasn’t necessary, she can’t deny that there is a part of her that is very excited.

            She and Amber step onto the crate-like platforms of their balloons and fasten the leather harnesses made specifically for them to the safety lines that are bolted to the transport. They’re standing on food, because these crates have been filled to the point of almost bursting, and it does make footing a bit tricky, but nothing Fischl can’t handle.

            Diluc looks like he would like to give them a few more words of caution, but reigns himself in, and instead gives them a nod. “Good luck.”

            “Time to send a message,” Amber replies, and that’s a good line. Not too corny, like saying they don’t need luck, and not a death flag such as promising to be back soon, or Archons forbid, promising to discuss something once they’re back.

            “Time to fly,” Fischl says, and releases her anchor. The cable keeping her transport balloon moored to the ground falls away, and her balloon begins to rise, its altitude gage already adjusted to the height they deemed would keep them safely out of Pyrogunner range.

            The ascension goes very smoothly, which is doubly good, because everyone who’s not on sentry duty or manning another important post has gathered to watch . . . and no doubt even those who are supposed to be watching for their enemies are sneaking glances at them as they lift off. It’s not exactly dramatic. Just two transport balloons steadily drifting higher and higher into the air like the balloons they are . . . each with a wagon-sized mass of anemo slimes trapped in a net in tow, which just looks weird . . . but it’s their first offensive action against the Lawrence Clan and Fatui, so no one wants to miss it.

            “Lady Outrider, how fare you?” Fischl calls to her comrade, once they’ve reached heights of at least forty meters.

            “So far, so good! You?”

            “Much the same!”

            At fifty meters, they adjust their controls, manually shifting their course to take them over the lake, toward the city, even though they’re still gaining altitude. If ever this ends up as an illustration in a book, Fischl hopes that she’ll be captured striking a dramatic pose, wind whipping through her hair, electro crackling off Oz’s wings . . . but the truth is, that travel by hot air balloon, in conditions as fair as these, is very calm, more like drifting in a boat on a pond than braving a storm. The breezes are gentle now. Perhaps as a blessing from the Anemo Archon, Fischl thinks, though she knows that this is how the wind is most mornings in Mondstadt.

            “I think we’ve been spotted!” Amber calls a minute later, once they’re midway between Springvale and the walls of Mondstadt.

            Oz flies ahead to act as sentry, and Fischl looks through his eyes for a better view.

            “Oh ho! It seems you are right, Lady Outrider. The Lawrence mercenaries manning the walls are scurrying to alert their masters . . . for all the good that will do them!”

            “It’s a pity Diluc ordered us not to shoot at them unless we absolutely have to . . .”

            This was a point of discussion that had been hotly debated . . . and it was ultimately decided that unless it was in defense of their own lives, to take down an unforeseen threat that could prevent them from safely getting back to Springvale, Fischl and Amber were to refrain from loosing arrows at their enemies . . . for now. This airdrop of food will serve to antagonize their enemies enough on its own, and most definitely draw a response in the form of an attack on Springvale, which they’re ready for. Shooting their enemies, however, would be so much more likely to provoke them into retaliating on the citizens of Mondstadt.

            “All in good time, dear Outrider,” Fischl calls to her comrade. “The good general did promise these engines of welfare would be repurposed as engines of wrath when the fated hour arrives.”

            “Ha. True,” Amber concedes.

            A few shots are taken at them, first by the mercs with their bows, then by Fatui Pyrogunners called out to deal with them . . . but the Outer Resistance’s strategists knew what they were doing when they adjusted the altitude governors, and both Amber and Fischl are untouchable by their ground-bound foes. It kind of makes Fischl wish she’d thought to pack some rocks to chuck at them . . . but the food they’re dropping to their allies, and their message make for a far better taunt.

            The markets are closed now, as they were yesterday, and no civilians are on the streets. So, Fischl and Amber pilot their transports to the residential districts.

            “Ready?” Amber asks, once they’re just over the edge of Mond’s largest residential area.

            “Ready!” Fischl responds.

            At Fischl’s answer, Amber pulls the string attached to her net of wrangled anemo slimes, opening a hole in it, so that they can escape . . . and escape they do. A few at a time, though all are struggling for freedom, and hampered by their burdens – miniature nets of root vegetables, hams, and of course, paper slips. Those nets aren’t exactly tight knit, and even as the anemo slimes attempt to flee, the odd carrot or radish slips through the holes, and plenty of paper slips begin their spiraled, twirling descent.

            Then Amber begins bailing the food out of her crate with a hand shovel, scattering it over the sides and launching it into freefall, while Fischl, in a better position to shoot down the released slimes, does so.

            Below them, they hear shouts and cheers; their people receiving the bounty they’ve brought them . . . and their message.

            “We’re coming for you!” Fischl shouts, caught up in the moment.

            “We’re coming for you!” Amber echoes, and releases a fistful of their messages onto the wind. “So, keep heart, people of Mondstadt!”

            “And to the invaders – watch yourselves!” Oz calls down to them, ominously.

            Fischl laughs in exaltation as she continues to shoot down anemo slimes, sending the supplies they’re bound with down to the hungry people below. She and Amber switch tasks, perhaps ten minutes later. Amber tightens her net, sealing it up again, and Fischl loosens hers so that her anemo slimes can escape, while Amber shoots them down. Then she begins bailing the food from her crate.

            It takes three switch offs before Fischl finally throws out enough food that she can start seeing patches of the bottom of her crate. Two more switch offs before she is actually able to mostly stand on the wooden boards of it. By then, they’re drifting over the last of Mondstadt’s residential districts, and their anemo slime supply has been depleted. They’re on the far side of Mondstadt, but rather than head out over the lake, and circle around, which would probably be a bit safer, they reverse direction and cut clear over the city, dropping the rest of their food, and the last of their messages.

            A Lawrence Clan banner catches Fischl’s attention, flying from one of the towers on the wall, and she gets an idea.

            “Lady Outrider! See that Lawrence flag? Is it not an eyesore?!”

            “Oh, it’s an eyesore, alright,” Amber agrees, and immediately catches on to Fischl’s line of thinking. She draws her bow again and begins infusing an arrow with pyro. “Someone . . . should burn it like the trash it is!”

            Her arrow flies true, and strikes its mark. The symbol of the Lawrence Clan is quickly enveloped in flames.

            “Speaking of symbols, mein Fraulein . . .” Oz’s voice sounds in Fischl’s mind, and she looks through her familiar’s eyes to see what’s caught his attention.

            It’s . . . a torn bandanna. A dark blue one that bears the symbol of the Inside Resistance. The Pavo Ocellus constellation superimposed over a stylized peacock feather. Its fraying side is caught on the roof shingles of one of the taller buildings close to the city wall.

            “Get it,” Fischl instructs him, and Oz obeys. Moments later, as the transport balloons drift high over the city walls, and out of the city, he brings it to her. Fischl carefully folds the bandanna as best she can and tucks it safely away.

            “What’s that?” Amber calls to her.

            “Something for Diluc.”

Don't forget to read up on what's going on city-side in TheOpticalMouse's side of the fic, Frostborn Loyalty, which was also updated today, and will be updated again on Wednesday.

Then, don't miss this fic's next chapter on Friday, when the Invaders retaliate against the Resistance in Springvale, and all the defenses they've been working on are put to the test!

Chapter Text

            Diluc feels a surge of pride when Fischl and Amber touch back down in Springvale after flawlessly executing the supplies drop. He knows that when it comes to military maneuvers, things rarely go off without a hitch, especially the first time they’re tried, but these two pulled it off.

            Unfortunately, there’s no time to rest on their laurels. The invaders will no longer be able to overlook Springvale after that stunt. They will retaliate, most likely sooner rather than later.

            The village is as secure as they can make it. In anticipation of the impending attack, everyone’s been called in. No hunting or foraging parties today. Everything’s been wet down too, to try and prevent burning, from the barricades, to the cottage rooftops. Water barrels are set up at strategic locations, so if anything does catch, hopefully they can minimize the damage. Their makeshift forge has been going nonstop since yesterday, and churned out fifty-odd spearheads.

            Long have spears been regarded as inferior weapons in Mondstadt. The old nobility looked down on them, considered them weapons for commoners, cowards, and bastards. Kaeya once voiced the opinion that was because they were easier and faster to both make and learn to use than swords, and so of course those stuck-up old aristocrats would malign them. Can’t have your citizens getting uppity, thinking they have rights, and using their stabby sticks to enforce them, can you? Kaeya’s words, not Diluc’s. At the time, Diluc had been much younger, and had argued with his brother, too influenced by the biases that had been handed down over time. Now, older, more jaded, and willing to do whatever it takes to hold the line, he’ll happily use any weapons or tactics that will give them an edge.

            “Those transport balloons did work so very well,” Eula comments, as she and Diluc tour the defenses for the fifth time that morning. “Why not utilize them further? Put two of Draff’s hunters on each and have them provide constant covering fire from above.”

            “Good thinking. Go make it happen,” Diluc tells her, and Eula immediately goes to do just that. “But make sure they all have safety harnesses!”

            “Will do!”

            He can’t help but feel a stab of nostalgia, as her blue hair blurs into his peripheral vision, then out of sight. Nostalgia, followed by pain that he can’t afford to dwell on now. Not when there’s an impending attack.

            Waiting is the hardest part, according to the old war texts he read when, once upon a time, he dreamed of being Grand Master of the Order. Thankfully, the invaders don’t keep them waiting long.

            The alarm is sounded within the hour – a hunting horn, repurposed to alert the village of their enemies’ movements. One of Draff’s more fleet footed hunters took up a position a third of the way to Mondstadt, by the road. From there he can clearly see anyone crossing the bridge. When he sees the enemy beginning to move en masse, he blows the horn and sprints back to Springvale.

            “Battle stations!” Diluc shouts, pitching his voice to carry throughout the village. “Now! Eula, get those balloons in the air! Allogenes, to me!”

            Razor instantly appears by his side. The lad looks like he’s been itching for a fight. Diluc knows the feeling. Amber and Fischl are quick to join him as well, followed by Barbara. The three of them, Barbara especially, will hang back a bit, using their powers from a distance, while Diluc, Razor, and Eula hold the front line if the Fatui and mercs attack head on, as Diluc believes they mean to. Of course, to even get to them, their enemies will have to get through about twenty meters of ground that’s been riddled with stones and salted with traps – while being hit with an onslaught of arrows.

            Springvale will not fall easily – will not fall at all if Diluc has any say in the matter.

            They take up their position in front of the main road barricade, the three claymore wielders in front, and their archers and healer a few steps behind.

            “Come on,” Amber growls. “Come and get us.”

            “Calm yourself, Amber,” Eula sooths. “They’ll be here soon enough –”

            “I kill them,” Razor growls.

            “Yes. That’s the plan,” Diluc agrees.

            “Then I eat them –”

            “No!” five voices all say at once.

            “I joke,” Razor says.

            “Pity. I thought I may have found a kindred spirit.”

            “Oz!”

            “Eyes up,” Diluc orders, though he appreciates how their banter has relieved the tension of waiting. “Here they come.”

            The Lawrence Clan’s mercenaries are at the head of the advancing column. Fodder, to wear them down before the stronger, more valuable, and harder to replace Fatui Skirmishers and other freaks storm in to clean up. At least that’s their plan, and it’s a classic tactic of ruthless strategists who care little for their soldiers.

            “People of Springvale!” A Fatui Agent steps to the forefront. “You are hereby ordered, by King Schubert Lawrence I, lawful monarch of the Kingdom of Mondstadt to –”

            Two arrows bury themselves in his throat simultaneously. One charged with pyro, the other with electro. The resulting overload reaction . . . yeah . . . it makes his throat implode.

            “Eat that!” Amber huffs.

            “Bitch,” Fischl spits.

            “Mondstadt has no king,” Diluc speaks for his people, “and there will be no treating with us, no terms or surrendering. Every man and woman here is prepared to fight you to their last breath, though I promise you, yours will come first. When I said there will be no surrendering, I mean you will be given no quarter!”

            Cheers rise up behind him, and from the high ground off to the side, where the majority of their archers wait for their prey to venture within range.

            “Fools!” A female Fatui in black and purple steps forward. “You’ll –”

            She meets the same fate as the first spokesman. The Mondstadters jeer and shout abuse, as the mercenaries and Fatui grow visibly mad and unnerved in equal measure.

            “Do you want to select another spokesperson for my archers to put down?” Diluc asks. “Or should we move on to the part where all of you die?”

            “Lawrence troops, forward!” shouts a voice from near the rear.

            “Hunters!” Draff shouts, and every bowman on the ridge nocks an arrow.

            The Lawrence troops hesitate for just a moment, then seem to be spurred onward by the weight of expectations, against their better judgment. They try to advance, but over the rock strewn ground, with hidden ankle-break traps, they’re unable to charge as they were clearly planning to.

            “Faster! Charge, you fools!”

            “Amber, Fischl, fire at will,” Diluc orders.

            The girls don’t need telling twice. Their bows have better range than the hunters’ who are still holding their fire, waiting for the mercs to get close enough . . . except for those in the transport balloons above, at least. One has taken up position to the north, over Cider Lake. The other, above the hunters, on the ridge south of the road. Even though only six archers in total can reach them right now, it has to be demoralizing to take fire from three separate sides, and contend with treacherous ground to boot.

            “Gah!” one merc goes down, his shin snapped like a branch, and Diluc’s day is made.

            “Faster! What are you waiting for! Move it! Move it!”

            Whoever is giving orders is in the rear . . . and sounds Snezhnayan. Funny how none of the Lawrence Clan has come to handle their own dirty work, but then, that’s always been their way.

            “Yes!” Fischl cackles as she electro charges another arrow. “Hurry toward your deaths you peasant pieces of sh –”

            “Loose!” Draff shouts on the ridge, and a barrage of arrows – of aimed arrows, fired by trained marksmen, descend upon the mercenaries. The result is devastating.

            “We fight?” asks Razor, chomping at the bit.

            “Hold,” Eula says, so Diluc doesn’t have to. “Let them get just a little bit closer.”

            There is a gap in the rock and trap riddled ground, left there for the allogenes to fight on, and the luckiest mercs have nearly reached it.

            “Loose!”         

            Another volley of arrows. Diluc marvels at the mercs’ discipline . . . or stupidity. By his estimates, they’re now down by a third of their previous number. The first of them reach the edge of the fighting ground . . .

            “Now?” Razor asks.

            “Hold,” Diluc says, “Just a moment more.”

            Several more mercs reach the clear ground and, realizing that it seems to be free of obstruction, start to charge.

            “Close your eyes, friends,” Diluc says softly to his fellow allogenes, then summons the Dawn. “Time for retribution!”

            His phoenix strikes their foes with all the pent up fury he’s had no chance to release until now. Flesh melts, even without the presence of cryo.

            “Now!” Diluc shouts, as their enemies fall, some dead, others merely injured . . . but not for long. Not if he can help it.

            Electro bolts crackle past him in rapid succession, courtesy of Oz. A Baron Bunny is flung to the edge of the cleared ground and explodes. Eula and Razor both surge forward, calling their elements to their blades. Fischl’s arrows target those trying to bat out the flames on their clothes, each one causing an overload reaction.

            “For Mondstadt!”

            “Mondstadt!”

            “Freedom!”

            “Loose!”

            “Fire!” A second group of archers, behind the barricade, led by Olaf, fire a volley, aiming high. Their arrows fly over the allogenes’ heads, into the riddled ground, further thinning out the ranks of mercs that manage to make it to Diluc and his comrades.

            “The Fatui are on the move! Keep your guard up!” Eula calls out a warning as she does her dance of devastation.

            “Lady Outrider! Call out your targets! I’ll follow up with mine own attacks!”

            “And overload these animals!” Amber laughs. “Hydrogunner at the front!”

            The two archers work in tandem to take down select targets and the archers continue to wreak devastation on Fatui and Lawrence mercs alike . . . at least what’s left of the Lawrence mercs. The ones who remain are breaking ranks and trying to flee. Diluc hears a splash and knows some have dived into the water . . . to try to escape or get around the barricade that way. Whatever their plans, he doubts they’ll get far. Diona is with her great-great-great grandpa Olaf’s archers. Much to her dismay, she was deemed too young to fight in front of the barricade with the other allogenes, but was placated slightly when Eula convinced her they needed an allogene archer to keep an eye on the water.

            “Think you can sneak past me! NYA!!!!”

            Then the first of the Fatui make it to the fighting ground. That’s when the real battle begins.

            The Lawrence mercs’ spirits had nearly been broken by the time they made it that far. The Fatui are completely different animals . . . and they are animals. Minds and bodies warped by powers they were never meant to have, unable to comprehend fear or retreat . . . there truly will be no quarter for them, because they know not how to accept it either way . . . but that’s fine. Diluc doesn’t mind putting them all down like the mad dogs they are.

            A Cryogunner laughs maniacally and raises his gun to shower Diluc with deathly cold cryo, but before he can pull the trigger, a pyro infused arrow hits him dead in the center of his forehead. Amber’s attack isn’t followed up by Fischl – the two seem to have fallen out of sync, as the Fatui converge on their position, but no matter. Diluc uses Dawn again then lays into the massive Fatui. Oz aids him, hitting the Cryogunner several times with bolts, but also peppering other targets with electro as well. Diluc gets glimpses of Razor engaged with an Anemo Boxer, while Eula tangles with a Mirror Maiden. From somewhere close by, he can hear the crackling of electro cicins . . . possibly their mistress as well, summoning enough power to levitate . . .

            There’s so many of them. More than Diluc’s ever fought before. For every one of them that he cuts down, another quickly takes their place. Even being riddled with arrows doesn’t seem to faze them, and their rock-strewn and trap-salted ground is no longer effective, now that the Fatui are walking over their dead comrades’ bodies. Diluc growls as a Geochanter’s projectile grazes his upper arm, slicing through his coat and flesh. For a moment he worries that they’re going to be overwhelmed. Did he miscalculate?

            Then there’s a noise from Mondstadt. Loud and echoing. Some sort of explosion. Ripples of confusion spread through both ranks – none seem to know what that noise means . . . but Diluc knows it doesn’t really matter. Not now. Not while they’re fighting for their lives.

            “Hey, Diluc!” shouts a childish voice behind him. “I still hate you! But I guess I’ll help you out! Just this once!”

            What?

            Suddenly, a shaker flies past Diluc . . . and from that shaker emanates a frigid mist that reeks of alcohol. A cryo attack, Diluc realizes. It must be Diona’s Signature Mist that he’s heard so much about. He feels the ache in his arm receding as it heals. Then –

            “My time to shine! This show’s not over yet!” Barbara cries out, and healing hydro magic swirls around Diluc as well. He notices the same magic circling Eula and Razor . . . and within Diona’s drunken mist, which still emanates cryo energy, every enemy that gets within range is frozen immediately.

            “Beg for mercy,” Eula tells a Pyrogunner coolly, but gives him no chance to obey as she cuts him down as smoothly as if their fight was choreographed.

            Razor howls like a wolf and summons the Wolf Within, then begins tearing into his next foe. Arrows fall like rain, seemingly from every direction. Fire and electro work in harmony once more to implode their enemies. The tide is turning again. Diluc grins savagely. They can do this!

            He turns to square off against an approaching Electrohammer – then stares in surprise (guard never falling of course) as a spear sinks into the Fatui’s stomach, making the giant stagger.

            “You looked like you could use some help there, for a minute,” Sharp tells him, “though now you seem to have things under control . . . but it’s a little late to pull back.”

            A knight in armor, Sir Mack, Diluc thinks, rushes forward to help hold the line. “For the Captain!”

            “For Captain Kaeya!” echoes Sir Riese, right beside his fellow knight.

            “Captain Kaeya and Mondstadt!” an Adventurer takes up the call.

            “Die Fatui scum!”

            “For Mondstadt!”

            “For Kaeya!”

            “Let it rain!”

            Pyro infused arrows literally pour down from the sky. Oz flies amongst them, unfazed, dealing massive electro damage and triggering explosions. Regular arrows continue to be added into the mix. Diluc summons Dawn again and adds in his flames, and watching these bastards burn really is beautiful beyond words.

            The Fatui numbers are thinned far too greatly for them to recover now. The battlefield has become a kill box, and they’re now being assaulted from every side. Only now does Diluc realize that Lorgar, the Adventurer, and Sir Harry led a squad of reserve archers to fire upon them from the rear. Pallad, Lynne, Harris, Tommy, and Orban all stand between them and the Fatui, in case the Fatui charge, which is good foresight, but now unnecessary.

            The cleanup is very quick. The people of Springvale and Mondstadt show no mercy as they cut down what few enemies remain.

            “Victory!” Diluc declares then, because someone has to. He raises one fist overhead.

            “VICTORY!” his people echo, and dozens of other fists rise as well.

            “Victory for Springvale! Victory for Mondstadt!” He casts his gaze across the lake, where a single plume of smoke is rising . . . and somehow, he just knows . . . that’s the work of their people. Not their enemies. Their people are fighting back.

            Of course, their people are fighting back . . . and soon, very soon, they’re going to take it all back. Everything that the invaders took from them . . . and for what they can’t get back, their enemies will pay for in blood.

I forgot to link these, but this fic's gotten more fanart!

William, on Twitter, did Springvale's defenders as their plan to get food to Mondstadt comes together!  

And Elio did a piece that shows all the tension of both fics' Chapter 2s, when everything was falling apart!

Don't forget to catch up on what's going on inside the city, in Mouse's side of the fic, Frostborn Loyalty. The story picks up again next Monday, with the Inside Resistance. 

Then, next Wednesday, check back here for the aftermath of the battle in Springvale.

(Also, I'm putting up a fun poll on my Twitter, for the weekend, so check it out if you have the time!)

Chapter Text

This chapter is dedicated to everyone who voted for Pavo Cult Paraphernalia in my Poll on Twitter. 

(I'm not saying this chapter is your fault, but . . .)

            To celebrate their victory, Diluc has his people open a couple casks of Dawn Winery’s best wines . . . but only a couple. It’s unlikely that the invaders will be back too soon, but they can’t afford to risk anyone incapacitating themselves with alcohol right now.

            There is, unfortunately, also cleanup from the day’s attack. They stoke their signal fire on the cliff, so it burns far brighter and higher than last night . . . then they light another fire, to burn the corpses of their dead enemies. Some had been in favor of leaving them where they fell to rot, but most of them were well aware that would lead to disease and pestilence, and they can’t risk public health now of all times. Burying them would take far too much time and even a mass grave would be too good for them. So, they simply pile them up, intermixed with bundles of sticks collected by the children, then light the pyre.

            They did, of course, take care to keep it far enough away from Springvale so that they wouldn’t be subjected to the smell of burning flesh. If it’s closer to Mondstadt, so the invaders can see exactly what happened to their fallen comrades . . . well it’s not Diluc’s fault if they take that as a cautionary tale.

            Their casualties are nonexistent, and their injuries very light. Barbara and Diona ameliorate them all within the first half hour, then once the cleanup is over, spirits are high. Over a hundred enemies dead. Most of them mercs, but at least thirty Fatui as well. More mercs broken, who ran away like the cowards they are. Despite how dicey things got for that moment near the end, it was clearly a rout, and despite his own grim mood, Diluc does believe his warriors deserve to celebrate.

            Fischl finds him as he is hauling more wood up the hill, to the top of the cliff, to stoke their bonfire. Oddly, Oz is not with her.

            “Sir? May I have a word, please?”

            Diluc immediately puts down his burden and dusts off his hands. “Of course. Is everything alright?”

            “Yes. I mean, as alright as everything can be, just – I . . . I have something for you. Oz retrieved it for me today during the airdrop. There’s something you need to know.”

            “What is it?”

            Now that he’s looking, Diluc sees that Fischl has something in her hands. A folded piece of cloth. She brings it forward and holds it out to him . . . and in the firelight, Diluc sees it bears the design of his fallen brother’s constellation, superimposed over a peacock feather.

            “The people of Mondstadt remember Captain Kaeya’s sacrifice. His symbols have become the symbol of their defiance,” Fischl says solemnly.

            “I . . . I see . . .” Diluc hates how his voice catches as he accepts the cloth from Fischl. A bandana, he realizes. Cut clean through one side, but knotted in the back, so the entirety of it is still there, and can be made whole again with just a line of stitches . . .

            “Peacock feathers are graffitied in every public place. The warriors of the Inner Resistance that Oz and I have managed to catch glimpses of wear cloaks with this emblem. I thought . . . it might bring you some comfort to know, that your brother is not forgotten. Or at least you should be forewarned that he has become a martyr . . . since we will be entering the city soon . . .”

            “Thank you for telling me,” Diluc says. He manages to keep his voice steady this time.

            Unasked, Fischl helps him haul his current load of firewood the rest of the way up the hill. They feed it to the flames, dislodging sparks from the embers, that float skyward before burning out. Then they part ways. Fischl seems to realize that he wants to be alone.

            Diluc returns to the area where he’s set up camp. The hunters offered to quarter him in one of their houses, but Diluc prefers to remain outside. This way, if they come under attack, he’ll know faster, and those extra seconds that he has to prepare might very well make a difference.

            Despite having been retired from the knights and the cavalry for years, his old gear is still perfectly functional. His tent, bedroll, and general kit . . . which includes in it, a small field sewing kit. Diluc’s people transported his camping supplies from the winery to Springvale at the onset of this whole mess. Diluc has only really used his tent and bedroll, but goes through the rest of his old gear and finds his sewing kit now. He takes out a needle and thread, and sits beside the campfire someone lit by his tent. He . . . is not great at sewing. Not even actually good at it, he practices so little, but his skills are adequate to sew back on a button or mend a rip in most fabrics. Stitching the two pieces of this Pavo bandana back together shouldn’t be beyond his capabilities.

            “Master Diluc?” Adelinde appears. “Do you have something that needs mending? Please allow me.”

            “Thank you, but I prefer to do this myself.”

            “Oh?” Adelinde steps closer to get a better look, but when she does, a sob catches in her throat. Diluc freezes.

            “Adelinde?”

            “F-forgive me, Master Diluc . . . Please excuse me –”

            Diluc quickly stands and reaches out to catch her arm . . . but stops short of actually touching her. “Please . . . wait.”

            Adelinde stays rooted where she stands, but her eyes are turning luminous in the firelight as they slowly fill with tears.

            “Are . . . are you . . . okay?” Diluc asks, his voice breaking too.

            Adelinde is silent for a moment. Then she blinks, and her tears spill over. A noise scarily like a whimper escapes from Diluc.

            He’s not sure which one of them moves first, but suddenly they’re holding each other, Adelinde’s face pressed against his chest, Diluc’s pressed against the top of her head, as they both cry silently into each other.

            They’ve both been holding this back for three whole days . . . trying not to think about Kaeya. About how he’s no longer with them. How from now on, they’ll be referring to him in past tense, and all those never agains. How they’ll never see him smile again. Never speak with him again, never make things right with him again . . . Diluc is certain he has more regrets than Adelinde, because even when the brothers were quarreling, she was never estranged from him . . . though he’s sure she blames herself now for not finding a way to help them reconcile. Even so, their grief is not a contest. She loved Kaeya too. Once upon a time, they’d all been part of the same family . . . but now Kaeya’s gone away for good, and their family will never be complete again.

            “I saw him the night before this all started,” Diluc confesses to Adelinde. “I . . . I threw him out of Angel’s Share. Everyone else had already left by the time he arrived and . . . I wanted to close early, so I made him leave.”

            “It’s not your fault, Young Master,” Adelinde says hoarsely.

            “I called him a nuisance. A pest. I didn’t know it would be the last time I saw him. I . . . I’m so sorry . . .”

            “You couldn’t have known . . . and you know, you know, deep down, that it doesn’t matter. Young Master Kaeya knew you didn’t mean it,” Adelinde whispers. “He certainly said some less than kind things to you, did he not? Because that was just both your way.”

            “He told me . . . he told me I should treat those around me more kindly . . . because . . . because one day what I said might cause me to be left all alone . . . and I’d have no one to blame but myself.”

            “Oh, honey . . .”

            “I’m sorry . . .”

            “Young Master . . . please . . . please listen to me,” Adelinde pleads. “If it was you who fell during the attack, and Young Master Kaeya had survived . . . and he had said those things to you . . . would you want him to dwell on them?”

            “No, but –”

            “Neither would Young Master Kaeya want you to dwell on them. Because he loved you. You were his brother in everything but blood, and he loved you. He would forgive you, and want you to live, and one day, be happy again. So . . . please try to do that for him, Young Master.”

            “I didn’t even tell him goodbye . . .”

            “Most people don’t get to tell their loved ones goodbye when it’s their time, Young Master.” Adelinde reaches up to stroke Diluc’s hair, like she did when he was much younger, and came crying to her over scrapes and bruises, and small injured animals. “We always think we’ll see them again . . .”

            “I miss him.” Diluc doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, why he’s saying so much . . . but it’s like the floodgates inside of him have broken, and let out all these words along with his tears. “I’ve missed him for years, and I never did anything to fix that, and now I can’t, and I don’t know what to do.”

            Adelinde steps back just far enough so that she can look Diluc in the eyes. “You carry on, Young Master. You do exactly what you would want Young Master Kaeya to do if he’d been the one who survived and you had perished . . . and you do whatever it takes to make those who took him from us pay. Can you do that for me, Young Master?”

            “Yes.” Diluc does his very best to pull himself back together as he makes this vow. “I can do that for you, Adelinde. I can do that for all of us.”

I hope you're happy, everyone who voted for Pavo Cult Paraphernalia. 

:P

On a happier note, more fan art!

William is back with this comic, capturing the battle from last chapter’s opening salvo: https://twitter.com/chilnce/status/1447051733029429250

And, Maria Violetta has drawn a beautifully enraged Diluc: https://twitter.com/littlewitchoc/status/1447175222117822467

Mouse will be updating Frostborn Loyalty again on Friday. The Inside Resistance isn't content to just rest on their laurels, and plan to keep the momentum from the airdrop, Springvale's victory, and whatever they did last chapter that went boom going.

Then, on Monday, I get to update again, as we enter the week before the finale! I hope everyone's enjoying the ride so far!

Chapter Text

            The fourth day of Mondstadt’s occupation starts with a bang.

            Literally.

            Just before dawn, an explosion from within the city resounds across the water, deafening even from this distance. Cats bolt for cover, dogs begin howling, and everyone in Springvale who’s not already awake is jolted out of sleep.

            A second, explosion quickly follows the first.

            It’s a good way to start the day. Especially after last night.

            Naturally, Fischl sends Oz across the lake after their rather explosive wakeup call. By the time Diluc finds her, she already has an answer for him.

            “You know the Goth Grand Hotel?” Fischl asks him, her visible eye sparkling with malicious glee.

            Of course, Diluc knows the Goth Grand Hotel. Everyone knows the Goth Grand Hotel . . . where all the bastard Fatui have been quartered for the past year or so . . .

            “Yes,” he says carefully.

            “No, you don’t,” Fischl says, smirking, “because it no longer exists. There is now a smoking pile of rubble where once it stood . . . and a literal crater below it, which was once a house the usurpers were using to store supplies.”

            “I stand corrected,” Diluc says graciously.

            Fischl trills out a vindictive laugh.

            “Fischl . . .”

            “Sir?”

            “Thank you. For last night.”

            Fischl nods solemnly. Then looks at the bandana she gave to Diluc, now repaired, and tied around his bicep similarly to an armband, but longer. She doesn’t comment on it, however. Just looks Diluc in the eye when she tells him, “You’re welcome.”
            They don’t speak on the subject anymore. Both have work to do.

            They resume prepping a second food drop for the people of Mondstadt, this one taking place a bit later in the day than yesterday’s since they had to attend to . . . other things. They have just as much food, but fewer anemo slimes to help with dispersal, since wrangling them takes quite a bit of time. Speaking with Draff and Brook, Diluc determines that they can continue dropping approximately this amount of supplies for three, maybe four more days, but after that, they’ll see a drop off in the number of root vegetables available, and they’ll have to step up their ham production. They have plenty of other things to eat in Springvale, so there’s no danger of its defenders starving. It’s just that most of the food they have to eat won’t survive a fall of over a hundred meters and still be in very good shape.

            Hopefully, this will all be over in only a day or two. Diluc has reason to believe it will. If his calculations are correct, Beidou’s ship will be arriving today or tomorrow. For that reason, it’s actually beneficial that today’s food drop is delayed. Diluc has two new messages prepared for the people of Mondstadt. They just don’t know which one they’ll be using yet.

            “Soon,” is the sole word written on half of the prepared slips for today’s drop. “Tonight,” is written on the others. Which one they use depends on whether word of Beidou’s arrival comes before Amber and Fischl get underway.

            The leaders and knights all discussed amongst themselves whether or not use of the “Tonight,” message would be beneficial. On the one hand, they’ll be warning the invaders that they’re coming. On the other, however, the invaders already know they’re coming, and it will let the people of Mondstadt know to be ready. In the end, they decide to use it, if possible. If Beidou arrives after they’ve launched the balloons, and dropped the messages saying “Soon,” they’ll still march on the city tonight. There’s no sense in waiting, after all, but judging by what Fischl and Oz have told them from their reconnaissance, the people of Mond are primed and ready to rise up, the moment it looks like they have a chance to win. Giving them time to prepare should outweigh the detriment of letting their enemies know about the impending attack.

            It turns out to be a good thing that they waited, because a second message from Beidou arrives around noon – this one carried by Diluc’s own falcon, which he’d sent to her, rather than via magic maple leaf . . . or whatever trick she used to get the first one to him.

            “Planning to moor off the Falcon Coast. Should arrive mid-afternoon. Drinks at Angel’s Share tonight, your treat?”

            Diluc smiles savagely as he reads her message. He’ll gladly treat anyone Beidou’s brought to help to as many rounds as they like, even if she’s brought the entirety of the Crux Fleet. If she has, so much the better.

            “Amber! Fischl! Use the ‘Tonight,’ message. Draff, you still have one of your hunters keeping watch at the Falcon Coast, right?”

            “You bet I do. Don’t worry. She’ll do her job and lead them here via shortcuts and hunting trails. The usurpers won’t see them on the road.”

            Diluc nods, sees Fischl and Amber off for the second and hopefully final airdrop, then turns his attention toward tactics for a task he never thought he would be doing, ever. Invading Mondstadt. To take it back from the Lawrence Clan and Fatui, of course. The usurpers who don’t belong. He has several ideas . . . but waiting to see what Beidou thinks, and who she’s brought, is probably prudent.

            The archers execute another flawless airdrop and return triumphantly. Their sentries all keep watch to see if the invaders will send another force to try to take Springvale. Today they especially pay attention to alternate routes into the village, in case the invaders try to pull a fast one on them. They’ve defended every way into the village the best they can, in the event that their enemies try this . . . but those defenses aren’t needed today, and all remains quiet.

            “I dare say that the winds may be blowing in our favor for a change,” Eula comments, as she and Diluc look out across the lake. “Morale has to be low for the invaders. With all the losses they sustained yesterday, all in one go, and not a thing to show for it . . . not to mention the constant harassment that the Inside Resistance is subjecting them to.”

            “Momentum is definitely on our side,” Diluc agrees. “If we can get whoever Beidou’s brought inside the walls tonight, I have little doubt that we can rout the enemy.”

            “Who do you think Beidou’s bringing?” Eula asks. “You know her better than I do.”

            “I’m not sure,” Diluc admits, “but I trust her to have brought a substantial force. Beidou plays to win. Not just to win, but to kick the other guy’s teeth in. She’s also very conscious of those under her command. They’re all her friends, trusted comrades, and drinking companions. She loathes it when she loses a single one of them. She’s not the sort who would bring a minimal force to try to reduce her own casualties. She’s more likely to bring her entire fleet so they can all watch each other’s backs and reduce casualties that way.”

            “She sounds like quite a woman.”

            “She is.” Diluc tries not to think of all the ways she reminds him of Kaeya – not because she’s a woman, obviously, but in personality, sentiment, love of alcohol . . . and, of course, the eyepatch.

            “I admit to being confused, however . . . doesn’t the Crux operate directly under the Qixing? Would that not make their involvement . . . er . . .”

            “Beidou does what she wants,” Diluc says with a smirk. “Usually what she thinks is right, regardless of the rules . . . but if you want to get the specifics clarified, feel free to ask her. I think that’s them now.”

            Indeed, their reinforcements have arrived. Diluc sees them making their way into the village, having cut through the hills and forest, to avoid being seen by their enemies on the main road . . . and in the lead is Beidou herself . . . with a very, very colorful entourage.

            “Oh . . . what the devil . . .”

            “What? What’s wrong?” Eula demands, and hurries after Diluc as he tears across the village to the new arrivals.

            “Master Diluc,” Beidou greets him with a grin. “I hope we’re not late.”

            “You’re early,” he tells her, feeling elation well up in his chest, “but Beidou . . . what . . . you’ve brought . . .”

            He’s having a hard time finding words . . . because it looks like Beidou’s brought over half of Liyue’s allogenes with her. He doesn’t recognize all of them . . . like the pale haired youth whose clothes bear maple leaf motifs, but many of them he does . . . like Xiangling, the cook and Xinqiu, from the Feiyun Commerce Guild. His best friend Chongyun, carrying Qiqi, the apprentice herb gatherer from Bubu Pharmacy on his back. There’s also Xinyan, Liyue Harbor’s resident rock musician, and Hu Tao, the eccentric owner of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor . . . probably here to try and drum up business. Most of them he can at least sort of understand . . . their reason for coming, that is . . . but then the others, like Yanfei and . . .

            “That’s Ganyu. The Qixing’s secretary.”

            “Hmm? Oh, yeah,” Beidou says, smirking. “Ningguang’s not here. Qixing protocol, or some other stick in the mud nonsense is stopping her. She did, however, wish for a full and accurate account of the situation in Mondstadt, so that the merchants of Liyue can better gage how Mond’s markets will be shifting, so she sent Ganyu to scope it out for her.”

            “Okay, so you’ve come up with an excuse for her envoy,” Diluc says, and redirects his gaze, “but that’s the Yuheng.”

            “Yu who?”

            “Keqing. The Yuheng of the Qixing,” Diluc elaborates, even though he knows damn well Beidou knows exactly who he’s talking about.

            “Huh?” Beidou looks right over at Keqing, who hasn’t even bothered trying to disguise herself, then looks back at him. “Never heard of her.”

            Diluc chokes on a laugh. “So that’s how you’re playing it. Well, I’m not going to complain . . . but . . . You brought . . . everyone.” Obviously not everyone, but it’s damn close. He’d been hoping for two or three more allogenes beside Beidou, but he never imagined she’d bring this many . . . and her crew behind her . . . they’re still streaming in. More than one ship’s worth. Did she really bring her whole fleet?

            “Did you really think I wouldn’t?” Beidou asks. Her gaze softens as Diluc looks back at her, startled . . . and of course she didn’t just read his mind, Diluc knows that, but it still kind of feels like she did. “Diluc . . . everyone here has friends in Mondstadt. All us allogenes, at least. We’ve adventured with you. Fought side by side with you. Forged bonds and marked time with you. We’re not going to leave you to die alone.”

            “ . . . Thank you.” Diluc doesn’t know what else to say.

            Beidou slaps him on the shoulder. “Just make sure the victory celebration is worth our while and we’re all prepared to call it even. Now . . . how do you want to do this?”

            “We’ve come up with several possible plans to take back the city,” Diluc says. “Let’s have a meeting, with my lieutenants and yours, and decide on the best one.”

So . . . are you satisfied with who Beidou brought to the party? Do you think they have enough allogenes? And most importantly, did your favorite Liyuen come? ^^

Mouse's Frostborn Loyalty updates again on Wednesday, then the next chapter of this fic will be posted Friday. This is the last week before it all comes to a head next week in our finale, so make sure you're all caught up before then!

Chapter Text

            Amber is shaking. She can’t help it, not when she’s this excited. Just like before the annual Gliding Championships, her nerves just start buzzing. It’s never hampered her performance before, and she doubts it will now, so she accepts it for what it is – a reaction to the situation, and carries on.

            Despite possibly looking like she’s shivering, there’s a warmth in her chest, like a hearth fire, that’s been there ever since Beidou and the rest of their reinforcements arrived. Seeing so many of their friends coming to their aid . . . how could she not be moved?

            Then her heart swelled with pride when Diluc selected her as one of his lieutenants, to stand in on the strategy meeting. Her, Fischl, Eula, and Draff decided on their ultimate plan, along with Beidou, her confident Kazuha, and Wujin, the captain of another Crux ship, as well as her best strategist. It’s a good plan, Amber thinks. Not too complicated. Nor does it rely too heavily on any one element to succeed . . . except perhaps the strength that the allogenes are bringing to bear, but that’s unavoidable . . . and there are so many fighters from the Crux that their lack of Visions isn’t going to matter that much. Their Crux sailors outnumber the invaders in the city. Mondstadt takes back its freedom tonight.

            Just after dark falls, the first phase of their plan is put into motion. A contingent of spear carriers, mostly researchers with limited combat experience, as well as Springvale’s children, set out and begin lighting fires in front of the city’s bridge. Campfires, not arson fires. Torches, which they jam into the ground as well. Hundreds of them. The point, of which, is to confuse and unnerve their enemies. Make them wonder if they’re really planning to storm the bridge and enter via the main gate of Mondstadt – which would be a ridiculous plan, when you consider how many alternate ways they figured out to infiltrate the city that are so much more creative and unpredictable . . . at least for their initial point of entry.

            Xinyan and a small group of hunters, including Diona, go with them, just in case. It’s unlikely that the invaders will come out to meet them. They’d be insane to give up the advantages that the walls of Mondstadt offer them . . . but they have to be prepared for them to do something insane and unpredictable anyway. If they do, then the fire lighters will scatter, and in the dark the Fatui and mercs won’t be able to find them so easily. The hunters, who know the terrain better, will be able to pick some of them off from a distance. Xinyan’s presence serves as both extra security in case there are Fatui, as well as another purpose . . . her music, while unconventional . . . well, Beidou insists that it’s extremely inspirational.

            Amber, for her part, takes to the sky again, on her transport balloon. This time with Jotun, one of the best long-range shots in Springvale. Two other hunters man the other balloon this time, instead of Fischl . . . and it feels odd to Amber to go up without the other girl, but Fischl has another part to play. Her and Oz’s scouting abilities would make her wasted in the sky. Better to keep her at Diluc’s side, so she can keep him appraised of the situations around the city, which will no doubt be rapidly changing. Amber and Fischl speak, before Amber takes off – hopefully not for the last time.

            “Lady Outrider.”

            “Lady Fischl.”

            The title makes Fischl beam. Such a small thing, but it makes her so happy.

            “The time has come for us to take flight on separate paths, but I would be remiss if I did not tell you that I enjoyed our shared flights.”

            “Yeah,” Amber agrees, after she sorts out what Fischl meant. “Same.”

            “Er . . . I . . . I don’t want to raise any death flags here, so no promises to meet again when this is over, or do anything together once this battle ends,” Fischl says, suddenly sounding like a completely different person. “So . . . I’m just going to say . . . fight well, my friend. Let us both make these bastards rue the day they invaded our city.”

            “Right! You too!” Amber agrees fervently. Then she steps forward to give Fischl a quick hug. “Put an arrow in Schubert for me, if you can!” Then she bounds to her transport balloon, ignoring Eula’s smirk. “You fight well too, Eula!”

            “I intend to. The time for vengeance is finally at hand.”

            Diluc joins them, right before they lift off. “Shoot true,” he tells her in parting.

            “Shine true,” Amber returns. Then they’re off.

            The ride is gentle and smooth, as usual. She’d thought that perhaps the winds might be stronger at night, but Amber can tell no difference. She and the hunters drift high above the lake and over the city walls, to hover above their shackled city . . . and wait.

            The front gate team has already begun lighting fires, she sees. Everything is proceeding on schedule. Not long after, she sees movement over the lake, coming from Springvale, but most likely only because she’s looking for it. Yes, that’s Fischl, Diluc, Eula, and Beidou, coming in first . . . having leapt from the platform they erected on the bonfire cliff, each bringing with them a line of rope.

            Apparently, it’s a well-known fact in Springvale, that if one leaps from that cliff after collecting three anemograna, the extra height from the ensuing updraft allows them to glide all the way to the lake’s far shore. It was an easy enough thing to quickly build a platform, to save everyone the trouble of having to run around collecting countless anemograna, and only slightly more trouble for their lead gliders to carry ropes with them in their flight. Those who aren’t confident in their gliding skills will be able to follow them via zipline . . . and just as many will also make it across the lake on the literal road of life rafts that are being laid down on the water, bridging the distance between Springvale and the island.

            The allogenes all come first. Especially those who are strong swimmers, just in case the worst happens, and they have to retreat back across the lake. The fires at the front gate, however, do their job and make a nice distraction. The invaders are diverting their attention to the lower city and the main gate. Still, once the Springvale Resistance makes it to the island, they quickly move to get into the shadow of the walls, so if any guard looks down from the top of the walls, it will be much harder to see them.

            They hug the city walls as they make their way north, and uphill. All the way to the opposite end of the city as the main gates. The walls at that end of the city are . . . laughably low. Around the cathedral’s cemetery, they’re barely higher than a grown man’s head, and so easy to climb, Amber would hesitate to call them an obstacle to anyone with even a moderate desire to get over them. They’re also unguarded. Fischl’s and Oz’s reconnaissance has been a godsend throughout this whole ordeal. Because of them, they know that the Lawrence Clan and Fatui don’t deem the area around the cathedral important enough to do more than do a passing sweep of once every few hours, during the day. They know about the roadblocks that have been set up, cordoning off the upper city where the invaders are based, in Favonius HQ – for all the good those barricades will do them now . . . Mondstadt’s liberators are already behind them.

            Amber keeps watch over those crossing the lake. Her first task is a fairly easy one. Once enough of their allies have made it to the island, she’s to signal Xinyan, in front of the city. Before what she judges to be a good number have crossed over, however, the fighting begins inside the city. Not from Diluc’s forces, who are still gathering outside the cemetery, but in the lower city, the neighborhoods and residential areas, the markets and common plazas.

            The people of Mondstadt who have been in the city this whole time, under Lawrence and Fatui rule rise up with a vengeance. They’ve scented their enemies’ fears, have surely heard whispers about the “army” at the gates, know from today’s message that their allies aim to free them tonight, and have decided that the time to take back their freedom is now.

            Amber hears the fighting before she sees it. It’s still dark below, but the clash of steel and screams of fury reach her ears. Then the Inside Resistance begin lighting things up. The flash and flare of elemental attacks, and the glow of torches and hastily thrown down bonfires work in tandem to illuminate the scene on the streets, and once they do, Amber feels a surge of savage glee at the chaos her people are causing.

            Barricades and roadblocks are smashed and torched. Lawrence mercs and Fatui are converged on from all sides, and sink into the sea of angry citizens, never to rise again. The battle for Mondstadt has begun ahead of schedule . . . which means that their timetable must be sped up.

            The original plan was to wait until a sizable number of people were ready to enter through the cemetery, but that needs to happen now, or else they’ll miss the fight. So, Amber gives the signal. She calls upon her Vision for just a spark of pyro, and lights her transport balloon’s lantern. From directly below, it will be barely, if at all noticeable – just one small flame, blocked from view by the balloon’s platform. Those across the bridge, however, can look up at an angle and see it bright and clear.

            Xinyan begins to play.

            Her music is quite catchy. Different from anything Amber’s ever heard before . . . not exactly upbeat but . . . well, she thinks it’s actually the perfect accompaniment to tonight’s battle. Battle music, that’s right. From what Amber can see, their enemies are unnerved, and their allies take heart. They know this song’s for them, and it makes them fight all the harder.

            In the north, Diluc’s forces have gotten the message. The fighting has started, and they’re needed now. So, they advance, in smaller numbers than they would prefer, but with knowledge that their people are still streaming in behind them. With their allogenes in the lead, and few enemies between them and their main target, Favonius Headquarters, they’ll make it there in no time. Amber puts out the lantern as Jotun sets a course for headquarters, so she can provide covering fire, and help them locate enemies with her pyro infused arrows. As they approach, however . . .

            “Hey, Amber?” Jotun gets her attention.

            “Yeah?”

            “That . . . down there, do you see?”

            “What?”

            “Off to the side of Favonius HQ . . . she just dropped down into that little park below it . . . I think it’s the Acting Grand Master!”

            “What?!” Amber leans so far over the side to peer down, that Jotun grabs her, alarmed, even though they’re both in safety harnesses and attached to lines . . . and damn, but he’s right. “Jean!”

            The front doors of Favonius Headquarters are open . . . and from them Fatui are streaming out. Jean seems to know that her flight has not gone unnoticed. She crouches as she hurries away, using the park’s hedge for cover, rushing toward the ledge, and the stairs that lead down to the lower levels of the city.

            As she reaches them, Amber sees her perk up. No doubt she’s taking in the sight of her city, rising up in revolt, now that the time has come to take it back. Barricades are burning. Mercs are being cut down, stabbed with spears, lit on fire . . . and the Fatui, despite their greater powers and strength, are not exempt from this treatment either. The flames of defiance have caught!

            Jean doesn’t spend too long admiring the view, however. No doubt she is consciously aware of her pursuit . . . and the guards on the blocked off stairs, which she backs away from, then changes direction to avoid. She hugs a nearby building as she moves, seeking an alternate route . . . but from Amber’s eagle eye view she can see that it’s not going to be possible for Jean to avoid all enemies. Not forever. There are too many of them, and she’s all alone, and weaponless. Does she even have her Vision?

            Amber doesn’t know . . . and it doesn’t matter, at least not insofar as it comes to Amber’s decision.

            “Jotun! Carry on with the mission! I’m going after Jean!”

            Jotun nods. “Do it. I’ve got this.”

            Amber needs no further encouragement. She unclips her harness from its safety line and leaps, her wind glider wings unfurling immediately, letting her angle after her friend.

            Courage is what you need to fly, Amber well knows . . . and there’s no shortage of that here in Mondstadt tonight.

Next Monday is a double update! Both Flames of Defiance and Frostborn Loyalty will get new chapters, as their plots collide! 

Then Wednesday . . . another double update! Who's excited? ^^

I just saw this fanart by William after posting the chapter:

https://twitter.com/chilnce/status/1451447015469043717  It's a scene from last chapter, involving the incognito Yuheng.

Chapter Text

            Diluc and his allies make it across the lake and into the city without incident. He’s heard the first casualty of any conflict is always the battleplan, but if the worst that happens is they have to put a rush on it, he can live with that.

            The fighting has already begun in the city. He can hear the cries of Mondstadt’s people harmonizing with Xinyan’s music. While the original plan had been to wait until more of Beidou’s people had made it across the lake, they have enough to move now, and so they do.

            He and Beidou take the lead, her flanked by Kazuha, and him flanked by Eula. The rest of their allogenes follow behind them, but not in ranks and files, or split up by nationality. Lack of military discipline, however, does not by any means equate to lack of efficiency – as is evidenced by the first opposition they come upon. A pair of Fatui Agents are the only enemies who stand between them and Favonius Headquarters. It seems they had been on patrolling around the cathedral, and began to hurry down to the lower city when they heard the liberation begin . . . or at least that was their plan before they realized they had enemies behind them.

            They try to bar the liberators’ way. Before Diluc and Beidou can even reach them, however, two arrows, a stiletto, a fireball, a hydro attack, and an electro bolt fly past the two leaders. The onslaught of combined elements stagger the Agents. Then Kazuha rushes ahead of his captain and unleashes an elemental skill, drawling them into a vortex and swirling all the elements around. They’re dead before they hit the ground. Beidou gives Kazuha an affectionate slap on the shoulder as he falls in step beside her again.

            At the top of the stairs, leading down from the statue plaza, they can see that the city is in full revolt. Elements crackle and torches glow.

            “We better hurry,” Beidou says. “Don’t want to miss out on all the fun, do we?”

            “Let’s go,” Diluc agrees, and they double time it down the stairs.

            It’s a straight shot to Favonius Headquarters from there . . . a place Diluc never thought he would set foot in again . . . let alone for a reason as grandiose as to save what’s left of the Ordo. The doors are wide open, which is convenient. Saves them the time it would take to smash them in. There are people spilling out; mercs and Agents . . . Diluc unleashes Dawn on them to knock them off their feet. Before they can recover, a Frostflake arrow strikes one of the Agents in the head, and blooms into frigid fractals that melt through armor and flesh. Beidou and Eula spring forward to lay into them, cryo and electro lighting their claymores.

            It’s over very quickly. The allogene vanguard then files into Favonius Headquarters and makes a quick left. The door to the Grand Master’s office is also open, and inside Schubert Lawrence is standing in front of an ostentatious chair that’s probably meant to be his interim throne, berating a younger man, also of the Lawrence Clan, completely oblivious to the arrival of his doom.

            “I want her found and I want her found now! And when they bring her back, I’ll have her bound! Bound, I say! Shackle her like the slave Venessa, whom she idolizes so much! I’ll chain her to our marriage bed myself, and –”

            “No,” Diluc tells him, barely able to control his fury. “You’re finished, Schubert.”

            “Y-You!” Schubert points an accusing finger at Diluc. “You’re supposed to be de – gah!”

            An arrow transfixes Schubert’s hand, piercing his flesh between his outstretched index finger and the knuckle of his middle finger and makes the would-be king howl. All eyes turn to Fischl.

            “Outrider Amber says, ‘Hi,’” Fischl says smugly.

            Diluc snorts. Then steps forward. Normally, he would hesitate to bear arms or Vision against an unarmed man . . . but this wretch is the reason he doesn’t have a brother anymore. The reason why Mondstadt has bled, and still bleeds even now, even as the people rise up to tear down their oppressors, and unarmed or not, Schubert dies. Now.

            “Guards!” Schubert screams. The other man flings himself forward, drawing a sword, which is promptly knocked from his hand by Xiangling’s spear.

            “Gah! You outlander peasant! I’ll – gug –” the other man’s voice breaks off in a bloody gurgle as Kazuha’s blade slices neatly through his throat.

            “If it makes you feel any better . . . you were dispatched of by a samurai,” Kazuha informs him.

            “You’ll pay for that! All of you! I am the rightful ruler of Mondstadt!” Schubert screams. “Guards! Protect your king!”

            There’s a bit of commotion from the hallway. Diluc hears the sound of multiple elemental reactions, and unfamiliar screams.

            “There’s no power on earth that can protect you now,” Diluc tells him. “Not after what you’ve done –”

            “Ragnvindr traitor! You –”

            “You killed my brother. You enslaved my city. You planned to force my friend into marriage –”

            “I’ll not be taken alive!” Schubert screams shrilly.

            “That was never our plan,” Diluc tells him, but Schubert doesn’t seem to hear.

            “I am the rightful king of Mondstadt! King of this nation that should be mine by birth! I rose up to reclaim it from you who stole it from us, and I’ll not lose it now! I’ll never give up my crown!”

            Diluc doesn’t have time for this shit. From the sounds of things, Jean is in the wind, and there’s still a revolution on. There are Fatui and mercs to kill, and Mondstadt citizens who need help. It’s time for this demagogue to be put down . . . and so put him down, Diluc does.

            He reaches out, both with his hands, and the power of his Vision, and grabs Schubert by his forehead, crown covered though it is, with one hand, and by his collar with the other. Schubert yelps as Diluc forces him back, onto his makeshift throne, where his yelp becomes a howl as Diluc’s pyro flows through his crown.

            “Keep it,” Diluc tells him, as the metal begins running in rivulets down his face, as the padding beneath it, along with his hair, catches fire and burns, as his howls and screams echo through the halls of Ordo Favonia, until his brain is broiled within his skull, and he abruptly goes quiet. “Die in it.”

            Diluc’s glove is smoking. Heat resistant it may be, but the temperature of molten metal is . . . excessive. Diluc sheds it before the fabric completely gives way. As it is, there are a few red splotches on his hand where the melted gold nearly burned through. They’re no worse than cooking burns, though. They won’t hinder him for the remainder of this fight . . . which isn’t over yet. Even though the figurehead is dead, there’s still work to do.

            So, Diluc turns away from the corpse of the would-be king to face his troops. The gazes that stare back at him are grim and unphased by his show of violence. By now they all know exactly what the Lawrence Clan and Fatui have cost him.

            “This isn’t over yet. There’s still fighting in the city, and Acting Grand Master Jean is being hunted by Schubert’s dogs. Our strength is still needed. Eula, take Sir Harry and his squad and clear Ordo Headquarters. Give no quarter. The rest of you, with me. We’re pushing down to the people fighting in the lower city, and killing every enemy in our path. Keep an eye out for Jean, or anyone else who needs help.”

            “Move out, men!” Beidou shouts, to reinforce his order.

            “Oz! Take wing! Find the Acting Grand Master!” Fischl bids the moment they step outside.

            “Master Diluc! Master Diluc!” a voice cries from above. Jotun. One of the Springvale Hunters who entered the city via transport balloon. “Outrider Amber’s gone after Master Jean! She may need some help!”

            “Which way?” Diluc shouts up to him.

            “Head toward the ruins of the Goth Grand Hotel . . . stay to the left of it the ruins and jump over the ledge! They’re fighting!”

            That’s all Diluc needs to know.

            “Fischl, Razor, with me! Beidou, Draff, take your men down and set our people free,” he orders, then begins to run.

            The sounds of battle ring from below . . . and perhaps it’s his imagination, but it sounds like Xinyan’s song has gotten closer. The lower city is a storm of swirling elements in his peripheral vision, and he needs to get down there and join them . . . just as soon as he knows Jean is safe. The distance between Favonius Headquarters and the pile of burnt timbers that used to be the Goth Grand Hotel pass in a blur, and the next thing Diluc knows, he’s leaping off the ledge, to the plaza below, into a fight that’s already in progress.

            Jean, Amber, and Albedo are managing to hold their own against two Cicin Mages and four Skirmishers. A dozen or so yards away, a random member of the Inner Resistance, clad in a dark cloak bearing the Pavo insignia is dueling a Fatui Agent. He most likely needs help more immediately than the three allogenes . . . but to get to him, Diluc has to go through the other fight.

            So, with his blade lit by searing flames, Diluc tears into the Fatui.

            “Diluc!” Jean cries, as she recognizes him, and damn is it good to hear her voice.

            “Jean,” he huffs out between strikes, and it’s not the sort of dramatic dialogue that the plays and novels which are sure to be written about this rebellion will likely use for their reunion greetings, but however glad he is to see her, to see she’s safe, killing the imminent threats to her and everyone else’s safety comes first.

            Still, it’s damn good to see her. Hear her. To know that at least someone he loves managed to survive when the city fell.

            The Hydrogunner amongst the group, raises his gun in a familiar motion, preparing to heal his allies, despite the beating that Oz and Razor have been giving his shield. Diluc recognizes what he’s up to and ducks under the Anemoboxer’s fist, surges forward, and summons Dawn just in time. His flaming phoenix sizzles away the remainder of the Fatui’s shield, staggering him, and dropping him.

            Their healer down, and faced by an equal number of allogenes, the Fatui party begins to crumble under the Resistance’s assault. It happens so quickly . . . Diluc almost doesn’t realize it. He pivots to deal a backslash to the Anemoboxer, and feels the satisfying slice of his blade through flesh, then the Anemoboxer drops. Without him in the way, Diluc sees the Cryo Cicin Mage’s shield shatter, then arrows sprout in both her eyes at once. The Overload reaction occurs within her skull, which mercifully holds together, though the reaction itself kills her instantly. The Electrohammer Vanguard and Cryogunner are already down . . . Diluc turns back around just in time to see Razor pull his claymore out through the side of the Hydrogunner’s chest . . . and yeah he’s not getting up. Which only leaves . . .

            The Agent falls even as Diluc turns toward him, skewered by cryo-formed projectiles through his chest and skull. Diluc’s heart leaps into his throat at the sight of that ice, because . . . the way it’s formed . . . it looks like . . .

            No, that can’t be. Diluc knows it can’t be . . . but when his eyes go to the cloaked Resistance fighter who took the Agent down, suddenly everything about him is so familiar that it hurts. That posture . . . the way he holds his sword . . . the glint of one steely lavender-blue eye in the moonlight, as he turns toward them, taking in the result of their battle . . .

            Kaeya.

            Diluc realizes the moment his brother sees him, because Kaeya jerks slightly. Then, “Diluc?”

            It’s him. There’s no mistaking it. Even before he pulls down his hood, Diluc knows. It’s Kaeya. Alive. His brother is alive, and Diluc doesn’t know how, doesn’t care how, it doesn’t matter how, it just matters that he’s alive, and here, and . . . and . . .

            Diluc moves toward him, intent only on his brother. At that moment nothing else matters, just that Kaeya’s alive, and looking at him, Diluc realizes Kaeya feels the same. Has Kaeya spent the past four days thinking Diluc dead? Or is he just crumbling under the exhaustion of surviving a nearly mortal wound that left everyone thinking him dead, then having to dive straight into leading the Inside Resistance? Whichever it is . . . he doesn’t have to bear that burden anymore. Diluc is here, the city is all but theirs once more, and the brothers are together again. All is right in the world.

            Kaeya moves forward to meet Diluc too, but right as he gets within reach he stumbles, or maybe deliberately takes a half step back. Diluc neither lets him fall nor get away. He crushes his brother into an embrace and feels his eyes burning as having his brother right there in his arms drives home that yes, he’s alive. He’s safe. He’s not lost to Diluc forever. Diluc has another chance now, to set things right between them . . . to be his brother again.

            Right now, though, Diluc can’t manage to get any words out. He tilts his head forward, pressing it against Kaeya’s shoulder, and it’s all he can do not to break down sobbing with relief. Especially when Kaeya wraps his arms around Diluc, returning the embrace.

            “Fuck, I thought you were dead . . .” Kaeya says hoarsely, confirming one of Diluc’s suspicions.

            Diluc lifts his head, and moves back, just slightly, raising his hands to grip Kaeya’s shoulders so he can still hold on to him, even though they’re at an arm’s length now. Kaeya’s grip shifts too, so he’s holding onto Diluc’s shoulders, also unwilling to let go.

            Diluc tries to speak then. Looks his brother in the eye and tries to find the words he needs to let Kaeya know how sorry he is, how happy he is that he’s alive, but the words don’t come, and Kaeya’s crying too, and that’s not okay, Diluc needs to fix that . . .

            “Idiot . . . That’s my line.”

            He doesn’t mean to insult Kaeya . . . it just slips out . . . but Kaeya doesn’t take offense. Instead, he gives a shaky laugh, despite his tears.

            Diluc swallows and tries again. “Don’t do that . . . Ever again. Just . . . Don’t. I don’t want . . .” His voice gives out then . . . but Kaeya saves him and picks up his slack.

            “If I didn’t know any better, I’d start to think you actually cared about me.” His tone is teasing, but there’s a question beneath it. One that’s simple enough to answer, so even with his brain fogging over like it is now, Diluc should be able to manage.

            “I . . . do, you know,” Diluc says, and he sees Kaeya’s shoulders drop in relief, like a burden’s been taken from them. “I’m not . . . good at words . . . and there’s a revolution on right now so we don’t have time . . .” It’s true, and a convenient excuse, but Diluc can’t leave it just like that. “Just stay close to me so I can keep you from getting your fool self killed for real this time.”

            Kaeya gives a soft laugh as he releases him from the embrace. “I assure you,” he says, meeting Diluc’s eyes, “I don’t make it a habit to put myself in mortal peril. For the sake of your blood pressure, however, I’ll oblige.”

            Diluc keeps a hand on his brother’s shoulder as he turns to face their friends – Kaeya’s fellow knights, and the allogenes who followed Diluc here to take back their city. There’s a fire burning in his soul as he realizes that victory is within their grasp. The Lawrence Rebellion’s leaders all now lie dead, the people of Mondstadt have taken up arms to take back their freedom with their own two hands, and all of their allies are now within the city walls, helping rid them of the last of their oppressors . . . and the people who matter the most to Diluc in the world are safe and sound. All that’s left to do is to make sure everyone else in Mondstadt’s loved ones are safe and sound too.

            “Let’s put an end to this.”

Today was a double update, so don’t miss what happened on the other side in Mouse’s Frostborn Loyalty! Then, join us Wednesday as the Song of Resistance finally concludes in another double update!

Also . . . we potentially have something extra in the works for this collab, which we’ll be discussing over on Twitter.  https://twitter.com/StrangeDiamond5

I hope that you’ve enjoyed the ride thus far, and that the reunion was everything you hoped it would be.

Chapter Text

Quickly, before the story’s conclusion: We got more fan art!

Zara has done a beautiful piece that looks like it’s straight out of a storybook, and reminiscent of stained glass, featuring Mondstadt’s three leaders in this crisis: Kaeya, Jean, and Diluc. https://twitter.com/9990z4r4/status/1453458393092476933

Neksutaru has drawn that epic hug from last chapter from two different angles! All the better to see the tears streaming down the brothers’ faces. ;_; https://twitter.com/Nimshrea/status/1452938288474431490

And last, but definitely not least, Fain has also drawn that hug, right at the moment the brothers crush each other into it. You can see the motion in that collision, and it’s enough to make me want to cry too! https://twitter.com/f_ai_n/status/1453014051928248321

Thank you all so much for sharing your art with us!

And now, on to the finale!

            The battle for Mondstadt’s freedom is won long before victory is declared by the children of the City of Freedom. Unlike on a standard battlefield, where armies are engaged, the fighting is spread out all across the city, in streets, and alleys, and pockets cut off from most peoples’ view.

            From the moment it began, the tide was in the favor of the people of Mondstadt, and once their allies from Springvale and Liyue joined the fight, there was no turning it. After her sweep of Favonius Headquarters, Eula retook Mondstadt Prison. Then she heard a rumor that Kaeya was alive, and with Diluc and came running to rejoin them. Once she confirmed with her own eyes that it was true, she swore vengeance on Kaeya for all the worry he caused her, and promised to thrash him soundly in the practice courts when next they sparred.

            Meanwhile, Beidou, all her warriors of the Crux Fleet, and the various other allogenes who’d come from Liyue to help their friends retook the mid-city alongside the citizens who’d risen up there.

            Xinyan, all fired up from her performance, and Diona, annoyed at being counted amongst the children and kept out of the main fight, teamed up and stormed the bridge, then took Mondstadt’s main gate. They were aided by members of the Inner Resistance, who heard their battle anthem drawing closer and rallied to it. The crew members from the Crux who hadn’t entered through the cemetery yet had already begun climbing the city wall to get to the fight faster. After that, they just started coming in through the gate, and any semblance of order amongst the enemy mercenaries and Fatui disintegrated. They broke and ran for their lives. Few, if any, made it out of the city.

            The people of Mondstadt are mostly peaceful natured. The sort who value good food and wine over gold and gems. They’re a people raised in a gentle land of abundance, where no one is left to go hungry, and no orphans are left to roam the streets, where people don’t turn their backs on those in need . . . but they’re also descended from men and women who fought and bled to give them their peaceful way of life. Their history of resistance has been kept alive through songs, and books, and plays, and paintings. Now it’s given new life in their actions, as they take back their freedom from the ones who stole it and killed their friends and neighbors, who threatened to starve their families and targeted their city’s much-loved heroes, marking them for death, or a fate worse than death . . . and the people of Mondstadt rage.

            Diluc is of the opinion that not a single one of the invaders deserves to live, and fighting side by side with Kaeya, they cut down many, many enemies . . . but they give them clean, quick deaths then move on . . . and most of those enemies die fighting.

            They witness some of their enemies meeting their ends in less than honorable ways. Several mercs are hung from balconies, hauled up from the ground and left to strangle at the end of the rope. A Cicin Mage is doused with lamp oil and burned alive. A man of the Lawrence Clan is literally torn apart by a mob, then his head kicked about in the streets, like a ball.

            Diluc can’t actually bring himself to feel pity for them. Not after what they’ve done to his city . . . but he doesn’t condone torture or needless suffering.

            Once it’s clear that Mondstadt has won, that all that’s left is the cleanup, Jean has their group go to the Lawrence Mansion – which is in flames when they arrive. A dozen or so of the mansion’s inhabitants make it out alive, including women and children of the Lawrence Clan, and several devoted servants who no doubt helped their masters and approved of the rebellion. Jean has them all arrested indiscriminately, and immediately taken to Mondstadt Prison, as much for their own safety as because the law demands it.

            They might be the only ones on the invaders’ side who survive the night.

            With help from Fischl, Oz, and the hunters on the balloons in the sky, they’re then able to target the last few pockets of enemies. Then, all that’s left are stragglers, trying to hide and run for their lives. Fischl takes a team to hunt them down, while the knights work to restore order to the city.

            To aid them in their efforts, Jean addresses the people in the upper marketplace, from the ledge behind the fountain. Diluc and Kaeya, as the leaders of the Outside and Inside Resistances, stand on either side of her as she declares victory for Mondstadt and gives a short speech. Beidou stands with them as well, and when her and her peoples’ contributions are acknowledged, the cries and cheers are deafening.

            That kicks off a party that lasts for the rest of the night . . . and is actually much like Windblume in the sense that the knights are all too busy for the entirety of it to enjoy themselves . . . not that Diluc isn’t busy as well, but he very much does not envy all the work that the Ordo has to do now.

            There are Lawrence Clan banners to tear down (though they get quite a bit of help with that, from the citizens) and apparently great piles of their hoarded belongings to remove from Favonius Headquarters, so they can get back to work. There are rosters to make; so many knights were killed in the original attack, and they need to figure out who’s still alive and who needs to be buried with full honors. Patrols need to be organized, so they have some presence on the streets, in case the celebrants get too rowdy, or some potentially innocent person is accused of being a Lawrence merc. Diluc’s certain there are dozens of other things they need to see to that he can’t think of . . . even so, he’s still reluctant to let Kaeya out of his sight. He just got his brother back . . .

            Before they leave, Barbara finally makes it to them. She’d been left out of Diluc’s allogene vanguard on account of her healing powers making her too useful to risk on the front lines. So, instead she’d entered the city a bit later, with the Crux Fleet’s battle medics. Like Eula, she too heard rumors that Kaeya was alive. When she sees him standing beside Jean, she charges and crashes into them both, wrapping one arm around each, and simultaneously babbles at them and sobs happy tears.

            “You’re alive! You’re okay! I thought you were – I’m so happy you’re both okay!”

            Jean returns her sister’s embrace. Kaeya pats her on the head, only looking slightly awkward.

            “I . . . I left you! And you were still alive! I left you both! I’m so sorry!”

            “Barbara, no . . .” Jean says softly.

            “You did the right thing,” Kaeya tells her. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

            “But . . . I left you!”

            “There was nothing you could have done to help me, Barbara,” Kaeya says solemnly. “I was in the water, out of your reach. If you’d tried to swim to get to me, you would have been gunned down too. You can’t run on top of water like Mona – oh, speaking of Mona, you should have a look at her. She’s been really sick since even before the attack, and being thrown in prison during it didn’t help. She has been getting better since Noelle started tending to her, but we still don’t know what caused her illness in the first place.”

            Deflection is a classic Kaeya tactic, but it works. Moments later, Huffman is leading Barbara to one of the hospital tents set up to treat those wounded in battle, which Mona was apparently moved to once the fighting was over. Jean watches her go, a bit regretfully, but she’s never been one to put her personal desires above her duty, and isn’t about to start now that her city’s just been through its worse crisis in living memory. Diluc thinks, however, from the look of resolve on her face as she watches her sister go, that Jean plans to carve out some time to spend with her sister a bit later, once cleanup operations are underway, or at least sometime in the coming days. If not . . . well, Diluc will strongly suggest she do so, and when he makes suggestions, Jean tends to listen. He hopes she will this time. It’s . . . a horrible feeling to lose a sibling and . . . when Diluc thought Kaeya was dead, all he could think about was how much time he’d wasted, and all the time he hadn’t spent with his brother.

            After Barbara is led away, Kaeya and Jean head off as well, but to the upper city, to get to work. Diluc, for his part, heads to Angel’s Share to see what, if anything, is left of his establishment. Eula accompanies him, ostensibly to continue aiding him, as he was one of the Resistance leaders, but in actuality for her own protection. Her Lawrence Clan heritage could put her in danger. Hopefully, if people see her on openly good terms with Diluc, they’ll turn their vengeance elsewhere. At the very least, they’re sure to think twice before attacking her with Diluc right there.

            Beidou comes too. Naturally, since Diluc did promise her free drinks. They’re in luck, because it seems that Angel’s Share was left relatively untouched by the invaders. Probably, in large part, because Patton took up temporary residence in the tavern, and because the tavern was kept closed along with the market for the whole of the rebellion. Stock counts are not high; Diluc never did deliver the transport balloons full of wine and other spirits that he’d intended to . . . and he’ll definitely need to tomorrow, because tonight, he’s hosting an open bar.

            He, Elzer, Charles, Patton, and Eula haul all the barrels Angel’s Share has left out of the cellar, tap them, and open them up for self-service. Mostly outside the tavern, because he doesn’t want the whole of Mondstadt trying to pack inside his establishment all at once. By unspoken agreement, the inside of Angel’s Share is reserved for VIPs of the Resistance; Beidou and her officers, the village leaders of Springvale, Kaeya’s higher ups, and, of course, all of the allogenes who lent their strength to the cause. Rosaria shows up to take advantage of the free booze, but Diluc has no doubt that she’s earned it. A few of the city’s knights are dragged in as well, their resolve unable to hold out indefinitely against all those who wish to ply them with drinks. For once, Diluc holds his tongue about the knights slacking and drinking on the job. Those left alive have earned this. In fact . . . when things settle down a bit, he’ll see what he can do about contributing some casks to the Ordo, so they can have their own celebration. He’s sure he can use that as a tax write off somehow.

            Though he remains in the vicinity of his tavern, people drift in and out, bringing Diluc word of the other festivities happening all throughout the city. Cat’s Tail, Hare’s Tail and a handful of other taverns have all dropped their prices to record lows and are pretty much selling at cost. Diluc makes a mental note to cut them deals when they resupply from Dawn Winery. He can afford to be magnanimous to his competition, especially at a time like this.

            He also hears that Xiangling and Brook have set up multiple cookfires in the market, and are having a huge scale cookoff. They’re determined to provide enough food for all the hungry heroes in Mondstadt tonight, and though they have their work cut out for them, are rising to the occasion magnificently. Hu Tao comes by with a big box of their food for all those in Angel’s Share. She’s very smug as she helps Diluc spread the many interesting and newly invented dishes out on the bar, then bounds over to thump a plate of root vegetable fritters down on the table where a number of other allogenes of an age with her are drinking, and reveals that she just scored a major contract for the disposal of traitor and enemy remains in Mondstadt. Her friends, as well as Albedo, who’s been corralled in by Xingqiu, congratulate her politely.

            Xinyan comes by for a bit after giving an encore performance in the lower city. She downs a mug of cider, and a plate of fried radish balls, crispy potato slices topped with apple and cabbage slaw, and sauteed Philanemo Mushrooms (the latter two items newly invented/adapted for the celebration, and taking advantage of what food is still in ample supply in the city) then gives the tavern a private performance before heading out for a celebratory collab concert she and Barbara have scheduled in front of the cathedral.

            Adelinde and Elzer check in with him at around three in the morning, to let him know they, and most of the rest of Diluc’s employees at Dawn Winery, are heading home. Despite the order Diluc gives them to make sure they get enough rest, Diluc is fairly certain that they’ll be up and working until he gets home himself to enforce that order. There’s certainly enough work for that, beings that they left Dawn Winery in a mess. Knowing Adelinde and Elzer, they’ll put everyone else on short, rotating shifts, to ensure all their people get some sleep, but stay up the whole time themselves.

            It’s nearing sunrise when Diluc starts to think about heading back to the winery himself. The celebrants have all run their adrenaline reserves into the ground. Almost everyone’s gone home (or in the case of the Crux Crew, made camp) to sleep off hangovers. Once the last of them finally trickle out of his bar, Diluc surveys the place and decides that the only pressing thing left for him to do before calling it a night is to clean up what’s left of the food. Then he’ll go home.

            That’s when Kaeya walks in, looking pleased with life in general, but weary to the bone. There’s a dark mark on one of his cheeks, that looks like a new bruise. Diluc’s fairly certain Kaeya didn’t have that when last they parted. He can’t help but wonder if Eula (who was recalled to Ordo Headquarters some hours ago) followed through with her plans for vengeance.

            “Glad to see you haven’t dropped from exhaustion,” Kaeya says, though between the two of them, Diluc’s pretty sure Kaeya looks more likely to pass out. “It’s been a hectic twenty-four hours.”

            His movements are slower than they should be, Diluc realizes, continuing to observe his brother as he makes his way into the bar. He’s pretty sure he knows why.

            “Have you eaten?” Diluc asks, and looks meaningfully to the bar, where the remaining food Hu Tao delivered is still out. He gives it a quick once over just to make sure . . . yes . . . everything that’s left looks like it should still be good, even after several hours at room temperature.

            “I haven’t,” Kaeya admits, following Diluc’s gaze, and a bit of longing creeps into his voice.

            “Why don’t you grab a plate?” Diluc offers.

            “I think I’ll take you up on that offer.” Kaeya heads over to the bar and snags a plate. He looks over the still fairly impressive selection and picks a few things to try before sliding into a seat.

            “Honestly, I thought you would have been here before now,” Diluc tells him. “I guess that’s the Knights of Favonius for you. Can’t find a balance between being inefficient and too efficient.”

            There’s not much alcohol left in Angel’s Share. In fact, never in living memory, has their stock been this low. They’re down to only a few bottles of the wines that are typically mixed with other beverages for cocktails . . . and one of them happens to be a bottle of dandelion wine . . . that Diluc may or may not have been saving. So, Diluc pours Kaeya a glass and sets it down in front of him.

            Kaeya’s eye lights at the sight of it and a smile crosses his face. “Couldn’t bring myself to sit down just yet,” he says, then takes a sip. His gaze then falls to the food on his plate. “This is the biggest portion I’ve had since this mess started . . . Thank you, by the way, for the supplies. It was really make or break here until then.”

            A smile tugs at Diluc’s mouth as he leans against the bar. “You’re welcome for the food drop, of course . . . Did you see it? I imagine it was quite a sight.”

            Kaeya’s smirk confirms that he did in fact see it, even before he answers. “That I did,” he says, setting down his fork and pulling something out from the inside of his glove. Two familiar looking slips of paper. “It was spectacular and absolutely the sort of stunt you would pull. A lot of us kept a slip, you know, as a sort of good luck charm or reminder we weren’t alone. I think you’d be hard pressed to find someone from the inside who doesn’t have one on their person.”

            Diluc’s gaze lingers on one of the slips, rereading it, even though he knows exactly what’s written on it. We’re coming for you. He’s not exactly great with words these days, but in this instance, he thinks he nailed it.

            “Well . . . you know our family. We don’t do things halfway. When we want to send a message . . .” he trails off, smirking.

            “And we wonder why Father was starting to go grey,” Kaeya chuckles softly. Then he falls silent, a contemplative look crossing his face, and when he picks up his fork, Diluc gets the feeling he’s lost his appetite. Talking of their father tends to do that to Diluc too, but . . . maybe it’s time to change that, or at least try.

            “I wish he could have seen this . . .” Diluc says, and does his best to keep his voice from hitching. “Seen us. I think . . . no, I know . . . he would have been so proud. Of us . . . and our city.”

            “He loved Mondstadt. Of course he would be. And . . . he did love us. I know he would be proud of us as well,” Kaeya says with a sad smile.

            “Honestly . . . he was always proud of us. We wouldn’t have had to save the whole city to win his pride. Of course, it wouldn’t have hurt . . . Kind of like you didn’t have to nearly die, then come back from the dead to lead the Inner Resistance to prove . . . that you’re Mondstadt’s. I already knew that.”

            “I don’t regret what I did,” Kaeya says after just a short pause. “Barbara would have been filled with holes if I hadn’t; that said, I do apologize. I hadn’t intended to nearly die, I just acted.” He sighs . . . but not exhaustedly or sadly. More like . . . a soft sigh of relief after casting off a heavy burden. “I’m . . . glad to hear that . . . All these years, and I was sure you hated me. I did always wonder why you never said a thing about it.”

            “I realized . . . shortly after . . . just why you told me the truth,” Diluc tells him. “At the time I thought . . . I don’t know what I thought. It wasn’t until after I had a chance to actually think it over that I realized . . . you were a traitor to Khaenri’ah, not Mondstadt. But . . . even if you weren’t . . . even if I knew that . . . I don’t think I could have actually outed you as a spy. Not when I knew they might have killed you for it. You’re my brother, after all.”

            “I admit my timing could have been better . . .” Kaeya says tiredly, but his eye is glowing . . . perhaps at being called “brother” again for the first time since their family fell apart. “ . . . Thank you, Diluc, for having faith in me, even if I didn’t see it. Honestly, even I was unsure where my loyalties had laid until this incident. You’re right; I’ve always been Mondstadt’s. I just didn’t consciously realize it, even then. It was instinct, as soon as the attack started, all I could think of was how to protect my home . . . protect my family.”

            Diluc coughs a bit awkwardly . . . because yeah. Still not great with words . . . or emotional things. Thankfully, there’s a task right in front of him that he can distract himself with, as he tries to think of a way to change the topic. The food on the bar needs to be consolidated onto just a few plates. He might as well take it home to Dawn Winery to ensure it doesn’t go to waste . . . and the empty plates need to be stacked and cleared away. So, Diluc sets to it, and sure enough, once his hands are busy, he knows what to say to redirect the conversation.

            “How are things on the knights’ end of this mess? Is Jean okay?”

            Kaeya stands and begins helping him with the plates, despite not having eaten much . . . but Diluc doesn’t push the issue. He got a few bites in him. That might be all he can stomach right now.

            “The knights are hurting, we lost a lot of brave warriors in this. Jean will likely be offering an Honorary Knighthood to those who desire one, who helped in this mess. As for Jean herself, physically she’s just exhausted. Mentally, I’m not sure yet. She’s in ‘Grand Master’ mode and so I can’t get a read on her. I’m pretty sure she’s being eaten alive by guilt. She’ll need all of our support through this, I have no doubt.”

            Diluc gives a slight nod. “She’ll have it,” he vows . . . then suppresses a sigh, for what he has to say next. “I . . . regretfully, need to be getting ready to head back to Dawn Winery. Angel’s Share’s inventory has been all but wiped out after last night’s celebrations. We’ll need to run transport balloons all day to bring it back up to what we’ll need tonight.” He doesn’t want to say goodbye to Kaeya now. Not after everything, but he is going to crash soon, and he knows it . . . and he needs to order Adelinde and Elzer to get some sleep too . . . but he won’t make the same mistake as last time . . . “You are welcome to stay here, however, for as long as you like. Please, sit back down. I can handle this. I’ll leave this food here for you . . . and there’s a cot in the loft if you need a nap.”

            “I don’t mind. I don’t feel right just sitting just yet,” Kaeya says with a shake of his head. “And actually, I’ve been given direct orders by our Acting Grand Master to ‘Escort Master Diluc Home.’ Which is code for ‘go home and sleep,’ I suppose. Or something along those lines. So, I will be accompanying you back to the winery. That is, if you have no objections?”

            A classic Jean move, Diluc thinks, and feels a warm surge of gratitude for his childhood friend. A smile to match it crosses his face. “Of course not . . . though you might regret it. Adelinde took the news of your death hard. Be prepared for her to wrap you in cotton and guilt you into staying all week.”

            A look of slight surprise crosses Kaeya’s face, then he chuckles at the warning. “You frame this as though it’s a threat. I must say, after what I’ve endured this last week, that sounds positively lovely.”

            Diluc puts the empty dishes aside, to be left for Patton or Charles, whichever of them opens the bar later today. “Alright then . . . Let’s go home.”

            “Home. A nice ring to it, if I may say so myself. Lead the way then.”

            Diluc grabs the Closed sign to leave on the front door, and steps out from behind the bar. He’s just placed it on the door when Kaeya calls out to him.

            “Ah, Diluc. A moment?”

            Curious, Diluc steps back into the bar when Kaeya beckons, to see what his brother wants. As soon as he’s within arm’s reach, Kaeya gives him a mischievous look, then yanks him into a hug. He’s shaking slightly, but his grip is tight, as he buries his face against Diluc’s shoulder.

            “I missed you, ‘Luc,” Kaeya says, almost too softly to be heard.

            Diluc’s eyes sting as he returns the hug . . . even though there’s no need for tears now . . . now that everything’s finally right.

            Jean is safe. Mondstadt is free. His brother’s alive . . . and for the first time, Diluc sees a path to reconciliation with him.

            “I missed you too.”

END

Thank you all so much for reading! Mouse and I had so much fun working on this collab, and we hope you’ve enjoyed the ride! ^^ Everyone’s energy was so exciting to experience, and we’re a bit sad to see these stories come to an end.

Mouse’s Frostborn Loyalty also concluded tonight, and rumor has it that they are working on a bonus for you in the near future about the making of these two sister fics. I know this because they’re trying to get me to make one too, haha. I have a few other things on my plate at the moment, but we will see. :)

Once again, thank you for joining us on this adventure!

-StrangeDiamond

https://twitter.com/StrangeDiamond5

Chapter Text

            “Swift wings approach,” Kazuha tells Beidou, “and borne upon them, a message.”

            Beidou looks up from her nautical chart and smiles at the kid. She doesn’t always get the ramblings he calls poetry, but she’s become quite fond of the young Inazuman in their time together, so he has her support, no matter what he’s trying his hand at.

            “That’s a good one,” she tells him. “Keep working at it. You’re getting a lot better.”

            Kazuha looks momentarily confused. Then he shakes his head. “I’m not practicing poetry, Beidou,” he tells her. “I mean that a message approaches. For you. Borne on the wings of a bird of prey.”

            “Oh?” That catches Beidou’s interest, and she immediately looks toward the sky.

            She doesn’t question how Kazuha knows a messenger bird is on the way. Or how he knows that it’s meant for her. She’s learned just to roll with things when it comes to him. His predictions about wind, weather, and things that fly haven’t been wrong yet. So, even though there’s no sign of a messenger bird right now, she doesn’t doubt that one’s on the way.

            A bird of prey delivering a message is a little disconcerting. It means that the message is more important than a simple pigeon carrier’s. They’re smarter and faster than pigeons, that only know how to fly home. More reliable too, since there are fewer things that prey on raptors. Messenger pigeons are a fairly reliable way to get ahold of Beidou and her crew, since they always anchor out in the Guyun Stone Forest to avoid paying Liyue Harbor’s stupidly high mooring fees. If the Alcor’s not there when the pigeons arrive, they roost on the cliffs until she sails back in. Right now though, anyone in Liyue can look out and see that the Crux is in residence. So, a pigeon would be perfectly fine for an ordinary message. Which means someone’s either paying more to get it to them faster or it’s coming from outside of Liyue. Whichever it is, that likely makes it urgent.

            “Sailing stations, men!” Beidou bellows, pitching her voice so all can hear. “At ease for now, but be ready to make sail!”

            The deck erupts into a flurry of motion as their lazy afternoon is interrupted by the prospect of business. Beidou herself heads up to the steering platform, mentally going over a dozen or so details that are going to affect how the rest of their day goes once she sees what’s in that message. The entire fleet is provisioned and takes on fresh water daily. They’re ready to sale with a few hours’ notice, tide permitting, but if they need to go any further than Inazuma, they’ll need more. Not to mention, the ships’ cooks always like as much notice as possible. They’re in the habit of picking up fresh meat and produce – things that don’t keep well – on the same day they sail out. It gives the crew a bit more variety, and keeps them in higher spirits. Especially the poor souls who aren’t fond of fish. They might have to go without this time, however, if the incoming message really is urgent. Of course, everything really comes down to the tide . . .

            “There,” Kazuha says, a moment later, and Beidou looks to the sky again. Sure enough, a bird of prey has come into view – an umbertailed falcon with a message tube tied to one foot. Beidou only sees that last detail as the bird begins its descent, however.

            The armguards of her gloves are thick enough to protect her from a raptor’s talons, so Beidou holds her arm out for it to alight on when it cries out to announce itself. Removing its message one handed is a little challenging, but Beidou’s had plenty of practice. Once she has the tightly rolled paper out of its tube, the bird hops off her wrist and flutters to perch on the rail. Waiting for a return message then. Well, better on the rail than on Beidou’s arm. Freed from her burden, Beidou inspects the seal on the message before breaking it. She’s not positive, but she thinks it’s the Ragnvindr Family or the Dawn Winery seal. It’s similar to the emblem on their wine casks, but not identical to make forging it harder. She’s had dealings with Dawn Winery before, but they usually come through the Mondstadt Winery Guild, and while Diluc’s a friend, or at least a friendly acquaintance, he’s never had cause to formally or urgently correspond with her before.

            Words appear as Beidou unrolls the message, and as she reads them, her eye widens.

            “Make sail!” she calls to her crew, before she even finishes. “Liyue Harbor ho! Juza, take the helm. Mora-Grubber, Muzhen, to me! You too, Yinxing! Kazuha, stay close. I’m going to need you to do some running once we’re in the harbor.”

            “What’s going on, Captain?” Mora-Grubber asks, hurrying up the stairs, the other two crew members Beidou called for at her heels.

            “Mondstadt is under attack,” Beidou tells them grimly. “In fact, Mondstadt’s fallen. To one of their old noble families who betrayed the city and teamed up with the Fatui. Meaning, their legitimate government’s been toppled. This here,” she brandishes the letter, “is a request for help from Diluc Ragnvindr, Master of Dawn Winery and my personal friend.”

            She may be overselling their relationship, but a friend in need is a friend indeed, or so they say.

            “But . . . that’s . . . a civil war, is it not?” Juza asks, from the wheel. “Is that really something we should be getting involved in?”

            “Oh, absolutely,” Beidou tells him. “After what the Fatui pulled with Osial? And after we missed the whole damn thing? There’s no way we’re turning down an invitation to bloody those bastards’ noses.”

            “Besides, Diluc Ragnvindr has deep, deep pockets,” Mora-Grubber says with a lazy smile. “We should be able to find a suitable excuse for getting involved if the Qixing stick their noses into our business. Mondstadt’s been an important trading partner for centuries. We’ve enjoyed generations of peace, having a neighbor that we’re so closely allied to. Having the richest man in Mondstadt indebted to us was an opportunity we couldn’t pass up. Surely they can respect at least one of those reasons.”

            “Muzhen, coordinate with the other captains. We’re leaving tonight, on the evening tide, and we’re taking everyone. The whole fleet.”

            “Aye, Captain. Everyone should be provisioned, but I’ll make certain everything’s in order.”

            “Yinxing, secure us as much medicinal supplies as you can. I know it’s short notice, but we have no idea what Mondstadt has, and I don’t want us going in with only our usual stores if they’re severely understocked.”

            “Yes, ma’am. I’ll take Little Yue and some of the other lads to help me carry whatever we can get our hands on.”

            Beidou nods. “Kazuha, I’m going to make a list of people I need you to seek out . . .”

            They dock in the southern half of the harbor, since the moorings in the north and middle are already taken by other ships. It works out well for Kazuha, whose first stop is Wanmin Restaurant. Of the people he’s been sent to find, Xiangling is one of only two names on the list he actually knows.

            He’s in luck, he sees immediately as he jogs up to the restaurant. Xiangling is stepping out of the kitchen with a tray of food, which she takes to the table beside the building, where two blue haired teenagers are seated.

            “Sorry for the wait!” she tells them cheerfully. “Here’s your chilled Jewelry Soup, and your Jueyun Chili Chicken! Enjoy!”

            “Thank you, Xiangling,” one of the teens says.

            “Yes, it looks delicious,” says the other.

            “Aww, thank you guys! Oh, Kazuha! Welcome back! Here for a meal?”

            “Not today,” Kazuha tells her quickly. “Beidou sent me to find you . . . and to ask you to join us. Mondstadt has fallen to a blitz attack by the Fatui. A resistance has gathered in Springvale, rallying around Diluc Ragnvindr. We sail tonight to join them in taking back their home. Needless to say, Beidou wants every allogene she can get on board –”

            “Did she say if an Adventurer named Bennett is with them in Springvale? Or if he’s alright?” Xiangling asks, her eyes widening. “Did she say anything at all about him?”

            “I’m afraid not.”

            “Ohhh,” Xiangling twists her hands together fretfully. “Of course, I’ll come. I hope he’s okay.”

            Then, she looks toward her two customers, the blue haired boys. Both of them now on their feet.

            “Was there any mention of a Captain Albedo in your correspondence?” the one with darker hair asks.

            “Apologies, but there was not. The message was brief and to the point.” Kazuha tries not to let frustration seep into his voice. This delay is necessary, he knows. Xiangling deserves to be fully apprised of the situation, or at least given what information Kazuha has to give her. This other youth, though unrelated, clearly has a friend in Mondstadt too. Kazuha is all too familiar with the dread one feels, knowing a friend is in danger, not knowing if they can reach him in time. Even so, there are other names on his list, other allogenes he must seek out, and since Kazuha doesn’t know most of them, he has to assume they’ll be more difficult to find.

            Knowing amber eyes meet his, however, then the darker haired teen introduces himself. “Forgive me, my liege, for causing you delay, but I wish to help as well. I am Xingqiu, second son of the Guild Manager of the Feiyun Commerce Guild, and disciple of the Guhua Clan.”

            That catches Kazuha’s attention, and he is suddenly very glad that he was not rude to this boy, because Xingqiu is on Beidou’s list.

            “If Captain Beidou has put out an open call for allogenes who wish to help bring these evildoers in Mondstadt to justice then I wish to volunteer my aid –”

            “We wish to volunteer our aid,” says the lighter haired teen. “Oh – and I’m Chongyun. An exorcist and an allogene.”

            Yet another name on his list. This is turning out to be a very worthwhile delay indeed.

            “Kaedehara Kazuha,” he introduces himself. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, and delighted to have you join us.”

            “You sail tonight, you said?” Xingqiu asks. “I presume you mean to leave on the evening tide?”

            “That’s right.”

            “Then please excuse me, until then,” Xingqiu says. “I will be at the Feiyun Commerce Guild, arranging for monetary aid as well as emergency supplies for the people of Mondstadt. I’ll have them transported to the docks.”

            “I bet they’ll need as much food as we can bring,” Xiangling says. “I’m going to go through our storeroom real quick and see what we have to spare. Daddy! Daddy, there’s an emergency in Mondstadt that I’m going to help out with!”

            “An emergency in Mondstadt? What sort of emergency?” asks a nearby woman. “Has something happened?”

            Kazuha turns his attention away from that conversation. It was inevitable that the news would spread like wildfire, and no doubt merchants will be scheming about how they can turn a profit from Mondstadt’s tragedy within the hour. Still, the woman who made the inquiry looks like she may be of Mondstadt. Thankfully, she was speaking to Xiangling, however, not Kazuha, leaving him free to continue with his task.

            “Who else have you asked?” Chongyun wants to know. “I mean which other allogenes here in Liyue?”

            “None, so far,” Kazuha says. “Wanmin was my first stop, since here is where Xiangling is most likely to be found. Beidou sent me with a list – you and Xingqiu were on it – but I’m afraid the only other allogene I know personally is Xinyan.”

            “I know most of the other allogenes of Liyue,” Chongyun tells him. “I’ll help you find and ask them.”

            They set off to do just that immediately, the food that Chongyun and Xingqiu ordered left forgotten on the table.

            Yujing Terrace is bustling when Beidou arrives. Nothing new there – ambitious merchant types tend to always be hopping, off to snatch up their next Mora-making opportunity. The mood today, however, is much grimmer than usual. Ningguang’s secretaries actually try to make Beidou wait before seeing her, but Beidou doesn’t have time for their airs. She strides right past them, toward Ningguang’s office, but spies the Tianquan speaking to another merchant before she makes it there.

            “Ningguang!”

            Ningguang looks up, sees Beidou, then promptly dismisses the woman she was speaking with. She tilts her head toward her office, indicating Beidou should join her, and Beidou has the feeling that the leader of the Qixing knows exactly why she’s here.

            Her suspicions are confirmed when Keqing sprints past her, to quickly tell Ningguang, “I’ve made the arrangements with Bubu Pharmacy. They’re selling us everything they can spare without leaving Liyue severely undersupplied, and selling it to us at just slightly above cost, so long as we arrange for its transport ourselves – which I’m off to arrange now.” Then just as quickly, the Yuheng is off again.

            Beidou falls in step beside Ningguang as they enter her office. “So, I take it news has reached you?”

            “Probably around the same time it reached you, assuming you brought the Alcor directly into port as soon as you heard,” Ningguang says, “but yes. The situation in Mondstadt has been brought to my attention – by two separate sources. The self-proclaimed King Schubert I has seen fit to announce his ascension of Mondstadt’s nonexistent throne . . . and Diluc Ragnvindr has sent out a plea for aid in retaking his city.”

            “Three guesses whose side I’m taking.”

            “No one’s,” Ningguang tells her immediately. “It is not Liyue’s place to get involved in the civil wars of other countries.”

            “Not Liyue’s place, perhaps. Good thing I’m not an official representative of Liyue in any capacity. Hey, Ganyu. Good to see you.”

            Ganyu looks up from the mountain of scrolls piled on Ningguang’s desk that she’s clearly been trying to tear through. “Beidou! Hello. It’s very good to be joining you.”

            “Joining me, eh?”

            “Oh! Did you not tell her yet, Ningguang?”

            “Not yet,” Ningguang says, “though now seems as good

a time as any. You’re going to Mondstadt – don’t bother denying

it –”

            “Never planned to.”

            “Doubtlessly your sudden urge to rush there is because of your curiosity about how Schubert’s rule will affect our trade relations,” Ningguang says, her voice just this side of being deadpan. “I too am curious about what his new policies will be. So, consider this an official directive from the Qixing. Take Ganyu as my emissary. I require that she scope out the markets and learn what the word on the street is there. Perhaps even meet with Schubert to discuss . . . trade relations, should the opportunity present itself.”

            “Bust Ganyu into Mondstadt and take back the markets and the streets. Gotcha. Though meeting with Schubert probably won’t be possible – I’m sure there’s a very long line of people who want a word with him ahead of us, and with better claims, but I’ll see what I can do,” Beidou says.

            “That’s all I ask,” Ningguang says serenely. “And, beings that this is a Qixing sanctioned voyage, we will see to the provisioning of your fleet. You are taking your whole fleet, aren’t you?”

            “Of course.” Beidou gives a savage grin. “The more the merrier.”

            “I’m arranging for all necessary supplies to be taken to the docks.”

            “Mighty kind of you.”

            “I’m sure you have many other matters to attend to, before a sudden voyage like this one.”

            “Very true.”

            Ningguang meets Beidou’s eye and gives her a pleasant smile – the one that is essentially a polite mask. She uses it with merchants she doesn’t like, or when Beidou publicly annoys her. Right now, it’s cracking at the edges a bit, Beidou sees. Most people probably wouldn’t be able to tell, but Beidou sees it clear as day – Ningguang’s jealousy shining through, that is.

            It must suck, Beidou thinks, to have acquired all this wealth and status, only to have it suddenly shackle you when you need to act fast. Ningguang is doing everything she can to help now, bringing the vast resources at her command to bear, and hardly bothering to hide the fact that she’s doing her utmost to help Diluc and the people of Mondstadt, regardless of rules and foreign policy . . . but the fact remains that her position has turned her office into a gilded cage. One that’s keeping her from rushing to help her friends with her own two hands.

            “Well,” Ningguang says, with as much dignity and poise as one would expect from her. “Let’s make haste.”

            The city’s mood, when Beidou leaves Yujing Terrace, is different than when she went in. News of what happened in Mondstadt is spreading like wildfire. People are responding – and not just the merchants looking to turn a quick profit. The Adventurers are hopping, which isn’t unexpected. A lot of them have traveled to Mond and have friends there. It’s not a surprise that they’re checking in with their guild and their comrades now, either to try to learn what they can about their friends in Mondstadt and the situation there, or to band together and head there themselves. Beidou doesn’t know how many of them plan on going, but she realizes it might be worth her while to stop by the Adventurer’s Guild and let them know she’s offering free lifts to Mond.

            What is unexpected, however, is that a lot of, well, everyday people seem to be scurrying about. Running here and there, carrying small parcels. Beidou doesn’t pay them a whole lot of attention, but she sees enough of them that she does take notice. Their parcels aren’t uniform or anything – just random burlap bags or paper wrapped packages. She doesn’t think it’s anything that’s going to affect her or that she has to worry about until after she’s run the few errands in the city that she needs to and makes it back to the docks . . . and sees that the people of Liyue are taking their parcels there . . . putting them in piles that her sailors on the Alcor are loading into crates and carrying aboard. Mixed in amongst the indeterminable items are a few things she can recognize – mainly buckets of vegetables and the occasional full sack of rice or flour. It’s the half empty sacks that make Beidou realize . . . the people of Liyue are bringing food here. Things that will keep for the short voyage to their neighboring country. Not a lot individually, but what their households can spare. They’re bringing it here, for the Crux to ferry to Mondstadt, to help the people there, and together, they’ve accumulated a small mountain of it.

            An inexplicable lump rises in Beidou’s throat at the sight. She swallows it down and ignores the stinging in her eye as she strides past the piles, to the gangway.

            “People just started showing up with stuff,” Sea Drake tells her as she sets foot back on board. He has an empty crate in his hands and is sweating slightly. She wonders how many times he’s filled that crate so far. “I figure you have no objections.”

            “None,” Beidou says, and is pleased that her voice comes out steady, “though we may want to call in another ship to split this haul up.”

            “I’ll see to it,” Sea Drake says, and sets the crate down. Beidou picks it up and carries it back to the wharf, to fill it up again.

            They’re ready to leave when the tide starts going out, right on schedule. The people of Liyue keep bringing food for them to take to Mondstadt right up until they weigh anchor. They’re lucky so many from the Adventurer’s Guild showed up to hitch rides and helped them haul it all on board, because the last thing Beidou wanted was her crew completely tired out from dock work, right at the start of a voyage.

            In addition to a sizable hoard of Adventurers, Kazuha returned with nearly every allogene on his list. A few of them are missing, but then there are a few others who showed up that Beidou hadn’t been counting on – like the little herb gatherer from Bubu Pharmacy . . . and a certain sword wielding Electro allogene whose presence could potentially cause an international incident. Beidou can’t help but grin at the sight of Keqing striding aboard without explanation, carrying one final crate of donated supplies onto the Alcor before they cast off.

            “Captain?” Juza asks, as Beidou steers the Alcor out of the harbor. “We still have Master Diluc’s messenger bird. Should we send it back and let him know we’re coming?”

            “Not yet. The poor bird flew all the way from Mondstadt. We should let her rest a bit before sending her back to her master. I have another idea. Kazuha?”

            “Happy to oblige,” says Kazuha, anticipating her request. There’s a faint ripple of power as he calls on his Vision and conjures a maple leaf, which he hands to her, then hurries off to find her some ink and a brush.

            Writing on a leaf isn’t exactly easy, so Beidou keeps her message short and to the point. We’re on our way, and her signature are enough to get her meaning across, she’s pretty sure. Diluc knows her well enough to know when she shows up it’s to win. He doesn’t need a roster of who all’s coming. It wouldn’t fit on a leaf anyway.

            “That’s all you want to say?” Kazuha asks as he takes the leaf back from her.

            “That’s all I need to say,” she tells him. “Don’t worry. Diluc knows me.”

            “Alright, then.” Kazuha calls on his Vision’s power again and releases the leaf. It takes flight on the wind and quickly disappears from sight – not that Beidou tries to track it. She trusts Kazuha to get that leaf where it needs to go. Getting all these people there, however, is Beidou’s job.

            Still . . . it’s not such an arduous task that it takes every bit of Beidou’s concentration right now, so she spares a quick prayer to the winds, or Barbatos, or whoever’s listening to speed them on their way.

            “Hold on, friends,” she murmurs as she sets her sights on Dragonspine. “Help is on the way.”

I hope you all enjoyed my bonus chapter - and with this, my half of the fic is now completely posted. Mouse will be posting their bonus chapter soon too, so keep an eye out for that. 

Thank you all for reading, and for all the support that you've given us. We appreciate it more than we can say. I wish you luck in the new Golden Apple Archipelago event, and in the upcoming Sumeru update!

-StrangeDiamond

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