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To say Diluc’s day was ruined would be an understatement. For the first time in weeks, he had slept properly due to his Darknight Hero duties ending earlier than expected and, once he entered his study in the morning, the mountains of documents piling up around the room were gone, most likely thanks to Adelinde, the Head Housemaid of Dawn Winery.
However, this moment of peace and respite was unfortunately shattered when fate tossed a ginger Snezhnayan at the Dawn Winery’s doorstep – the one sitting before him now.
Arms folded; smugness rolled off the ginger man like waves lazily hugging a beach as he fixed Diluc with mischief tainting his ocean eyes.
“Is it not rude to not offer your guest a drink? Especially one who’s travelled so far?” came the Snezhnayan’s voice infected with mock hurt – ridicule dripping from his words.
A growl bubbled in the winery master’s throat as he processed the Fatuus’ words – more like Fatui Harbinger’s words, judging from the mask sitting atop the man’s head like a falling crown. Mustering his already thinning patience, the Mondstadter suppressed his building anger and frustration, and arose from his chair, moving toward the cabinet which housed a bottle of Dandelion Wine and a small selection of glasses. Although not fond of alcohol himself, Diluc understood the Dawn Winery’s infamy in the alcohol industry and, more importantly, the hold the alcohol he produced had on those who partook in drinking; to him, wine was not only a source of revenue, but an ever-expanding network of information, right at his fingertips.
As the winery master opened the cabinet and reached for the untouched bottle of Dandelion Wine sitting on the shelf accompanied by two wine glasses, the Snezhnayan diplomat spoke once again, “Two Glencairn glasses will do just fine.”
Turning toward his guest with disagreement shining in his fiery eyes, Diluc opened his mouth to protest before promptly shutting it once his gaze landed on the bottle of Fire-Water now located on the wooden surface of his desk, seemingly produced out of thin air by the Harbinger.
Noticing the flash of surprise on the Mondstadter’s face, Childe’s lopsided smile widened, “It is a Snezhnayan custom to bring a gift when you’re a guest in someone’s home and since this is a winery, I’m sure you have had enough of wine – no matter how good it may be.”
Guest? Diluc’s eyes narrowed, electing to ignore the obvious insult aimed at the winery: the Harbinger had practically invited himself into his home; barging past Adelinde with a smirk while details of a trade deal between Snezhnaya and Mondstadt - one which would be beneficial to Diluc’s estate - spewed from his mouth.
Amusement swirled in the ginger Snezhnayan’s eyes of midnight blue as he revelled in the anger emitting from the winery master. Nose crinkled and eyes locked with his self-proclaimed guest, Diluc grabbed two Glencairn glasses, before returning to his seat; a fir desk separating the two men. As soon as the glasses thumped against the wooden surface, Childe uncorked the bottle and poured a generous amount of alcohol into each glass, extending one toward Diluc and taking the other. With a fast upward motion, the Harbinger downed the bitter liquid, looking at Diluc over the rim of the glass – challenge burning in his eyes. The thin layer of composure resting over the winery master’s expression threatened to crack as flames of anger were fanned by each movement the Snezhnayan made; every second the red-haired Mondstadter had to endure in the Harbinger’s presence stretched torturously long.
Seemingly disappointed by the lack of a reaction, Childe placed his glass back down with an exaggerated sigh, “I am unfamiliar with Mondstadt’s customs but is it not rude to refuse a guest’s gift?”
“I don’t drink,” came the deadpan response.
Silence followed; the Fatui Harbinger lifted an eyebrow questioningly, analysing Diluc’s demeanour for any sign of deceit. Finally, a heartbeat later, his smile broke into laughter, which rang through the room like nails on a chalkboard. The scowl etched on the winery master’s lips deepened as Childe’s shoulders shook from his intense guffaw – a hand wiping away a stray tear.
His howls subsiding to a murmur of chuckles, the Snezhnayan inhaled deeply as an attempt to calm himself and turned to the unamused man opposite him, “A winery master who doesn’t drink? I must say, you are full of surprises, Master Diluc.”
There was an odd glint in the Harbinger’s eyes as he uttered that sentence, causing the hairs on the back of the Mondstadter’s neck to stand on edge – there was a reason for his impromptu visit, as Diluc had suspected, but what this reason was remained a mystery to the winery master.
Well, perhaps not completely a mystery – Diluc had some… ideas why the Fatui would decide to knock on his door.
Snapping out of his thoughts, the winery master responded, “Living while surrounded by alcohol has made me become indifferent to it. Besides, alcohol clouds one’s mind, meaning my day-to-day work would be impacted if I drank.”
Believing he had successfully dodged Childe’s question, the Mondstadter parted his lips to ask a question of his own but was cut off before he could vocalise a single syllable.
“And just what work would require a winery master to never touch a drop of alcohol?”
A deadly stillness descended upon the men. The rhythmic sound of their heartbeats echoed throughout the room, bouncing off the walls and ringing in Diluc’s ears. It was suffocating – the inquiry weighed heavily on his mind like a millstone around his throat and with each passing second, he could feel the air crackling with growing danger as his mind descended deeper into the depths. His hand twitched; impatient to summon his claymore and show the Harbinger before him what duty occupies the young winery master’s thoughts.
While Diluc struggled to pacify the fires igniting within, Childe’s expression remained as calm as the ocean surface on a cloudless night. The Snezhnayan basked in the Mondstadter’s slightly dilated eyes and quickened breath – a smirk dancing on his lips. It was evident he was enjoying catching the flame-haired man off guard; mirth infecting the depths of his eyes. Having had his fun, Childe uncrossed his arms and tapped his foot, catching Diluc’s attention, who narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
Whatever the Harbinger had in plan meant trouble for the owner of the Dawn Winery – no matter how seemingly benign it might be.
“I must admit I have not been entirely truthful with you, Master Diluc,” began the playful voice, “While I am here as a Snezhnayan diplomat, I have no interest in improving trade between Snezhnayan merchants and Dawn Winery.”
With this, Childe stood up from his chair and made his way towards the desk – movements purposefully slow and calculated in order to draw out the pause. Reaching the table, the Harbinger swiped the bottle of Fire-Water and poured himself another glass, causing Diluc’s scowl to twitch with annoyance.
Once his glass was filled nearly to the brim, the ginger Snezhnayan leaned his back on the wooden edge of the fir table, looking over his shoulder at his host before continuing, “The higher ups paid close attention to your recent adventures hunting down and destroying Fatui strongholds and they are impressed to say the least.”
Diluc snarled at this, “So impressed they tried to kill me.”
“Well, you were messing up their plans,” retorted the Fatui Harbinger without hesitation – the mask sat on the side of his head catching the soft glow of the chandelier overhead, reminding the winery master of who he was talking to.
Turning fully towards the Mondstadter, Childe continued, “Regardless, the ruthless efficiency and skill with which you laid waste to our bases caught everyone’s attention, including mine. Your martial prowess is unparalleled amongst any threats the Fatui have encountered, and it would be a shame, if it wasted away with you in this grand mansion, alone and undisturbed.”
Pausing, the ginger Snezhnayan fixed Diluc with a knowing smile and added, “After all, warriors like us thirst for battle and the peace that comes with mundane life poisons our hearts.”
Suppressing another snort, which threatened to escape past his lips, the winery master raised an eyebrow; boredom painted thickly on his features.
Pressed to resume his convincing, the Harbinger smiled and downed the glass he still held in his hand, explaining, “That’s why I’m here – to offer you a deal: join the Fatui and escape the boring life you currently lead.”
This was certainly not what Diluc was expecting to hear uttered by the Fatui Harbinger and although relief flooded his being as he realised his identity as the Darknight Hero remained unknown to the Fatui, embers of rage burned in his veins for Childe’s audacity to suggest he join the organisation he wished to destroy.
Looking at the Snezhnayan’s outstretched hand with disgust, the winery master’s nose crinkled as he responded, “No – that’s my answer.”
His scowl turned upwards by a fraction as he saw Childe’s façade slip slightly at Diluc’s rejection; the smugness dissipating in the Harbinger’s expression urging the red-haired man on.
“I am more than comfortable with the life I lead here. There are no assassins hiding under my bed; no reason to sleep with a knife underneath my pillow; no need to wake up wondering if I’ll see tomorrow.”
Diluc was lying through his teeth – his Darknight Hero persona saw him encountering danger each and every night as he obliterated any potential threats to Mondstadt and its citizens. However, that was of no concern to the Fatui; the less they knew about it, the better.
Extending his hand, the winery master took hold of his untouched glass of Fire-Water, “The life I lead is considerably less… exciting than the one I led a little while ago – that’s true – but it means I have a place to call home, a place to rest my head at night. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
Diluc shrugged, leaning back in his chair and fixed the Harbinger before him with a cold expression as he watched the other man lower his hand; the Mondstadter’s features devoid of any emotion which could betray the fire burning within.
“So run off and inform your superiors. I gain nothing by joining your circus.”
The distance between the two men hissed with anticipation as both men calculated their next moves methodically, treating each gesture, word and even breath as a pawn in their game of chess. Empty eyes scrutinised the rubies adorning the winery master’s features; with the intensity of a rolling swell of seawater, the Snezhnayan seemingly looked through the Mondstadter, observing his very soul for any signs of a weakness he could exploit. In turn, the flame-haired man returned the favour; fires of irritation lightening up his orbs. After all, there could only be one outcome to this conversation and both men were determined this fateful meeting ended the way they wanted.
Finally, like a cat bathing in the warmth of the afternoon’s sunlight, Childe purred; his eyes half-closed as they bore into Diluc’s crimson orbs, “Do all winery masters have a Delusion in their possession, then?”
The Mondstadter inhaled sharply, and his heart skipped a beat – time froze as the light flickering of the chandelier above blurred into golden hues, blinding Diluc and distorting the study around him into splashes of brown and gold. Instinctively, he leaned forward; the edge of the wooden desk cutting into his chest as he failed to keep his composure, his widened eyes and slightly agape mouth betraying his shock.
How… how did the Snezhnayan know he possessed a Delusion? He had only used it for a little while; rumours of a phantom hero protecting Mondstadt when shadows lurked at every corner only recently spread through the region like wildfire. He had been so careful – going to great lengths to hide his identity in every way imaginable.
Satisfaction drowned the dull, abyssal pools which decorated Childe’s features as he watched the internal conflict raging within Diluc, who noticed the soft smirk settling upon the Harbinger’s lips, freezing the rushing blood in his veins. Basking in the other’s surprise, the ginger Snezhnayan used the red-head’s distracted state and, as quickly as a rushing river, swiped Diluc’s glass from his hands, gulping its contents in a single blink of an eye.
Once finished, a voice rang smoothly through the stifling atmosphere of the study, robbing Diluc off the opportunity to deny the accusation, “And those that do, I wonder what ridiculous titles they’ve given themselves as a reward for their nightly performances of heroism.”
The freezing grip with which surprise and shock clutched onto the Mondstadter’s heart melted into an inferno of fury – one Diluc refused to pacify anymore.
Teeth gritted and his hands balled into fists, red orbs of molten rage levelled Childe with a stare strong enough to raze cities to the ground and incinerate his enemies. The sheer nerve of the Fatui Harbinger before him: he invited himself into his home; presented him with a mockery of a deal, one Diluc still believed was just a way to eliminate him if he was stupid enough to accept; and now he exposed the one secret the Mondstadter kept buried beneath layers of broken dreams and stinging betrayals like it was the latest gossip he heard at the market on Mondstadt’s main square.
“I am afraid I have no idea of what you are talking about,” the red-haired snarled.
A sigh escaped Childe’s lips, “Come now, comrade. There is no use denying something we both know to be true.”
Tutting to himself, the Harbinger circled the desk, coming to a rest before a large window overlooking the vineyards of the estate located behind Diluc’s chair – an emotionless and empty expression resting on his features.
The workers picked at the grapes, inspecting their quality while wooden carts creaked from the weight of the wine barrels sitting atop them as they rolled steadily towards the City of Freedom. Maids fussed at the entrance of the mansion, washing away the mud and muck brought about by the lively wind native to the region, chattering away happily. Trees swayed lightly in the breeze; their murmuring as soft and comforting as a mother’s lullaby. From outside, the chatter of life wormed its way inside the study, enveloping the duo – reminding them of the lives they had long since shed.
Turning back to the winery owner, who scrutinised his every movement, boredom washed off the Snezhnayan in apathetic waves.
Eyes meeting, the Fatui Harbinger shrugged as he gestured towards the outside, “Try all you might, Master Diluc, you will never live a peaceful life.”
Reaching the Mondstadter’s side with long strides, Childe now towered over him; forcing Diluc to crane his neck in order to maintain eye contact with those empty, darkened eyes.
After a moment of silence, a small smile settled on the Harbinger’s expression as he leaned dangerously close to the winery master, “Why? Because you don’t want one.”
His voice came out as a hushed whisper – like an intimate confession of a sinner repenting to their god – as Diluc felt his lungs cry for fresh air. The distance between the two men was electrified with the jolting shock of Childe’s revelation, which clung to the them like a stain not even the most powerful soap could wash off.
As quickly as a stream racing down the mountainside, the playfulness returned to Childe’s expression with a careless laugh and challenge glimmered in his orbs like the sun’s rays on the sea surface, leaving Diluc reeling.
Spinning on his heel, the ginger Snezhnayan smirked, “Ponder the offer a bit more – perhaps you’ll have a change of heart, comrade.”
With a mischievous look swimming in the midnight blue of his eyes, he glanced over his shoulder at the winery master, “If that’s the case, you know where to find me.”
Diluc kept his eyes glued on the Harbinger’s back as he moved towards the door, hoping the fiery orbs could burn holes in his unwanted guest – a scorching warning to never step foot near Dawn Winery again. His right-hand itched for the comforting handle of his claymore in order to send the conceited Snezhnayan running back to his icy and frost-bitten homeland with his tail between his legs. Yet he sat frozen like the rivers of Dragonspine; not moving a muscle as he studied the Fatui Harbinger’s retreating figure.
Just as his foot met the door sill, Childe’s head spun once again, fixing his gaze at the seated Mondstadter.
“It was wonderful meeting you again, Master Diluc. You did put up quite a fight in Fontaine.”
And with those haunting words, the Fatui Harbinger exited the study, leaving the winery and an agitated winery master behind. Eyes narrowed, the Mondstadter glared at the open door where his uninvited guest stood a heartbeat before: Childe was out of Diluc’s life. For now. As loud as the clang of an ironmonger, the blue-eyed Snezhnayan wandered into his life - uninvited and unwelcome - and disappeared as quickly as he arrived, leaving behind a trail of anger and confusion.
A sigh escaped his lips as Diluc realised the Fatui – the organisation he had sworn to destroy – had not forgotten his existence, even after he had retired from actively hunting down their strongholds. They kept a watchful eye on him; discovering his secret through unknown means and sending the youngest Fatui Harbinger to expose said secret with such nonchalance that the winery master now understood the purpose of this meeting. It was a cleverly disguised threat: stay out of our way or suffer the consequences. The Fatui wished to remind Diluc that no matter how hard he tried to return to his previous mundane life, he could never run away from his past entanglements with the Snezhnayan organisation.
The flames raging within him now extinguished, defeat coursed through his veins as the red-haired Mondstadter’s eyes fell downwards, catching sight of the bottle of Fire-Water left on the fir desk.
Perhaps a glass wouldn’t hurt…