Chapter Text
Diluc had been back roughly a year in Mondstadt before Grandmaster Varka announced that he, as well as a majority of the Knights of Favonius and several key leaders from the church, would be leaving for an expedition.
He thought it was a rash decision, really. What leader of a nation decides to take seventy-five percent of the nation’s defense with them on a trip…when they weren’t entirely sure what their goal was?
Lingering resentment for the Knight of Favonius simmered within him as he listened to the Grandmaster continue with his speech. He may have…reservations, but Varka would always be someone he could trust with his life.
“Lord Barbatos, as well as the Hexenzirkel, gave their blessing for this expedition.” The Grandmaster continued. “In my absence, our resident Dandelion Knight, Jean Gunnhildr, will assume the position of Acting Grandmaster.”
…and Jean too. She was different from them, her heart as pure as the winds of Mondstadt themselves. Jean was like a typical Mondstadter in that regard—steadfast and always holding true to her values and Mondstadt.
If he trusted anyone to lead the knights in Varka’s absence, it was her.
Although he would always distrust the Knights of Favonius in the wake of his father’s death and attempts of subsequent cover-up, he had known the woman since they were children. He, Jean and Kaeya used to play together before they became knights. Archons, Kaeya had even married Diluc and Jean’s respective pet tortoises at one point.
Kaeya….
Diluc shook his head. It wasn’t good to go down that path here.
He turned away from the podium in front of the church and toward Angel’s Share. Charles had been kind enough to cover him so he could attend the Grandmaster’s announcement, but it was about time he headed back.
Just before he descended the stairs, he caught sight of a bard dressed in green munching on an apple with a cecilia pinned in his hat. The other’s bright green eyes caught Diluc’s own crimson ones, and he offered a polite wave as he swung his legs off the side of the stone barrier.
Diluc inclined his head politely, not recognizing the bard as his protective instincts surged upon seeing the young man so close to the edge despite the Anemo vision clipped to his belt.
“Be careful,” Diluc warned gently. “Though the winds of Mondstadt will catch anyone that falls, it’s never good to tempt fate.”
The bard giggled, his cheeks rosy and a genuine smile gracing his face as he looked at Diluc almost with…amusement? “Aw, thank you for your concern! But as you said, there’s no need to worry. I’ll be just fine!”
Diluc blinked, raising a hand in farewell as he descended the stairs. “I have business to attend to. Goodbye, bard.”
A gentle breeze caressed his cheek as if in thanks.
Strange.
One week after the expedition departed from Mondstadt, Diluc found himself walking around the city and lamenting the state of things. Jean was running a tight ship—as much as she could with what was left, anyway—and his time in Nefer’s intelligence network definitely taught him where to spot holes.
There were obvious gaps in the city’s security. He made mental notes each time he came across something that might grow into more troublesome. He really didn’t want to intervene…but Mondstadt was his home, and he would do anything to keep it safe.
It was also during this time that he began to see the bard in green appear more frequently around town, busking at the fountain or Statue of Barbatos. Gossip spread about the mysterious bard like wildfire as things naturally tended to in Mondstadt. The Thousand Winds always fed information to Lord Barbatos, and it was often said that secrets should not be whispered into the open air, lest it reach every corner of the city within the hour.
That definitely appeared to be the case here.
Everyone sang of the bard’s praises—how he had a voice blessed by Lord Barbatos themselves and encompassed the spirit of Freedom wherever he went. He took anything as payment. Mora was accepted of course, but a meal, flower, or anything would do.
It became apparent during Diluc’s surveillance walks that the bard did not have any place to call home. He would roost in trees or in the hands of the statue (something the nuns of the church tried repeatedly to get him to stop doing, but he was quite the stubborn thing), and the murmurings of the people said that he had rejected every offer into their homes. Mondstadters were known for taking in ‘strays’ and sheltering those in need without any sort of payment—that’s just the kind of people they were—but the bard had refused every time.
He was certainly a strange fellow. Diluc would admit that much, but from what he could gather, the bard greatly valued the freedom in choosing wherever he wanted to lay his head down for the night.
Diluc could respect that. That was what it meant to be a part of the nation of Freedom, after all.
Everyone could choose their own way of life.
It was an unspoken custom in Mondstadt to help take care of each other—one that had been around even before Lord Barbatos ascended to archonhood.
Diluc had always had a habit of leaving extra food and water in the wagons outside Angel’s Share and Dawn Winery. He always took careful inventory of what he (or his staff) put out each day and what was left over afterwards.
After witnessing the bard’s penchant for apples from afar, Diluc began to add the fruit daily to the wagons.
“A glass of dandelion wine please, fine bartender,” a youthful voice he didn’t recognize immediately said.
Diluc turned, not all that surprised to see the new bard that had taken all of Mondstadt by storm in his midst. Despite all of the chatter surrounding him, Diluc had yet to speak with him again after the day of Varka’s announcement. And yet, he knew the bard’s name all too well. His name was on everyone’s lips with the highest praises from patrons and citizens alike: Venti.
The bard was elusive like the wind in many regards. He wore a jovial smile whenever Diluc saw him from afar, the apples of his cheeks rounded and dusted red, and his teal-tipped braids only adding to his youthful appearance yet disappearing behind alleyways whenever he spotted that telltale cape fluttering behind him.
Diluc raised a crimson eyebrow. “Aren’t you a little young to be drinking, bard?”
“Pfft, not at all! I’m older than you!”
Diluc very seriously doubted that. “Uhuh, how old are you?”
“It’s rude to ask a bard to ask his age, you know,” he quipped, playfully shaking his head. “If you must know, I’m twenty-six hun—” he cut himself off with a quick cough. “Sorry, I’m 26.”
Diluc’s gaze narrowed. “I doubt that. Show me your ID card.”
The bard tilted his head. “My what?”
“Your ID card? You know, the one that is issued to all citizens of Mondstadt?”
“Oh!” The bard exclaimed, but didn’t look any more certain about what Diluc was talking about. “I lost it.”
“Then no alcohol for you unless you can prove your age.” Diluc huffed, polishing off a glass and hanging it on a nearby rack.
“Please~” The bard was giving him puppy dog eyes, lips quivering and hands clasped pleadingly. “I haven’t had a drink of dandelion wine in so long, I feel myself withering away in the breeze….”
Diluc sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Save the embellishments and acting for your performance, bard. I refuse to lose my license serving a minor.”
Venti looked at him gobsmacked. “Wait, what’s the drinking age?”
Diluc was taken aback, perplexed by the odd question. “The same as all of Mondstadt…eighteentheir brief interaction”
“What?!” The bard shouted. “Since when?”
“Since shortly after the Cataclysm and most of the harvests were destroyed? Aren’t you supposed to be a Mondstadtan bard? How do you not know this?”
“I…” the bard looked away, eyes distant. “I’ve been away for a long time. A lot has changed.”
What the hell does that mean? Diluc thought to himself. “Anyway, I can’t serve you alcohol without verifying your age. It’s not only policy, it’s also the law.” The man said, somehow eager to pluck the musician from his seemingly dark thoughts. “We do have plenty of non-alcoholic drinks.”
“That’s okay,” he hopped down from the bar stool, waving over his shoulder. “Perhaps another day. The mood doesn’t strike me now.”
Diluc watched as the bard walked out calmly, the bell the only noise signifying his exit.
Something wasn’t quite right with Venti. How did he not know the legal drinking age in Mondstadt despite having proclaimed to have originated from here? Plus, Diluc had never seen the bard until a couple weeks ago.
Just who was Venti?
The bell jingled and a group of off-duty knights walked in. Diluc felt his eye twitch—Jean had been pulling overtime and sleeping in her office, and yet these fools already seemed to have pre-gamed before arriving at his establishment.
Great. Fantastic.
The distaste he had for the Knights of Favonius sat bitterly on his tongue as they rowdily scooted into a booth, beckoning him over.
Diluc filed the information about Venti away for later. He had a bar to run.
The winds of change were upon them.
The Ragnvindr was on the balcony of Angel’s Share taking a quick lunch break when the wind suddenly turned cold, a roar of a great beast echoing from overhead.
His heart jumped into his throat when he saw a dragon of all things above him.
The dragon seemed to be enraged about something, yet trepidation seemed to lace its movements. It did not directly attack Mondstadt itself, merely flying low enough to send terror through the people as flower garlands snapped and loose items soared skyward.
Had his father not told him the passed down stories of their clan, he may have mistaken it for an abyssal threat of some kind by the miasma surrounding it.
He knew from the legends that the dragon companion of the Anemo Archon possessed six magnificent teal wings that shone in the light of day like stained glass. They were an ancient being said to have been a friend of Lord Barbatos, having learned to love and protect humanity alongside their archon long ago.
This had to be that dragon by appearance and Anemo affinity alone. Given the purple miasma coagulating on the dragon’s neck and back, it was suffering from some sort of abyssal corruption.
Diluc had seen it a few times in Snezhnaya and Nod-Krai—the Wild Hunt being a notorious example. Only…there was no known cure for abyssal contamination other than a swift end by a vision wielder, and even that was not a permanent solution.
Diluc closed his eyes and hummed to himself. The dragon was flying away and disappeared above the cloud layer. It seemed like it hadn’t lost all of its mental faculties yet, which was a good thing.
…but it was still an ill omen, nonetheless.
Not long after the dragon nearly descended upon Mondstadt, several envoys from the Tsaritsa arrived in the city.
It took every ounce of Diluc’s restraint to keep himself civil. He had dealt with the Fatui more often than he could ever want to, and he knew they were here for the dragon. They had bought up every room in the Goth Grand Hotel, and their presence around Mondstadt added an extra layer of unease to the people.
He knew from experience wherever they were, trouble was never far behind.
It was one of the many things Diluc had learned during his time abroad. They took without remorse, burning every bridge if needed to satisfy their archon’s will.
Although he left the Church in the wake of his father’s murder, he found himself still believing in the Tenets of Freedom. He hadn’t been to all of the other nations, but hearing how strictly some archons ran their nations…he found himself thankful Lord Barbatos was a loving, peaceful archon. His relationship with his faith was still too complex for him to decipher…but after everything he bore witness to, he could feel a spark catch the kindling once more. He would always remain devoted to his home and archon.
The most devious, cunning, and ruthless of them all was by far the Tsaritsa. And her Fatui were just as bad as her.
The fact they were here only worsened the already precarious situation. He had been going out more often at night for surveillance, but so far he hadn’t needed to get involved.
It was only a matter of time.
…perhaps he should speak to Jean about this.
But not yet, he needed more information first. And…he didn’t want to burden her more unnecessarily until he knew their true motivations.
Between Stormterror (the name the people had given to the dragon), surge in abyssal enemies, the Fatui…things were beginning to spiral.
Jean was doing everything she could as Acting Grandmaster, but unfortunately her hands were tied in many ways diplomatically.
Diluc’s weren’t.
In the dead of night, he returned to Dawn Winery. He pulled out a trunk that he had asked Adelinde to keep somewhere the rest of the staff wouldn't find it.
He donned the apparel he swore to never wear again. He had only kept it to survive as a reminder of what he had done while he was abroad—of the dangers of letting his anger and grief consume him.
Diluc shook his head.
He had a city to protect.
Diluc began to hunt down threats in the dead of night. Monsters, most nights, but there were times where he instilled fear into some of the lower ranking Fatui members.
Some habits die hard.
One night, when he was rounding the corner back to Angel’s Share, he caught a glimpse of a green cape.
There was only one person in Mondstadt that wore a cape like that. He followed from a distance, but when he rounded the corner, Venti was gone.
It seemed Venti's elusive streak continued.
About a week later, after completing his activities, he spotted the bard on the rooftop, those strange eyes of his seeming to glow in the moonlight.
“Ah, Mondstadt’s resident nighttime hero in the flesh.” Venti chirped, a too-knowing smile on his lips. “The people and winds have begun to speak about you, you know.”
If there was one thing Diluc lamented about his homeland, it was how difficult it was to keep a secret with the literal wind watching your every move.
But he chose not to answer Venti, who descended from the rooftop in a swirl of Anemo. The bard regarded him quietly, looking him up and down. He looked lost in thought for a moment, as if recalling something from the distant past, before he gave a giggle and took a step in the air, the wind holding him aloft.
“I understand the importance of secrecy and discretion.” Was all the bard said, his feet softly tapping against the ground once more. Venti turned away, a hand raised in farewell as he disappeared behind a building.
“Mondstadt’s in good hands with you here, Diluc Ragnvindr.” The wind carried Venti’s voice to his ears and his alone. How Diluc knew that, he wasn’t entirely sure, but something within him knew with the utmost certainty.
Diluc felt a shiver down his spine.
This bard…he wasn’t normal. He claimed to be from Mondstadt, yet Diluc had never seen him until a few months ago. He also lied about his age—while not a great offense and something many others had tried before—it only furthered his suspicion.
And now, there was the proficiency of how well the bard wielded his Vision. For someone so young, he was incredibly adept.
Sure, prodigies existed, but something itched in Diluc that there was more to the puzzle here. His instincts told him so, and it was because of those honed instincts that he was still alive.
He had to figure out more about the mysterious bard—Venti. Something wasn’t normal about him. He didn’t seem to be an enemy to Mondstadt, but he had to know for sure.
Diluc was on horseback when he caught sight of the dragon landing near Wolvendom. He approached slowly and cautiously, keeping his claymore sheathed in a desperate bid that the creature would be open to reason.
Only when the foliage cleared, he found the bard perched on a rock a few feet away from the dragon, serenading the great beast with a song. After he finished playing, he could tell Venti was saying something to the dragon—what exactly the wind refused to carry to his ears, so he merely watched the scene unfold.
Anemo magic began to seep from the bard. Initially the dragon seemed receptive to it, but then a look of pain washed over its face and it backed away with a mighty roar before taking to the skies.
The bard’s posture slumped, watching in dejection as the dragon flew away in the direction of the ruins of Old Mondstadt.
Diluc’s eyes widened when the bard disappeared in a flash of teal light.
What…just happened?
He had never seen a vision wielder perform such a feat. What exactly was this bard?
The Ragnvindr sighed, tapping his horse on either side with his feet to encourage her in the direction of Dawn Winery.
He needed to get in touch with Nefer.
The letter he penned to the head of the Northern Intelligent Network had four simple questions.
- Why are the Fatui stationed in Mondstadt?
- What do you know of the Anemo Archon’s dragon companion?
- Has a method of abyssal purification been discovered?
- What do you know of Venti the Bard?
Of course, he provided her with additional information about the goings on of Mondstadt and a bit of…financial contribution. Information had a price, and the woman always preferred knowledge as currency over Mora itself, but it could always be used to sweeten the deal.
People could be bought with money, but information…could be leveraged and wielded in unexpected ways.
He whistled and summoned the owl he had tamed during his time in the north, opting for her instead of his usual messenger falcon. She was better at flying undercover in the dead of night, plus, she was intimately familiar with the route from Mondstadt to Nod-Krai by now.
Diluc took the wax into his hand and summoned a spark of Pyro, sealing the envelope closed with a stamp bearing his code symbol.
“Quickly now,” he whispered to the owl, patting her on the head. “May your journey be swift.”
A few days later, Stormterror descended upon Mondstadt once more, this time bringing tornadoes and destruction in its wake.
It was only because of the intervention of a golden-haired outlander that seemingly possessed the blessing of Barbatos that he was able to drive away the dragon.
There was no information Diluc could find about the outlander other than Amber stumbling upon him in the forest outside Mondstadt. He wasn’t even familiar with what a wind glider was, if the outrider’s beginner demonstration in the plaza was anything to go by.
How strange. For this outlander to not have even heard of a wind glider…just how far away did he hail?
When Diluc slinked back into the alleyways, he caught sight of the bard once more upon a nearby rooftop, a melancholy expression on his face and faithful lyre missing.
“Mora for your thoughts, bard?” He found himself asking. He still hadn’t heard back from Nefer yet, but there was something off about the bard, he could feel it.
Venti blinked, shaking off the remnants of his stupor. “Ah, Master Diluc! Taking a stroll on this fine day?”
Diluc raised a crimson eyebrow. “I wouldn’t necessarily call today a ‘fine day’ by any means, given the dragon just uprooted most of the decorations in the city.” Venti winced slightly, enough that most wouldn’t notice, but Diluc prided himself in his perceptiveness. “And I don’t think anyone would be so bold as to sit on a rooftop right about now.”
The bard gave a nervous laugh, hand going to the back of his head in an embarrassed gesture. “Ah, touché.”
And yet the bard made no move to vacant his perch. Usually when he saw Venti, he always had a bright smile on his face, but it looked as though the bard had stepped in something foul by the way his nose was scrunched up.
“You still didn’t answer my question.” Diluc reiterated, crossing his arm. “You okay? You don’t seem like yourself.”
There it was. A ghost of a smile on those lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine, Master Diluc, thank you for worrying about me. I suppose I’m merely troubled by the sudden storm over Mondstadt.”
Diluc found himself nodding. It was a valid enough reason, but something still didn’t seem entirely right.
His crimson eyes followed the bard’s gaze. Venti was watching the Acting Grandmaster, Kaeya, Amber and the outlander speak in the main plaza, no doubt about the latter’s actions against the dragon. He watched the bard titled his head from side to side, as if trying to hear their words upon the wind.
Perhaps he was. He was an Anemo vision wielder, after all. The winds of Mondstadt would surely let the bard listen in given his reputation to cause a little mischief.
“If you say so,” Diluc ultimately said, and upon remembering that Venti had no exact building to call his own, offered: “And if you need a safe place to duck out of the outdoors, Angel’s Share is almost always open.”
Venti’s too-bright eyes landed on him again, and he couldn’t help but feel his breath hitch. “Thank you, Master Diluc. I’ll be sure to keep your kind offer in mind.”
Diluc nodded, turning back toward Angel’s Share.
He felt a gossamer brush of wind against him, like a parent placing a kiss upon their child’s forehead.
For a moment, he felt entirely at peace. There was no Stormterror, no city to protect. Just a man basking in the sunshine peeking through the clouds and the scent of lingering petrichor upon the wind.
Diluc took a deep breath, invigorated, and returned to Angel’s Share.
Diluc was reviewing the weekly finances with Charles when the door to the tavern burst open suddenly. Thankfully, the only two patrons were two sheets to the wind, so the sudden noise hardly phased them.
For the tavern owner, however, his focus was solely on the newcomers.
He wasn’t terribly surprised to find the bard and outlander to be the culprits. They had been skulking around the city for days after the blond had met with Jean, seemingly trying to figure out a way to deal with the dragon problem on their own independent of the Knights of Favonius.
He knew Jean could easily put a stop to them if she truly felt there was a need…but after hearing rumors of her most recent meeting with the Fatui, he couldn’t say he was surprised with the Acting Grandmaster’s approach.
The Fatui’s so-called ‘plan’ to deal with Stormterror was slaughter, which was the only way they knew how to deal with things.
Diluc wasn’t surprised to see the bard taking matters into his own hands. He had seen Venti and Stormterror in the forest alone together…so it made sense that the bard had a personal investment.
But why, though? Why stick his neck out for the dragon terrorizing Mondstadt? Was the bard familiar with the dragon’s true identity as the Anemo Archon’s companion? Or did he have a more selfish goal in mind?
Every day his suspicions surrounding the bard mounted, and now with their new traveling companion (or companions, he should say, given the small floating girl trailing the outlander) that only doubled.
“Hi!” Venti chirped, strolling right up to the counter like Diluc wasn’t in the middle of a conversation. “We’d like a seat at your, uh…least conspicuous table.”
Oh, these two were definitely up to something the knights didn’t approve of. He liked that.
But that didn’t mean he didn’t have to play the part of confused barkeeper. “But aren’t you a bard? Why not sit front and center?”
The outlander and flying fairy looked uncomfortable, but Venti merely waved him off. “Hahaha, let’s save the paid performance for another time. I’m off today spending time with a friend and don’t want to be pestered!” The bard gave him a pointed glare, one that pleaded for him to help cover whatever he was up to. “We’ll be heading up now. See you in a bit!”
Diluc watched as the bard and his companions ran upstairs out of sight of the entryway, but not enough to escape his view. “Hey, keep an eye on them, Charles. There’s something strange about them.”
His faithful employee nodded. “You got it.”
His suspicions were confirmed after he sent the knights on a wild goose chase.
Though…why could they be after the Holy Lyre of all things? Was the bard hoping that playing a tune on a holy relic would be all that was needed to break the corruption? Or were they perhaps looking to awaken Barbatos from his slumber to deal with the threat themself?
Either option warranted him getting involved. He didn’t like to be directly involved in an operation like this, but at the rate the bard was going, all of Mondstadt would be in a crisis if he continued to pour fuel on the flames with his antics.
After speaking with Venti and his companions (the Traveler and Paimon), he learned that the Fatui had thwarted their plan to whisk away the Holy Lyre to save the dragon, and now the knights were hot on their trail.
“The Knights of Favonius are inefficient right from beginning to end, especially now with the Grandmaster and so many of them away on the expedition.” The Ragnvindr sighed. “And the Fatui are a whole other mess that you best stay away from.”
Venti titled his head. “Seems you don’t like the Knights of Favonius very much.”
“We have a difference in approach and how to get things done,” Diluc grunted. “That’s all. I have my own hopes for this city, and while the knights are heading back in the right direction with Varka and Jean at the helm, there’s still a long way to go. Now, answers. Why did you try to steal the Holy Lyre?”
“Are you sure you want to know?” The bard asked with a teasing lilt. “It could implicate you in the affairs of the Knights of Favonius.”
“That’s fine. I somehow always end up implicated in their affairs.”
Venti hummed. “If I tell you the story with a performance, will you believe me?”
“That depends,” Diluc said flatly, crossing his arms.
“Very well,” the bard smiled, manifesting a lyre in a swirl of Anemo. “Allow me to put on a show.”
As the bard played, Diluc was assuaged with visions of the dragon from a battle long ago valiantly protecting Mondstadt with every ounce of his being, only to succumb to abyssal poison after the fight. It burned within the dragon for centuries, chipping away at their will until rage boiled consumed them.
“What…” Diluc began, unsure how to describe the sheer magical quality of Venti’s playing. Just how had the bard done that? “Did I just witness? This is confidential information. Why did you let me know?”
“Why?” Venti parroted, allowing the lyre to disperse. “Hmm, perhaps the winds are changing. What say you, Master Diluc?”
He regarded the bard and his companions, sensing no ill will from any of them. Rather, they seemed to paint the very picture of concerned citizens trying to help someone in need.
Or, rather, a dragon in need.
“Give me some time,” he said, picking up a tankard in need of polishing. “I’ll organize some contacts. Traveler, as one of the Knights—even an honorary one—it seems you're not a suspect. Blond is the only description on the wanted poster. You should be safe.”
The Traveler nodded his head.
“As for the bard, however…” he trailed off, knowing that Venti would likely capitalize on this opportunity. “It'd be better if you stayed in the tavern. Not many bards of Mondstadt fit your description.
Venti’s cheshire grin proved Diluc’s gut feeling right. “Haha. No problem! I like taverns.”
He could already feel a headache brewing.
Later that night, his owl tapped on the glass of his private room at Angel’s Share. He opened the window and brought her inside, offering a fresh meal in thanks as he took the letter from the carrying tube.
Owl,
It sounds like things are getting interesting in Mondstadt. As always, your information has proven valuable, and your generous donation to the Curatorium’s efforts keeps the information flowing.
Why are the Fatui stationed in Mondstadt?
They seem to be after the Anemo Archon’s power. They appear to be mobilizing in every nation in search of the ‘gnosis’, an object bestowed to each archon by Celestia after winning the Archon War. This information, as I’m sure you’re aware, is highly classified.
Given Barbatos’ reputation as a fairly…docile and freedom-loving god, this has likely made the Anemo Archon their first target. The Eighth of the Fatui Harbingers, La Signora or ‘The Fair Lady’, has been assigned along with a sizable entourage to Mondstadt.
What do you know of the Anemo Archon’s dragon companion?
The dragon was last spotted during the Cataclysm in an aerial fight alongside Barbatos against a creature from the Abyss. Records of this event seemed to come exclusively from outside Mondstadt, but the sources appear to be valid. Beyond it being one of the Four Winds, much text has not survived.
Has a method of abyssal purification been discovered?
No. To date the only tried and true method is sealing by an archon, but even that is not permanent. I need not remind you of the lingering taint in Nod-Krai and other nations from corrupted gods and the abyss.
What do you know of Venti the Bard?
Now this proved to be quite interesting. No birth record, or any record of that matter, could be found. And yet, there appears to be records of a green-clad bard by that name all the way back to the age of Mondstadt’s aristocracy. Then, his name pops up shortly before the Cataclysm and a few other notable times throughout the Nation of Freedom’s history. I’d say that it is more than coincidental, given how many long-lived species live under the noses of mortal folk without anyone none the wiser.
As a token of my gratitude for your continued contributions, I shall provide a personal insight on this matter.
The description of this bard paints quite the picture of an undercover archon, don’t you think? I’m well aware of Mondstadt’s infamous reputation regarding its absentee archon, but those of other nations are well aware just how different they are–even Natlan’s. Naturally, archons do not need visions to wield their respective element and are incredibly proficient with it, and often often made of said element themselves in some capacity.
It is not uncommon to witness an archon’s eyes and hair glow when they use their abilities. Why this occurs no one knows, but the fact you mentioned the teal in the bard’s hair is a rather interesting addition on your end. You typically do not add such a needless detail, but I suspect it stuck out to you for some reason.
That, and Barbatos has adopted the guise of a bard many times before. Take it as you will.
The Network is abuzz with all the recent activity in Mondstadt. People have their feelers out and are in search of opportunity, and not all with good intentions. Be sure to send word if anything interesting unfolds and I’ll add it to your credits. You know what piques my interest.
- Nefer
Diluc reread the letter once. Twice. He took a shaky inhale, burning the letter in what was second nature to him now.
Could Venti…? No, no, the bard may sport the braids of the Anemo Archon and have many unique skills up his sleeves, but there’s no way….
But the way Venti's eyes shone in the moonlight…. No, he had a vision! Why would he have a vision if he were an archon?
Nefer’s comment about Venti potentially being an undercover Barbatos…could it really be?
Diluc needed to get Jean involved. Now.
He penned a quick letter to the Acting Grandmaster. The redhead didn’t include anything that revealed his involvement with the dragon, Venti, or Nefer’s letter—only that he needed to speak with her. Urgently.
He whistled a different tune, his messenger falcon appearing a few moments later. With shaky hands, he strapped the letter, speaking Jean’s name before collapsing back into his chair.
Just what had he gotten himself into?