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Believe it or not, Lohen hadn’t started out with a burning desire to poison his Grand Master.
Really, it was Varka who escalated the situation.
It had started as a little prank; a slip of sedative into Varka’s tankard. It would knock the great Boreas Knight out for a few hours, Lohen would have a good laugh, and then he’d move on to his next ploy.
What he didn’t expect was for Varka to just tank the poison, meeting Lohen’s gaze over the rim as he downed the drink, the gall of the man.
He didn’t know if he felt more offended or inspired.
After pondering it over, he decided to go with inspired and thus, the Medicate Varka Project began.
**
On seeing Varka completely unfazed on drinking the full dose of poison, Lohen understands his mistake—he dosed for a human. He went straight for the upper limit of that range, of course, but clearly that wasn’t sufficient.
Hmm. What dosing should he be using then? Horse? Elephant…?
Having learned his lesson, Lohen titrates up the potency the next time he adds a dash of “flavor” to Varka’s mug.
Sitting properly at the office table, Lohen’s pen moves diligently over the page, watching Varka from the periphery of his vision.
In the middle of slaving over paperwork, Varka absently picks up his mug and takes a sip. His brow promptly furrows, shooting Lohen a sharp look before pointedly setting the mug down.
“Is something the matter?” Lohen asks, feigning mild interest.
Snorting, Varka slides the mug across the table, the liquid slopping dangerously close to the rim as it skids to a stop in front of Lohen. “Why don’t you give that a try and let me know?”
Drawing the cup to him, Lohen scrutinizes the liquid. How did Varka notice? He was careful in picking the “medicine” of the day to match the dandelion soda Varka drinks during work hours. There shouldn’t be any visible sign or off taste. Lifting the mug, Lohen takes a mouthful, swallowing slowly. He has good tolerance from playing with poisons frequently, so this much won’t do anything to him. As he thought, it tastes like regular dandelion soda.
He looks up to see Varka staring at him, gobsmacked.
Tsk. He doesn’t know why but Varka seems certain there’s poison in the cup.
“Tastes good.” Lohen shrugs, pushing the soda back over.
“You can have it then,” Varka says dryly, not taking the mug.
“How could a mere Vice Captain like me deprive our Grand Master of his refreshment?” Lohen demurs. Knowing he has already been caught, he lays it on thick. He isn’t expecting the soft laugh that gets from Varka.
Shaking his head, Varka turns back to his work and… that’s it. No reprimand, no cease & desist. It’s practically permission.
Huh. Maybe Varka is as crazy as the rest of them. He even asks Lohen if he wants anything when he gets up to replace his tankard.
And the Favonius call this guy a wolf? He’s more like an overgrown dog.
After empirical testing, Lohen determines that that instance wasn’t a fluke; Varka can judge the level of poison in his cup. If it’s mild enough, he’ll just drink it. At horse dose, he’ll stop at a sip. The elephant dose cup paused before it reached his lips. Varka’s nose twitched, and then he put the cup down. That time, Varka actually gave Lohen a stern warning.
Did Varka literally sniff it out? What is he, an animal?
And that bit of sternness. Mm. Delicious.
They go on like that for a while, Lohen steadily helping his Grand Master build his “medication” tolerance, occasionally crossing the line just to see what the man will do.
He shouldn’t—there aren’t that many jobs that let you stab things on the daily—but it’s like an irresistible itch under his skin, to push and push. Once in a blue moon, Varka will put his foot down, authoritative, absolute, and that’s another kind of thrill entirely.
**
An abyssal anomaly occurs in the hills. Albedo explains the occurrence but truthfully, Lohen isn’t listening that closely. The point is that the monsters in the highlands are running amok—abyssal creatures, hillichurls, ruin machines, everything really.
It’s the most fun Lohen has had in ages.
The knights make camp at the base of the hills. At first light, Lohen gives his instructions to his company and roams ahead, a one man vanguard. He’s having the time of his life, going wild for three days straight, only returning to have a bite and crash for a few hours before going out again.
A few people express concern, Miss Barbara and Acting Grand Master Jean amongst the handful, but it’s just that they don’t know him.
…Not that Varka would know better than him either. Besides, the old man isn’t here, off with a smaller team investigating the culprit.
And Lohen feels fine. He feels fantastic. His muscles burn, his wounds sting, and he’s never felt more alive.
Returning to base on the fourth day, he finds that Varka has taken Jean’s place in leading the operation.
“Grand Master?” Lohen squeezes his eyes shut for a brief second and reopens them to make sure he isn’t hallucinating. (Pushing yourself to the absolute limit does funny things to the perception.)
Nope. Still the wrong blonde.
“What are you here for?”
“Lohen. We got new intel so there’s been a change of plans. You just missed the debrief.” Varka waves him over. “Come on Vice Captain, I’ll catch you up.”
Sighing in annoyance, Lohen follows Varka into the command tent. He throws himself into one of the chairs, eyeing the map of Mondstadt on the table. A few of the flags have moved from this morning.
“We found the source of the abyssal energy—” Varka starts.
Partway through the debrief, Varka gets up to pour himself a drink from the sideboard. “You want some?” He tilts the glass bottles. “Looks like we’ve got water and apple cider here.”
“I’ll have a cider,” Lohen says, suddenly feeling parched.
Varka returns with two tankards, setting one down in front of Lohen. “Here ‘ya go.”
Grabbing it, Lohen takes a few large gulps. Lukewarm, but the tartly sweet fizz still hits the spot after a day of exertion.
Doesn’t do anything for his concentration though. It’s hard to focus on what Varka is saying.
Lohen is halfway through the tankard before he realizes. His vision is blurring, his thoughts muzzy as if his head is stuffed full of cotton wool. To be fair, he hadn’t noticed until this moment because, well, that’s maybe been a little bit his norm, off and on, these last two days. “Grand Master,” Lohen interrupts, mouth pulling into a manic grin, “did you drug my drink?” He’s so delighted that he takes another mouthful, savoring it.
Varka’s expression—slightly blurry—is an odd mix of disbelieving exasperation and terrible fondness. “If I knew you’d like it so much, I would’ve done it sooner,” he says, shaking his head at him.
Hah… maybe there is some wolf in the old man after all. “You didn’t make up that entire ‘change of plan’ did you?” Lohen’s brain isn’t moving right, but that wouldn’t make sense.
“You’re not that special kid,” Varka says wryly. There is an unfairly attractive smirk curling his mouth, jaw leaned on his palm as he watches Lohen blink stupidly at him. “Kaeya’s going to take command of your company while you’re out. You can rejoin us in a day or so. Now be a good boy and finish your cider.”
“I should reward you for your bad behavior,” Lohen agrees, nodding his heavy head, and nearly tips forward. He manages to steady himself at the last moment, head lolling the other way.
“Barbatos have mercy,” Varka mutters, withdrawing his hand. “There’s something really wrong with this conversation.”
What’s Varka going on about? Ugh. He’d better not end up sleeping here. Struggling to keep his eyes open, Lohen slurs out, “If I get a crick in my neck, I’m not letting you drug me again.”
Varka’s expression does something funny. “Please stop talking.”
“Hrmngh.” Mouth no longer functioning correctly, Lohen manages a sarcastic-sloppy salute before his head thunks onto the table.