Chapter Text
The story of how Mondstadt almost went into war with Liyue begins with sweet old Sister Melissa battling insomnia on a spring night.
As any other fervent devotee, Sister Melissa trusted that sending a prayer to ever-magnanimous Lord Barbatos would soothe her idleness of mind as well as weariness of soul. Hence, she ventured into the moonlit cathedral, place of cold stone and warm candlelight, with the intention to kneel before the altar in search of a lullaby.
What she found instead of the silent communion between stars and stained glass ripped a scream out of her chest. A cry for help so sonorous, so intensely frightened, that all the knights in the square bolted awake from their restful dazes and climbed the stairs two steps at a time. Birgit, the first one to reach the top, witnessed Sister Melissa fleeing the cathedral and thought her a tormented spectre, with her face pale as a ghost and a grimace contorting her features into those of a shrieking banshee.
Soothing her terror took four knights and an almost impromptu trip down the stairs. However, once the reason behind her horror was revealed, Birgit herself rang the warning bells in the Favonious Headquarters, calling for everyone to reunite.
“Sacrilege!” Is the first explanation Sister Melissa shouted when asked to retell the happenings, crossing herself profusely. “Depravity beyond belief!” Was her first full sentence. “Oh Barbatos! Our pious, virtuous Archon. Desecrated! Profaned! Oh… Our poor Lord…” Were her last words before fainting.
Thus, it was the knights who came to her rescue who elaborated in her stead and, promptly, the entirety of the Ordo mobilised to fight their toughest battle yet, to their Grand Master’s chagrin. Because the sight that the nun had described while breathless and nearly manic, was that of the Geo Archon looming over the Wind God thrown over his own altar, wings chained to the white stone by his ferocious claws while the Qilin’s open maw descended upon his throat and his body forced its way between Barbato’s legs, helpless to resist the violation to his sanctity captive as he was under the beast’s strength.
“Our poor Lord Barbatos.” Was how most conversations started after the news spread throughout the city. “Our Lord isn’t a warrior, he is a peacemaker. To be taken advantage of by that brute Geo Archon… It makes me sick!” That was the general sentiment in the population, alongside the most reactionary declaration of vengeance: “We have to make him pay!” that was oh so applauded in the taverns.
After all, the revelation of the purchase agreement between Rex Lapis and the Lawrence Clan that sparked the revolution was still fresh in their minds. The majority of the nation had become suspicious and even hostile towards the neighbour deity; in spite of it, no one dared to tell the God of Contracts that he couldn’t practise his domain. Everyone agreed it would be akin to imprisoning their beloved God of Freedom, an act sacrilegious enough to warrant the fury of the Celestial dome.
Nevertheless, not even the most placid Mondstater would remain silent in front of the offence Morax had dared to conduct on holy ground.
“No wonder Lord Barbatos hides for so long, the one time he appears to help ends with him being abused in his own home! That degenerate must have been giving chase for centuries, waiting for the opportunity to lay his hands on our God.” The locals theorised between sips of their beers and swings of their swords, hatred festering with each new speculation behind the absence of the Anemo Archon and the wicked interest Rex Lapis seemed to possess for their nation.
“This must be retribution for annulling the contract with the Lawrences.” Considered one member of the Gunnildhr Clan at one of their reunions to plan the offensive against Liyue. “We knew our actions wouldn’t go unpunished, but targeting our Archon… That is one level of vileness I didn’t think I would witness.”
“I believe we have the wrong idea here,” proposed a knight from the Ragnvindr Clan. “What if the attempt to purchase citizens as slaves was just a strategy to force Lord Barbatos out of his hiding? He could have been his real goal all along.”
The discussions about Rex Lapis’ motivations continued even during the vigils convoked to pray for Barbatos’ recovery and wish that he managed to escape after Sister Melissa stunned Morax with her apparition in the cathedral. It was all they hoped for, since the sacred building was devoid of any deity when the knights inspected it following the nun’s claims, a few fallen white feathers and claw marks proof enough of the heresy that transpired between holy walls.
“We should have been there!” Lamented the guards, falling to their knees in the middle of Mass.
“I knew that damned Morax was bad news.” Muttered the Captain of the First Company as he wrote a formal proposal to expeditiously cease any and all relationships with Liyue.
“It should have been meeeee.” Protested a drunk young lady after one too many wine glasses.
“Which one?” Asked her friend, equally as inebriated and lacking judgement.
“Both.”
Those were some among many of the comments registered and delivered to Grand Master Vennessa in written reports that gradually covered the entirety of her desk until there was no place to set her tea but her own hands. Hence, she stood in front of her office’s picture window, sipping meticulously to the background noise of a city readying for war against wealth personified, a being capable of invoking lances the size of mountains and slashing the earth under their feet with a flick of his wrist. Liyuen historians gave him many titles: The God of Contracts and Commerce, The Lord of Geo, Prime of Adepti, The Warrior God, Rex Lapis…
Vennessa wondered how they would react if she proposed ‘Barbato’s Lover’ as an addition to the list.
“Everyone is waiting for me to issue an official declaration to the Liyue Qixing.” She told the bard currently occupying her chair. “Do you have any suggestions about how I should word such a letter?”
The bard stroked his lyre with an innocent expression but not so innocent fingers. “As long as you accompany it with a fancy gift, they will be willing to ignore any rudeness in your writing.”
“Speaking from experience, I suppose.”
“Ehe~”
With a sigh and a last sip of her tea, Vennessa left the cup on top of the bard’s hat. Perhaps it was naïve of her to think the position of Dandelion Knight would load her with bureaucratic burdens only; evidently, dealing with the political consequences of her Archon’s love affairs was also included among her duties to the nation.
“I don’t presume to know how the inner machinations of a divine mind work, nor will I try to.” She said to the air in her office as she walked towards the map exposed on the opposite wall. “Still, a mere mortal can’t help but question why the omnipresent Wind God, with the knowledge of every obscure nook and cranny in his land, far away from any prying eyes, would choose to instead hold a… meeting in a very public cathedral with open access to the clergy at all hours.”
The bard, performing quite the incredible balancing act, tilted his head to the side with a smile. “Maybe the Gods wanted to appreciate the architecture.”
“Going by the position Sister Melissa described, I'm sure Lord Barbatos had a great view of the ceiling.”
Her remark was met with the closest to a bashful chuckle the Grand Master would ever hear from her friend.
And whilst Vennessa stalled in her communications to the Qixing, the rest of Montstadt hurried in their mission to restore the cathedral’s sanctity. The marked slabs were replaced, the recovered feathers stored as ceremonial pieces and the altar in which the debauchery occurred demolished. It was unanimously agreed that it ought not to be built anew, lest the sight of it bring the Anemo Archon grief.
Each hour the bells rang and along with them a choir sang to reassure their beloved God that he would be avenged and his honour restored. That the church would forever remain a safe haven and would be awaiting his next visit once he has mourned the assault to his chastity. The bards brought the chants to the streets and the citizens joined them in dance, pleading for the wind to carry their words of comfort to the ears of their wounded Lord.
(Atop one of the windmills, a vagrant soul tried to understand what part of his divine performance made them believe he had any qualms about sexual acts. It couldn’t have been his wardrobe choices, could it?)
A breakthrough was achieved when, three weeks after the incident, Grand Master Vennessa held a multitudinous conference for all Mondstaters to attend and communicated that the culprits had been apprehended and the general panic needed to stop infiltrating every aspect of everyday life. That, of course, caused more questions than answers among those who attended, knights and civilians alike.
Grand Master Vennessa proceeded to inform them that she and some of her closest and most trusted officials had conducted an investigation on the matter, which led them to discover that the ‘scene’ encountered by Sister Melissa had been but a ruse by a pair of fiends who wanted to stir distrust between Liyue and Mondstadt for nefarious purposes.
At her words the people erupted with questioning whispers, scrutinising the hows and whys of such an operation. How could they believe, after almost a month of planning the Geo Archon’s demise, that he was free of all charges? Seeing confusion and scepticism in her audience, Vennessa commanded the two detainees to join her in the middle of the square and ordered them to show how they were capable of fooling the whole city.
It was then, in front of the eyes of every Mondstater in attendance, that the tightly tied men discarded their ordinary appearances to take on the godly image of the two deities whose names had been uttered in every conversation for the last weeks. The uproar was immediate and could have been heard all the way from Springvalle. How could it be possible? So they have been tricked? Their Archon was never in danger? Was Morax innocent? Question after question that received no answer until Vennessa asked for silence.
“It’s illusion magic.” She explained and everyone quieted to listen. “It’s a technique they learned from an ancient adeptal text they stole from an adeptus’ abode. The Millelith already has an arrest warrant issued for their capture and I will personally escort them to Stone Gate, where Liyue officers will take custody and punish them accordingly.”
The statement wasn’t met with outright approval, yet no one attempted to stop Vennessa from pushing the two impersonators into a carriage, nor did they get in the way when the Dawn Knight got in the coachman seat and pulled the reins. Most of them were too immersed in their own thoughts to even consider the idea of preventing the criminals from not rotting in one of the cells under the Favonius Headquarters. Still mesmerised by the miracle of mundane eyes burning amber and wings sprouting out of someone’s back, pure white and magnificently large. From the presents, not a single person held any knowledge about adeptus arts; they could neither confirm nor deny the truth of what just happened in front of them. “But”, the Muratans reminded them, “Vennessa would never lie to us.”
And so Mondstadt trusted the story, because it trusted its Dandelion Knight.
Said Dandelion Knight trusted only a few to know the truth, the Dawn Knight among them, and that allowed her to dispel the tension from her shoulders for the first time in a month and rest her weight on the carriage’s seat. Whatever it was they might talk during the trip to Stone Gate, whatever it was the man with the scarlet hair might hear, it wouldn’t reach any other ears.
Nor will anyone else know that, after shrugging off the rope around his arms, the first thing the Geo Archon did was smack Barbatos upside the head.
“Hey!” He complained, wings already dispelled and outfit looking like ‘Venti the bard’. “What was that for? Everything went as planned.”
“That was humiliating.” Said Morax, his tone as solemn as his clothes when the white robe melted into a sophisticated Liyuen suit with gold trimming and silver jewellery. Truly the personification of riches and gems, Vennessa felt a single glance at his uncovered wrists would mean a million mora receipt being presented to her.
It was a look so discordant from the youthful green bard at his side, carrying with him the cheerfulness of spring breezes. The Lord of Geo was surrounded by an atmosphere of quiet elegance and power that didn’t need to be exposed to be acknowledged, refined and noble and yet, completely different from the pompous brats from the Lawrence Clan. In a way it made sense for the God sharing space with her to be regal yet grounded; Vennessa couldn’t imagine Barbatos falling in love with someone like Barca Lawrence.
A shiver ran down her spine; better to not have that thought again.
“I apologise for the circumstances of our first meeting,” when Vennessa shook the nauseating image from her mind, she found Morax with a hand stretched towards her and an honest smile bringing light to his stone-carved face. “Barbatos has told me about your heroic feats, he holds you in high esteem."
“Of course I do!”
Vennessa accepted his hand with a smile of her own. The fingers that clasped around hers had the texture of marble and were just as cold. “I also wish we could have met in a tavern like normal people.”
“We are still on time!” Venti cheered, bright-eyed and buoyant as he grabbed Morax’s arm. “This old blockhead keeps a stack of dandelion wine in his floating office, we can drink a bottle or two before going back.”
‘Old blockhead’ repeated Vennessa to herself before storing the pet name next to the fact that the Geo Archon kept a personal stack of typical Mondstadt wine. She had some suspicions about their closeness when Venti forged the Geo Archon’s signature as if it were his own, as well as the compliant lack of reaction that followed from said Archon. Although her speculations positioned the pair of deities as ‘good friends’ rather than… whatever relationship she was witnessing at the moment.
“I am not rewarding your behaviour.” Morax frowned at him, his lips pressed into an expression halfway between a grimace and a scowl. “You swore you would notice if someone approached.”
“In my defence, I was being vigorously distracted.”
Morax turned towards Vennessa, his amber eyes carrying something she couldn’t believe was embarrassment. “I am deeply sorry.”
Vennessa did not need, nor want, to be exposed to any more details of what transpired between them that night.
The carriage went over a pothole in the road as she declared, sounding as sincere and as authoritative as felt appropriate in front of two Gods. Because she, too, was the ruler of a nation and was therefore in charge of maintaining its peace. “Give me your word it won’t happen again and we can sweep this under the carpet.”
Just as Morax was opening his mouth to agree, Venti let out a heartbroken sigh. “Forever is such a long time for us.” He lamented, resting his head on Morax’s shoulder, playing the part of the afflicted lover. To Vennessa’s surprise, his performance was rewarded with a caress to his cheek from dark fingers stripped with gold.
Then it was Vennessa’s turn to sigh. She didn’t want the antagonistic role in this romantic tale. “As long as it doesn’t happen again in my lifetime, I’m content.”
She might have been a ruler, but she was also Venti’s friend and the grin that split his face in half was worth a little trouble to the future Dandelion Knight. Vennessa had no doubt her successor would stand up to the task.
The story of how the rumour of Rex Lapis’ resurrection started, begins with sweet little Deaconess Barbara battling insomnia on a spring night.
(Jean is much less amused than Vennessa was once upon a time at the news. Varka spends half an hour doubled over in laughter.)