Chapter Text
When traveling for as long as one did, the Traveler developed a bit of a penchant for the circumvention – and direct disobedience – of certain laws.
Rules were made to be broken, after all.
(Wait, wrong franchise.)
The types of laws and order that dictated the various nations of Teyvat simply had to be bent from time to time, typically with good intentions. To the Traveler, the most important principles that guided their journey were companionship, loyalty, and the exploration of new worlds.
Which was why, when the Traveler and Paimon stopped by Mondstadt and were asked for a rare favour from an unlikely requestor, they decided to oblige almost immediately.
“Thanks for letting me come with you,” Diluc sighed, finally pouring out the beverage that he’d been shaking for the last two minutes. Two crystalline glasses filled with turquoise liquid reminiscent of the essence of Cider Lake, a taste of home when far away.
“Well, I doubt there’ll be any major issues,” the Traveler responded, waving their hand dismissively, sliding the second full glass over to the pixie at the further end of the bar. Paimon caught the glass with ease, eyes sparkling with delight at the sight of such an expertly-mixed concoction.
Just as Diluc was about to say something in reply, the first major issue arose.
It was bound to happen; they were aboard a massive train that had drawn into Central Station a few minutes ago, surrounded by ornate warmth and the towering hall shielding the trains and waiting passengers from the biting cold beyond the towering tunnels. The Traveler was aware that inspections of certain trains were necessary and legal, and Diluc knew the same.
So perhaps they should’ve had the decency to look less surprised when the door on the far end of the compartment swung open and a Fatui soldier strolled inside. “Good afternoon, just a routine train inspe–”
The Fatuus froze in the doorway, as did everyone else on that train.
It was no great secret that, unofficially, the great Diluc Ragnvindir, head of the Ragnvindir clan and master of the Dawn Winery, was banned from Snezhnaya. Banning him outright was difficult to do, given that he was a merchant and the sweet taste of Dandelion wine had reached even Snezhnaya at this stage, not to mention the various other legal and diplomatic loopholes that came with such a job. And this wasn’t even brushing on the sheer inefficiency of Snzehnograd Veche, which took about five business years to process any matter unrelated to Project Stuzha.
That being said, the Fatui had succeeded in serving one title upon him – an unwelcome person.
Nobody knew exactly what that meant. Well, he could read between the lines – it meant that if he so much as set foot in Snezhnaya, it was on-sight. Every single member of the Fatui had the right to kill him, and there would be no due process or protection for the likes of him. It was the best they could come up with short of specifically and legally banning him from the nation.
For several years, this had worked.
Until today, when the Fatui agent was still standing in the doorway, aghast with shock and rigid with tension.
Finally, the agent spoke, slowly. “Is that…?”
“Hello there,” the Traveler finally spoke up from their temporary trance, waving awkwardly for emphasis. Their eyes shot between Diluc, Paimon, and the obviously stupefied agent. “This is… my bartender.”
The agent did not seem to take this news well. “Is he, now.”
“... Yes,” the Traveler continued, raising their glass at the agent before downing half of it in one go. “My bartender. For drinks. And beverages. And bartending.”
It was difficult to tell, given that many Fatui agents wore masks to cover their eyes, but the cover did little to prevent the complete and utter disbelief shown on the face of the agent who had made the mistake of walking in on this train compartment.
Diluc seemed to realise he needed to help support the Traveler’s story if he expected not to be thrown off the train in twenty seconds, so he set the metal shaker down onto the counter and raised his hand in a semi-awkward wave of his own. “Yes. I am… the bartender here.”
“T–The best of the best,” Paimon sputtered out nervously, the liquid in her glass sloshing violently as she raised it with a tremble.
The Fatui agent still looked a little torn as to the truth of the story they were spinning him, which could likely be blamed on the fact that they were doing a horrendous job selling it, which is why he next asked, “What’s your name?”
The Traveler took another long and pointed sip of their beverage.
It was Paimon’s turn to fumble. Her head spun this way and that, landing on a few bottles on the shelf behind Diluc as she shot him a pleading look. “His name is D–” She slapped a tiny hand over her mouth, eyes wide, before turning back to the agent. “Hennis… E.”
Diluc made a point to move his body to block the agent’s sight of the bottle of Hennessy standing behind him.
“D’Hennis E?” the agent repeated, incredulous. It seemed like he was a little offended that the three of them were insulting his intelligence so severely.
“Sorry, I had a mint stuck in my mouth,” Paimon quickly rattled off, setting her sparkly beverage down. “His name is Dennis… E. Dennis E.”
“His surname is the letter E?”
“W–Well,” Paimon scratched the back of her neck, her little mind seeming to work overtime to compensate for her continuous misstep, before she finally piped up with a new story. “He introduced himself as Dennis, but he’s been very mysterious about his surname. You– You know how bartenders are. Paimon feels like she’s told him everything about her life but doesn’t know a thing about him.”
“It’s a bartender’s job to listen to their clients,” Diluc added, nodding sagely as he wiped down the countertop before him, as he’d seen Charles do night after night at the Angel’s Share. Sure, Charles seemed to often bemoan that the clients he listened to had the types of stories that probably warranted building a new sanatorium, but maybe if he pinched his brow just right, he could sell that sage Charles-esque quality of listening despite his grievances.
It seemed the shock of the initial encounter was wearing off, as the agent straightened slightly at the doorway, chin raising as he eyed the train’s passengers warily. “I simply do not believe you.”
Well, they could’ve expected as much.
That being said, if they let go of this story now, it would likely land the three of them in deeper shit than if they simply doubled down. At least, this was the silent agreement the trio of the train reached, as in the blink of an eye, Diluc was prepared to lay his life down for the role of bartender.
“What’s your poison?”
“My what?” The agent sputtered, imaginary feathers ruffled.
Diluc pursed his lips, shooting the man a deadpan look. “Your preferred drink. Surely you have one.”
The agent hesitated, shifting on his feet, seeming to consider Diluc’s query for a beat. Then, he said, “That White Snezhnayan drink isn’t half-bad.”
Diluc nodded once, setting aside the used shaker to unearth a new glass, scooping it into the desk on the right to fill it with ice cubes. He worked expertly, almost leisurely, as he retrieved the bottle of fire-water and coffee liqueur where they stood next to one another on the shelf, before retrieving a jar of heavy cream and cherries from the little cool-box underneath the tray of ice cubes.
The entire time, the agent watched, in a silence that could be best described as ‘you couldn’t make this up even if you tried’, but he did not intervene in Diluc’s machinations.
First the fire-water and the coffee liqueur, more of the fire-water as always. Then topped off with the heavy cream, for which he used a long spoon to stir in so it would begin blending and clouding in with the liquid below, before he finally topped the beverage off with a dark and sweet-looking cherry.
After having expertly made the drink, he slid it across the counter to the far end, where it landed beside Paimon and closest to the agent. “Enjoy.”
The agent stared at the glass for some time, as though afraid it would spontaneously explode before his eyes, before he finally stepped forward, picked it up, and took a tentative sip from it.
It seemed the taste of it didn’t offend him, because he took a second sip shortly thereafter. The Traveler and Paimon surveyed him the entire time, nursing their own non-alcoholic beverages and trying their best not to look overly tense at their spots on the bar.
“Well, I never,” the Fatui agent finally sighed, halfway through his beverage. “That is a good drink.”
“I do my best,” Diluc shrugged, raising a brow at the man as he picked up the ingredients and began returning them to their respective spots.
“That being said, are you sure you’re not ban–”
“No I am not.” Diluc’s flat voice interrupted the man, his crimson eyes fixing the agent in place with an unimpressed glare. “Because I am a bartender.”
What reason would a bartender be banned from a nation, right?
It seemed that this exchange had broken the spirit of the agent somewhat, as his voice died out shortly thereafter. Or perhaps, they’d done such a good job of baffling and flustering the inspector that he simply didn’t know what he’d do with himself if he tried to intervene – whether he’d be believed by his colleagues, or even walk away unscathed from a direct confrontation such as this. As such, not an additional word was exchanged as the agent simply nodded dumbly, before stepping out of the compartment and off the train, taking the glass with his beverage with him as the door clicked shut once more.
Something akin to a silent sigh of relief passed over the carriage, Diluc’s shoulders losing their telltale tension and his hands inching away from where he’d wedged his claymore under the countertop. Paimon looked a little paler than before, whereas the Traveler’s shoulders were shaking with silent laughter.
“That could’ve gone worse,” Diluc finally said, though his expression remained flat. If one looked closer, however, they may have been able to see the hints of a smile fighting at the corners of his lips.
“It could’ve also gone better,” Paimon sighed in reply, before shooting her traveling companion a withering glare. “Why did you let Paimon pick a name?! Paimon panicked and almost said his name was Diluc!”
“I think Dennis E. suits him,” the Traveler giggled, covering their mouth and trying to hide the tears of laughter beading at the corner of their eyes. “We’re gonna have to move that Hennessy bottle, though.”
“Damn Fontainian liquors,” Diluc muttered, plucking the decanter off the shelf and unceremoniously setting it down in the bottom corner behind the bar.
Well, the upshot of the matter was that nobody would believe the inspector’s story as it was anyway, so they had a little more time before Diluc had to leave Snezhnaya.
“So,” the Traveler finally picked their glass up again, raising a brow at the red-head. “What did you need to come here for, anyway?”
“Unfinished business,” Diluc replied, and by the tone of his voice one could tell that he was more than happy to leave it at that.
“Well, finish your business in disguise, if you could,” the Traveler replied, tone light, “Because I’d rather not be chased out of here on a train.”
The first hints of a grin appeared on Diluc’s face as he tugged on the edge of his glove.
“No promises.”