Work Text:
Excerpt from The Steambird
…The thing about Lord Barbatos, Anemo Archon, God of Freedom, is that not much is known about him outside of Mondstadtians.
While he is perhaps the most widely worshipped of the Seven outside his own nation, information about the Anemo Archon remains surprisingly scarce. Most foreign scholars can tell you the basics: Lord Barbatos is the God of Freedom. He liberated Mondstadt from Decarabian. He is associated with wind, song, wine, and wandering bards. He is famously absent from the day-to-day governance of his nation.
After that, matters become considerably more complicated.
If one asks a Mondstadtian where to find further information, they will invariably point you toward the Cathedral of Favonius or the Knights of Favonius' libraries.
This, one would normally - and correctly - assume would solve all our problems.
Except for the rather inconvenient fact that nearly every book concerning Lord Barbatos outside of his Holy Text is indecipherable to non-Mondstadtians. Not unreadable, precisely. Indecipherable.
The words are perfectly legible. The grammar is comprehensible. The translations are accurate. Foreign scholars can read the sentences aloud without difficulty. And yet somehow, none of it makes sense.
Consider, for example, the following passage from a seventh-century devotional text:
The Wind carries away what cannot stay, and so the child who walks beneath His sky is never lost.
A Fontainean scholar might reasonably interpret this as a poetic description of grief. A Sumeru scholar might interpret it as a theological statement concerning death and reincarnation. A Liyue scholar might assume it is an old Mondstadtian proverb concerning travel. Ask a Mondstadtian, however, and they will look at you strangely.
"It means exactly what it says."
When pressed to elaborate, they invariably become confused.
"What else would it mean?"
This presents something of a problem for scholarship. The difficulty becomes more pronounced with older texts.
Several surviving records refer to Lord Barbatos by titles that have no direct equivalent in any other language. "God of Souls" appears with surprising frequency in pre-modern documents, despite the modern Mondstadtian understanding of Barbatos being primarily associated with freedom and the wind.
There are references to "the Wind's hand." "The Wind's beloved." "The One Who Returns." "The Keeper of Those Who Cannot Leave."
And, in one particularly baffling collection of children's stories, simply: Mother Wind.
Whether these are alternate titles, regional traditions, mistranslations, or references to entirely different religious concepts remains unknown. The Mondstadtians themselves seem remarkably unconcerned by the matter.
When this correspondent brought several particularly confusing passages to the attention of a senior librarian in Mondstadt, she read through the pages, smiled, and explained:
"Oh. That's a very old story."
"Could you explain what it means?"
She paused.
"…No?"
"Why not?"
Another pause.
"I don't think I've ever had to explain it before."
This appears to be the fundamental problem. Mondstadt does not merely possess knowledge of its Archon. It possesses an entire cultural framework surrounding him.
The average Mondstadtian grows up hearing stories, prayers, songs, warnings, nursery rhymes, jokes, festival traditions, and seemingly innocuous sayings concerning Lord Barbatos. Meanings that would require pages of theological commentary to explain to a foreign scholar are understood by Mondstadtians without conscious thought.
A Mondstadtian child hears the wind carries away what cannot stay and understands. A foreign scholar reads it and sees a metaphor.
A Mondstadtian hears protection is an act of love and understands. A foreign scholar asks, quite reasonably, protection from what?
A Mondstadtian is told that nothing truly leaves; it returns to the wind and accepts it as an ordinary expression. A Liyuean scholar encountering the same sentence may spend three months attempting to determine whether Mondstadt possesses an obscure funerary doctrine.
It does not help that Mondstadtians frequently assume these concepts are universal. They are not.
Indeed, when asked why so little is written plainly about Lord Barbatos, one Knight of Favonius reportedly answered:
"Why would we write down what everyone already knows?"
This correspondent has no satisfactory answer to that question. There is, however, one conclusion that can be drawn from our investigation:
The problem is not that Mondstadt has forgotten its God. The problem may be that Mondstadt has known him for far too long to remember how to explain him to anyone else.
Excerpt from A Mondstadtian’s Journey in Inazuma
One of the most baffling experiences I had while in Inazuma was when I encountered a scholar who was famous in his field of theological studies. His questions, however, about our Lord of Winds brought me much doubt on the entire field.
He approached me after hearing my accent and asked whether I was, in fact, from Mondstadt. When I confirmed that I was, his eyes lit up.
"Excellent. Then perhaps you can settle something for me."
I agreed, though I should have known better.
"Is it true that Lord Barbatos is believed to hear every prayer spoken within Mondstadt?"
"Yes."
"Even prayers spoken privately?"
"Yes."
"Even prayers spoken by children?"
"Of course."
He immediately began writing.
"And does he answer them?"
"Sometimes."
"How?"
I thought about it. How does one explain something so simple to someone who had never been Mondstadtian? I decided to give him the simple answer that is usually reserved for the youngest of children.
"The wind."
He stopped writing.
"The wind?"
"Yes."
"In what sense?"
I stared at him.
"In the sense that it's the wind."
He looked deeply dissatisfied with my answer.
"Does Lord Barbatos physically manifest to those who pray?"
"Sometimes."
"Only during moments of great importance?"
"Not necessarily."
"Can he appear anywhere?"
"Yes."
"Does he possess a permanent physical form?"
"Not really."
"Then how do Mondstadtians distinguish between an ordinary gust of wind and an act of divine intervention?"
I frowned.
"We don't."
The scholar's pen stopped.
"You don't?"
"No."
"How, then, can you possibly know when your god is speaking to you?"
I shrugged.
"You know."
He stared at me. I stared back. There was a long silence. It really was quite awkward, especially considering he was gaping at me. Eventually, he carefully asked:
"Is that… a theological concept?"
"No. It's just living in Mondstadt."
He wrote something down. I became increasingly concerned about what. His next questions were stranger.
"Do Mondstadtians believe Lord Barbatos is omniscient?"
"Not exactly."
"Omnipresent?"
"Not exactly."
"Omnipotent?"
"No."
"Then what do you believe he is?"
I considered the question.
"Our Lord."
He waited. I waited. Apparently, this was not sufficient.
"But what is he?"
"The Anemo Archon."
"I mean philosophically."
"Oh."
I thought for a moment.
"He's Barbatos."
The scholar closed his eyes. I began to suspect I was not helping. Personally, I feel that it was a problem with his understanding. He eventually asked whether Lord Barbatos had a personality.
"Of course."
"What sort?"
"He's playful."
The scholar wrote this down.
"Playful."
"And mischievous."
"Mischievous."
"He likes wine."
"Wine."
"And music."
"Music."
"And children."
He paused.
"Children?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
I stared at him.
"Because they're children?"
He put his pen down.
"Forgive me, but your answers are remarkably unhelpful."
I could not agree. The fact that he didn’t understand told me he wouldn’t take me telling him that well, so I stayed quiet. Then he asked the question that finally made me understand the problem.
"How do Mondstadtians worship a god who does not demand worship?"
I blinked.
"We don't have to."
"Then why do you?"
"Because we want to."
He stared at me for several seconds. Then he slowly picked up his pen again. I watched him write. I did not ask what. Some things, I have learned, are better left unknown.
Later that evening, I mentioned the conversation to a Mondstadtian merchant I had met at the docks. He listened thoughtfully. Then he asked:
"Did you tell the scholar about the old stories?"
"Which ones?"
"The ones about the Wind taking children home."
I frowned.
"I don't think those would have helped."
The merchant smiled.
"No. Probably not." He returned to his tea."Foreigners always want Lord Barbatos to be a god in the way they understand gods."
"And what way do Mondstadtians understand him?"
The merchant looked toward the open window. A breeze moved through the room, stirring the curtains. He smiled.
"Like the wind."
I didn’t wait for an explanation. Why would I? It made sense.
I stand by the fact that the scholar was particularly stupid.
Excerpt from Tales of the Archons
…Back during the first meetings of the Archons, not much was known between them. So, one fine, sunny day in Liyue, the Seven met and decided to give all their titles to each other to establish who governed what.
Of course, this went fine until the Anemo Archon’s turn, the last of the bunch to speak.
The Geo Archon had gone first.
"Morax. God of Contracts. Lord of Geo. Rex Lapis. Heaven's Star."
Everyone nodded. Simple enough. The Electro Archon followed.
"Baal. God of Eternity. Lord of Electro."
More nodding. The Dendro Archon introduced herself.
"God of Wisdom. Lord of Dendro. Avatar of Irminsul."
Again, perfectly straightforward. The Hydro Archon had introduced herself as the God of Justice. The Pyro Archon gave his title. The Cryo Archon gave his.
Then everyone looked toward the smallest of the bunch, an angel sitting at the end of the table. Barbatos smiled.
"Well?"
The other six waited. Barbatos took a sip of wine.
"God of Freedom."
There was a pause.
"Anemo Archon," Morax added.
"Yes."
"Lord of Anemo."
"Yes."
"Is that all?"
Barbatos tilted his head.
"Probably."
Morax frowned.
"Probably?"
"I've had a very long time to collect titles."
The other Archons exchanged glances.
"Collect?" asked the Dendro Archon.
"People give them to me."
"How many?"
Barbatos considered this.
"I don't know."
The table became silent. Morax's expression suggested that he was beginning to regret asking.
"Can you name some?"
"Certainly."
Barbatos began counting on his fingers.
"God of Freedom. God of Anemo. Lord of Winds. Lord of Song. God of Songs. God of Wine-"
"God of Wine?" the Hydro Archon interrupted.
"That one's mostly unofficial."
"Mostly?"
"Depends who you ask." He continued."God of Wanderers. God of Travelers. God of Children. God of Souls."
The room went quiet.
"God of Souls?" asked the Dendro Archon.
Barbatos nodded cheerfully.
"That's an old one."
"Why are you the God of Souls?"
"I was given the title."
"By whom?"
"People."
"Which people?"
"My people."
That answer did not help. Morax leaned forward.
"Barbatos."
"Yes?"
"How many domains do you actually govern?"
Barbatos smiled.
"Freedom."
"Only freedom?"
"That's the official answer."
"The official answer?"
"Yes."
The other Archons looked at one another.
"So," the Pyro Archon said slowly, "you are the God of Freedom, but people call you the God of Souls?"
"Yes."
"And the God of Wine?"
"Yes."
"And the God of Children?"
"Sometimes."
"And the Lord of Song?"
"Frequently."
"And the Lord of Winds?"
"Obviously."
"Why?"
Barbatos blinked.
"Because I'm the wind."
The Pyro Archon stared at him.
"That's not an explanation."
"It is in Mondstadt."
Morax sighed.
"Of course it is."
Barbatos took another drink. Then, apparently remembering something, he raised one finger.
"Oh! There's also Mother Wind."
The entire table froze.
"Mother?"
"Yes."
"You're a male god."
"Male presenting."
"Then why-"
"It's an old title."
Nobody knew what to say to that. Barbatos smiled innocently.
"And there's also the One Who Returns."
Morax slowly put down his cup.
"Returns what?"
Barbatos looked at him.
"Those who leave."
A breeze passed through the room. Nobody spoke. Then Barbatos laughed.
"Don't look so worried. It's just an old title."
The Geo Archon stared at him for several seconds.
"How many titles do you have?"
Barbatos shrugged.
"I told you. I don't know."
And that, according to the surviving accounts, was how the first official attempt to catalogue the Seven's divine titles ended. The other six Archons eventually agreed that they would simply call him Barbatos. It was easier.
Much later, when the subject came up again, Morax reportedly asked a Mondstadtian priest whether all of Barbatos's titles were actually recognized by the Church. The priest looked confused.
"Of course."
"All of them?"
"Most of them."
"Most?"
The priest thought for a moment.
"Some are only used by children."
Morax closed his eyes.
"And the others?"
"Some are only used by the dead."
Morax opened his eyes. The priest smiled politely.
"Would you like a copy of the old hymnal?"
"No."
"Are you certain?"
"Very."
The priest nodded.
"Very well."
There was an awkward pause.
"Though there is a rather lovely section about the Wind's beloved-"
"I said no."
Excerpt from The Wind’s Beloved: Known and Unknown
The only confirmed facts about the Wind’s Beloved are that they came from the south and that they were the only God to never try to chain the God of Freedom to themself.
This researcher went through the challenge of interviewing the God of Wisdom herself in hopes of figuring out who they were.
Lady Buer (LB): Good morning!
Researcher (R): Good morning, Lady Buer. Thank you for agreeing to this interview.
LB: Of course! And please, call me Nahida.
R: …Lady Buer.
LB: Okay then. What do you wish to know?
R: Who is the Wind’s Beloved?
LB: I'm sorry, I can't answer that.
R: You can't?
LB: No.
R: Is that because you don't know?
LB: No.
The answer came so quickly that I nearly forgot my next question.
R: So you do know?
LB: Yes.
R: Then why can't you tell me?
Lady Buer smiled.
LB: Because it's not my story to tell.
I wrote that down. It seemed important.
R: Is the Wind’s Beloved still alive?
There was a brief silence.
LB: That's complicated.
R: Complicated how?
LB: Very.
I wrote that down as well.
R: Are they a God?
LB: Yes.
R: One of the Seven?
LB: Mmmnn.
R: Were they ever one of the Seven?
LB: Mmmnn.
R: Are they from Mondstadt?
LB: Maybe.
R: Liyue?
Lady Buer tilted her head.
LB: Maybe.
R: Inazuma?
LB: Maybe.
R: Sumeru?
She smiled.
LB: Maybe.
R: Fontaine?
LB: Maybe.
R: Natlan?
LB: Maybe.
R: Snezhnaya?
LB: Maybe.
I stared at her.
R: Then where are they from?
LB: The south.
I put my pen down.
R: The south of where?
Lady Buer laughed.
LB: Now that is a very good question.
R: And?
LB: I still can't answer it.
I picked my pen back up.
R: Were they romantically involved with Lord Barbatos?
LB: Yes.
R: Actually romantically involved? Not simply a close companion or fellow god?
LB: Yes.
R: How long?
LB: A very long time.
R: Before the Archon War?
LB: No.
R: During it?
LB: Yes.
R: After it?
LB: Yes.
I stared at my notes.
R: So their relationship survived the Archon War?
LB: In one form or another.
R: And the death of countless gods?
Lady Buer's smile faded slightly.
LB: Yes.
R: Then why is there so little information about them?
She looked toward the window. For a moment, she seemed much older than she appeared.
LB: Because some things are meant to remain between two people.
I hesitated before asking my next question.
R: Did the other Archons know about them?
LB: Some did.
R: Morax?
LB: Yes.
R: The Electro Archon?
LB: Eventually.
R: The Hydro Archon?
Nahida smiled.
LB: She certainly had opinions.
R: And you?
LB: I know quite a lot.
R: Enough to identify them?
LB: Easily.
R: Then surely you understand why scholars would want to know.
LB: I do.
R: Then-
LB: No.
She said it kindly. That somehow made it worse. I tried another approach.
R: Is the Wind’s Beloved responsible for any of Lord Barbatos's stranger titles?
Lady Buer's eyes brightened.
LB: That's an interesting question.
R: Is that a yes?
LB: I didn't say that.
R: Are they connected to the title God of Souls?
LB: ...I would be careful with that one.
R: Why?
LB: Because you don't understand what it means.
I felt a chill.
R: Then what does it mean?
Lady Buer smiled.
LB: Ask a Mondstadtian.
R: I have.
LB: And?
R: They told me it was obvious.
She laughed.
LB: Of course they did.
I sighed.
R: Lady Buer-
LB: Nahida.
R: Lady Buer, please. Just give me one clue.
She considered the request.Then she leaned forward.
LB: Fine.
I immediately reached for my pen.
LB: The Wind’s Beloved was the only one who never tried to chain him.
I frowned.
R: That's already known.
LB: Is it?
I looked up. She was smiling.
R: What does that mean?
LB: Exactly what it says.
R: Everyone else tried to control Barbatos?
LB: Not everyone.
R: Then who did?
LB: That's another story.
R: And you won't tell me that one either?
LB: No.
She smiled sweetly.
LB: I'm the God of Wisdom, not the God of Gossip.
For the first time during the interview, I suspected that Lady Buer was enjoying herself. I decided to try one final question.
R: Does Lord Barbatos still love them?
Lady Buer went silent. The silence lasted several seconds. Then she looked out the window. A breeze moved gently through the room. Her expression softened.
LB: Yes.
She said nothing more. Neither did I. There was, I thought, something almost strange about the certainty of her answer. Not probably. Not as far as I know. Not according to the records. Just: Yes.
I closed my notebook. I had learned almost nothing about the identity of the Wind’s Beloved. Yet somehow, I had learned that whoever they were, the God of Wisdom considered their love story something sacred enough to protect.
As I left, Lady Buer called after me.
LB: "Oh!"
I turned. She smiled.
LB: "If you do ever figure it out, don't tell anyone."
R: Why?
Her smile became positively mischievous.
LB: Because I think Barbatos would like to keep at least one secret.
I looked toward the window. The curtains were moving despite the fact that the windows were closed. For reasons I cannot explain, I decided not to ask any further questions.
Ei squinted suspiciously at the copy of The Steambird that Yae Miko had given her and shook her head, putting it down.
“Ei?”
Her old friend’s voice shook her out of her thoughts.
“What do you think?”
Ei hummed and took a sip of her tea. Bitter, just how she liked it. She should ask who made it later.
“I think Buer handled it wonderfully.”
Miko blinked, seemingly startled by the answer.
“Oh? Why’s that?”
Ei looked out the open window to the sakura tree swaying beside it.
“Sometimes…” She murmured, “it is best to not answer questions that pertain to Barbatos.”
Miko snorted, picking up her tea.
“Oh please, you don’t even like him-”
“Them.”
Miko blinked.
“Ah, sorry. Them.”
Ei shifted her weight.
“It’s not so much that I don’t like them. Rather, it is the fact that being around them never seems to make sense.”
Miko raised an eyebrow.
“Never?”
“Never.”
“That seems rather dramatic.”
“It is not.”
Ei took another sip of tea.
“Do you remember the first time we met?”
Miko's expression became thoughtful.
“Not particularly.”
“I do.”
“That is unsurprising. You remember everything.”
“No.”
Ei stared into her tea.
“I remember them.”
Miko lowered her cup.
“That bad?”
“That confusing.”
There was a pause. Ei looked back toward the sakura tree.
“The first thing Barbatos did was steal my food.”
Miko blinked.
“…What?”
“He took it.”
“Your food?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“You didn't ask?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“He said he was hungry.”
Miko stared at her.
“That is…”
“Normal?”
“Very.”
“For anyone else, perhaps.”
Ei's fingers tightened slightly around her cup.
“He then proceeded to give half of it to a mortal child.”
Miko's ears perked.
“A child?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the child was hungry.”
Miko waited. Ei continued.
“And then he gave the rest to the child's mother.”
Miko frowned.
“So what did he eat?”
“Nothing.”
“…And he was fine?”
“He was laughing.”
Miko slowly set her tea down.
“I fail to see how this is evidence of anything other than generosity.”
“That was not the strange part.”
“Oh?”
“He later complained that I had stolen his food.”
Miko stared at her.
“You stole his food?”
“No.”
“Then why did he say that?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
There was silence. Miko rubbed her forehead.
“I think I understand your problem.”
Ei nodded.
“Good.”
“No, I don't think I do.”
Ei sighed.
“That is precisely the problem.”
Miko picked up The Steambird again.
“The article says Buer refused to identify the Wind's Beloved.”
“She did the correct thing.”
Miko looked at her sharply.
“You know who they are.”
Ei did not answer.
“Ei.”
Silence.
“Ei.”
A longer silence. Miko's eyes narrowed.
“You know.”
“I know of them.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Ei looked away.
“The identity of the Wind's Beloved is not mine to disclose.”
Miko's smile slowly disappeared.
“You're serious.”
“Yes.”
“And you know why Buer refused?”
“Yes.”
“And you know why Barbatos apparently has an entire collection of titles nobody outside Mondstadt understands?”
“Yes.”
“And you know why Mondstadtians become strangely evasive whenever anyone asks about the old stories?”
Ei took another sip of tea.
“Yes.”
Miko stared at her.
“How much do you know?”
Ei considered this.
“Enough.”
“That is an incredibly irritating answer.”
“I learned from Barbatos.”
Miko's ears twitched. Then she laughed.
“Oh, you do dislike them.”
Ei shook her head.
“No.”
“Then what?”
Ei looked toward the open window again. The branches of the sakura tree swayed gently.
“The problem with Barbatos,” she said quietly, “is that every time you think you understand them, you realize you have merely understood one small part.”
Miko's expression softened.
“And that bothers you?”
“It used to.”
“And now?”
Ei smiled faintly.
“Now I simply don't ask.”
Miko glanced down at the newspaper.
“Why?”
Ei's eyes followed hers.
“Because there are some questions where the answer causes more trouble than the ignorance.”
The wind stirred. Miko looked toward the open window.
“…Is that them?”
Ei shook her head.
“No.”
There was a slight pause.
“Probably.”
Miko slowly looked back at her.
“Ei.”
“What?”
“You've just proven your own point.”
Ei blinked. Then, very quietly, she laughed.
“Yes.”
Outside, the sakura continued to sway. Neither of them noticed the faintest whisper of laughter carried through the branches.