ACT IV: Chords in the Shadows and the Harbinger's Whisper
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¡Ah, tienes toda la razón! Me salté esa parte tan importante del diálogo donde Venti se defiende y le echa un poquito la culpa a la protagonista por lo que pasó en el bosque.
Vamos a reescribir esa conversación justo en la plaza, bajo la estatua de Barbatos, antes de que vayan a la catedral. Aquí es donde hablan de la culpa, Paimon se confunde y se queja, y tu protagonista reacciona con su hermosa dulzura maternal:
A Gentle Blame Beneath the Stars
You stepped closer to the young bard, your hands clasped together over your heart. Your gentle eyes looked down at him, filled with a deep, earnest concern.
— I saw you deep in the forest, young man, — you said softly, your voice dripping with maternal tenderness. — You were speaking so sweetly to that poor dragon. Please, tell me... what is happening to him? Why is he in so much pain?
Venti brought his lyre to a complete halt, letting out a dramatic, exaggerated sigh. He looked up at you, pouting slightly as he tilted his green beret.
— Ah, so you're the one! — Venti said, pointing a playful finger at you. — You know, it’s actually a little bit your fault, dear traveler!
— Our fault?!— Paimon shrieked instantly, stamping her tiny boots in the air and puffing out her cheeks in a massive tantrum. — Hey! We didn't do anything wrong! That giant dragon almost crushed us with a tornado! How can you say it's (Y/N)'s fault?!
— Hehe, let me explain, — Venti chuckled, floating slightly off the stone steps. — I was actually in the middle of performing a very delicate, ancient melody to soothe Dvalin's mind. We were having a wonderful heart-to-heart! But then, you two came crashing through the bushes, glowing with that strange Anemo energy, and completely frightened him away!
You blinked, your cheeks dusting with a soft, apologetic pink. Instead of getting defensive, your protective, nurturing heart immediately felt a pang of deep regret. You took a step closer, looking at Venti with pure, genuine sorrow.
— Oh... you poor dear, I am so, so sorry, — you murmured, your voice filled with absolute sweetness as you reached out, almost instinctively wanting to pat his head like a worried mother. — We didn't mean to scare him, nor did we mean to ruin your beautiful work. If I caused that poor dragon any more distress, my heart will never forgive me. Please, tell me how I can fix this. I will do anything to help heal the pain I accidentally caused.
Venti paused, completely caught off guard. He was used to people getting angry or confused when he teased them, but being met with such overwhelming, doting sweetness and a sincere apology? His playful smirk softened, a rare, genuine warmth entering his teal eyes.
— My... aren't you just the most precious soul? — Venti whispered, scratching his cheek with a faint, amused smile. — Don't worry too much, dear mother. I can't stay mad at someone as sweet as you. Besides, you didn't mean to.
— Hmph! Paimon is still mad! — Paimon huffed, crossing her arms tightly and floating upside down in protest. — He just blamed us and now he's acting all nice! Paimon thinks this green guy is super suspicious!
Venti restó importancia al berrinche de Paimon y te miró con expresión más seria. —Para arreglar esto de verdad y purificar el corazón de Dvalin, necesitamos una reliquia sagrada capaz de tocar las melodías celestiales: la Santa Lira del Cielo. Se guarda en lo profundo de las bóvedas de la catedral. ¿Qué dices, mi dulce Caballero Honorario? ¿Te unirías a mí esta noche a medianoche para «tomarla prestada» por el bien de Dvalin?
Gotelinda crossed her arms beneath her habit, looking at the group with deep suspicion. Venti, bold as ever, took a step forward with a dramatic flourish, placing a hand over his heart and adopting a pose of absolute solemnity.
— Hear me, my esteemed and devout Sister, — Venti declared, throwing his voice into a theatrical, majestic tone. — You do not stand before a mere musician. In truth... I am the Anemo Archon himself, Barbatos! I have returned from my eternal rest because Mondstadt needs me, and I demand the Holy Lyre der Himmel to purify the skies.
Gotelinda stared at him for three solid seconds in deathly silence. Then, she let out a loud, thoroughly annoyed scoff.
— What an intolerable blasphemy, — the nun snapped, narrowing her eyes. — If you are going to lie in the house of God, insolent bard, at least try to make it believable. Leave at once before I call the guards.
— Oh, for goodness' sake! Paimon knew that plan was stupid! — the little fairy shrieked, floating upside down with a massive pout and covering her face with her hands. — No one is going to believe you're a god, green guy!
Venti scratched the back of his neck, laughing sheepishly as he took a step back. Seeing the situation slipping away, you stepped forward in a calm, peaceful manner. With infinite gentleness, you placed your hands over Gotelinda's. Your eyes, overflowing with pure tenderness, looked directly into her soul, instantly bringing a sense of peace to the tense room.
— Please, Sister, forgive my companion's jests. I know my request sounds reckless, — you said, your voice so sweet and melodious it seemed to soothe the very air of the cathedral. — I completely understand that your duty is to protect this sacred treasure. It only shows how deeply you love Barbatos and Mondstadt, and I admire you immensely for your devotion.
Gotelinda tensed, caught off guard by the warm touch of your hands and your words filled with praise and understanding. Your maternal aura was magnetic, forcing her to listen.
— But think of this... — you continued, your voice dropping to a whisper heavy with emotion. — The dragon, Dvalin, is crying in the dark. He is like a child of Mondstadt who has lost his way in a terrible nightmare and is frightened. As the Honorary Knight, I give you my word as a mother that I will guard this lyre with my life and return it to you untouched. Please, let me bring the warmth of healing back to the skies of this city.
Gotelinda stood completely speechless. Her eyes widened, and the rigid tension in her shoulders finally began to melt away. Your overwhelming sweetness and deep respect completely shattered her defenses. She looked down at your hands, deeply moved and on the absolute verge of handing over the relic. However, after a long, intense internal struggle, the nun let out a heavy, regretful sigh and gently pulled her hands away, shaking her head.
— Your heart is... truly extraordinary, Honorary Knight. You almost made me waver... — Gotelinda murmured, her voice trembling but firm. — But I cannot. The Church's protocol is absolute, and especially during this state of emergency, I do not have the legal authority to hand over Mondstadt's most sacred treasure to anyone without a direct order from the Acting Grand Master. I am truly sorry... but my final answer must be no. Please, leave.
With a heavy heart, you had no choice but to nod with a sad, understanding smile, walking out of the cathedral alongside your companions. Once outside, beneath the starry sky of the plaza and safely away from the nuns' ears, Venti stopped and turned to you, scratching his cheek with a thoroughly disarmed smile full of sincere admiration.
— My... — Venti whispered, letting out a soft laugh. — My act as a god failed miserably, but you... for a moment there, I actually thought you'd get her to hand it over. I have never seen anyone move that nun's heart so effortlessly. Your kindness is truly a divine power, dear mother. But well... since diplomacy didn't work the nice way... I'm afraid it's time to move on to our midnight plan. What do you say? Ready to 'borrow' it in secret when the guards rotate shifts?
I watched the new "Honorary Knight" as we stepped out of the heavy cathedral doors, and I couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, scratching my cheek in sheer wonder.
My little dramatic performance as the Anemo Archon Barbatos himself had failed miserably —well, you can't blame a bard for trying— but what this woman did right after... left me completely speechless. Never, in all my centuries of existence, had I seen anyone disarm the cold bureaucracy of the church so effortlessly. Gotelinda was a hair's breadth away from handing over Mondstadt's most sacred relic simply because she looked at her with those eyes full of such overflowing, profound... maternal tenderness.
— My... — I whispered, tipping my hat for a brief moment in a bow of sincere admiration. — My act as a god failed miserably, but you... for a moment there, I actually thought you'd get her to hand it over. I have never seen anyone move that nun's heart so effortlessly. Your kindness is truly a divine power, dear mother.
She looked back at me, and there was no frustration on her face, only that constant, beautiful compassion that seemed to wrap around everything she touched.
— I only wanted her to understand that Dvalin's pain is real, — she replied softly, turning her eyes toward the cathedral with an expression of deep concern. — It breaks my heart to know that poor dragon feels so alone, but she has a duty to protect as well...
She was even defending the nun who had just rejected her. What an incredibly pure soul.
— Hmph! Well, Paimon still thinks she’s a total meanie! — the little floating fairy huffed, crossing her tiny arms tightly and hovering upside down in the air with a massive pout. — (Y/N) spoke to her with all the love in the world, and she still said no! What are we supposed to do now, green guy? We can't save Stormterror without that shiny harp!
I cast a quick glance around the plaza, making sure the patrolling knights were well out of earshot. Then, I leaned a bit closer to (Y/N), letting a heavy spark of my usual mischief dance in my eyes. If diplomacy failed, the wind always found another way through.
— Well... since diplomacy didn't work the nice way... I'm afraid it's time to move on to our midnight plan, — I whispered, dropping my voice to a bare murmur. — You see, at exactly midnight, the cathedral guards rotate shifts, leaving the underground vaults completely unattended for a few minutes. It's the perfect window to slip in and 'borrow' the Holy Lyre for a greater good. We can bring it back later with a lovely apology note! What do you say, my beautiful Honorary Knight? Will you join me for a little midnight mischief?
— Wh-What?! Rob the cathedral?! — The floating little guide let out a shriek that almost blew my braids back, instantly clapping both hands over her mouth with a face of pure panic. — No, no, no! (Y/N) is a good, sweet mom, not a criminal! Paimon is way too young and cute to go to a Mondstadt jail! They don't serve yummy food in dungeons!
I ignored the little creature's tantrum and focused entirely on (Y/N). I watched as her hand unconsciously traveled to her pocket, where she kept Dvalin's crystallized tear. The crystal pulsed with a dim, crimson warmth, a literal echo of my old friend's agony. I could see the conflict in her eyes: the sorrow for the hurting dragon woven together with the constant, aching memory of her own lost children.
And then, I saw it. The gentle warmth in her gaze transformed into an indomitable, protective resolve. The fierce determination of a mother willing to walk through fire to protect those in need.
— If it is the only way to save a hurting soul, and to bring peace so I can find my little ones... — she said, looking straight at me with unwavering resolution. — I will do it. We will wait until midnight.
I smiled to myself, feeling a deep wave of gratitude toward fate for bringing her to Mondstadt. Dvalin... just a little more patience, old friend. Tonight, the wind will blow in our favor.
As the hands of Mondstadt's grand clock neared twelve, we crouched behind the bushes near the cathedral's side steps. I could feel Paimon's frantic pulse right beside me, but I forced myself to stay calm, breathing in the crisp night air to focus my mind. Venti peeked out carefully, watching the two guards at the main entrance yawn and stretch before beginning their walk toward the barracks for the shift rotation.
— The wind has cleared the path, my beautiful Honorary Knight, — Venti whispered to me, turning around with a light smirk, though his eyes held a seriousness I rarely saw in him. — The side doors are unlocked due to the nightly cleaning duties. I will stay out here to keep watch over the plaza. If any guards return ahead of schedule, I’ll play a sharp note on my lyre to warn you. I trust your stealth.
— Please, be very careful, Venti, — I replied in a soft whisper, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. My protective instincts flared immediately, worrying for his safety as much as the mission's success. — Paimon, stay very close to me and don't make a sound, sweetie.
— Paimon will be as silent as a floating feather! — the little one promised in a tiny thread of a voice, clapping both hands over her mouth with a pout of pure concentration that almost made me smile.
I slipped like a shadow toward the heavy wooden door. With infinite care, I pushed it just enough to slip inside, praying silently that the hinges wouldn't betray me. Stepping indoors, the cathedral felt like a completely different world; it was submerged in a deathly silence, broken only by the distant echo of my own heartbeat. Moonlight filtered through the towering stained-glass windows, casting colorful patterns across the cold stone floor.
To reach the basement stairs, we had to cross the grand central aisle, but I instantly spotted the flickering gleam of a lantern. A night guard was pacing lazily between the pews, dragging his boots from sheer exhaustion.
My heart skipped a beat, but I forced my nurturing instinct to keep me calm and collected. I waited patiently behind a massive stone pillar, holding my breath and gently holding Paimon against me so she wouldn't stir. As the guard walked past, entirely focused on muffling a heavy yawn, I knew it was my moment to move.
Tiptoeing gracefully, using the thick carpet of the aisle to absorb the slightest sound of my footsteps, I advanced with all the care I could muster. Paimon floated right behind me at floor level, mimicking my steps in mid-air while making hilarious faces of sheer panic every time the guard's boots creaked in the distance. It ached a little in my soul to be sneaking around a holy place, but the memory of Dvalin's sorrowful eyes and the hope that this path would lead me closer to my own lost children gave me an unbreakable resolve.
Reaching the back of the altar, I caught sight of the door leading to the underground treasury. It was slightly ajar, just as Venti had predicted. With one final glance over my shoulder to ensure the knight's back was still turned, I slipped through the gap. I began to descend the cold stone steps into the darkness below, the air growing heavier and more mysterious with every step, ready for whatever lay ahead.
I finished stepping down the last stone stair, and the cold of the underground treasury chilled me to the bone. The air smelled of dust, centuries of secrets, and old wax. Before me, sheltered behind a massive iron gate that thankfully stood open, rose an altar illuminated by a faint, divine light. There, hovering subtly over a velvet cushion, was the majestic Holy Lyre der Himmel. Its golden strings vibrated with an Anemo energy so pure and sweet that for a moment, I forgot the danger entirely.
— There it is! — Paimon whispered, floating by my side with eyes wide as saucers, making a pout of pure excitement. — It's so shiny! (Y/N), take it quickly before the guard comes back!
I approached the pedestal, my heart pounding in my throat. I reached my hands out with infinite reverence and care, ready to shield it with my life and bring the comfort Dvalin so desperately needed. But just as my fingertips were millimeters away from brushing the golden wood, the air turned suffocating. A sudden gust of freezing wind extinguished the few torches on the wall, and the sharp scent of ozone flooded the basement.
Slash!
A crackle of violet electricity tore through the darkness. Out of nowhere, a slender, elegant, hooded silhouette materialized right in front of the altar. She wore a rigid mask that concealed her eyes and the unmistakable uniform of a Fatui Cicin Mage. With a swift, feline motion, her gloved hands shot forward, gripping the Holy Lyre firmly before I could even lay a finger on it.
I froze in my tracks, my eyes wide with shock.
The Fatui mage slowly turned her head toward me. Through the slit of her mask, I could feel her cold, calculating gaze. Seeing my face full of astonishment and dismay, her painted lips curled into a slow, sly, mocking smile. With absolute deliberation, she raised her left index finger and placed it over her lips, giving me a clear sign for silence.
Shhh...
It was an eternal second, a direct mockery of my good intentions. In a split second, a burst of Electro lightning enveloped her, and she vanished into thin air like a ghost, leaving the pedestal completely bare.
— Wh-What?! Where did she go?! — Paimon shrieked, flipping through the air from the shock. — That weird woman took the shiny harp!
I didn't even have time to process the anger or bewilderment. The very next second, the magical runes engraved on the basement walls flared a brilliant crimson, and a deafening alarm began to blare throughout the entire cathedral, making the stone ceiling tremble.
— Alert! Intruders in the treasury! Secure all exits! — the voices of the Knights of Favonius bellowed from the upper floor, followed by the heavy, rapid echo of dozens of armored boots rushing down the stairs.
— Oh, no, no, no! They're gonna think it was us! — Paimon panicked completely, floating in clumsy circles with eyes full of tears and a pout of absolute terror. — Paimon doesn't want to be a criminal mommy behind bars!
My protective instinct flared like a beacon. I couldn't let us get caught for a crime we didn't commit, not while the dragon was still suffering and my children were still out there waiting for me. Without a second thought, I reached my arms out and, firmly yet with immense maternal gentleness, scooped Paimon out of the air, cradling her tightly against my chest to shield her.
— Hold on tight, sweetheart! — I commanded in a rushed whisper.
I spun on my heel, and with my heart in my throat and Paimon safely tucked in my arms, I bolted at full speed, rushing up the stone steps back into the cathedral's shadows, determined to find an exit before the knights cornered us.
The traveler burst through the cathedral doors at full speed, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she held Paimon tightly against her chest like the most precious treasure in the world. Her eyes frantically swept the moonlit plaza, searching for an escape route, feeling the adrenaline course through her body.
Venti, who had been waiting hidden in the shadows of the great statue, straightened up immediately upon hearing the deafening magical alarm blaring from within. The moment he saw the light-haired figure appear, his usual playful smirk vanished completely. His teal eyes instantly caught the sheer panic on the little fairy’s face and the profound worry in the mother’s gaze. Noting her empty hands and heavy breathing, he understood everything in a fraction of a second.
— This way! Quickly! — Venti urged, a commanding seriousness in his voice that they had never heard before.
Before the Knights of Favonius could even cross the temple’s threshold, Venti extended his hand toward the ground. His braids flared with a brilliant turquoise light, and suddenly, a powerful, warm current of air erupted beneath the group’s feet. The wind lifted them gently yet incredibly fast, making their bodies feel weightless. Guided by the bard’s Anemo magic, they bounded across the rooftops of Mondstadt like literal gusts of wind, easily bypassing the patrols that were beginning to flood the torch-lit streets.
They sprinted and hovered through the dark, winding alleyways until they reached the lower district of the city. Venti hurriedly guided them toward the entrance of an imposing wooden and stone tavern: The Angel's Share. He pushed the door open, and they stumbled inside, their hearts hammering against their ribs.
Behind the bar, meticulously polishing a glass with absolute poise, stood a young man with long, fiery red hair and crimson eyes that held a cold, distant elegance. It was Diluc Ragnvindr.
Seeing them burst in like that, Diluc froze. His gaze swept over the traveler’s face, taking in how tightly she was shielding Paimon in her arms, and the little fairy's trembling pout as she tried to hold back tears.
— Well, if it isn't the neighborhood bard... and the new Honorary Knight, — Diluc said in a low, measured, and strangely calm voice. — Barging in like this at such an hour... with the cathedral bells ringing in the distance. I take it you're not here for a drink.
— Oh, please, Master Red-guy! — Paimon shrieked in a desperate whisper, peeking out slightly from the maternal embrace. — The knights are chasing us, but we didn't do it! A mean masked lady stole the shiny harp, and now everyone thinks (Y/N) is a thief! Paimon is innocent!
The traveler looked up at Diluc with pleading eyes, keeping her protective stance over the little one.
— Please... we just need a place to hide. We committed no crime, I assure you. We only wanted to help...
Diluc stared at her. Instead of the distrust one might expect from a stranger, his crimson eyes held a subtle flicker of understanding and respect for the mother's protective, honest demeanor. It was no secret he held little love for the Knights of Favonius's methods, and the woman's sincerity seemed to be more than enough for him.
— Go upstairs to the second floor. Right now, — Diluc commanded firmly, tilting his head toward the wooden staircase. — Stay in the shadows and don't make a sound. I'll handle this.
We didn't waste a single second. They hurried up the wooden steps and hid in the darkness of the upper floor, crouching behind the wooden railings. The moment they settled, the heavy tavern doors burst open with a metallic clatter.
— Master Diluc! — a Favonius guard shouted, entering with his sword drawn, his breath heavily short. — Apologies for the intrusion. We are looking for two suspects with light hair and strange clothes, accompanied by a green bard and a small floating creature. They just raided the cathedral. Have you seen anyone enter?
Paimon shrunk against the traveler’s chest, covering her eyes with a pout of pure terror. The mother held her even tighter, gently rubbing her back with absolute maternal care to keep her calm, holding her own breath as she peered down through the wooden slats.
Diluc didn't even flinch. He continued polishing his glass with a calmness that bordered on absolute indifference, looking over his shoulder at the guard.
— Suspects in my tavern at this hour? — Diluc replied, his voice a cold, smooth drawl. — As you can see, the establishment is empty. If anyone matching such bizarre descriptions had entered, they would have taken more than a relic; they would have taken my patience. Besides, I highly doubt criminals would choose the city's finest winery to hide out during a pursuit. Try searching the northern alleys; I usually see vagrants around there at midnight.
The guard hesitated, thoroughly intimidated by the wine tycoon's imposing presence and icy logic. He glanced around, scanning the empty tables of the ground floor, but didn't dare climb the stairs under Diluc's steady gaze.
— Right... sorry for the trouble, Master Diluc, — the knight nodded, sheathing his weapon. — Continue the search in the northern alleys! Move out!
With another metallic crash, the knights hurriedly swept out of the tavern, slamming the doors behind them. The echoing clatter of their armor faded into the night until silence reclaimed the room. The traveler let out a long, heavy sigh of relief, feeling the intense tension drain from her body as Paimon buried her face into her neck, letting out a tiny, soft whimper of sheer relief. The worst of it was over.
Once the metallic footsteps of the guards completely faded into the night, the tense silence of the tavern was broken by Diluc's deep voice.
— You can come down now, — he said, setting the clean glass on the bar and crossing his arms. — But you'd better have an excellent explanation for this.
The traveler slowly walked down the wooden steps, still gently patting Paimon's head to soothe her remaining whimpers, while Venti followed with a light, carefree stride, as if he had just taken a stroll. As soon as they approached the bar, the bard's eyes sparkled at the sight of the gleaming bottles lining the shelves. With complete boldness, Venti stretched his arm out, ready to snatch a bottle of high-end dandelion wine.
Smack!
Diluc struck his hand away with a swift flick of a dish towel, glaring with a crimson gaze so icy it could have frozen his entire vineyard.
— Don't even think about it, bard, — Diluc snapped coldly. — That wine costs more than you would make performing in three lifetimes. Speak first.
— My, what a temper! Art requires fuel, my dear tavern master, — Venti protested, rubbing his hand with a pout. — But very well, very well. If it is the truth you seek, allow this humble bard to weave the threads of fate for you as it should be.
Venti took a step back, tuned the strings of his lyre with a soft strum, and, closing his eyes, began to recite in a melodious, poetic tone, turning the chaos into art:
— The wind was sighing, the dragon was crying, trapped in a shadow of poison and dying. Seeking the remedy held by the skies, poets and mothers braved storms and sighs. But before the Lyre could rest in her hand, a violet lightning tore through the land... And the Fatui of snow snatched the treasure away, leaving the righteous in blame and dismay!
Diluc arched an eyebrow, visibly impatient with the theatrical display, and shifted his gaze to the traveler. She had remained in absolute silence the entire time, observing the exchange with patient, maternal calmness, waiting for the dust to settle. Sensing the redhead's gaze, she took a step forward, radiating an honesty so pure it disarmed any doubt.
— What Venti is trying to say through his music is the truth, Master Diluc, — she explained, her voice soft and measured. — We did not break into the cathedral to steal. We went there because the dragon, Dvalin, is suffering deeply from an infected wound, and the Holy Lyre is the only thing that can soothe his pain. We were about to retrieve it with the nun's blessing, but an Electro Fatui mage appeared out of nowhere and snatched it right before our eyes. She smiled at us, signaled for silence, and vanished. The alarm triggered right after.
Paimon nodded aggressively from the traveler's shoulder, making an indignant pout. — Yes! That Snezhnayan lady pulled a super mean magical trick on us! (Y/N) only wanted to save the dragon, and now they're blaming us!
Diluc remained silent for a few moments, processing the mother's words. The mention of the Fatui seemed to ignite a spark of cold hostility in his eyes—one targeted not at the guests before him, but at the masked diplomats.
The heavy footsteps of the guards finally faded into the distance, leaving behind the familiar, welcome silence of my tavern. I set the clean glass down on the wooden counter, crossed my arms, and locked a stern gaze toward the shadows of the second floor.
The Knights of Favonius, efficient as always... hunting for suspects on the exact opposite side of the city thanks to a simple suggestion.
— You can come down now, — I said, keeping my voice low and firm. — But you'd better have an excellent explanation for this.
The light-haired girl began walking down the steps with a measured slowness. It caught my attention how gently she held that small floating creature against her chest, offering soft pats to soothe its trembling. She had the tired look of someone carrying a weight far too heavy for her shoulders, yet she projected a protective, almost maternal aura that was difficult to ignore. Behind her came the plaza bard, wearing that carefree stride that I have always found thoroughly irritating. As soon as they approached the bar, the green boy’s eyes sparkled with blatant mischief at the sight of my shelves. He boldly stretched his arm out toward one of my high-end bottles of wine.
Smack!
I struck his fingers away with a swift flick of my dish towel before he could even brush the glass, giving him a glare intended to make it perfectly clear I was not in the mood for games.
— Don't even think about it, bard, — I warned coldly. — That wine costs more than you would make performing in three lifetimes. Speak first.
The boy rubbed his hand with a dramatic pout, complaining that art required fuel, but he immediately adjusted his beret and took up his lyre. I expected a sensible explanation, but the bard preferred to recite a string of poetic rhymes about winds, dying dragons, and a violet flash that had snatched the lyre before they could touch it. The poem concluded by directly accusing the diplomats of Snezhnaya.
I arched an eyebrow, impatient with the theatrical display, and shifted my attention to the traveler. She hadn't said a single word, waiting with a peaceful calmness for the bard to finish his show. Sensing my gaze, she took a step forward. Her eyes reflected an honesty so pure and transparent that, to someone who deals with lies every day, it was surprisingly refreshing.
— What Venti is trying to say through his music is the truth, Master Diluc, — she explained, her voice soft yet carrying a strange firmness. — We did not break into the cathedral to steal. We went there because the dragon, Dvalin, is suffering deeply from an infected wound, and the Holy Lyre is the only thing that can soothe his pain. We were about to retrieve it with the nun's blessing, but an Electro Fatui mage appeared out of nowhere and snatched it right before our eyes. She smiled at us, signaled for silence, and vanished. The alarm triggered right after.
The floating thing nodded aggressively from her shoulder, making an indignant pout while complaining about the foul trick that had been played on them.
I kept my thoughts to myself for a few moments, processing the information. The story about a hurting dragon sounded absurd, but the Fatui's involvement... that lined up perfectly with their foul methods. Those wretched diplomats did whatever they pleased in Mondstadt while the knights looked the other way. I wasn't about to let them have their way, especially not by framing people who clearly only sought to help.
I let out a slow sigh, uncrossing my arms to lean against the bar. I looked at the relieved face of the woman, who hadn't stopped holding her small companion.
— The knights have already passed by and didn't see you here, — I told them, letting my voice soften slightly. — So for now, you can rest easy. They won't be searching this place.
— Whew... Thank goodness! — the creature exclaimed, collapsing exhaustedly onto the wooden bar. — Paimon's heart almost jumped right out of her mouth! Thank you, Master Red-guy. You're a grumpy pants, but a lifesaver grumpy pants.
The traveler relaxed her shoulders and offered a smile filled with genuine sweetness. — Thank you so much for protecting us, Master Diluc. It truly means a lot to us.
I gave a brief nod, turning around to put the glass back in its place. I detested the idea of getting involved in the city's affairs through official channels, but the situation required caution. The Fatui had the lyre, and the arrest warrant had already been issued.
— I am well-acquainted with the movements of those Snezhnayan diplomats, — I added, turning back to face them. — And I do not care for them acting as they please on my lands. Furthermore... if that dragon is truly suffering and your intentions are as honest as they seem, I will do something about it.
The bard grinned from ear to ear, celebrating having found an ally in what he called my "icy armor."
— I cannot act directly without raising suspicion, — I stated, locking eyes with the traveler, whose protective gaze confirmed I had made the right choice. — But I know exactly who can help us track down the lyre and clear your names. I will speak with someone I trust completely within the knights themselves—someone who knows how to see the truth beyond the reports of her superiors. Stay here for the rest of the night. Tomorrow, we will meet with her.
The metallic click of the front door lock marked the end of the night. I extinguished the last of the lights on the ground floor, leaving the tavern submerged in the shadows I preferred. I leaned against the bar for a moment, listening to the quiet. Upstairs, the subtle creaking of the floorboards told me my unusual guests had finally settled in.
What a night. If anyone had told me yesterday that I’d end up harboring a street bard and Mondstadt's newest celebrity after a cathedral heist, I would have suggested they stay off the wine.
I walked up the stairs with slow, deliberate steps, making sure not to make a sound—not out of fear, but out of basic courtesy. Reaching the second floor, I paused in the shadows of the doorway, observing the scene.
The light-haired girl was sitting on one of the leather couches. The small floating creature had already fallen fast asleep by her side, curled up against her with an involuntary pout on its face. I watched the traveler arrange a blanket over it with infinite care, taking her time to tuck it in as if the entire world depended on that little thing sleeping in peace. There was something in her gestures, a devotion so earnest and protective, that it made me stay silent. In a city governed by knights who only follow manuals and protocols, seeing someone act out of pure instinct to protect was strangely respectable.
Then I saw her pull a crimson crystal from her pocket. The red light pulsed faintly in the darkness, reflecting in her eyes. I knew what it was: a tear from Stormterror. She stared at it with a mixture of sorrow and unyielding resolve. She didn't look like a warrior seeking the glory of hunting a beast; she looked like a mother aching to see a child trapped in a nightmare.
On the other end of the room, the green bard rested against the wall, legs crossed. His usual mocking smirk was gone, replaced by an ancient, tired gaze as he watched the woman.
— You have a truly extraordinary heart, my beautiful Honorary Knight, — I heard the bard whisper, his voice so soft it was almost lost in the room. — Dvalin has been alone for a very long time, surrounded by dark whispers... But when I see you taking care of Paimon, and worrying for him like that, I know the wind made no mistake in bringing you here.
— No creature should have to suffer alone in the dark, Venti, — she replied softly, carefully putting the crystal away. — As a mother, my heart cannot ignore the cries of someone who is frightened and hurting. If the Holy Lyre is the key to saving him, we will walk through fire if we must.
The bard smiled—a clean, thoroughly disarmed smile—and cradled his instrument against his chest before telling her to get some rest.
I turned around silently and walked back down the steps to the bar. Those words lingered in my mind. A mother seeking to heal a hurting dragon, a bard who spoke of Dvalin as if he were an old friend, and the Fatui moving in the shadows of my city. The situation was far more complex than the inept Order of Favonius believed.
At the very least, that woman had her priorities straight. If Mondstadt depended on the knights' diplomacy, we were lost; but if it depended on the stubbornness of a mother willing to walk through fire, perhaps there was still a chance.
I pulled out my pocket watch: twelve-thirty. First thing tomorrow, I would send the message. Jean needed to see this with her own eyes.
Diluc put away his pocket watch with a slow, deliberate movement, keeping his eyes fixed on the staircase.
— Stay here for the rest of the night, — he stated, locking his crimson gaze onto the traveler. — Tomorrow, we will meet with her. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must pen the note to summon her at dawn before the headquarters dissolves into chaos.
The traveler nodded with a sweet, grateful smile, cradling a thoroughly exhausted Paimon in her arms as she headed upstairs with Venti to try and get some rest.
Below, silence reclaimed the ground floor of the tavern, broken only by the faint flickering of the lanterns. Diluc walked with firm steps behind the bar, retrieving a well-sharpened quill, a pot of black ink, and a sheet of thick paper. He sat at one of the wooden tables near the dim light of a lamp and began to write.
With precise movements and flawless calligraphy, Diluc drafted an encrypted message addressed to Jean. In the letter, he used no direct names nor made any mention of the Holy Lyre; instead, he employed ancient codes that only the Grand Master and he had known how to interpret for years. Captured upon the paper was the absolute urgency of a dawn meeting at The Angel's Share, under the strict warning that the truth behind the cathedral heist lay within these walls, and that she needed to come alone, completely bypassing the official patrols of the Order of Favonius.
Once he finished writing, he blew gently over the damp ink to dry it, folded the paper with meticulous neatness, and sealed it, preparing it to be delivered immediately through one of his trusted night messengers within his information network.
The early hours of the morning passed in peaceful silence on the upper floor, lulled only by the subtle crimson pulse of Dvalin's tear, which the mother kept safely guarded in her pocket. Before long, the dawn began to paint the tavern's stained-glass windows with golden threads, dispelling the dense twilight of the night.
Below, the echo of firm yet hurried footsteps shattered the morning calm. The heavy doors of The Angel's Share swung open with a muffled creak, revealing a woman of elegant posture, her blonde hair tied up, wearing the formal cape of the Knights of Favonius. It was Jean Gunnhildr. Her face, usually serene, bore faint dark circles and an expression of deep, heavy worry after receiving Diluc's encrypted note.
— Diluc... — Jean spoke, dropping her voice to a bare whisper as she closed the door behind her. — I received your encrypted message at dawn. I came as quickly as I could, but you must know the immense risk I am taking by meeting you in secret while the city is on high alert over the cathedral heist. You said you had critical information; what is this about?
Diluc, who was already standing by the bar pouring a cup of coffee, looked up with his usual cold poise.
— I wouldn't have summoned you if it were a waste of time, Jean, — the tycoon replied, setting the mug upon the wooden counter. — Your knights are hunting in the wrong places. The truth isn't in your official reports.
At that moment, the traveler and Venti began to silently make their way down the wooden stairs. Hearing the creaking footsteps, Jean spun around quickly, pressing a hand to her chest as her eyes widened in sheer surprise. She hadn't even realized they were hidden on the upper floor of the tavern until that very moment, believing she was only meeting Diluc.
— You are truly here? — Jean murmured, taking a step forward with a mixture of absolute relief and profound confusion. — I needed to speak with you immediately... The entire cathedral is convinced that you planned the raid. Search orders have been issued across the city, but knowing your honesty and the care you've shown for Mondstadt, I find it difficult to believe you would do such a thing. Please, I need to hear from you what exactly transpired in that treasury last night.
The traveler stopped before the Grand Master. With her characteristically sweet, measured, and transparent voice, she recounted every single detail: the dragon Dvalin's deep suffering from an infected wound, the necessity of using the Holy Lyre to heal him, and finally, how an Electro Fatui mage had materialized out of nowhere to snatch the relic right before their eyes, using them as the perfect scapegoats.
Jean listened to the account in absolute silence. As the truth of the plot came to light, the Grand Master's expression hardened, and her eyes reflected an imminent alarm.
— That is... highly dangerous, — Jean stated firmly, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes. — If the Fatui hold the Holy Lyre in their hands, the safety of Mondstadt is in unimaginable jeopardy. They are highly dangerous and calculating people, and we do not know what they are truly capable of under the guise of diplomatic immunity. We must act now; we cannot afford to waste a single second.
— My, now that's the kind of resolve I like to hear from the Grand Master! — Venti chimed in, stepping forward with a light, clever smirk, breaking the tension. — Since urgency is pressing upon us, allow this humble bard to blow a little hint your way as to where the wind has carried the lyre.
Jean and Diluc turned their attention toward the green boy. Venti leaned forward slightly, his teal eyes sparkling with a playful yet sharp determination.
— You see, the Fatui are highly dangerous and methodical people, driven by an overflowing pride. They wouldn't hide such a divine treasure in just any ordinary alleyway. They keep a fortified hiding place right here in the city—a secret base where they stash their spoils before shipping them back to Snezhnaya. If we move with stealth and speed, we can intercept that mage before the relic ever leaves Mondstadt's borders. It's time to pay them an unexpected visit.
Jean said her goodbyes with that rigid military salute that always amuses me a little, though this time I must admit her resolve was commendable. The moment the Grand Master crossed the threshold to go and divert the headquarters' patrols, I knew the stage was set. I looked over at my companions and couldn't help but smile; we were a highly unusual bunch for a clandestine operation.
I guided the traveler and little Paimon through Mondstadt's narrowest alleyways, where the air currents turn fickle and hide away from prying eyes. We carefully avoided the main avenues, moving to the rhythm of a gentle morning breeze until we came to a halt before that massive gate of iron and carved stone.
The Fatui's fortified hideout. The air here felt heavy, stagnant, as if the frost of Snezhnaya had taken root in our city. To anyone else, it would look like an ordinary high-class residence, but my senses could perceive the cold energy of their protection runes. They weren't mere diplomats; they were highly dangerous people, trained soldiers of oppression guarding the place with an almost robotic stiffness.
I peeked around the corner of the stone wall, narrowing my eyes. My usual lightheartedness gave way to a seriousness I rarely show, but the situation demanded it. The Holy Lyre was suffering beneath that roof, and with it, the echo of my dear Dvalin's pain.
— The wind tells me the Holy Lyre is just behind these walls, — I whispered to them, turning back without losing my vigilance. — But they aren't about to let us walk through with a smile. The defenses are fully active.
I watched the traveler take a step forward. She tightened her gauntlets with a measured slowness that denoted admirable bravery. She positioned herself so her body served as a shield for the small floating creature, who shrunk back slightly in fear behind her, though she wore a tiny pout trying to look brave. Seeing the mother's gaze, I felt a deep certainty. There was a peaceful calmness on her face, but her clear eyes sparkled with an unyielding determination—the very same one that let me know from day one that the wind had made no mistake in guiding her here.
— We will not turn back, — she stated, her voice sweet yet somehow managed to sound as firm as a mountain. — Dvalin is suffering, and I will not allow his pain to continue for the sake of their schemes. We will break our way in if we must.
— That's the spirit! — the floating thing added in a rushed whisper. — Paimon will be right behind you, (Y/N)! Let's go get that harp back and clear our names!
I let out a small smile, feeling the Anemo flow answer the call of my fingertips. It was time for Mondstadt's music to reclaim what belonged to it and put those intruders in their place.
— Well said. Then, let the wind clear the path for you, — I said, gathering the elemental energy as we prepared to breach Snezhnaya's defensive lines.
Channeling the wind's energy has always been second nature to me—a melody that flows without effort. With a subtle flick of my wrist, I directed a gust of air to muffle the sound of our footsteps as we slipped past the iron gate. The inner courtyard of the stronghold was cold and gray, decorated with that rigid symmetry the soldiers of Snezhnaya seem so fond of.
The moment we stepped into the stone corridors, the metallic echo of heavy armor forced us to press ourselves against the shadows of a pillars. Two Fatui guards—burly and wearing masks that concealed any trace of humanity—passed just a few feet away, muttering under their breath about the orders from the diplomatic brass. They were highly dangerous people, without a doubt; their steady, heavy strides betrayed that they stood ready to crush any intrusion.
I glanced over at the traveler. I half-expected to spot a flicker of doubt or fear in her clear eyes, but I was entirely mistaken. She maintained an unbothered calmness, peaceful as the eye of a hurricane. Her priority remained crystal clear: with one arm, she shielded little Paimon, who was covering her mouth with her tiny hands to avoid making a sound, wearing a pout of pure concentration.
Once the guards moved away, the traveler looked at me with fierce resolve and nodded. We advanced through the labyrinth of hallways, descending into the lower levels of the structure where the air grew even more glacial. I knew the Holy Lyre was close; I could hear the distant, faint echo of its golden strings—a silent cry resonating within my own chest, begging to be freed from captivity.
— The main basement is just across this hallway, — I whispered to them, dropping my voice to an absolute minimum as the teal glow of my braids flickered softly. — But the security gets much tighter from here on out. The Electro mage who framed you last night must be guarding the relic in the central chamber.
The traveler stepped forward, unsheathing her sword with a silent elegance. This mother's resolve was a shield stronger than any knight's armor.
— We will retrieve the lyre, Venti, — she affirmed in a whisper laced with unwavering sweetness. — No one is going to use the music of this world to feed the suffering of a hurting soul.
Sonreí, sintiendo cómo el viento se agitaba con emoción a nuestro alrededor. Todo estaba listo para el movimiento final.
Just as the Fatui Agent fell unconscious onto the stone floor, a faint whimper of terror echoed from the darkest corner of the room. As we turned around, we discovered a regular Snezhnayan skirmisher, completely cornered against the wall, trembling as he witnessed how the traveler had taken down his superior without even breaking a sweat.
Paimon placed her hands on her hips, hovering toward him with a pout full of newfound bravery.
— Aha! Caught you red-handed! — the small creature cheered. — Start talking if you don't want to end up like your boss! What were you planning to do with the Holy Lyre?
The soldier, his eyes wide with panic beneath his mask and his voice cracking, threw his hands up in surrender, staring directly at the traveler’s commanding yet serene figure.
— Please... don't hurt me! I-I'm just following orders! — the guard pleaded, terrified by the mother's peaceful yet unyielding determination. — The relic... we weren't going to keep it here for long. Signora herself is with us in Mondstadt! She... the Fatui Harbingers are behind all of this! If you try to stop us, the Harbinger will show no mercy...
My teal braids glowed faintly as I took a step forward, my smile completely fading. The name Signora hung in the icy basement air with an ominous weight. The Harbingers were highly dangerous people, the true eye of the storm threatening my city.
— So, Signora is here... — I murmured to myself, a melancholic seriousness in my voice. — The Fatui's strings cut deeper than Jean imagined.
The traveler nodded in silence, maintaining her protective stance in front of Paimon while holding the Holy Lyre firmly within her arms. Her transparent gaze made it perfectly clear that no matter how dangerous the Harbingers were, she wouldn't take a single step back.
— Let's go, — the mother stated in her sweet, calm voice, leaving the soldier trembling in his corner. — We have what we came for. It is time to return to Jean and Diluc.
Next Part
