On Starsnatch Cliff, the Anemo Archon Barbatos, who had just finished expending his divine power to shape the terrain of Mondstadt one last time, was resting quietly with his beloved lyre in his arms.
He received the winds blowing back from all directions, carrying the responses of the other Archons.
The presence of the Geo Archon was as steady and unyielding as a mountain; the whisper of the Electro Archon carried a faint spark of electricity blended with gentleness; the fragrance of flora signaled the nation of wisdom.
Moist water vapor drifted with an oceanic rhythm, while a scalding warmth rose from a volcano that would never burn out.
Finally, a gust carrying the chill of frost and snow brought the echo of the northernmost realm’s new Archon.
The language was ancient and beautiful, its rhythm intricate.
Having heard that this new Archon shared a love for music, Barbatos wondered how enchanting the songs and poetry sung in his voice would sound.
Barbatos blinked his emerald eyes and gently plucked a string of his lyre.
“Hmm… So he thinks a gathering of just gods isn’t grand enough and wants to make it a livelier affair?” He mulled over the intent of the Cryo Archon.
He plucked the string once more, and a more majestic, refined wave of Anemo power rippled outward with him at the center.
Invisible currents of wind wove together high above Teyvat.
Though limited by distance—resulting in a delay of ten minutes or more—it was enough to establish a cross-regional Archon chat group.
Before long, different winds delivered messages of distinct styles, sweeping straight into the royal court of the Tsar of White Sands.
First to speak was the group owner, Barbatos, his wind brimming with the free-spirited air of poetry and wine:
[Fellow Archons, the final location has been set for Liyue. Does anyone have any suggestions? I will bring the finest wine and the grandest poetry to celebrate the end of the war.]
Immediately following was the earthy scent of freshly turned soil, courtesy of Liyue’s host, Morax.
[Liyue shall extend full hospitality as host to ensure everyone feels welcome. The location may be set on the vast plain east of Guili and along the banks of the Bishui River. It will be easy to arrange and grand enough to show proper respect.]
The Electro element dancing in the wind rustled softly, conveying the gentle, melodious voice of Baal, the Electro Archon.
[I hear this festival is to be celebrated on an even grander scale. May we bring along our familiars, family, and friends? Several of my key familiars also wish to behold the glory of the gods and celebrate peace together.]
*Ah, Raiden Makoto—the elder of the Narukami sisters.* *In the future, she’s destined to be parted from her sister Ei and perish in the battle of Khaenri’ah.
If I get the chance, I should save her.* Moh thought as he reviewed official documents.
A vibrant fragrance of lush vegetation followed, accompanied by the peaceful tone of the God of Wisdom.
[I bring celebratory gifts and the wisdom of Sumeru. My parade float is ready to set out, and I wish to share the blessings of the rainforest with you all.]
*Greater Lord Rukkhadevata!
The regret of countless players in the Sumeru chapter.* *After her death, her very existence was corrupted by forbidden knowledge, to the point where even her name couldn’t remain.* *Definitely saving her too.*
Moist vapor carried an elegant query: [The Oceanids long to accompany me to the feast to express Fontaine’s respect and joy. I wonder if there are sufficiently clean lakes near the venue for them to temporarily reside?]
*The original Hydro Archon, Egeria.
She was another who truly loved humanity—enough to pull off that wild stunt of turning Oceanids into humans.* *Now she’s finally released from the Heavenly Principles’ cage.*
A blazing wind brought a trace of sulfur, yet it bore no violence, only forthrightness:
[I would like to bring a dragonkin along. Rest assured, he has a gentle disposition and likes humans very much. He will certainly cause no trouble.]
The Pyro Archon of Natlan.
Yet in Moh’s head, only that song started playing automatically, its powerful beat pounding away— *”There is only one path left for us—the path of Xbalanque!”*
*Might as well save this one too.
Though she didn’t die at Khaenri’ah, after Xbalanque’s death, his dragon buddy strayed down the wrong path.*
Finally, the frosty snow-wind of the north joined the “chat,” and Monomakh’s Fae tongue resounded:
[I shall perform a special piece for you all as a gift for our first meeting, and to add a touch of musical beauty to this grand event.]
Immediately after, what seemed to be a private message meant solely for Barbatos was transmitted on a fainter, more delicate breeze.
The message inquired whether he could compose music for the Anemo Archon’s poetry and proposed exploring potential collaboration.
In the main group chat, the gods discussed the scale of the venue, bringing key familiars or representative mortal subjects, and fixing the exact date for one month later.
Meanwhile, Barbatos replied to Monomakh privately, his voice sounding delighted:
[Of course! I have long heard that the Archon of Art and Literature excels at music. It would be my honor to have you compose for me. If you don’t mind, you could come to Mondstadt before the gathering so we can meet up, fine-tune the melodies, and exchange ideas.]
Attached was the general location of Mondstadt and a guiding breeze.
Soon, the frost-wind replied: [Excellent. Then we shall meet in Mondstadt fifteen days from now.]
In the “main group,” the Archons briefly confirmed further details, such as how their respective peoples would participate in the festivities.
They agreed on delegations, performances, and exhibitions to avoid the chaos of massive population movement.
Each nation would handle its own security, with Liyue providing basic host assistance.
Most of the time, Moh simply seconded proposals or offered a few harmless artistic suggestions.
Once everything was tentatively settled, the divine power Barbatos used to maintain the chat group faded, and the wind network gradually dispersed until the last thread of connection snapped.
Inside the royal court of Snezhnaya, Moh was thoroughly satisfied.
The time for an offline meetup had finally arrived.
“I need to prepare properly for this diplomatic trip. A gathering of all Seven Archons… I have to score at least ten Light Cones for my collection.”
He picked up a blank scroll and began listing items.
Among the entourage, Anastasia had to be included.
She was Moh’s designated heir apparent, as well as a Fae duke who had achieved illustrious military merit.
Having raised her from a young age, calling her his foster daughter was no exaggeration.
If the day ever came when Moh left Teyvat to return to the cosmos, this land of snow would be entrusted to her care.
If he couldn’t leave, he would entrust the Will of Trailblaze to her, letting her journey to the cosmos in his stead.
*Hiss…
Come to think of it, could Anastasia be the Tsaritsa that the Fatui kept mentioning in the game during my past life?* *Don’t tell me I get elbowed to death during the Khaenri’ah war?*
*Whatever.
That time is still a long way off anyway.
I’ll worry about it later.*
Regardless, the crown princess of Snezhnaya needed to go out and see the world.
The honor guard should be lean yet elite.
Image mattered.
Though the Fae had no shortage of handsome men and beautiful women, selecting those with true elegance still required careful screening.
Attendants, protocol officers…
A headache, but he couldn’t leave them behind.
The Fae belonged to various clans—Beastkin, Wind Fairies, Water Nymphs, Snow Spirits, and so on.
Every clan needed a few representatives present.
Otherwise, those Fae dukes would weep before the throne again, complaining that he was showing favoritism to one over another.
He really couldn’t understand why they loved to squabble so much.
Sometimes, just to fight for a chance to have a weekly meal and casual chat with him, they would practically beat each other’s brains out.
Anastasia often teased, “Those dukes act just like imperial concubines competing for the Emperor’s favor. They’d cover themselves in peacock feathers and strut before you if they could. Do you truly not realize that receiving the favor of the Tsar of White Sands is the ultimate blessing to them?”
Moh shuddered with a sudden wave of goosebumps.
He was neither a furry nor gay, nor did he care for this old-fashioned Western aristocratic court culture.
Nor did he plan on finding a romantic partner.
After all, love and romance would only slow down his speed at building infrastructure.
How could a harem ever be more fun than building houses?
Yet his personal charm was simply too overwhelming, to the point where the Fae treated him like a galgame hero, constantly trying to raise their affection points in front of him.
If they weren’t showering him with gifts, they were kneeling down to lift the Tsar’s hand and kiss his knuckles in pledge of loyalty.
Then there was that one time when Moh had finished reviewing official documents for the day and was about to go for a walk, only to run into a female Beastkin who passionately confessed her love.
To be clear: Moh was not prejudiced against furries.
Because he had allocated seats and power based on military merit during the Archon War.
The Hyperboreans had created the Fae.
The ones resembling beautiful humans were generally meant to serve as servants and lovers for their masters.
The Beastkin, on the other hand, served a wide variety of functions.
For instance, tiny rabbit-like Beastkin were created to test the limits of reproduction.
Tall and powerful ones were mine slaves and heavy laborers.
Massive beastly forms generally held an advantage in war, unless the humanoid ones wielded advanced elemental power.
Thus, Moh’s court was filled with many Beastkin nobility.
But that burly, bear-headed lady had looked at him with bashful embarrassment, saying she was willing to serve His Majesty the Tsar of White Sands.
Moh’s scalp had gone numb and his face turned pale.
Staring at the two “mountains” twice his height, he ordered the guards to “escort” the noble lady out.
If any guard let another Fae inside without his permission, he was definitely going to kick the captain of the guard’s ass with his boot.
*Hyperboreans!
Look at the soldiers you raised!
What on earth did you indoctrinate these Fae with?!* *It’s terrifying, horrifying—these Fae are sexually repressed to an appalling degree!*
They even stole his used wine goblets and haircombs to sell outside for exorbitant prices.
Moh had been forced to establish a far stricter, more chaste set of court etiquette rules.
Domestic affairs would be overseen by Duke Filippov, who was adept at shapeshifting, while the other dukes assisted in supervising.
Why choose Duke Filippov?
Because he was a hero who had achieved monumental exploits for Moh during the war.
Most importantly, he had a wife he adored deeply.
Their marriage was so sickeningly sweet and pure that Moh found it nauseatingly wholesome.
At the very least, he wouldn’t use his position to secretly steal Moh’s belongings for his “personal collection.”
*Ah, being too popular is truly a burden.
But what can I do when I’m this well-liked?*
Itinerary planning, festival performances, formal Archon attire…
The list grew longer and longer.
Looking at the dense writing filling up the scroll, Moh suddenly felt that this wasn’t much easier than reviewing official documents.
“Ahhh!” He uttered a brief lament and buried his face in his arms.
When was this work ever going to end?