The moment the carriage door was pulled open, Morgan saw the one among The Seven who controlled the wind.
Barbatos.
Unlike the bard in green who would spend his days in the future hugging a lyre and mooching drinks at the tavern.
At this moment, he was a “Archon” in the truest sense.
With large white wings on his back, a faint cyan shimmer flowed around him.
His white divine attire outlined his slender figure, with his hem and hair drifting gently.
The lyre in his arms looked extraordinary, its precious body shimmering with flowing light.
Barbatos hovered outside the carriage door, his posture casual yet possessing the unique lightness of an Anemo element lifeform, even more ethereal than his own Anemo Sprite fairies.
“Oh my—”
Barbatos tilted his head, his emerald eyes examining him with a smile on his lips.
Morgan was the second of The Seven he had ever met.
The first was Rex Lapis, the oldest and most steady of The Seven.
He was also the first of The Seven that Barbatos had met after becoming the Anemo Archon.
As for why mention Morax, it was because Morgan wanted to befriend the one from Liyue and was asking Venti about him.
That was after the aristocrats of Old Mondstadt had been overthrown.
Barbatos had just led the people to overthrow the rule of Decarabian in the name of the Anemo Archon.
Yet he was a weak Archon, with shallow prestige and an unstable foundation.
To consolidate the power of the people, he did something rather dishonorable.
He forged a fake contract from Rex Lapis, claiming that the high-tower aristocrats were planning to sell the people of Mondstadt to Liyue as slaves for profit.
Rex Lapis valued contracts.
Naturally, he also cared about his reputation.
Afterwards, he explained the truth to the people of the new Mondstadt, but he had to give Morax an explanation for this matter.
Thus, he flew to Liyue.
On the peak of Jueyun Karst, he found the Lord of Geo.
He plucked his lyre and sang a poem expressing his apologies.
Morax stood on the peak, listening to the poem.
Then, he set up a stone table and two stone stools on Jueyun Karst.
“According to the customs of Liyue,” Rex Lapis said, “to sincerely apologize to someone, one must punish oneself with three cups.”
Barbatos thought he had misheard at the time.
Three cups?
That’s it?
Then Morax said: “Wine is for friends, poetry is for those who understand.”
He poured another cup for Barbatos.
This punishment hit the drunkard’s preferences perfectly; three cups became three more.
Every time Morax saw him, he would say to his adepti: “That drunkard bard is here again.”
His tone was helpless, yet not annoyed.
And when Barbatos spoke of this Geo Archon to Vennessa, he would say: “He is a stubborn old man.”
In short, after experiencing some things, these two Anemo and Geo Archons were the first to become familiar with each other.
To Barbatos, Morax was a respectable friend.
They were currently in their best “frenemy” mode.
As for the one before him—
Just as the rumors said, he was an elegant and majestic person.
He possessed the handsome appearance that the world imagined for fairies, a tall stature, and wore a crown of thorns made of ice.
This one, like the old man, was also a powerhouse who had fought his way out among many Archons.
But on the surface, he didn’t have the sharpness of a rock’s edge like the old man; instead, he was like a snowflake with a beautiful structure, evoking a desire to admire him.
Archons always had some unique aura, and this White Tsar was no exception.
When gazed upon by his pale blue eyes, one’s mind could easily drown in them, like a sailor falling into the sea, lured by the siren song of the deep ocean.
Barbatos subconsciously plucked the lyre in his arms, the crisp sound instantly pulling him out of that state.
“Truly, seeing is believing.”
His gaze landed on Morgan’s eyes.
“You really are a peculiar Archon—to be able to capture the mind of a wisp of wind.”
Morgan understood what he was saying.
This Anemo Archon’s true form was merely a wisp among the thousand winds.
But in that instant, when Barbatos gazed into his eyes, that wisp of wind had stalled for a moment.
“That counts as my trait.” Morgan blinked, his tone flat, “Even I cannot turn it off.”
He was speaking the truth.
The years spent traveling among the stars, the time immersed in various Destinys, the days and nights spent walking with companions—those experiences had left their mark on him.
The boundlessness of Remembrance, the fusion of Harmony, the freedom of the Trailblaze.
The power of the Destinys had deeply influenced his very existence.
Especially the romantic and casual nature of the Trailblazers; exploring the universe, driving the Astral Express to drift through the star seas—was this not an ultimate form of freedom?
Having been a Memokeeper, Morgan naturally had a bit of a collecting habit; how many stories had this wisp of wind before him heard and seen?
He really wanted to collect his memories; to pluck a wisp of memory from the breeze of Teyvat—how worth collecting it would be.
But he was not like some impolite former Memokeeper colleagues who would sneak into others’ memories to steal without the owner’s consent.
And these eyes, which had seen the true starry sky, to a creature living under a false sky.
The purer the elemental lifeform, the more it possessed a certain natural attraction.
Barbatos rested his chin on his hand, looking him up and down.
That gaze held curiosity, but no sense of scrutiny.
“I am also seeing a Descender for the first time.” The Anemo Archon said, his tone as light as if he were discussing today’s weather.
“You are indeed quite different from the lifeforms of Teyvat—I feel like you are more like a wind that cannot be trapped than I am.”
—Why did this guy expose my secrets right from the start?
He had hidden his identity as a Descender very well.
Except for Anastasia, no one else in all of Snezhnaya knew.
The corners of his mouth curled up; exposing secrets, huh?
“As a wisp among Istaroth’s ten million avatars,” Morgan said unhurriedly, “the news of the wind is truly well-informed.”
Barbatos’s smile froze on his face.
“Hey, hey, hey—” His wings fluttered, and he subconsciously leaned forward, almost reaching out to cover Morgan’s mouth, “You can’t say that!”
Morgan watched him with composure.
Barbatos retracted his hand, muttering: “How does it feel like you know more than I do…”
His emerald eyes turned, seemingly re-evaluating the colleague before him.
Morgan did not continue this topic; he glanced out of the carriage.
Those fairy guards were collectively stunned; their Majesty was currently in conversation with the Anemo Archon.
A few young fairies already had their mouths open in an O shape.
Morgan coughed lightly.
“Didn’t you want to taste what I brought?” He moved aside, revealing the space inside the carriage, “Come in and talk.”
Barbatos’s eyes lit up immediately.
He tucked his wings, and his whole body landed lightly into the carriage.
This was Anastasia’s carriage.
The interior of the carriage was luxuriously decorated, reflecting the preferences of the Grand Duchess.
The cushions were covered with the fur of snowfield pack beasts, feeling delicate and warm to the touch.
The wall lamps were carved from ice crystals, with weak elemental flames burning at the wicks.
On the small table by the window, there was also a book that had been read several times by Anastasia.
Barbatos plopped onto the cushion.
He did not examine the carriage’s decor, nor was he curious about Anastasia’s personal items; instead, he stared straight at Morgan’s actions.
Morgan calmly took out an ice crystal bottle from the chest on the side.
The bottle was transparent, and the amber liquid inside shimmered with light.
Barbatos’s eyes brightened even more.
Morgan did not rush to open it; he looked up at the Anemo Archon opposite him.
“Do you have any Mondstadt fruit wine?”
“I will mix a special drink for you.”
Barbatos blinked.
The next second, he reached into the void.
A small ball of wind appeared out of thin air, and he pulled a wineskin from it.