“Ah… now that was a good sleep.”
Venti stretched across the inn bed, sat up, and yawned so widely that his hat nearly slid from his head.
The early-morning sunlight had already begun spilling through the curtains.
His memories of the previous night were fragmented but not entirely absent.
At some point before dawn, he had vaguely felt Lucian Vale hauling him through Mondstadt, carrying him into an inn, and dropping him onto a mattress with very little ceremony.
Venti rubbed his eyes.
What had Lucian done after leaving Angel’s Share?
The man’s tolerance for alcohol was ridiculous.
Venti had spent centuries drinking across Mondstadt, Liyue, and every road in between, yet this was the first time he had encountered someone who could outlast him so completely.
Lucian had become drunk as well.
Venti was certain of that.
And yet, somehow, the man had still possessed enough energy to wander off into the night.
“Terrifying,” Venti murmured.
“I’ve finally met someone who can drink more than me.”
His throat felt dry.
He reached for the glass of water on the bedside table and emptied it in a single breath.
Only then did he notice the folded note trapped beneath the bottom of the glass.
Venti picked it up.
Do not forget our agreement.
Help Lucian Vale at the appropriate moment.
Use the authority of the Anemo Archon to reverse his reputation.
The Vision must support flight.
Venti stared at the message.
Lucian’s plan was simple.
There was no stronger public proof of divine approval than the sudden appearance of a Vision.
Mondstadt’s citizens could argue with an outsider, question his words, and accuse him of disrespecting Barbatos—but few would continue doing so after the gods appeared to acknowledge him directly.
Lucian had even customized the ability he wanted.
Flight.
He could already fly by altering his biological form and growing wings, but that was far too troublesome for ordinary use.
Elemental flight would be cleaner, more convenient, and considerably more stylish.
Venti sighed.
He had accepted five million Mora.
Now he had to earn it.
At the headquarters of the Knights of Favonius, the two knights who had escorted Barbara back from Windrise arrived several steps behind her.
They tried to stop her outside the Grand Master’s office.
They failed.
Barbara charged through the doorway before either man could catch her.
Varka’s expression froze.
Only moments ago, Lucian had claimed that he had never seen Barbara.
Jean’s face changed even more dramatically.
Barbara knew this man.
Not casually, either.
The moment she saw him, she pointed directly at him and shouted with enough anger to shake the room.
“You villain!”
Lucian turned around.
For a second, he looked genuinely confused.
He had heard an unusually sharp voice behind him, but when he glanced back, he saw only the two knights standing near the doorway.
His gaze moved downward.
Then he found Barbara.
The difference in height was considerable.
Standing so close to him, Barbara was almost completely below his natural line of sight.
Lucian smiled politely.
“Hello.
A pleasure to meet you.
My name is Lucian Vale.”
“You’re a liar!”
“My name really is Lucian Vale.”
“That isn’t what I meant!
We are not meeting for the first time!”
Barbara’s furious voice carried into the corridor.
Knights working nearby slowed down.
A few pretended to organize documents while quietly moving closer.
Others leaned against the walls with expressions of professional concern that fooled absolutely no one.
Lisa arrived carrying a cup of coffee.
The librarian took one look at Barbara confronting the towering stranger in the Grand Master’s office, chose an excellent viewing position near the wall, and calmly began drinking.
Varka leaned toward Lucian.
“Brother Lucian,” he whispered, “what exactly is going on?”
Lucian examined Barbara’s face for several seconds.
His expression gradually brightened with apparent recognition.
“Oh.
I remember now.”
Barbara’s eyes widened.
“Last night,” Lucian continued, “I was taking a walk near Windrise.
I found this young lady asleep beneath the great oak, so I kindly moved her somewhere safer.”
“I was not asleep!” Barbara began.
Jean cut in immediately.
“Where did you move her?”
Her voice carried unmistakable anxiety.
The idea of Barbara lying unconscious outside Mondstadt all night frightened her more than any embarrassment or public disturbance.
Lucian answered honestly.
“I tied her to a tree.”
Silence.
Varka’s shoulders began to shake.
One of the knights outside covered his mouth.
The other turned away, but a poorly suppressed laugh escaped him.
Both men had personally seen Barbara trapped within the branches, wrapped like an insect inside a cocoon with only her head exposed.
The description spread in whispers through the corridor.
Within moments, the solemn headquarters of the Knights of Favonius filled with badly hidden amusement.
Barbara’s face turned bright red.
“He’s lying!”
She stamped one foot.
“He was digging beside the tree at Windrise!
I caught him, and then he attacked me because I discovered what he was doing!”
Lucian pointed to himself.
“Me?
Digging up Windrise?”
He looked honestly offended by the accusation.
“There is only one enormous tree there.
Why would I try to dig it up?”
The question sounded entirely reasonable.
The great oak was one of Mondstadt’s most famous landmarks.
Its value lay in history, memory, and legend.
Destroying it would achieve nothing.
More importantly, the tree was immense.
To ordinary reasoning, one man with a shovel could not possibly uproot it.
“Barbara,” Jean said sharply, “stop this.”
Barbara turned toward her sister.
Jean stepped around the desk.
“Return to the Church of Favonius.
The Grand Master and I still have official business to discuss with Mr.
Vale.”
She could already feel the situation escaping control.
The corridor was filling with spectators, and every additional accusation made Barbara appear less credible.
Before Jean could take her away, Lucian raised one hand.
“There is no need to rush, Acting Grand Master.”
Jean paused.
Lucian rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“Miss Barbara clearly has an extremely poor impression of me.
It would be better to correct the misunderstanding now.”
Jean’s heart tightened.
She still knew almost nothing about Lucian’s temperament.
He had entered a Fatui prison alone, forced the Harbingers to surrender Diluc, and appeared in Mondstadt wearing Dottore’s cloak.
A man capable of such things could not be judged by normal standards.
Varka remained silent.
He did not believe Lucian was needlessly cruel.
Someone truly malicious would not have rescued Diluc, healed Dottore’s prisoners, and then left Snezhnaya without attempting to seize power.
Lucian turned to Barbara.
“You claim that I was digging beside the tree at Windrise.
Where is the evidence?”
Barbara immediately seized upon the question.
“That’s right!
I saw it myself.
You dug several enormous holes!”
Lucian looked toward the corridor.
“Did any of you visit Windrise this morning?”
The two knights who had rescued Barbara were pushed forward by the growing crowd.
Varka addressed them.
“Did you see any holes near the oak?”
“No, Grand Master.”
“Nothing at all,” the second knight confirmed.
Barbara stared at them.
“That’s impossible!
There was a huge pit behind the tree!”
“Barbara, enough.”
Jean’s patience finally broke.
She walked to her sister, caught her by the arm, and began leading her toward the door.
Barbara’s skin felt normal.
She had no fever.
She was not injured beyond a numb arm and a few marks left by the branches.
So why was she insisting on something no one else had seen?
Barbara struggled.
Her eyes reddened.
She was telling the truth.
She knew what she had witnessed.
Yet every word she spoke only made the people around her look more doubtful.
The helplessness hurt more than the restraint around her arm.
Lord Barbatos, she prayed desperately, if you can hear me, please help me.
Jean continued pulling her backward.
Barbara kicked against the floor and twisted around.
“Even if the holes disappeared, you still insulted the Anemo Archon yesterday!” she shouted at Lucian.
“Dozens of people heard you!”
The corridor fell silent.
Jean stopped moving.
Every knight who had been smiling moments earlier became serious.
Publicly insulting Barbatos was not necessarily a legal crime in the City of Freedom, but doing so openly inside the Knights’ headquarters was another matter.
At the very least, it demanded an explanation.
Barbara pulled free from Jean’s grip and hurried back to Lucian.
She stood directly in front of him, lifted her face, and glared upward with stubborn determination.
Lucian met her gaze.
“Yes,” he said.
“And no.”
A wave of disbelief passed through the room.
Was he admitting it?
Here?
Inside the headquarters of the Knights of Favonius?
Barbara refused to be distracted.
“You mocked the story of Lord Barbatos.”
“You are Barbara, correct?”
She nodded cautiously.
“And you serve the Church of Favonius?”
“Yes.”
“Besides believing in the Anemo Archon, have you ever seen him?”
Barbara hesitated.
Then she shook her head.
Barbatos had not openly appeared before Mondstadt’s people for centuries.
Barbara had prayed to him all her life, but she had never knowingly stood before him.
“Have you witnessed the Anemo Archon using divine power?” Lucian asked.
Again, she shook her head.
Everything she knew came from hymns, scripture, oral tradition, and the stories preserved by Mondstadt.
Lucian spread his hands.
“Then how can you be certain that your version is correct and mine is wrong?”
Barbara opened her mouth.
No answer came.
She believed because the Church taught those legends, because Mondstadt had preserved them for generations, and because faith did not normally require personal observation.
Yet Lucian’s argument trapped her.
She had assumed an outsider knew less than she did, but she had no proof that he lacked knowledge unavailable to the Church.
The surrounding knights exchanged uncertain looks.
Lucian smiled.
“Since you believe I was wrong, I will allow the Anemo Archon himself to vindicate me.”
Everyone stared.
Let Barbatos vindicate him?
The god had remained absent from public life for generations.
Why would the Anemo Archon respond to the claims of one unknown outsider?
The arrogance of the declaration was almost greater than the original insult.
Lucian slowly extended his right hand.
His fingers remained tightly closed.
A faint breeze entered the office.
No window had opened.
The papers on Jean’s desk rustled.
Lisa lowered her cup.
Varka’s expression sharpened.
Lucian opened his hand.
At first, his palm was empty.
Several spectators sighed in disappointment.
Then green light flashed between his fingers.
A current of pure Anemo energy spiraled into existence, followed by a brief golden radiance that illuminated the entire office.
Within the light, an object formed.
A Vision.
Its casing bore the style of Mondstadt, while the gem at its center shone with the clear green of Anemo.
It floated above Lucian’s palm and rotated slowly, scattering cool wind through the room.
The air carried a sensation that every Mondstadter recognized instinctively.
Freedom.
The laughter in the corridor vanished.
Jean stared at the Vision.
Varka’s eyes narrowed.
Barbara stood completely still.
The Anemo Vision continued spinning above Lucian’s open hand, shining like a direct answer from the god she had begged for help only moments earlier.
No one spoke.
The entire headquarters fell into absolute silence.
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