“Eula, why are you being so mysterious?”
Amber yawned as she followed her friend through the early-morning streets of Mondstadt.
Eula had appeared at her door before sunrise, knocked until she woke, and then insisted that she come along without explaining where they were going or why.
Amber had barely managed to fix her hair before being dragged outside.
“Oh, come on,” Eula said, clinging to Amber’s arm.
“Just trust me and come with me.”
There was an unusual softness in her voice, almost a trace of pleading.
Amber’s sleepiness faded a little.
Could Eula have prepared some kind of surprise for her?
The thought made Amber smile.
They had been close friends for years, but Eula still occasionally behaved as though affection had to be hidden beneath layers of secrecy and threats of vengeance.
“All right,” Amber said.
“Where are we going?”
“To the plaza beneath the statue of the Anemo Archon.”
A hint of concern passed through Eula’s eyes.
Even from a distance, the noise drifting through the streets suggested that a large crowd had already gathered.
She had promised Lucian she would come, but she still had no idea what he intended to do.
Surely nothing would go wrong.
Probably.
Eula pulled the unsuspecting Amber onward toward an event that was about to turn the entire City of Mondstadt upside down.
The first people to notice the disturbance were members of the Church of Favonius beginning their morning duties.
A large fighting platform had appeared beneath the towering statue of Barbatos.
No one knew when it had been built.
It had not been there the previous evening, yet now a sturdy arena occupied the center of the plaza as though it had always belonged there.
Barbara hurried over to investigate.
The moment she reached the crowd, she spotted Lucian Vale standing beneath the Anemo Archon’s statue.
She had been thinking about finding him.
The framed sketch he had left for her at Windrise remained carefully wrapped in her room, and she wanted to thank him properly.
Yet now that Lucian was actually in front of her, Barbara suddenly had no idea how to approach.
She moved closer.
A large wooden sign stood beside him.
Lucian leaned against it with half-closed eyes, looking as though he had not entirely recovered from the previous night’s wine.
Barbara read the words painted across the board.
MONDSTADT GRAND ARENA
COME IF YOU DARE!
NO LIMITS ON METHODS OR NUMBER OF PARTICIPANTS.
DEFEAT THE MASTER AND DISCIPLE, AND WIN ONE JAR OF BARBATOS’S DANDELION WINE.
ENTRY FEE: ONE PORTION OF PREJUDICE.
PARTICIPATION PRIZE: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.
Behind Lucian sat an enormous sealed wine jar.
Its clay surface was old, and faint traces of Anemo power still lingered around it.
Barbara frowned.
Master and disciple?
Lucian was alone.
Who was the second person?
People who had followed Lucian’s recent activities gathered around, whispering among themselves.
Over the past two days, the foreigner had entered Mondstadt, challenged a bard’s story about Barbatos, caused a scene at Angel’s Share, produced a Vision inside the Knights’ headquarters, and somehow become involved with half the city’s notable figures.
No one knew what trouble he planned to create now.
Lucian lifted his head.
His eyes found Barbara in the crowd and immediately brightened.
“Barbara!
Come here!”
He waved enthusiastically.
Barbara froze.
Then she hurried over.
The onlookers exchanged surprised looks.
Had the two of them not been enemies only yesterday?
Why did Barbara now run to him the moment he called?
Lucian pulled a thick bundle of papers from inside his coat and placed them in her arms.
“Barbara, you’re with the Church of Favonius, right?”
“Yes…”
“Could you ask your brothers and sisters at the Church to distribute these across the city?”
He clasped his hands together in a shamelessly sincere gesture.
“This is the will of the Anemo Archon.”
Lucian pointed first toward the enormous statue, then toward the jar of ancient wine.
Barbara stared at the flyers.
He wanted the Church of Favonius to act as his personal advertising team?
What exactly did he think the Church was?
Then she remembered the Anemo Vision that had appeared in his hand.
Lucian had clearly communicated with Barbatos, and the wine behind him carried divine Anemo power.
If this truly was the Anemo Archon’s request, distributing a few flyers was hardly unreasonable.
“All right,” Barbara said.
Before leaving, she hesitated.
“And… I really liked the surprise you left yesterday.
Thank you.”
Her words came out quickly.
Then she turned and ran toward the cathedral before Lucian could tease her.
Lucian watched her go with a satisfied nod.
The promotional campaign had begun.
One hour later, at least five hundred people surrounded the plaza.
Citizens arrived after breakfast, drawn by the flyers, rumors, and the irresistible promise of rare wine.
Some came out of curiosity.
Others wanted entertainment.
A few had brought chairs and snacks as though attending a festival performance.
The crowd continued growing.
Such a large public gathering naturally attracted the attention of the Knights of Favonius.
Patrols arrived first and began maintaining order.
Jean and Varka followed soon afterward.
If an ordinary citizen had erected an illegal arena beneath the statue of Barbatos, neither leader would necessarily have come in person.
Unfortunately, the organizer was Lucian Vale.
That made personal supervision feel wise.
Varka stood near the edge of the platform and studied the sign.
He could not understand what “one portion of prejudice” meant as an entry fee, nor why Lucian claimed to have a master-and-disciple pair when he appeared to be alone.
Still, the man did not seem intent on harming anyone.
And surely even Lucian would not invoke the Anemo Archon’s name casually.
Probably.
Jean directed the knights to create clear paths and stop the spectators from crushing one another as the gathering expanded.
The noise rose steadily.
Then Lucian turned toward a staircase leading into the plaza.
Two heads appeared above the steps.
One blue.
One brown.
Eula and Amber.
The entire crowd followed Lucian’s gaze.
Eula stopped.
Thousands of eyes settled on her at once.
Regret hit her immediately.
She had imagined a private conversation, perhaps a handful of witnesses, or some clever demonstration.
She had not expected half the city to gather beneath the statue.
Amber’s remaining sleepiness disappeared.
Her pupils widened.
“Eula…”
Eula had no time to explain.
She caught Amber’s hand and took one step backward.
Lucian saw them retreat.
The main participants had finally arrived.
There was no chance he would allow them to escape before the performance began.
He raised his right hand.
Space itself seemed to fold.
An irresistible force seized both women and pulled them across the plaza.
Eula and Amber landed beside him before either could react.
“Don’t be nervous,” Lucian said.
He patted Eula lightly on the shoulder.
“I’m here.”
Eula was still processing the fact that he had dragged her through space in front of hundreds of people.
Amber forced a weak smile.
“Well, now that I’ve brought Eula here, I should probably be going…”
She tried to step away.
Eula’s grip tightened around her hand.
Amber looked at her best friend in silent desperation.
Please let go.
Eula did not.
Lucian glanced from Eula to Amber, then smiled.
He picked up the sign.
With one quick motion, he crossed out “master and disciple” and replaced it with “master and two disciples.”
Amber read the revised line.
The color drained from her face.
Three people challenging all of Mondstadt?
This was not a surprise.
This was a nightmare.
She must still be asleep.
Her imagination had simply become unusually vivid.
Eula finally released her hand, but by then it was too late.
The entire plaza had seen her standing beside Lucian beneath the challenge sign.
Lucian waited until the crowd settled.
Then he cleared his throat.
“That should be everyone.”
His voice carried easily through the plaza.
“I know you are all eager to begin, so I won’t waste time with a long speech.”
He turned toward the enormous jar behind him and removed the seal.
The effect was immediate.
A rich aroma erupted into the air.
It was so dense and vivid that it almost seemed visible, rolling through the plaza in fragrant waves.
Wild fruit, mountain water, old oak, wind, and centuries of aging blended into a scent unlike anything sold in Mondstadt’s taverns.
Several people inhaled sharply.
Far away, a green-clad bard suddenly lifted his head.
Venti had been wandering through the city in search of breakfast—and perhaps a harmless morning drink—when the aroma reached him.
His entire body reacted.
What was that?
Why had no one told him there would be wine this good?
He followed the scent at once.
Then familiarity struck.
Why did it smell so much like—
Venti’s expression changed.
Among the spectators, every experienced drinker had already begun salivating.
Even people with little knowledge of wine understood that the jar contained something extraordinary.
This was not merely expensive.
It was irreplaceable.
Anyone willing to use such treasure as a wager was either supremely confident or catastrophically insane.
Eula looked toward the jar.
Anxiety entered her eyes.
Wine of that quality could become a family heirloom.
It might be worth more than an estate.
Lucian was risking it for her.
“I believe those of you who understand wine already know its value,” Lucian called.
“Even smelling it has made the trip worthwhile, hasn’t it?”
“Yes!”
“Absolutely!”
The response thundered through the plaza.
Lucian nodded.
“Good.
Then today, this jar will be the prize for the arena challenge.”
The crowd erupted.
“Generous!”
“Magnificent!”
Even several knights responsible for maintaining order stared at the wine with visible temptation.
Lucian raised one hand.
“But there is a condition.”
The plaza quieted.
“If you want the wine, you must pay the entry fee.”
He tapped the sign.
“One portion of prejudice.”
Confusion spread through the audience.
Lucian continued.
“Every one of you has some.
The only question is whether you have the courage to place it on the table.”
He stepped behind Eula.
Before she understood what he intended, Lucian placed both hands beneath her arms and lifted her from the ground as easily as picking up a small kitten.
Eula’s boots left the platform.
Her eyes widened.
Lucian turned halfway toward the crowd, presenting her as the subject of the so-called entry fee.
The plaza fell silent.
Amber stared.
Eula—proud, severe, vengeance-obsessed Eula Lawrence—was being held in the air by a man in front of half of Mondstadt.
And she had not drawn her claymore.
Amber felt as though she were meeting her best friend for the first time.
Eula, you’ve changed.
Lucian lowered her carefully back onto the platform.
“Look closely,” he said to the crowd.
“I built this arena for Eula.”
Whispers spread.
“Whatever resentment, inherited hatred, or personal grievance you carry against her, bring it here today.”
His voice hardened.
“Settle it openly.”
He swept one hand toward the arena.
“If you believe the Lawrence name makes her guilty, step forward.
If you think she deserves contempt for crimes committed before she was born, prove your conviction with your own hands.”
The atmosphere shifted.
“Today, your prejudice still has value.
It can purchase admission to this arena.”
Lucian placed a hand on Eula’s shoulder.
“But after today, Eula and I will not spare it another glance.”
The square became utterly still.
Then the first murmurs of challenge began to rise.
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