It is with my deepest regret to announce that the Lawrence family shall denounce-
His quill halted on its own violation once more and its ink dribbled unsightly onto the paper. A small splotch, but it was enough. Schubert sighed, pushed the paper aside, and gazed forlornly at the latest ruined paper that had joined its fallen brethren.
All twenty-two of them, in fact.
Calligraphy was an underappreciated art form. It was more than pretty handwriting and a few years of practice. Each stroke had to be deliberate, lest it brought ruin to the entirety of one's work. That was without considering what words they painted – once written, the words could never be taken back, sealed in ink as it were. An intricate balance of form and function, which could promise everlasting peace or declare war just as easily.
Unfortunately, in the winds of time, the noble practice of calligraphy had fallen to ruin. Now, it was considered no more than the patented scribbling of a doctor, illegible to all but themselves, or a rich man's game, the hobby of an enthusiast with too much time on their hands.
The quiet chiming of a grandfather clock was the only sound in the office – four in the afternoon. Already? Schubert started, checking his pocket watch to be sure. The timepiece made of sapphire didn't lie, and so he stood to clean his desk. It was five minutes before he had to greet his tiresome guest, after all.
He had no doubt that his house was under constant surveillance from the Fatui by now, just as he was sure that he was under watch from the Knights beforehand. Why, they could split up the night guard should they collaborate! The fools could play amongst the shadows as he slept soundly, a hidden war of who-knows-what happening right in his garden.
Oh, the shame the Lawrence family had to endure till now. But no more.
After checking the state of his office one last time, he slipped on his royal white half-mask and threw open the door as pompously as possible. He bowed with a thirty-degree angle, a bored expression, and one arm up as if to shield himself. The bare minimum amount of respect.
"May the descending sun witness my welcome, dear friend," he declared.
As usual, his guest stepped into existence from within the shadows of the corridor. She curtsied in kind, one hand tugging her purple cloak in front of her while the other remained hidden behind her. Again, the very bare minimum amount of respect.
"May the coming winter bring forth new opportunities, dear friend."
The pleasantries being over, he escorted her to her seat and took his own facing her, relaxing in his seat. Though his guest's own pitch-black mask hid her eyes, her bland and unimpressed expression was clear. With the complete lack of any words in between them, his desk between them might as well have been an unending chasm.
He knew who she was. She knew who he was. But with the mask covering their eyes and by forgoing their names, they could denounce each other should evidence of their meetings come to light. The same song and dance that was used by the bards and dissidents in the past.
Something the Mondstadters of the present seemed to have forgotten – while they had withered under Decarabian's frozen gaze, the Lawrence Clan too had suffered just as much while carving out their own lands within the barren wastelands. They, too, had celebrated the ancient god's downfall.
It was her that finally broke the quiet, as tradition dictated. "I do hope that you've been successful in your endeavors to gather supplies quietly."
Implying that he could have failed disguised as kindness in the opening sentence. Schubert sighed internally. Why was the first person in years to know Mondstadt's old customs such terrible company? How was he supposed to ensure that their customs survived with such terrible prospects?
"I assure you; you will find no faults nor wants with my work. I do wonder what international incident the Fatui plans to cause this time, though. Perhaps you have learned how distasteful the public can be when wholly aligned against you?" he laughed. "And now, you ask me, the Lawrence family, for supplies and access to the ears and eyes of our city. I admit I am curious as to what you plan to do with such."
He had his guesses as to what her plans were, but it was hard to estimate just what depths of madness her plans aimed to take them to.
"Have you not suffered under the whimsical decisions of our dear Archon as well? Surely, you desire vengeance for how history had been written, the treatment you receive from the so-called City of Freedom? Our interests align, and I believed that a… partnership, of sorts, would benefit us both."
Revealing absolutely nothing of importance in her words, the bards could learn from her about wordplay. "So is it you who have angered the dragon of old? Your plans hinge on its continued madness. A fair lady such as yourself would hardly rely on happenstance and luck."
She tilted her head. "Perhaps. The whims of the gods are impossible for us mortals to understand. I suppose that our past incidents may have angered the dragon and its owner, finally spurring them to action." Left unsaid was just how unlikely it was when it was the entire city being assaulted rather than the outlanders themselves.
Schubert studied her face. It was as blank as the mask she wore despite the complete blasphemy she was offering to the Church of Favonius. Well, it wasn't like he had a long-lost love for Barbatos himself. The Archon had drawn the lines of where they stand clearly through his inaction.
He was about to bring an end to their meaningless meeting when she spoke. "I do wonder, though, if the leash you have on your niece is as tight as you think it is."
The glacial seal within his heart burned.
"You will NOT insult all that is left of my family!" Schubert roared, slamming his fists on his desk. Even so, he winced internally – he, the host, had been the first to fall to provocation. After years of dealing with fools not knowing basic courtesy, he had made a fatal mistake – and judging from her sly smile, her first true expression of emotion, she knew all too well. Despite it all, he glared at his guest. "To question her devotion to the Lawrence family and to call her a slave bound under me. That's two grievances you have laid upon me and two grievances I will not forgive."
Make it three, he begged. Make it three, so he could have at least the satisfaction of throwing her out of his house. Alas, his guest was too knowledgeable to do that.
"Even if she makes a mockery of your family's name?" she asked, relaxing languidly, no longer bound to his rules as a guest under his roof. He could only glower as she laughed. "Why, just the other day, she had been harassing my delegates for information. Captain of the Reconnaissance Company, was it? Such a distinguished position in the Knights of Favonius she carries. It's enough for me to wonder, though…"
Her eyes narrowed. The temperature of the room dropped, enough for frost to form in his windows. "If you're thinking of playing both sides as the fool."
"I shall have her see reason," Schubert said firmly. Cryo was a poor element to use to cow the Lawrence family, as sealed in ice as they were throughout history. "And that is as far as this conversation shall go, dear guest. If you think of me as a traitor to my words, then go and never return. See how far you'll get with the city of Mondstadt without my words and work."
"Now, now, there's no need for that, my dear host. I trust that you will do as necessary, as will I," she said. She rose lazily from her seat, her mask doing nothing to hide her half-smirk. "Let us seal our words with a rose, as per tradition."
"As per tradition," he echoed, barely hiding his frustration. The superior was supposed to be the one offering the rose. She knew it, she knew that he knew it, and she knew that it would irritate him.
No, he couldn't make any mistakes here. Cold and unsullied, undaunted by any flame, composed and unshaken in all circumstances. He was the head of the Lawrence House, and that meant he had to act as one.
After giving himself a moment to calm himself, he took the silver platter resting on the side of his desk and placed it between them. He took the facsimile of a rose in his left hand and his guest followed suit.
As one, they crushed it in between their fingers.
The petals fluttered down as they released it. As they couldn't rely on the Anemo God's grace to scatter the petals to the four corners of the earth, Schubert imagined that it held a different meaning within his house. A meaning known to all to those left forgotten by the wind.
That their conversations will be held secret even if blood shall run between their hands.
"Well then, I shall take my leave. My gratitude for your warm welcome."
His guest left with one last parting remark, disappearing as soon as she stepped out of his office.
As he gazed out the window, the frost melting in the afternoon sun, he let out a tired sigh. And so, the final act of the Lawrence family was upon them. Whether it would have them rise back to the stars or fall into the abyss, only history would decide.
He pulled out his pocket watch and checked it. Four-thirty.
Well, there was no rest for the wicked.
He threw down his mask and prepared himself, drawing a snow-white lettercard, refilling his inkwell, and lightly dipping the quill in it. This time, the words flowed easily from his hand. He would have a messenger send it to her office within the Knight's headquarters.
Eula, first daughter of the Lawrence House. I have some important words to share with you as the head of your house. Present yourself at my office twenty minutes after your duties release you.
After all, they all had their own parts to play in this grand theater ahead of them.
-o-
Aether was hoping that with Barbatos's official introduction, they could move on to more important topics. Naturally, there was the potential whereabouts of his sister, though he was tempering his expectations on that one. And as the second Archon he met, the being in front of him offered him a treasure trove of information about Archons just by comparing notes with what he already knew about Paimon.
Unfortunately, any hope of a peaceful meeting crashed and burned like a meteor – and just as quickly, too.
"You can see what kind of Archon this one is by his introduction alone, really," Paimon commented casually as if she was discussing the weather. "Despite his pretty words, he hadn't given any of his titles to you. Lying through omission immediately to someone's face as soon as he met them, isn't that so shameless, Aether?"
"Why, is that you, Paimon!" Barbatos exclaimed gleefully as if they hadn't been bickering for the past ten minutes. At some point, he had manifested a lyre and was gently strumming a tune along with his words. "It's been centuries since I've last seen you, especially since you like so much to cloak yourselves under the darkness and stars whenever you skulk into Mondstadt and terrorize the bards. Hello to you, as well. It's good to see that the basic pleasantries of socializing are still practiced, don't you think?"
For Aether's part, he was quietly hanging his head in despair, just wondering what he could do to stop the mess in front of him. He settled for stepping back and organizing his questions in his mind, deciding to try waiting it out. Surely the Archons, long-lived and experienced as they were, were capable of resolving issues without an outsider's intervention.
"-really, clutching to alcohol like half of your city, don't you have any standards as the Seven you want to keep?"
"I simply know what I enjoy and what I don't. But if we're talking about standards, then I suppose avoiding me for the last millennia or two is to be expected of a lady such as yourself."
"It's a hint, you idiot-"
It didn't take long for him to feel the need to intervene.
"Alright, there's clearly something I'm missing here," Aether said, getting in between the two of them. He had to since Paimon looked to be one stray comment away from pulling her dagger to gut the ever-grinning bard. "Paimon, you promised me that you would help me find my sister, and you said it yourself that the Seven are the most likely to know anything. Antagonizing one of them seems counter-intuitive."
"I never met him before," Paimon said immediately. "Something about him rubs me the wrong way. Won't happen again, probably. Maybe. …probably not, actually, so how about we just go-"
"We were lovers, once, separated by cruel circumstances!" Barbatos chimed in, before rolling his eyes. "I might wear falsehoods like a second cloak, Paimon, but lies had never suited the constellations."
Paimon immediately stared daggers at Barbatos, who was still cheerfully grinning. She then glared at Aether, as if she was daring him to comment on or believe his words.
"We were allies once," she eventually said. Her words lost the sarcastic edge that had at least put some emotion in her voice, and all that was left was a bitter emptiness that spoke of too much history in between them. "When he betrayed my trust, we no longer were. Simple as that."
Even Barbatos paused his strumming, a seriousness present in his eyes. The lyre melted away from his hands.
"…simple, was it? We'll have to share a drink, you and I, for old time's sake. Aether, you're welcome to join us then." The Archon didn't even look at him, choosing to study Paimon instead. It was a bit disconcerting, talking to someone who was looking at another person. "I'm sure you know by now how skittish our dear Paimon is, so anyone in her good graces is in mine. I'm glad to have met you, Aether. The gentle winds of Mondstadt welcome you – and really, call me by Venti. I insist."
For a moment, Paimon hesitated. Then she shook her head.
"Not interested. I don't have anything to say to you, Eighth. Aether, I'm sorry about this, but I'll give you some time with him alone," she said, turning away. Before anyone could get another word in, her scarf glowed softly – and then she was at the other side of the lake, leaving only a scattering of constellations that slowly faded. She stalked off until she disappeared over a small hill.
A small breeze pushed one of the constellations into Venti's hand, only for it to shatter immediately. Venti looked his way and shrugged with the same grin still on his face. But there was no hiding the deep, piercing melancholy in his eyes this time.
Archons were complicated beings, it seemed.
With the silence between them growing awkward, he decided to offer an olive branch to the Anemo Archon. "I don't think I've introduced myself just yet, even if it doesn't seem like you need it. I'm Aether."
Shaking his head gently, Venti smiled back at him. "Not even curious as to how I knew your name?"
"You seem to be the sort to say 'the wind hears everything' and laugh it off."
"Haha! A traveler who figured me out so well!" His laughter seemed genuine enough, but that was the keyword, wasn't it? Seemed. "But tell me, how did you come to meet Paimon? I was wishing for an audience with her for the longest of times, but I suppose my emotions got the better of me. Eh, no matter. Seeing her after all this time was a pleasure, regardless of what actually happened."
It was hard speaking with someone who was always smiling. Aether couldn't help but wonder if the Archon in front of him was mocking him, laughing at a joke he couldn't understand. Or maybe he was hiding his hatred behind a smile?
Nobody could always be happy, which held especially true for immortals. So, someone who went out of their way to appear like that, he couldn't help but view with suspicion.
In the end, he decided to share the bare minimum details. "I was in a pinch, but she saved me from centuries of slow recovery. And when I left in search of my sister, she decided to come along to help me. Tell me, does the name Lumine ring any bells?"
"Hmm… yes… that does sound like something she would do. How about a trade, of sorts?" Venti proposed suddenly, perking up. "I wish to speak with Paimon again. Bring her to Angel's Share, and you'll have my word that the winds of Teyvat will help you in your quest. As a sign of good faith, I promise you that the name Lumine is completely unfamiliar to me as of now."
Unconditional support for a few minutes of their time. He didn't know where Angel's Share was, but surely it was a place easy enough to find. It was a good deal, but…
"…thank you, but that's completely up to Paimon," Aether said firmly. "I don't know the history between you two, but I owe her too much to deceive her."
His refutation didn't even phase Venti. "Just consider it, please. Now then, if you will be so kind as to excuse me, I should get back to what I was doing-"
The wind started to pick up. It would have been nothing unusual, if the Anemo Archon before him didn't freeze in place, his constant smile finally fading away into a frown.
At first, it was a breeze. Then, it became a wind whistling through the air. And now, it roared triumphantly, threatening to blow them off the small island they were standing on. The trees swayed, the once calm lake shook in anticipation, the sky clouded in just a moment-
"Is this your doing, Venti?! Kind of not painting a good picture, here-!"
Aether had to yell out to hear himself over the howling winds, but somehow, he could hear Venti's murmured words.
"Oh, dear. I shouldn't have left him."
Paimon popped back into existence, a few orange-reddish fruits in hand. "Hey, Aether, I brought some Teyvat specialties: freshly-picked sunsettias! Just for me and you, mind you woah what the-" She stumbled from the growing wind now howling like a typhoon, her fruits tumbling to the ground. "For Lapis' sake, Barbatos, are you physically incapable of not causing a scene-?!"
"KRREEEE-!"
The whistling of the wind as it sundered the land, uprooting entire forests and flattening mountains. That's what Aether thought the sound was at first. Except that the wind alone was usually not accompanied by a distant dot hurtling towards them, the rhythmic beating of scaled wings, the shaking of the earth when it landed on the statue, and the sudden appearance of a dragon.
At once, the wind ceased.
Its four wings glistened in the hue of ocean blue. Its tails and scales shone, rippling with every breath it took, and with every small movement as it swiveled around hungrily. It was an awe-inspiring sight, one that Aether couldn't help but greedily drink in even as he slowly lowered himself and drew his sword.
There was no mistaking how it focused on Paimon, who was glaring back with her daggers in hand. The sheer malice in its ethereal blue eyes was difficult to miss, too.
Venti broke the silence first.
"Dvalin, my old, eternal friend," he said calmly. Too calmly, as he stepped forward to shield Paimon from view. "I need you to listen to me-"
"KRRREEEEEE-!"
The dragon leaped at them, claws outstretched and maw wide open.
And that's a wrap! Man, typing that whenever I'm done with a chapter never gets old.
I debated the pros and cons of having the prologue-ish scene hinting at things to come but decided to go along with it. This may be about Aether and Paimon's journey, but ultimately, it's taking place in the world of Teyvat – background things will be happening, with or without their knowledge. Also, it should double as a warning to you all that I am planning to make changes to canon. I will avoid making changes to the characters' personalities unless I see a huge reason to do so though since that's what makes a character them.
There will be some people I don't feel any remorse with changing though. I mean, come on, uncle Schubert. You couldn't be any more one-dimensionally villain-ish unless you were bald, chewing on an apple, and stroking a cat. Don't worry, I got your back!
And besides, I want to write in other characters' perspectives every once in a while. I'll try to make the perspective shifts as obvious as possible – that's a huge nope to me as well.