Legend of the Snowman-Mancer 13
Euri Lawrence
The Temple of the Thousand Winds was a beautiful place. Haunting, but beautiful nonetheless. It was not a single building, but an entire complex that surrounded an amphitheater.
Once upon a time, it must have been a truly grand structure that stood in the shadow of Starsnatch Cliff. Here, the people of ancient Mondstadt, perhaps even before we were called “Mondstadt,” worshiped Barbatos.
Or so contemporary historians thought. Truthfully, the ruins were thousands of years old and their real purpose was largely forgotten. Not even my frosted memories could tell me the full truth. The only hint was the engraving carved into the temple: Wind brings the seeds of tales, Time allows them to take root.
I wondered about that. “Time” was Istaroth, the Shade who ruled over that particular concept under the Heavenly Principles of Phanes. She was said to be the mother of the “thousand winds,” of which Barbatos was one.
Perhaps, the reason historians knew so little about this place was because this was not a temple made for mortal minds. Perhaps here, in the days before he’d picked up a lyre, the Anemo spirit who would one day be called Barbatos spun his tales, presenting them before Istaroth in the same way a child presented pictures for his mother.
I knew a great deal about Teyvat. Some days, I’d wonder if there was anything that would surprise me. And other days, I’d see something like this, ruins from days long forgotten, and wonder if I truly knew anything at all. It was a wonderful feeling, a treasure beyond the memories I’d frozen in time.
I set my thoughts aside and began my trek up Starsnatch Cliff. As much as I loved history, I was not here to ponder the temple’s forgotten tales today. Today, I was here to see another historical relic, albeit one not nearly so ancient as the temple below.
At the top of the cliff, I saw an elaborate garden gazebo carved entirely of ice. Delicate vines and flowers wrapped around intricate pillars, forming crystal artwork that would not have gone amiss in the wealthiest halls of Fontaine. Ice sculptures of stags and birds and all manner of wildlife decorated the surroundings for the viewing pleasure of one.
Inside was a tea table that would not have stood out in the Lawrence manor. There were three women waiting for me already, two adorned in classic, Fatui domino masks and a third in a far more elegant affair. Here was Signora, eighth of the eleven Fatui Harbingers, awaiting me like a queen holding court.
I offered her a nod of acknowledgement and took a seat across from her. One of her assistants took that as the signal to step forward. She poured me tea with all the poise of a professional maid before returning to stand behind her mistress like a statue once again.
“Signora,” I greeted with the slightest inclination of my head. “You don’t do subtle, do you?”
“Elegance is something to be strived for in all things,” she replied with a cold smile. “Surely, a noble of your bearing would know that much.”
“You don’t know me very well, do you? Well, fine, I admit the ice sculptures are a nice touch. They almost seem alive.”
“Indeed. I spent a lot of time on them.”
“And your assistants? This was supposed to be a private chat.”
“They know to keep their silence, Euri Lawrence.”
“Very well. If you trust their discretion, then I suppose I’ll have to be satisfied with that.”
“I do. I believe congratulations are in order, dear newly reinstated knight. It must be nice, to finally receive proper vindication after so long. Nine years, of exile in Vindagnyr, was it?”
I snorted in faux-annoyance. “You certainly know how to push people’s buttons. Mondstadt’s business is Mondstadt’s business. It doesn’t concern a Snezhnayan envoy.”
“I have some vested interest in your windy country. Though I must admit, if you cannot even discern why, I may have to reconsider your foresight, ‘oracle,’” she prodded mockingly.
I took a leisurely sip of my tea. It was a familiar blend of mint, sweetflower, and a dandelion, one of the most popular blends in Mondstadt. Growing up, I heard that it was also one of the oldest ever formally marketed.
It also had a slight hint of lemon zest, a flavor that had fallen out of favor in teas in the past few centuries. Signora preferred her tea the way she remembered it from so long ago. I found the thought sweet and wondered how much of “her” Mondstadt had faded away.
I wondered what she felt. Once upon a time, she was a daughter of Mondstadt as well. Did she remember her family? Her love? Or were such things tainted by bitterness and regret now?
“I am an oracle, albeit far less than some,” I said with a quiet laugh. Whether Nicole or Barbeloth, I was far from the greatest seer around. “I never claimed to be the best, but I would have thought my intervention with Stormterror to be all the proof you need.”
“Call me a skeptic,” the Harbinger said with a dainty sniff. “By all means, impress me.”
“The future is impossible to verify, Rosalyne,” I asked, rolling my eyes. I waved dismissively towards her face, the half covered by her opera mask. “Shall I tell you about how you got those scars?”
“You–” She scowled in annoyance. “Kindly keep that name out of your mouth, sir knight.”
“No? Something lighter, then. Say, do your subordinates know that you’re secretly good with children? The kids at the House of the Hearth think of you as their elegant big sister, you know. Or perhaps an auntie.”
“I am nothing of the sort. It is merely expedient to maintain good relations with the Knave.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s why you spoil those kids rotten with gifts each time you visit,” I said. Then, more gently, “Compassion is not weakness. Once upon a time, you knew this.”
A complicated expression flitted across her face before she settled on a frustrated huff. “An oracle indeed… Is my past nothing more than a weapon to throw in my face?”
“Only if that’s what you want it to be. I don’t lie, believe it or not. It’s up to others how they wish to interpret what I say.”
“You are a thoroughly unpleasant individual, Euri Lawrence.”
“You asked, Signora. You don’t get to be upset over what you’ve received.”
“You know too much. Tell me why you called for this meeting. And don’t think I buy the lies you fed your dear uncle.”
I smiled and took a bite of a tart on the table. It was tasty, with a flaky, buttery crust complemented by fresh strawberries and custard cream. “I should’ve known you’d see through me. Well, that’s fine. What Uncle Schubert thinks doesn’t matter. I hope you don’t expect to keep him as a contact after this.”
“Of course not. Schubert was useful when you remained far from your family’s affairs. Now, he is little better than your toy.”
“Toy? Please, I’m kinder to my toys. I’m afraid my dear uncle isn’t long for this world.”
“I don’t see how that’s any of my business. What do you want?” she asked again.
I smiled beatifically. “Fine, fine. Let me be direct: You’re here for the Anemo Gnosis.”
“And I suppose you’re here to offer me information in exchange for something. How unfortunate for you, I already know where it is,” she said with an airy wave. “Barbatos is a fool, a useless bard by the name of Venti. Was that the grand revelation you were going to tell me?”
“Venti is Barbatos? By the Thousand Winds, who could have guessed?” I said with an exaggerated gasp, hand placed over my heart.
“Spare me your theatrics. As you can see, I don’t need your information to succeed. You’ll find my operatives are more than a match for your visions. Soon, I’ll take the Gnosis from that useless god of yours.”
“You’re letting your past scars color your perspective. Venti is a lot of things. He’s frivolous, secretive, silly, suspicious, lazy, allergic to responsibility, and a shameless drunkard–”
“Truly, stellar qualities to have in your Archon,” she said dryly.
“Haha, maybe, but ‘useless’ is not one of them. He can be surprisingly reliable, believe it or not.”
“A drunkard who spends his days strumming a lyre on street corners for a pittance. Is that the greatness you worship? Will he take alms and charity from his own church?”
I shook my head softly. Admittedly, Venti’s day-to-day behavior was a little hard to defend. “He is the god of freedom, Signora. Have you considered that his absence allows us the chance to walk our own paths?”
“No matter. I’m not here to debate theology with you, Euri. Stay out of my way or die with your god.”
“Oh? Will you kill Venti? Do you think you can?”
“I don’t see why not,” she said with a cold smile. The temperature dropped several degrees. The two cicin mages shivered as their mistress’ power suffused the world around us. “Five hundred years is a long time. I am not the pitiable girl I was back then.”
“Aye,” I agreed. “Three millennia is even longer still. That was about how long ago the Archon War took place. Venti, Barbatos, is at least that old. I don’t think you understand the god you are goading.”
“Is that why you’re here? To warn me away from making a mistake? I’m touched, truly.”
“That was part of it. Truthfully, I hoped you could be more reasonable, that we could chat and I could convince you to leave my home out of your scheming. I’m starting to think that was a fool’s errand.”
“The Tsaritsa wants the Anemo Gnosis. So long as that remains true, my feelings are irrelevant. Don’t get me wrong, I will enjoy crushing Venti beneath my feet, but that’s besides the point.”
I nodded and allowed the silence to fill the space between us. That was about what I expected. Once, she was the lover of Rostam the Wolf Pup, a master of the Knights of Favonius. Shortly before the Cataclysm, she left Mondstadt to study at the Akademiya in Sumeru.
When she returned, she found that her lover had died defending the nation. That realization drove her mad with grief. She used a lost art to give up her mortal shell, filling her veins with liquid fire and permanently scarring her beautiful face. She then turned her wrath onto every monster she could find, earning the moniker of the Crimson Witch of Embers.
Though she never attacked people, she became the subject of great fear from the people, a sort of folk legend and boogeyman rolled into one. I suspected that was what finally cemented her hatred of Mondstadt and Barbatos. This nation was the nation that took her love from her. It was also the nation that refused to accept her revenge.
I loathed this woman as much as I pitied her. Truthfully, a large part of me thought she should get over it.
Yes, Rostam died, but he died five centuries ago, during the Cataclysm. It was a time of great tragedy, when literally everyone suffered. Rostam, being a knight, died in defense of his nation, as he swore he would. Holding a grudge over that for over five hundred years was nothing short of neurotic insanity.
And yet, this was the cold calculus of a man who hadn’t lost anything. I understood that. The only one I loved so much was Eula, my other half, and she very much was alive. I recognized that I had no right to criticize, that I could not truly understand her pain.
Maybe that was why I hated her so, I reflected. If I lost Eula, would I break my promise to defend Mondstadt? The scorn that I faced as a Lawrence was just a fraction of what Signora faced as the Crimson Witch. In that context, she was perhaps a twisted mirror of someone I could see myself becoming.
Signora wasn’t the unequivocally evil character many thought she was. She was a broken woman who cursed herself with liquid fire and abandoned her own humanity to escape the pain. That didn’t make her right, just… tragic.
“You’re going about this the wrong way,” I said finally.
“Oh? Are you going to tell me how to do my job now?” she said with a sneer. “You’re hysterical.”
“Do you even know what the Gnoses are?” I asked curiously. A Gnosis was the fragmented corpse of Saarelainen, the Third Descender. It was the crystalized manifestation of the “laws” of the Heavenly Principles.
“No, nor do I truly care.”
“I suppose not. And what if I told you that Venti doesn’t have his?”
That brought her up short. “What? Where is it?”
I took a deep breath. She was an obsessive creature, arguably not even human anymore. In an ideal world, she’d take my promise to deliver the Gnosis to the Tsaritsa someday. But knowing her, I had a feeling I knew how this would end.
Still, I held out my hand. The Anemo Gnosis formed, looking a whole lot like a chess piece. Maybe, that was because all of Teyvat was but a chessboard to their maker. Whatever the case, here I was, officially stepping onto the board.
Her eyes fixed upon it immediately. “You… You have it.”
“I do. Lord Barbatos entrusted the Gnosis to me. And one day, I will pass it off to the Tsaritsa when I no longer have need of it,” I said with a wan smile. “Go, Signora of the Harbingers. Go to your queen and tell her that you have secured the Anemo Gnosis.”
“Give it to me. It is not secured until I deliver it to the Tsaritsa with my own two hands.”
“Are you certain? Have my words not proven true thus far? Please, Signora, can’t you put aside your plotting for a time? Can’t you trust that an oracle does not break promises?”
“You expect me to leave my prize when it is dangled before me? The only way I will leave Mondstadt is if you surrender the Gnosis right now.”
“I can’t do that. I still have use for it. You’re free to find me later, or trust that I will give it to a Harbinger at a later date. Perhaps the Knave, she’s quite reasonable and I respect her greatly.”
“Is that how it is?”
“That is how it is.”
The temperature plummeted further. Frost began to form on the tea set. Signora’s two assistants teleported back, far from us. “I will enjoy this.”
I nodded with a sad smile. “For what it’s worth, I won’t.”
Then, all hell broke loose.
Author’s Note
Euri tried, guys. At the end of the day, I do feel for Signora but she’s also a crazy bitch. She seems like the kind of woman who would never choose peace when a bit of murder could get her what she wants faster.
No, Euri really doesn’t care overmuch about the Gnosis either. He used it to resurrect Durin, giving him his “freedom.” He doesn’t need it to maintain Durin or anything. That said, it’s still a godly artifact and he does have a use for that sort of thing so he can’t give it away that easily.
And besides, why give it to Signora? If you’re going to give the Gnosis to someone else, it may as well be one of the nice Harbingers.
Animal Fact: Mice are capable of providing rudimentary CPR. They have been observed using their teeth to pull the tongues out from blocked airways and apply pressure to facilitate airflow. They’re most likely to do this among close friends, however.