Lori let out a cold snort.
If not for sheer luck—and the unwavering Gunnhildr family holding steadfast for nearly three thousand years—
Mondstadt would have ended up like Inazuma:
two out of three major clans turning traitor,
and without an active Archon, the nation would've rotted long ago.
Strictly speaking, even Kamisato Ayaka had once stood against the Shogun.
Truly, no noble bloodline can withstand the erosion of time—
except the Gunnhildrs.
"Alright, Dvalin. Let's stop here."
Seeing the vast plains of Windrise below, Lori patted the dragon's head.
Since Venti didn't want his identity exposed, Lori had no reason to oppose him.
With a resonant cry, Dvalin slowed and dove sharply.
It was obvious the dragon was genuinely happy to see Lori again.
That pure emotion tugged a faint smile from him.
Once certain the area was empty, Venti and Lori gently rode the wind down from the dragon's back.
"Ha! Finally home!"
Landing with a little hop like an excited child, Venti dusted off his cloak and waved up at the circling azure dragon.
"Thanks, Dvalin!"
"Awooo—!"
Responding proudly, the East Wind Dragon soared leisurely back toward his own domain.
"Let's go!"
Adjusting his beret, Venti pulled out a book—who knows from where—and began posing like an elegant traveling bard.
Lori followed, brushing his fingers against the jade ornament tied at his waist.
A violet electro sigil—threefold tomoe—glimmered within it.
He was already used to carrying a fake Vision.
He doubted Makoto would mind.
Mondstadt City
Built upon Lake Cider, the entire city was accessible only via a wooden suspension bridge.
Completely surrounded by water, it was nearly impregnable.
If the gates were raised, enemies could only approach by boat or by air.
Today, as always, the bridge dutifully stood guard.
The Knights stationed there scanned every traveler with eagle-sharp eyes.
They did not immediately stop suspicious individuals—
instead, they discreetly sent someone to shadow them.
But such cases were rare.
Few bore hostility toward Mondstadt anymore.
Aside from a few exiled nobles, Mondstadt had almost no enemies.
Even if someone slipped past the bridge knights, Mondstadt had another force hidden in the shadows—
a counterpart to the knights serving openly in the light.
Together—one bright, one hidden—
they kept the city safe for centuries.
Still, the knights dared not relax.
If Grand Master Ehrenmann, the Lion of Light, or Vice Captain Rostam, the Young Wolf, caught them slacking,
they'd be severely reprimanded.
Today, they expected nothing unusual.
Until they saw two figures approaching.
A young man—
and a boy?
"…That's… a boy? Right?"
One knight asked uncertainly.
The long hair, delicate features, and slender build of the green-clad "boy" were misleading.
But that wasn't the important part.
What made both knights tense—
were the glowing Visions at their waists.
One Anemo.
One Electro.
Visions were not common trinkets.
No one knew how they appeared—
they simply manifested for those chosen by the gods.
If a kind person received one, fine.
But if a criminal did…
The destruction would be terrifying.
The knights exchanged a grave look.
Neither recognized these two.
"So… strangers?"
"Seems so."
One knight quietly slipped away to report.
Lori glanced at him once, then dismissed it.
He'd expected attention, using a Vision openly.
Still—he hadn't expected the city to let them in so easily.
No questioning.
No hindrance.
He and Venti entered Mondstadt as casually as ordinary travelers.
"Whoa—so lively!"
Just awakened not long ago, Venti gawked with wide eyes.
Once inside the walls, their ears were flooded with the bustling noise of stalls, merchants shouting, laughter, and conversation.
Noisy—
but full of life.
Lori observed the architecture.
Mondstadt was nearly as prosperous as Liyue—
though completely different in style.
Rows of windmills turned steadily, powering water systems and mills.
Most people were moving toward taverns—
as expected of Mondstadt, where drinking was a way of life.
Suddenly, someone shouted:
"THE FEATHERBALL FESTIVAL IS STARTING!"
Instant silence.
Then half the crowd surged in the same direction.
"Featherball Festival?"
Venti's eyes sparkled.
Of course—they'd modeled the festival after him.
Long ago, when choosing a homeland, Venti had tossed a featherball to decide where he would stay.
That tradition had persisted ever since.
Each year, a pure maiden would stand atop a high place and toss a featherball—
whoever caught it received the Wind God's blessing.
Rather like "throwing a bouquet"—
if the bouquet blessed you with wind instead of marriage prospects.
"Lori! Let's go!"
Venti was already bouncing.
He would never miss such a festival.
Lori considered for a moment… and nodded.
He remembered the festival's darker past.
During the age of the corrupt aristocracy, the maiden chosen each year wasn't blessed—
she was dragged into the bed of a noble.
Once, a wandering troupe had come to perform.
The troupe's harpist had fallen in love with a Mondstadt maiden—
but she was chosen that year.
She never returned.
The harpist's uprising failed.
He died with his feelings unspoken.
That harpist—
was the original owner of the bow The Stringless.
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