Legend of the Snowman-Mancer 4

  Euri Lawrence

  I stood atop the peak of Dragonspine, or really, what I considered the halfway point between the base and the true peak. Here, a solitary Statue of the Seven stood in ever-silent vigil, looking down over Mondstadt below. The view wasn’t quite as great as from the Skyfrost Nail, but it was nice nonetheless, and the best that most sojourners ever got to see.

  I'd tried everything. I sang hymns before his statue. I performed some standup comedy routines I remembered from my past life.I shit-talked Celestia. I even robbed a caravan from the Dawn Winery to steal a barrel of the highest quality dandelion wine (Diluc was going to give me hell the next time I saw him).

  Hell, I’d started to sing songs from my old life as a bribe, songs Venti couldn’t possibly know. Linkin Park. Panic at the Disco. Avenged Sevenfold. Dragonforce. Ariana Grande. Ava Max. Literally any and every genre I could think of, all with full instrumental accompaniment courtesy of my snowmen.

  “That's it. There is no other option,” I said as I solemnly looked up at the Statue of the Seven. I unbuckled my belt. “It didn’t have to be this way, Bard-Batos. You’ve left me no other choice.”

  Just as I was about to anoint the statue with a stream of liquid gold, I felt the wind rustle the hair on the back of my neck. There was nothing innately threatening about the breeze, but it sent shivers down my spine anyway that had nothing to do with the Dragonspine chill.

  There was something more that was carried on the wind, a presence that made itself known on an intrinsic level. Though I’d never met the Anemo god until now, I knew from the stirrings in my soul that this was him. The winds whispered of freedom amidst promises of whimsy and song. Pain and hope, loss and dreams, they all mixed beautifully in a haunting melody without words.

  Venti had arrived, not to pleas nor hymns nor offerings, but to threats of a golden shower.

  “I know I'm the God of Freedom and all, but I think this is where I draw the line,” he said wryly. I turned to find the “tone-deaf bard” as Paimon would call him, deceptively petite, androgynous, and with his cherished lyre in hand. “I never thought I’d be the one to say this, but I’ve decided: There is in fact such a thing as too much freedom.”

  I pulled up my pants. “Great, you’re here, Lord Bard-Batos. I wasn’t actually going to pee on your statue.”

  “Really? You were pretty close there.”

  “But you showed up so it’s all good, right?”

  “You… You’re certainly a character, Euri Lawrence. Sometimes, I wonder how you ended up with a Cryo Vision rather than Anemo. You’re certainly the most carefree of all Mondstadt’s sons.”

  I shrugged. I’d wondered that myself. “Have you considered that the Tsaritsa just wanted to cuck you out of a Vision-wielder?”

  “We Archons don’t actually decide who gets these, you know.”

  “Then I have no idea either. Winter is my favorite season, and I do love sculpting with ice, but I also love singing and playing music.”

  He laughed boyishly. Had I not known better, I really would have thought him a mere teen. “I can see that. Your songs are great.”

  “Thanks, Venti. I can call you Venti, right?”

  “Sure.” he strolled over and sat at his statue’s feet. “You know a lot more than you let on, don’t you? Alright, fine. Here I am. Let’s hear it.”

  I took a deep breath. I’d prepared for this conversation for years. Really, ever since I ran into an insurmountable roadblock in my primary project. “Okay, here goes… I want your Gnosis.”

  “Excuse me?” He blinked in confusion. Whatever else he expected of me, it probably wasn’t to ask for the literal proof of his godhood.

  I clapped my hands and bowed at the waist. “Your Gnosis. Please let me have it. I really need it for a project of mine. I can’t think of any other way to proceed.”

  “D-Do you even know what a Gnosis is?”

  “It’s that thing that looks like a chess piece you carry around. It’s the proof of your godhood bestowed upon you following the Archon War by those sanctimonious pricks up top.”

  “Exactly. Now why would I ever give you my Gnosis?”

  “A few reasons.” I pulled out a bottle of dandelion wine from my dimensional bag. I also removed a decent lunch spread of dried fruits, meats, and an unleavened bread I’d made yesterday evening. “We may as well have some lunch while I explain.”

  “Ooh, is that wine?” He uncorked the bottle and took a deep sniff. “Mmm! It’s a good vintage, too! Alright, buster, you clearly know how to win me over. Go on then, sell me on your idea.”

  “Alright, so it’s like this: In a few years, a Descender will appear…”

  X

  I told him everything. I told him about Aether or Lumine, I didn’t know who it would be yet. I told him about Dvalin’s corruption, about that raging bitch Signora and her minions plotting in the background.

  Venti was a good man. Spirit. Whatever. Despite his lackadaisical nature, he genuinely cared for people and had a great deal of sympathy for others. This was demonstrated plainly to me in his reluctance to fight the corrupted Dvalin, his mercy towards “Great Adventurer Stanley,” and even the very face he wore, that of his dear friend, the Nameless Bard.

  He was also immensely powerful, so powerful that shortly after the fall of Decarabian 2,600 years ago, Venti terraformed all of Mondstadt. He took what was once a great mountain range of ice and frost and shaved it all flat with blades of wind, creating the plains and low plateaus we knew today.

  He then pulled a Morax and hurled the mountains into the sea, some of which were now islands I could point to on a map. When I first played through this game and heard about Erosion, I legitimately thought people were talking about Venti.

  And yet, despite all his power, he described himself as the “weakest Archon,” an appellation I knew for a fact was false. I didn’t know if not governing Mondstadt directly somehow weakened him, but I was inclined to call bullshit. Archons weren’t influenced by faith like that.

  Even if they were, the other Archons ought to be equally weakened. Morax only visited his city for a single day each year, and usually to offer economic advice, not work divine miracles. Ei hadn’t been outside her own mindscape in five centuries. Hell, the people who ought to be Nahida’s most ardent supporters were actively trying to forget her existence.

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  As far as I knew, Venti willingly gave Signora his Gnosis. He allowed her to think she defeated him, that she’d gotten revenge for her dead lover. Why? I wasn’t sure. Despite being the first Archon to appear in the game, he remained the most mysterious.

  Was he sympathetic to her plight? Did he want to soothe her anger in some small way? Or did he not wish to fight in Mondstadt, considering the lives of those who would perish in the crossfire worth more than his proof of godhood?

  All of those likely played some role in his decision, but if I was asked to guess, he gave it to Signora because he ultimately agreed with the Tsaritsa’s resentment towards Celestia. He was the God of Freedom. How could he support the tyranny of the Heavenly Principles?

  As a bard, and among the children of the Ruler of Time, it could be said that he was also the God of Stories as well. How could he stand idle while those same stories were inevitably Eroded away?

  Perhaps, giving the Tsaritsa a measure of his power was his way of showing his approval for her rebellion. For a self-professed bard, Venti was someone who said awfully little, and spoke all the louder through his deeds.

  I was also a son of Mondstadt now. Past life aside, I was the heir of the Lawrence clan. It was to Venti, by his name and before his statue, that Eula and I gave our vows as knights. More than that, it was on Galesong Hill, beneath Vanessa’s tree, that I promised Eula: Mondstadt would always have a protector in me.

  My many heresies aside, Venti was my god. Stupid, drunk, and irresponsible at times, but he was my god all the same. I wanted to believe that my words were carried upon the wind to his ears. I wanted to trust in him.

  “So, that’s it. I know,” I told him. “I know that you’ll likely give up the Gnosis anyway, that you don’t put much stock in your status as an Archon.”

  “That’s quite the tale. You’re right, I don’t care much about this old thing,” he agreed. He tossed the glorified chess piece up and down in his hand. “I believe you’re someone I can trust to defend Mondstadt in her time of need, but that doesn’t mean I should give the Gnosis to you. Why do you want it so much? You know that having it will make you a target for Signora.”

  “It will, but respectfully, fuck that bitch. I’m not opposed to giving the Gnosis to the Tsaritsa, but I need it first. Hell, I’ll personally deliver it to a harbinger of my choice if you want after I’m done.”

  “And what exactly will you do with it? You don’t really think it’ll make you a god, do you? It takes more than a Gnosis and truthfully? Godhood’s rather overrated.”

  “Agreed, and no, I have no interest in taking your place or somesuch nonsense.” I gestured down to our left. Even from up here, towering arches could be seen framing a valley. “Do you see those?”

  That got a startled laugh from him. “Hahaha. So you know about him too?”

  “Durin got the raw end of the deal, Venti. He wanted to play, to interact with Mondstadt. He wasn’t a dragon of darkness; he fucking loved mortals. Even to his dying breath, he had no idea that the people fleeing from him weren’t having fun, but instead being poisoned by his Abyssal blood.”

  “I’m aware. Dvalin is still recovering from having swallowed some of that blood five hundred years ago.”

  “Well, Durin’s technically not dead-dead. His heart’s still beating in a cave in Wyrmrest Valley. Some of his blood’s seeped into the ley lines and that’s why Dragonspine has scarlet quartz and crimson agate.”

  “You know quite a bit about this place.”

  “Of course. I’ve been studying the ley lines here for five years now. Other than perhaps Albedo, I doubt there’s anyone who knows Dragonspine better than me, and we have two very different specialties.”

  “Along with your mysterious source of prophecy naturally,” he said with a glib smile.

  “Naturally. Anyway, I found out that the ley lines have diffused Durin’s blood to a fraction of its potency. Scarlet quartz is dangerous to normal humans, but Vision-bearers like myself have enough magic to resist its poison. Hell, crimson agates can be used to nourish the Frostbearing Tree down there,” I pointed.

  “Hmm, let me guess what you’re planning then. You want to harness Durin’s blood somehow, probably by making a vessel for it using the tree. That certainly would be a mighty golem,” he mused. “No, that’s not right. You wouldn’t need a Gnosis for that. Aha! You’re trying to revive Durin!”

  I clapped politely. “Yes, of a sort. Maybe it’d be more accurate to say I want to reincarnate Durin. I want to use one of those ribs over there and carve a skeleton out of his own bones. I want to use branches from the Frostbearing tree and shaped starsilver to make a layer of overlapping scales. I want to fill it all with snow, forming a body that can cool his blood and contain the poison in his heart. And, with the Gnosis–”

  “You can use it to spark new life. You should be able to rekindle his heart, granting him his freedom once again. And this time, with a body that will not poison all those around him,” he finished for me. “You would have a truly mighty familiar then. Durin would get his freedom and you would gain a powerful ally.”

  “Yup, that’s the plan. I mean, it probably won’t be the same Durin, but I still think he would have liked that. So?”

  “It’s clever, I’ll grant you that. I’d be willing to give you the Gnosis…”

  “But? You trailed off. What’s the problem?”

  “But it won’t work. I can feel it, you know. I can feel the wind rustle the branches of the Frostbearing Tree. Though it gains nourishment from the crimson agate, it’s still too fragile to withstand Durin’s heart.”

  “As it is now, sure, but I’ve been gathering more crimson agates to feed the damn thing. What if I fully revive the tree first? I mean, there are crimson agates all over the mountain. Enough exposure should give that tree a greater resistance to Durin’s blood, right?”

  “Considering it’s being nourished by said blood? Yes, it might. Alright, tell you what? If you can build a body that I think could truly hold Durin’s heart, I’ll give you my Gnosis. Consider it a divine trial, hmm?” he said with a cheery grin.

  I held out my hand. “You’ve got a deal, Venti.”

  He shook a finger. “Ah ah ah, not yet. You’re the one who benefits from this. Durin will be your familiar after all. I want something in return.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Songs. I’ve heard you whenever you decide to visit the city, you know. You have a habit of making elaborate entrances, with musical numbers I’ve never heard before. You need to teach me more songs.”

  “That’s all? Deal.”

  “Yup! You’ve got a deal, Snowman-Mancer,” he said. Then he spied the half-empty bottle, the third I’ve opened just for lunch. “Oh! And this one’s mine too!”

  I wondered if Diluc would forgive me if I told him that the stolen booze was an offering to the Anemo God. Somehow, I doubted it.

  X

  I’d been crafting for years now. I was fourteen when I exiled myself from Mondstadt. I was now twenty-three. Between studying the nature of the Cryo Hypostasis, collecting huge stockpiles of starsilver, crimson agate, and scarlet quartz, and developing a way to properly channel the unique properties of the mountain’s ley lines, there was no better place in Teyvat for me to hone my craft.

  And then there was the research and practice I’d needed to properly use the Gnosis once I’d won my bet with Venti.

  He’d been a good sport and congratulated me on passing his divine trial. Hell, he’d even given me a few pointers on how to best use the Gnosis. For all intents and purposes, I was not dissimilar to a Fatui harbinger in that I could use two elements, and without burning my life force either.

  I’d been a very busy snowman.

  I had to build minions so I could build bigger minions so I could build bigger minions so I could finally build what I wanted. All doable long-term only because I figured out how to anchor my minions to the local ley lines and use the Cryo energy emitted by the Skyfrost Nail to sustain them. And even though I’d given myself years to work, I barely made it in time.

  Truly, crafting a body for Durin that wouldn’t leak Abyssal poison into the surroundings was something I couldn’t do unless I was willing to leave everything behind. The duties of a knight would have been time commitments I could ill afford. And as much as I loved Eula, as I’d said, to be a knight was her dream, not mine.

  One day, I looked down from the mountain and saw Mondstadt shudder under a mighty gale. The skies had been covered in a region-wide storm. So thick were the gray clouds that I could scarcely see the rolling plains that made up my home.

  I tapped the ground beneath me. All of Wyrmrest Valley seemed to tremble as an ancient titan arose. With Venti’s Gnosis as a pendant around my neck and the Frostbearer catalyst in hand, I rose into the sky atop dragonback. “Well, I guess it’s time to meet my little sister. Fly, dear friend, to the Nail.”

  Author’s Note

  Welp, so it begins…

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