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Kaya finds the whole thing hilarious. Diluc doesn’t know when or how the current Cavalry Captain discovered this little “arrangement” of theirs, as Venti calls it (the little shit always grins and winks, implying something much less businesslike than it actually is), but he’s willing to bet the bard spilled the beans.
“Master Diluc!” The bard in question singsongs one evening, bouncing up to the bar. “Have another job for me?” He lowers his voice and winks sneakily. “I heard the Fatui were up to something near Dragonspine.”
“No,” comes the immediate response. “We’re busy. Pay up or get out.”
Venti pouts. “So cold, Master Diluc! Is that any way to treat Mondstadt’s best bard?”
“Best bard my hat,” Diluc says, setting down a pitcher of water and turning to a new customer. “What can I get you?”
“Ahh. . . Apple cider,” comes the response. The stranger tugs his coat sleeves, shuffles nervously, and smiles. Diluc raises an eyebrow.
“Are you new around here? Most travellers want the Dandelion Wine,” he remarks.
Venti perks up at the mention of wine. “Most regulars want it too,” he says. Diluc ignores him.
“No, no thank you,” says the stranger. “Apple cider, please. No alcohol.”
Diluc’s suspicions haven’t faded but he forces himself to put on a neutral expression as he pours a drink. No alcohol, in the best tavern of the city known for its wine? “Are you a traveller? Where from?”
“Merely a bard,” says the stranger, brandishing a flute of some sort. “I heard Mondstadt is friendly to outsiders so I decided to visit.”
Diluc makes a noise of acknowledgement and passes the cider over. “In that case, sit anywhere you’d like. Upstairs is quieter, if you’d prefer that,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.
“Thank you,” the stranger nods, and heads toward the loft.
“Venti,” Diluc says. “I might have a job for you after all.”
-
“Travelling bard? I don’t think so,” Venti leans over the counter, pretending to swipe a bottle to conceal his mutterings. “Did you see the way he held his flute? He’s never produced a note from that thing, I’d wager.”
Diluc nods. “No self respecting bard would sit upstairs. The only people who do are regulars who drink too much or cheap and shady people negotiating business.”
Venti takes a swig from the stolen bottle. Diluc pretends not to notice. “Does that mean I don’t drink too much?”
“You don’t count,” Diluc says.
Venti hums. “Why do only cheap people do business here?”
“Anyone with the money would entertain at home or in a private room, where business negotiations can’t be overheard. It’s what I do, at least.”
Venti snorts. “I know you’re filthy rich, no need to keep rubbing it in my face.”
“Everyone’s filthy rich from your eyes,” Diluc counters. “You don’t even have the Mora to buy yourself a drink.”
-
Venti moves upstairs to chat with the “bard” (who, Diluc is reasonably sure, is actually an undercover Fatui agent - that distinctive upright posture is something he’s never seen outside their ranks) while Diluc continues to serve drinks. He can vaguely hear chatter from upstairs, and a laugh. A moment later, Venti hops over the banister, landing lightly on the bar counter, and succeeds in catching the attention of every patron in the building.
Diluc wasted no time seizing the nearest rag and snapping it at Venti’s ankles.
“Ow! I’m getting off, I’m getting off!” Venti scrambles down, bows, and flings his arms wide. “Lords, ladies, and listeners! I’d like to propose a wager tonight!”
Diluc tunes Venti out, focusing on scrubbing the counter clean and keeping an eye on the stranger from earlier, who has mosied down the stairs and is standing in the shadows. That’s an almost perfect spot to spy on the entire tavern, keep tabs on anyone entering or leaving, and stay hidden. Diluc would know, he’s used it a few times.
The bards go one by one, singing, plucking their lyres, and generally putting on a show. Diluc can barely keep up passing drinks with how fast orders come in. By the time it seems to be mostly over, there’s a decent crowd inside and Venti is on his nineteenth glass of wine.
“Wait! We can’t vote just yet!” Venti shouts. “You didn’t go!” Venti points to the stranger in the corner. “C’mon, you gotta show us how that flute sounds like!”
Evidently, this is the worst scenario for the “bard.” Diluc feels almost sorry for him, before he reminds himself that the Fatui deserve worse.
“I’ve never seen a flute like yours! What does it sound like!” Venti yells. He not-so-subtly jabs Six-Fingered Jose. “What song are you playing!”
Nimrod picks his head up and drunkenly squints. “Hmm?” He slurrs, eyeing the stranger in the corner.
“I’m afraid my music may not be suited to Mondstadt’s ears,” the stranger explains. Venti shakes his head.
“Nu-uh! You gotta play, we all did, you gotta, you gotta, you gotta!” He turns his big puppy eyes to Diluc. “Right, Master Diluc? We can’t find the best bard in the tavern if you don’t play!”
Diluc sighs and puts down the glass he was polishing. “I’m sure you’d persuade everyone to vote for you no matter how well our guest here played. That said-” he pauses to examine the stranger. “Even I haven’t seen an instrument like yours. Where did you get it?”
The stranger’s mouth opens and closes. “Natlan,” he finally says. Venti grabs the flute.
“Huh? This is bamboo, isn’t it? I didn’t think bamboo grows in Natlan.”
“It’s not, it, it was imported-”
By now, even Nimrod and Cyrus have stopped drinking and talking, respectively, to listen. The stranger’s eyes dart around the tavern, searching for a exit, but Venti crowds him against the wall, bobbing up and down.
“Look, I don’t want to play my flute!” The stranger snaps, shoving Venti away. He stumbles back, making a show of tripping over a chair and toppling into Nimrod’s table, sending mugs and a glass crashing to the floor.
“Oi!” Cyrus stands, towering in front of the stranger. “Stopit, you!”
Venti flails awkwardly, trying to get up. The other patrons have begin looking at the stranger with suspicion or plain anger written across their faces.
“No fighting in here! Out!” Diluc barks, reaching a hand for his claymore - not that he’s use it, but to make a statement. Cyrus yanks the door open and drags the stranger outside by the collar, dusting his hands when he comes back in.
“And don’t come back!” Venti crows triumphantly.
-
Diluc hums tunelessly to himself, wiping up the counter. Venti snores on one of the tables - Diluc will have to chase him out later, but he can sleep a bit more. The Fatui undercover agent was chased out of the tavern after declining to play his flute. Diluc is certain that the broken glass was thrown at him, by Venti, but if he presents the bill to Six-Fingered Jose then nobody will be any wiser.
With that out of the way, Diluc has better things to worry about, namely, the recent thefts at the Winery. Either the mice are getting much sneakier or someone’s been filching food and draining some of the best vintages dry. It’s not so much the theft as it is the thought that someone can sneak in and out without getting noticed - he doesn’t like that. As much as he doubts the Knights’ effectiveness, Diluc has no qualms about handing whoever this is over to them. He’s is busy considering asking Albedo for some kind of magical mouse bait or human traps when someone knocks.
“My, my, Diluc,” a decidedly unwelcome voice drawls. “Running an innocent bard out of your tavern! People will stop coming here to drink if rumors like that spread.”
“Captain Kaeya.” Diluc says. “Should you really be out drinking this late? Archons know that the Knights are already brainless enough without the help of alcohol.”
Kaeya has that lazy, sleazy grin on. “Oh? How noble of you, Master Diluc, to offer to take an income loss for Mondstadt’s benefit.”
“Believe me, my life would be much more pleasant if Knights weren’t allowed in my tavern.” Diluc grits his teeth.
“And yet you still allow us here.” Kaeya’s eyes rake over the almost empty space. “But throw an innocent bard out by the collar. How curious, your standards.”
“He wasn’t innocent by any means. Fatui, I’m certain.”
“How merciful of you, then, to spare his life rather than slaughter him like all those other soldiers after you took leave from the Knights.” Kaeya’s eye is watching, watching, watching him, looking for a shred for regret or remorse. Diluc doesn’t like talking about the events after his eighteenth birthday. He settles for biting his tongue harder than necessary and breathing deeply.
“Have you forgotten what happened with Stormterror?” Diluc glares.
Kaeya laughs and holds his hands up in mock surrender, eyes still a tad too sharp for a regular conversation. “Why not just stage a barfight, then? Throw everyone out onto the streets, problem solved.” He leans over to grab a bottle from the back, Diluc slaps his hand away.
“Then he’d still be free to wander Mondstadt at his leisure, and might have even made a few friends out of the scuffle.” Diluc glances at Venti, still sound asleep. “As much as I’m loath to admit, the bard actually did something useful.”
“Muh?” Venti picks his head up and wipes a spot of drool from his chin. “Oh, Master Diluc? What year is it?”
“Forget what I said,” Diluc says. “Out, both of you. Now!”
-
Diluc knows for a fact that the Treasure Hoarder downing hard cider punch in the corner table is the one who broke into Marjorie’s store yesterday night and cleaned out the cashbox and three shelves of antiques: the bandages on his shoulder are an exact match for the blow he managed to get in before the Knights turned up (late and at the worst possible moment, like usual).
“If you can prove he’s the one who robbed Marjorie, your next three drinks are free,” Diluc nods in the table’s direction and doesn’t bother addressing Venti by name, knowing he’ll perk up at the mention of free alcohol.
“Isn’t that a bit stingy, Master Diluc?” Venti asks, eyes bright and mischievous. “I think that should be worth a good deal more than only three measly drinks.”
Diluc sighs. “Five, then, if you can make sure he’s arrested as well. Don’t try it,” he adds, cutting Venti off before the latter can bargain some more. “Take it or leave it.”
“So stingy,” Venti sighs, then hops off his stool. “Taking advantage of innocent bards for what, satisfying your own brand of justice?”
“What’re you planning to do now,” Diluc glares.
“Just a little friendly chatter,” Venti beams. “So why don’t you lend me a bottle of your finest cider as a gift of hospitality, and I’ll go and persuade that man to spill the secrets of his heart to me?”
Diluc groans. “Fine.”
-
Venti plonks the Treasure Hoarder down at the bar, next to Kaeya, and smacks him on the back. “Not bad, not bad! I once stole an entire brace of roasted pigeons from the butcher in Springvale,” Venti brags. “Kept me fed the whole week.”
“That’s nothin’,” The Treasure Hoarder laughs. “I got this- Here, look - from that shop just down the street. Worth a fortune, it is,” He says.
“Another one for me, and put it on his tab,” Venti says to Diluc. “Since my new friend here is in possession of a fortune, he should have no problem paying you back.”
“I’d like to see this fortune, before I pour either of you any more,” Diluc responds drily. “Do share.”
The Treasure Hoarder places a small golden statue on the counter. “Solid gold, it is,” he says. “Rex Lapis himself carved it, see the scratch marks on the bottom?” He moves to turn it over.
“Not so fast.” Kaeya grabs his shoulder and spins him around. “Pleasure to meet you, sir. Allow me to introduce myself: Cavalry Captain Kaeya of the Knights of Favonius. And you, my good sir, are under arrest for theft, vandalism, and breaking and entering.” He lifts up his hand and flicks his fingers, signalling the two knights behind him forward. “Enjoy your stay in Mondstadt prison.”
-
The next time is Venti’s idea. He’s nursing another cup of diluted juice at the empty bar, gloomy that nobody’s bought him a drink yet (“Grape juice doesn’t count! It’s not alcoholic!”) because of the new Fatui delegation arriving in town. Diluc was planning to poke around the Goth Grand and see if he can pry any information out of the guards without arousing suspicion.
Unfortunately, his chances are looking as bleak as the weather, which has taken a turn for the worse. It refuses to snow, but the icy streets and clear, frigid days mean the tavern has seen a sharp increase in the amount of spiced cider and hot punch consumed (and warm milk, on days when Klee comes in). Diluc is in the middle of mixing another batch when Venti speaks up.
“Sir Diluc, I don’t believe I’ve told you? The Fatui seem to like this weather.” He grins in that mischievous way of his.
“Do tell,”Diluc says.
“But Master Diluc, Sir, please! I was out all morning, in the cold, talking to Goth near the fountain! Don't you think I deserve something to warm up?”
Kaeya laughs from his place nearest the fireplace. “How could you be so cold, Diluc? Between the two of us, I thought I was the one with the Cryo Vision.”
Diluc empties the dregs from the punch bowl into a cup and rinses it out. “If I gave either of you a chance, you’d drink me out of business.”
“Just one glass, Master Diluc?” Venti whines. “Enough to tide me over til the crowd comes this evening?”
“Fine,” Diluc relents, ladling spiked liquid into a mug. “What’s going on, then?”
“Nothing important,” Venti sighs, splayed against the polished wood. “Just that some supplies are being imported this Thursday along the Dragonspine Road. Goth said there was a great deal of fuss preparing for the delegation, but it seems odd to me that they’re trying to move a few things in while their new overlords are arriving. Downright fishy, in fact!”
Kaeya raises an eyebrow. “Hmm. I wonder if they’ve declared their goods to Hertha, she’ll be irate if they haven’t,” he remarks. His expression turns smug. “I do believe us Knights of Favonius have this incident under control.”
-
For the past week, Kaeya has been loitering around the Angel’s Share just shy of closing time, either holding court at the bar or tangled in hushed conversations in the darkest corners of the building, smiling like the Cheshire Cat anytime Diluc glares at him. It’s gotten to the point that Diluc is genuinely considering barring (ha, ha) him from the tavern, simply because of how infuriatingly smug he’s acting. Rosaria has been watching the whole thing, evidently amused, but her quiet smirks and chuckles are better than Kaeya’s flaunting.
“Diluc!” Venti trills, hopping up to the bar and standing on his tiptoes to reach the half-mixed drinks on the counter. Diluc slaps his hands away and reaches for the mint.
“What now,” he deadpans. Venti pouts.
“Master Diluc, have you got a job for me?”
“You, asking for work? That’s a first,” Rosaria remarks drily, giving him a curious glance over the top of her mug.
Venti gasps. “My dear sister, what a thing to say! I’ll do honest work any day!” He spins around and plops himself on the stool next to her,
Diluc sighs and hands Venti a cup of watered down cider. “You mean you’ll swindle drinks out of people any day,” he corrects. Venti gasps.
“Master Diluc! How could you possibly say such a thing?” He presses a hand to his chest and feigns a swoon. His eyes slide to the side and catch Kaeya, too engrossed in conversation to notice. “Are you sure you don’t need anything?”
Diluc’s eyes follow Venti’s gaze to the Cavalry Captain.
Rosaria laughs, short and throaty. “Oh, I can’t wait to see how this will turn out.”
-
The next night is peaceful, the usual chatter and ambiance filling the tavern. Diluc can feel himself nodding off, the low light reflecting from the bottles around him not doing any favors. Rosaria watches him closely, studying his face for something known only to her, while he pretends to check stock and take inventory. Already he’s blotted the paper twice and had to cross out three lines in the ledger.
Kaeya slumps into the Angel’s Share and gorans, burying his head in his arms. Rosaria raises her eyebrow, already on her third mug of beer. “Rough day?”
“What do you think?” Kaeya responds, not picking his head up. His hair looks distinctly ruffled, scattered with feathers, and there are multiple scratches on his arms.
Venti opens the door and skips in, humming. Kaeya muffles a groan. “Oh, not you again!” The bard simply smiles and takes a seat, suspiciously silent for a chatterbox like him. Usually, Diluc would have insulted the Knights at least once by now, but Kaeya doesn’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with Venti.
“Why, what did he do?” Rosaria asks.
Evidently Kaeya’s been waiting for someone to ask him that. He takes a deep breath, a gulp of his drink, and looks at her with an expression perfectly crafted to fit the occasion. “Do you know the little boy who feeds the pigeons on the bridge?”
-
“And that’s the story of how I now have a flock of pigeons in my office,” Kaeya concludes, then points at Venti with his mug. “It’s all his fault!”
Venti smiles and plucks another chord on his lyre. Kaeya downs the rest of his drink and slams the mug on the counter. “Quit playing music when I’m talking!” He has to raise his voice every word to be heard over Venti’s furious playing.
Rosaria snorts. “I can’t have a quiet drink with you around, can I?” She picks up her drink and gets up to leave.
“Rose-! Wait, without you here who’s going to listen to my woeful tale-” Kaeya stops reaching for Rosaria’s elbow, whirls around, and seizes Venti by the collar, holding him at arm’s length, high enough so Venti’s toes only barely brush the floor. “Would you fucking stop ?” He smiles, all sharp teeth and no warmth. “You’ve annoyed me this entire day, ruined my office’s carpet, and eavesdropped on every conversation I’ve attempted to have these past twelve hours. When’s enough for you? Hm?”
“Stop it, both of you,” Diluc says, reaching over to pry them apart. Venti smirks smugly and wiggles out of Kaeya’s grasp, who sighs and sits back down. Diluc reaches under the counter, pulls out a bottle, and plunks it in front of the bard. “As promised.”
Kaeya’s expression changes from feigned joking to realization to shock. “Diluc!” He stares at Venti cradling the bottle and then looks back at the giver. “You-” He throws his hands up in disgust. “Is nothing sacred now? I thought we were family !”
“Stop trying to meddle in my business affairs and I’ll stop interfering with yours,” Diluc says. Kaeya’s eyes glint.
“Oh, ‘business’ now, is it?” He tilts his head and gives that thin smile that says he knows more than he should. Diluc glares back, acutely aware of Rosaria watching the whole exchange. Kaeya breaks the tension with a laugh. “Very well then, if you insist.” He brushes a fingertip over the rim of his cup and smiles blandly. “I feel remarkably reassured that you have a second assistant now,” he says, nodding to Venti.
Diluc snorts. “We’re nothing of the sort.”