Chapter Text
There was something melancholic about visiting places for the first time after waking up from one of his millennial naps, Venti decided. It was just that seeing the way everything changed was less jarring than seeing the ways they stayed the same.
Oh, it was probably just him being maudlin again. He hadn't realized-- well, he'd been rather busy at the time!-- but the last time he was awake, just five hundred years before, he hadn't even been aware that Greater Lord Rukkhadevata would be soon to die. Five hundred years back, he'd fallen back into his long sleep already exhausted, and been unable to travel the world as he'd grown used to doing whenever he woke. He wondered how it was that he endured, when so many other Archons, more dutiful, more powerful, kinder and wiser, died off and were replaced.
It didn't bear dwelling on, really. What was important was that he'd awakened now, and he'd cleaned the poison from Dvalin's blood, and everything in Mondstadt was well. He was free as the birds of the sky, and so he made the rounds of Teyvat to see what else had changed.
Liyue was the same as expected. Of course it would be, with that stubborn oaf still holding the nation's reins and ruthlessly squelching any threat to its well-being. Boring and dependable Morax, Venti supposed.
He'd tried nipping over to Inazuma next, wanting to see what Ei was up to and how she was holding up after Makoto's death. Morax didn't seem to know much of what was going on thereabouts, and Venti understood why when his path was blocked by the massive storms around Inazuma's shores. He'd tried slipping through any which way, but these were more than mere storm gales: vicious, cutting winds batted him about, and he realized this was an Archon's power keeping him at bay.
Worrisome, any way Venti thought about it, but nothing that he could do anything about, and so he left it alone for now. He was going to think up some other way to sneak in, eventually.
Where next, then? Ah! The Court of Fontaine! Wine! Song! An obnoxious obsession with granular details of the law, but they also had a healthy appreciation for the artistry of bards, so he could let that slide. He was already plotting how to sneak into Focalors' own personal cellar and nab a bottle of that wine he'd always liked, but then he thought about getting caught, and he wasn't quite up to that kind of liveliness yet. Focalors would probably put him on trial as a laugh.
Sumeru seemed like a fine option, then. He could go to Fontaine afterwards, to cool off after Sumeru's cloying heat and humidity became too much for him. He hadn't even met the new Dendro Archon yet, but the old one had been such a good sport, that he was sure he'd make a great friend new.
Which was how he ended up in Sumeru City, wandering streets that felt the same and different in subtle ways. The Akasha terminals on everyone's ears made for a strange novelty, and the city itself seemed more subdued than he remembered. Oh, it was peaceful and lovely, but he missed the music and dance that used to be more common in Greater Lord Rukkhadevata's time. The people of Sumeru these days were a more serious lot than Venti recalled them ever being before. Maybe the new Dendro Archon was more of a stick in the mud?
Venti didn't like to think so, and as he continued exploring, he came upon the Grand Bazaar and the Zubayr Theater. Ah, now this was the Sumeru City he remembered! They must have centralized all the artists here, Venti concluded. Some nations did it like that, with designated zones and performance permits and whatnot; it wasn't to Venti's tastes. In Mondstadt, bards could perform wherever they could find an empty stretch of space, though most obviously preferred real stages.
He quite liked the liveliness of the Grand Bazaar, and the performances they put on, and the people here were friendly, enthused about Lesser Lord Kusanali.
It was there that Venti first put his finger on something that had bothered him since arriving in Sumeru City. People didn't really talk about Lesser Lord Kusanali all that much. They certainly did about Greater Lord Rukkhadevata, but she was dead going on five centuries, and that people who were not even alive during her reign sighed over her absence seemed like an unnatural overextension of grief. You'd have thought they didn't even have a new Dendro Archon.
Of course, once the thought planted itself in Venti's head, he couldn't let go of it. Where was Lesser Lord Kusanali? Ought he drop in and introduce himself, or was she enough of a hermit that she would not appreciate it? ...Well, that wouldn't stop him from introducing himself either way.
He was still pondering his next course of action as he strummed his lyre for the denizens of Sumeru City, when a man wearing scholar robes and a belligerent expression approached.
"You can't do that here," the scholar said, pointing to Venti's lyre.
Venti tilted his head curiously. "If the notes I play do not please, I can play a different tune to appease." He plucked a few notes on his lyre for emphasis.
The scholar only scowled in response, looking Venti up and down, his gaze lingering at Venti's ear and the lack of an Akasha terminal.
"An outlander, then," the scholar said, with an insincere indulgent smile now. "This may be suitable behavior where you come from, but Sumeru is a land of rationality--" He enunciated the last word like he was explaining something to a dull child, "--so we dispense with such displays here."
"By 'such displays'... you mean music?" Venti asked, befuddled.
"Exactly so," the scholar replied, with that same condescending smile.
Venti craned his head around. He'd been perched up on a stone wall, and previously, the surrounding vendors and passers-by had been all too happy to hear him play his melodies. Now, with the scholar here, they all looked awkward, and avoided glancing at Venti as if their previous enjoyment of his art was something shameful.
He suddenly wondered if the people in the Grand Bazaar were there entirely of their choice, or if sweeping all the artists under a rock was a more deliberate decision on someone's part. Whose, though? The Dendro Archon's? It would break his heart if so.
"I haven't the wit to know what music has with rationality," Venti replied, beaming a smile at the scholar. "So I suppose I shall leave that to you, and you will have to leave the music-making to me."
The scholar's expression held for a beat, brows slowly lowering in a puzzled frown, before melting into a far more genuine scowl.
Venti had only wanted to wave him off with some sufficiently self-effacing remark, but it seemed now that the scholar was the type to believe any remark he couldn't fully parse was some injury to his intelligence. Venti did not much like the way the scholar stalked off, and the way someone nearby said 'uh-oh' out loud indicated he'd bungled that interaction.
"You should probably leave," a kind man advised from behind his kebab stall, "before he returns with guards."
Venti had seen the guards--the Eremites with the nasty spears--so he didn't tempt his luck.
He was gone like a breeze before the scholar returned with the guards.
What did he mean they didn't do music in Sumeru? Rukkhadevata had loved music. For her birthday, she would love nothing more than watching the whirling dances of her loving subjects looking to impress her with their skills. How hypocritical, to simper regrets over Greater Lord Rukkhadevata's death, but disrespect the vivid culture of music and dance that she had once fostered in Sumeru.
Venti had heard that Lesser Lord Kusanali spent all her time in the Sanctuary of Surasthana, and so he headed there next, ready to complain strenuously about one or two things, but once arrived to the high reaches of the sanctuary's doors, he had to pause.
He sat in the branches and watched the Sanctuary's exterior doors. He remembered that Rukkhadevata enjoyed quiet meditation sometimes. She once explained that when everything else around was quiet, she could hear even the faintest whispers of her inner voice, the deepest little thread of thoughts that was buried under the rest of her loudest thoughts, and spoke with most sincerity about what she really felt.
Venti didn't give much thought to his own inner voice, because he suspected it would say tings like 'drink more wine!' and 'play that song!' and his surface thoughts already had that kind of stuff well in hand. But Rukkhadevata was always pondering one thing or another, and sometimes, when she was distressed, or confused, or overwhelmed, the quiet of meditation helped her center herself again. On one or two occasions, he had waited for her and seen the serenity in her eyes as she emerged from the Sanctuary of Surasthana.
But she had only done this on occasion. She had never cloistered herself in the Sanctuary for extended periods of time, and she had certainly never had guards at the door when she did.
Yet, as Venti looked at the door--so little used that moss and lichen had grown around the hinges--he began to wonder if there wasn't, in fact, something rotten going on in Sumeru.
Nahida dreamed--other people's dreams.
Through the shining web of lines that spread out before her, nodules where they intersected showed her the locations of every mind the Akasha connected together. She whizzed along the network with the speed of thought, dipping into every dream along the way.
Here was a dream about living inside a giant sunsettia, the walls sweet and pulsing warm, and gooey in a pleasant way. Here was a dream about flying--fast and fast, past the moon, hanging suspended and weightless in the air for a moment before gravity reasserted itself and the fall towards the ground began. Here was a dream about being late to class, running and running down an ever-lengthening corridor while being absolutely sure the instructor was already in the room, waiting, knowing that she was late! (She didn't think she liked that one, but she analyzed the feelings it induced anyway, turning over that strange complex knot of rational fear and irrational knowledge.)
Here was... a strange feeling of being watched, except she couldn't pinpoint it to a dream.
Nahida opened her eyes, attention splitting off from the Akasha and returning to the reality of her body, floating and numb and dull, and she was startled to meet a pair of eyes past the green bubble of her enclosure.
There, standing on the catwalk that led down towards the meditation dais, there was someone she had never seen before.
"Hello!" the stranger effused, waving at her. As he noticed she was awake, he hopped up into a burst of Anemo and gently floated up into the air until he was roughly level with her--though he began slipping downwards right away, just like in the dream about flying past the moon.
"Um-- h-hello," Nahida replied, bewilderment melting into shyness. Who was this? He was not a sage, and even if he were, only the Grand Sage ought to have access into the Sanctuary of Surasthana.
Curious, she leaned forward, looking him over. When she searched through the Akasha for information, plumbing the visual database, she found a match: a public disturbance report filed against him by a scholar, over a performance he did in Sumeru City without permission. There was no name with the report, only a notation that he looked like a bard from Mondstadt.
But a simple bard could not have gotten into the Sanctuary of Surasthana on his own. Nor would he have any reason to, in the first place. And the surety and strength of the Anemo abilities on display was a clue all on its own. The Vision on his hip was only glass: it hung cold and unglowing despite the pulsing bursts of Anemo keeping him afloat. A prop, like the kinds the theater players used.
"Pardon, but, you're the Anemo Archon, aren't you?" Nahida asked, clasping her hands together.
"Got it in one!" the bard declared, grinning from ear to ear. Then he leaned in, adding conspiratorially, "But you can call me Venti." And he winked at her.
Nahida giggled in spite of herself, shakily excited and more than a little terrified to be meeting another Archon; she felt awfully ill-prepared for this kind of thing, but perhaps it was fine if it was the Anemo Archon. Less generous tongues always told of how Lord Barbatos was barely an archon at all, for how he shirked his duties, but--he seemed friendly. She didn't think he would be all that disappointed in her for not rising to the standards of her role. She hoped he wouldn't be. She hoped at least he wouldn't say so if he was.
"In that case, you can call me Nahida," she introduced herself. "I welcome you to Sumeru. But, if I may ask, what brings you here?"
"Hm, well..." Venti cocked his head to one side, then the other, taking in the bubble that cradled her. "Wouldn't you prefer to come out so we can discuss that?"
"Oh--" Nahida looked down, feeling awkward. "No, I... I'm afraid I can't do that," she said eventually, voice subdued.
"That's okay!" Venti reassured. "I just thought, doesn't it get boring in there?"
"It's really fine," Nahida insisted. "I actually get to see plenty of amazing things through the Akasha system." She touched the leaf over her ear, and felt the pleasant prickle of Dendro energy as it glowed. "Each person carrying a terminal becomes my eyes and ears across Sumeru."
"But it's so much more exciting to see things in person!" Venti said, and used another burst of Anemo to do a little spin into the air, his cape fluttering all around him.
Nahida giggled again at this display.
"I know," she said. "It looks fun, being outside. But I can't leave yet."
Venti's face drew into sterner lines, looking out of place on his otherwise cheerful countenance.
"Are they keeping you in here?" he asked, serious all of a sudden.
Oh, that was probably the wrong thing to say, Nahida realized. The Anemo Archon was also the God of Freedom, and he probably... he probably didn't like anything that resembled a cage. He likely misinterpreted her remark.
"It's not like that!" Nahida waved her hands in appeasement. "I-- could leave here if I really needed to!"
She had thought about it, after all. Yes, the Grand Sage was the only one with access to the controls to let her out, but he also wore his Akasha terminal religiously. She could have just taken control of his body and released herself, and it really would have been that easy.
But did she have any right to that, really? What could an inadequate archon even do, except disrupt the equilibrium that Sumeru existed in? The Akademiya and the sages had the administrative duties of running the country well in hand, and she had nothing to contribute on that front--worse yet, she could only hinder. The only thing she could do, the only way she could perform her duties, was by finding a way to cleanse the Irminsul. And the Akasha could provide her the means to search for the knowledge she needed. Everything else was just self-indulgence.
"Could you really?" Venti wondered out loud.
"I could," Nahida insisted. "It's just better if I don't."
Venti still did not look convinced, but he relented.
"Is it okay if I come back to visit, though?" he asked. "Or you could come visit me! My dreams are always open to you."
"Sure!" Nahida replied, burbling with excitement. There were so much fewer dreams these days, and oh, to visit an archon's! What manner of things might she learn? Then it occurred to her to ask, "How... did you even get in here?"
"Hehe!" Venti tapped his nose and winked at her again. "I have ways!"
Venti realized quickly enough this was not something he could--or wanted--to handle all by himself, and so he had a plan. His plan was to make this issue someone else's problem as well!
To this end, he returned to Liyue, and made a beeline for whichever part of Liyue Harbor seemed to have the more interesting shops.
He found Zhongli pondering a bunch of shiny rocks, which was how Venti tended to find him most often anyway. The exact shiny rocks seemed to change, but Zhongli's very serious expression of appraisal remained the same.
"The coloration of this noctilucous jade is quite unique," Zhongli muttered to himself, making no indication he noticed Venti crowding his elbow.
"Does that mean it's more valuable?" Venti asked, peering at the ore. It was more white than blue.
"Not necessarily," Zhongli replied. "It is often a sign of brittleness. Visually distinct, but difficult to work on without destroying the material. Still, in the hands of someone skilled enough..."
Venti hummed once in perfunctory interest, but moved on to the salient issue: "Say, how long since you've been to Sumeru?"
Zhongli's lips pressed into a line. Under the hungry gaze of the vendor whose wares he was browsing, he did not answer right away. He instead gathered his purchases, agreed to pay full price without haggling, and had it all billed to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor before leaving the shop with Venti trailing after him.
"I have not been to Sumeru since long before," Zhongli replied as they stepped around the thickest press of crowds to head down twisting alleys instead.
Venti knew what Zhongli meant by 'long before'. It was about what he'd expected, anyway.
"It's been so long since we had a meeting of the gods," Venti said, waggling his eyebrows in insinuation. "And we certainly haven't had one to include Lesser Lord Kusanali yet. I'm sure she's eager to gather all sorts of wisdom from us."
Zhongli did not even look at Venti. "The tendency over the past few centuries has been to avoid interfering with each other. Some of the other archons do not necessarily appreciate... hovering."
Curious, Venti thought. Was that why Ei had put those awful storm walls up? Had nobody checked on her in five hundred years? Though Venti could hardly blame anyone for that. How could someone even talk to Ei without Makoto being the pain point they would have to work every conversation around?
"But then, how will we know when one of the other archons need help?"
"I am sure the God of Wisdom can dispense with your advice," Zhongli replied tartly.
"I'm sure she can too!" Venti gestured dramatically, before his voice dropped low and he continued, "But I didn't say she needed advice, I implied she needed help."
Zhongli's gaze turned sharp then, suspicious. Clearly showing he would be displeased to learn this was one of Venti's pranks, but Venti merely looked back at Zhongli with all the seriousness he could muster. "Tell me what you know," Zhongli requested somberly.
Venti relayed his experience in Sumeru City. Maybe he lingered a bit too long on his outrage on behalf of the arts, but once he got around to expressing his worries about how he found Lesser Lord Kusanali, and the bizarre attitude of the sages of the Akademiya, he thought he was making his point without any unnecessary exaggerations.
Zhongli didn't say anything, continuing to walk in silence. Venti could see Zhongli's thoughts working at the problem like the slow turn of a millstone grinding out flour. He was not the impulsive sort, old Morax, but he was decisive.
"We should go without any entourage," Zhongli said eventually. "So that we may not impose," he amended at the end.
Venti suspected Zhongli simply didn't want to show Venti up, considering that Venti was not the type to keep an entourage in the first place (as opposed to Rex Lapis who couldn't pass a market without gaining hanger-ons) and Venti was sure he still had some adepti knocking about Liyue who would only be too happy to put their best robes on and flank Zhongli like preening courtiers.
But Venti agreed anyway; they could travel light and be in Sumeru by the next evening. This was a matter of archons, to be settled by archons alone.