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Learning that their crazy plan had worked and that Rerir had indeed been thrown through the Moon Gate felt like a weight off his back.
Then again, prior experience reminded Varka that, while the enemy seemed to be down for the count now, the situation could change as fast as the weather. Rerir was a fearsome opponent, so it wouldn't really surprise Varka if he appeared again, raving mad and crazed after another set-back and seeking revenge against their merry band.
Still, that was something to consider… later. Right now, the priority was to rest and gather themselves.
The Flagship was as lively as ever, now crowded by their mismatched group. People came and went, checking on each other, and so Varka stayed by the bar, nursing a wine cup and letting himself feel the satisfaction of a job well done washing over him.
Flins came by, looking tired but relieved, with that glint in his eyes that usually meant finally being free from his duties. He assured that the Lightkeepers back at Piramida were now in the know about what had happened these past few days, thanks to a detailed report he had sent them.
“Did you really write that report or have you–?” he asked, arching a knowing eyebrow at the other man… Fae? He still didn't know how to go about this… thing that floated between them, but it was relieving to see that Flins didn't seem to mind it too much.
“Of course I have.” Flins crossed his arms on his chest, voice slightly offended, but his lips twitched. “As much as I loathe paperwork, I do acknowledge its usefulness in these kinds of situations.”
Varka simply laughed and offered him a glass of Fire-Water that the Lightkeeper accepted graciously.
Later in the day, he saw Jahoda, just as frazzled as always and trying valiantly to hide it.
“Jahoda! How is Nefer doing?” he asked, before the poor girl could explode.
“Ah, Mr. Grand Master,” yelped Jahoda, jumping slightly and moving to his side, wrangling her hands, clearly restless and looking for anything to get her mind off things – and probably off her worry for her boss. “Miss Lauma is taking care of her now. She's… doing better. I think.”
“That's good to hear,” nodded Varka, and with a gesture and a smile, sent Demyan for a bottle of water. “Anyway, were you looking for someone?”
“A-ah, not really? It's just…” Jahoda adjusted her hat, her goggles, and when Varka finally offered her the water bottle, she fidgeted with it too. “Do you need anything? Delivered, I mean.”
“Delivery?” asked Varka, frowning for a moment. But– he could see that jittery energy radiating off Jahoda a mile away, so he racked his brain for something, anything that wasn't urgent but appreciated. “Well, I should update the other knights on the new patrols and…”
“Good! I'll get some paper and you can note it down and I'll get it to them!” And with that, Jahoda was off with a gust of Anemo.
Varka simply huffed a laugh.
Next up were Aino and Ineffa, talking quietly amongst themselves. Aino pointed at some snacks on the bar, wide eyes turned on Ineffa, and Varka could see Ineffa ready to refuse, reminding Aino of her daily sweets intake, but before she could, Varka laughed and ruffled Aino’s hair.
“C'mon Ineffa, let Aino have whatever she wants today! She worked really hard these days, she deserves a little treat,” he said, winking at Aino with a grin.
Aino beamed and turned immediately to Ineffa with her big pleading eyes.
Varka could see Ineffa's wavering will finally crumble to the ground with a long sigh that sounded far too human.
“Alright, just this once,” said Ineffa, the second part of her phrase immediately getting cut off by Aino's loud cheer.
Varka watched as Aino pointed at, at least, a dozen of snack types and piling them up on Ineffa's arms with a wide smile that reminded Varka a bit too much of Klee.
He had to wait a bit longer after Aino and Ineffa left the Flagship, but he finally saw someone else peek out from their hiding place.
Varka didn't really move as their mysterious guest Dainsleif left his room and lingered by the bar, clearly conflicted and a bit disappointed when he didn't find a certain blond traveler. Still, before he could miss this opportunity, Varka waved a hand and grinned wide, trying to seem as inviting as possible.
“Hey there, friend!” he called, and when Dainsleif turned to look at him, he gestured for him to approach. “Would you care for a drink?”
For a moment, Varka saw Dainsleif battle with himself. He waited, patient and understanding, anyway. He knew better than to force someone who was clearly going through something rough to socialize and act like everything was okay. Still, he was a good listener. Most of the time.
Finally, Dainsleif sighed to himself and approached the counter, careful, but not really mistrustful. That was good – it was pretty clear that their unexpected ally wasn't really the most trusting guy… which, knowing what little Varka did, was understandable. Varka was curious – very curious, which usually got him in trouble – but he knew better than to poke at a hornet’s nest… or, at least, at an old soul full of past regrets.
“I'll pay,” he said when Dainsleif ordered his wine. A man of culture, nodded Varka to himself.
“You don't have to,” replied Dainsleif, arching an eyebrow at him, mostly curious instead of defensive.
“I insist. It's the least I can do to repay your help.” Varka tried to make his voice sound as honest as he could, earnest. It was always good to have strong, powerful and dependable allies by your side, especially seeing the direction Teyvat was veering off towards. If a nice cup of wine could sway Dainsleif to future collaborations, then… the Knights of Favonius budget wouldn't complain.
Dainsleif sat down on a stool with a soft sigh and a somewhat-distant gaze. Varka had been around Jean long enough to know that look – that look that spoke of murky thoughts, of overthinking the choices made.
“You don't need to repay something I was willing to do for my own reasons,” said Dainsleif, just as dry as always, but it felt heavy, tired. His words tended to be like that, a lot of the time. It reminded Varka of how Venti spoke, sometimes – when it was Barbatos speaking, instead of the normal bard facade he hid behind.
“Ah, but your help was crucial in the end. We couldn't have made it without you.” When Dainsleif opened his mouth to refute it, a strange look in his eye, Varka shook his head. “Please. Allow me. Otherwise, I assure you we'll be here all night arguing about it.”
“Mm, very well. Thank you,” accepted Dainsleif, tilting his head to the side in resigned acceptance.
When Demyan finally reappeared with his cup of wine, Dainsleif took it gratefully and gave it a light swish, before he took a sip of it and– sighed softly, letting his shoulders finally drop from his tense stance that seemed to cling to him whenever he went.
Varka nursed his own cup, once again longing for Dandelion Wine. He missed the taste, the sweetness that lingered on his tongue. Or maybe he just missed what the wine entailed – the company, the familiar sight of the cathedral in the distance, the constant caress of a gentle breeze against the back of his neck, the laughter. Home.
He wondered if his unexpected companion that now shared a drink with him ever missed home.
Instead of that, he smiled and nodded to the cup of wine in his hand.
“What wine did you order?” he asked, easy-going, like how he would pester his comrades after their missions, when the tension was left abandoned in the battlefield.
Dainsleif glanced at him, before taking another sip of wine and humming, considering.
“It's local, I believe,” he answered, and something in his voice left it clear that he was quite knowledgeable about his wines. Oh, Varka could work with that. “From Nod-Krai. Less… intense than Snezhnaya’s liquor.”
“Oh, Snezhnaya’s alcohol does have quite a kick to it, doesn't it?” He let a loud laugh burst out of him, thinking back to a time long gone, when a certain red-haired not-knight took a gulp of Snezhnayan Fire-Water and immediately passed out. Now that he thought about it, Dainsleif shared quite a few similarities with said not-knight. “Is Nod-Krai wine any good? I usually gravitate to others, myself.”
“Not bad at all.” Dainsleif shook his head, finally turning his body to face Varka. “I wouldn't really mix it with anything else, though. It would kill its taste.”
“Huh, you really know your stuff,” commented Varka. He propped an elbow on the counter, now even more interested, and grinned. “So, what d’you think about Mondstadt’s Dandelion Wine?”
Dainsleif’s next glance was knowing and even amused, a twitch to his lips that Varka hadn't seen before. Then again, the situation they had been in merely a day before had been far too tense and urgent to really let themselves wind down enough to smile. And, if Varka’s gut was right – which it usually was – then Dainsleif didn't really seem like a person who would smile easily. Not anymore.
“Of course, you Mondstadters do pride yourselves on your wine,” commented Dainsleif, dry but lighter than he would have expected.
“Ah, well, it's a widespread symbol of ours,” laughed Varka again, and he had to bit his tongue to keep himself from blurting out that their Archon was an avid fan of their wine too – he doubted someone from Dainsleif's origins would appreciate being reminded of the gods. Instead, he tilted his head. “So? Thoughts?”
“I have to admit that Mondstadt’s Dandelion Wine is one of the best in Teyvat,” nodded Dainsleif, easily enough. “I often find myself returning there because of that reason alone.”
There was more to that, Varka knew, but he also knew that he walked a delicate line, so he simply laughed loudly and even patted Dainsleif on the back like he would one of his own men. Dainsleif, for his part, only startled slightly at that and huffed a soft and short laugh of his own, probably amused by Varka’s antics. That was good – Varka would have hated for this guy to feel worse than he probably did, because that would have meant that Varka himself would have felt terrible in return.
“Glad to hear that, friend! Next time you come by, let me buy you a drink again, show you Mondstadt’s hospitality at its best,” said Varka, a shot in the dark, really. He expected Dainsleif to brush his offer off his shoulder, but the other knight paused and a strange look passed through his eyes.
“Huh. You’re not the first Knight of Favonius to have invited me to a drink,” mumbled Dainsleif, an emotion that Varka couldn’t quite place veiling his voice.
Varka didn’t know if he should ask – probably not, he decided, when he saw Dainsleif’s eyes turn distant for a moment as he sipped on his wine again.
“Ah, well. It is quite common for us Mondstadters to invite anyone for drinks,” he shrugged, trying to calm the air around them again. “Ha! I suppose I trained my knights well, seeing as they follow Mondstadt tradition to a T.”
At that, Dainsleif finally blinked and seemingly returned to the present. He turned his face to Varka slightly, enough for Varka to see dark traces of blue escaping the confines of his half-mask and snaking down his neck.
“You really trust your knights, huh?” he mumbled, not quite bitter, more… considering. Curious, maybe. A bit sad? Even for someone that prided himself on being able to get to the heart of just about anyone, Dainsleif was a hard person to get a real read on.
“Of course. We would be doomed, otherwise,” he nodded easily enough. He took a sip of his own drink and arched an eyebrow at Dainsleif. “It was the same for you, right?”
At that, Dainsleif grimaced slightly and looked away, hiding his mouth behind his cup.
“... It was,” he admitted, a bit reluctantly. “It still is, even if… they’re already lost.”
Varka sighed, long and hard, and leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment, letting himself feel whatever emotions Dainsleif’s words brought him. They were heavy, those. It brought thoughts of ‘what-if’s, of ‘what-could-go-wrong’s.
“I… can’t even imagine what that must feel like,” he admitted, his voice lowering to a murmur, a mumble, thoughtful and mournful – not for himself, but for the companion sitting by his side and who had now shared a battlefield with them.
“Hopefully, you will never have to find out,” was Dainsleif’s answer, bitterness cloaking his voice, but there was something there that… “You’re a true knight, from what I’ve been able to tell. You embody the Khaenri’ahn ideals of a knight – just, righteous… or, at least, the original ideals for a knight, before they were twisted into something repulsive.”
And his words were heavy, so heavy that Varka could only think back to a not-so-distant past, where even the Knights of Favonius – so self-righteous, the protectors of Mondstadt, the shields and blades wielded in Barbatos’ name – were on the verge on falling into a distorted image of themselves. Corruption was inevitable anywhere power brewed, he knew that well, he had seen it then, and it had cost the life of a certain former Captain’s father. If that corruption had been left to fester, would they have ended up similar to…?
Varka shook those thoughts away and took a deep breath, before letting it out slowly. That was in the past – and now, the Knights of Favonius stood tall and proud. Free, just like how a certain bard liked it.
“You’re a true knight yourself, I’d say,” he said, turning back to the conversation at hand. At Dainsleif’s scoff, he smiled. “Really, I’m being honest here. You stand for what you believe in, right? I’d say that is quite knightly of you.”
“What I believe in, huh?” muttered Dainsleif, looking into his cup with a grimace pulling at his lips. “And where will that lead me, I wonder.”
At that, Varka laughed loudly again. And once again, Dainsleif jumped slightly on his seat, startled.
“You underestimate yourself too much, my friend,” said Varka, completely honest. “There is nothing that determination and will can’t achieve. I'm sure that your beliefs will lead you to victory. As they say, sky’s the limit.”
And Dainsleif’s grimace turned into a strange expression, then, something complicated that left it pretty clear to Varka that the man in front of him knew a lot about the secrets hidden behind starry veils – as expected.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” was Dainsleif’s answer, a bit dry, but honest enough, so Varka allowed himself to fall into a more relaxed lean.
“And, hey, if you ever find yourself interested, the Knights of Favonius have the door open,” he offered, even as he knew that there was no way this wayward ally would ever bend the knee to the Favonius banner.
Dainsleif did laugh, then, low and soft and definitely unaccustomed to it, shaking his head. Varka’s smile turned into a grin.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not particularly fond of the idea of serving a god, directly or indirectly,” he said, predictably. Still, Varka laughed again.
“Eh, well. I had to try, at least,” he admitted with a light shrug. After a sip of his own wine, he huffed another laugh and then– offered a hand to Dainsleif. “In any case, I hope we can fight together once again in the future. It would be my honor, Captain Dainsleif.”
Dainsleif blinked and stared, clearly surprised, and Varka allowed himself to feel proud of being able to surprise someone who had probably seen everything this world had to offer. Even as Dainsleif processed his offered hand, Varka waited patiently. He wouldn’t back down – not from this. Where would his pride as a knight be, if he couldn’t even shake hands with a colleague of the same trade?
Finally, Dainsleif smiled slightly and took his hand in a clear sign of camaraderie between equals, firm and strong and unrelenting. Varka’s grin sharpened – Dainsleif underestimated himself, indeed. Too bad that Varka’s eyes had become pretty sharp after years and years of experience.
“It would be my honor as well, Grand Master Varka,” nodded Dainsleif, with clear respect.
The moment lingered for a few more seconds, heavy with meaning and a promise for the not-so-distant future, before Varka finally nodded and leaned back with a long and satisfied sigh.
“Y’know…” he spoke up again, when they had both resumed their drinking, now more relaxed than before. “I wouldn’t have offered this pompous deal if you had said that your favorite wine was… I dunno, Inazuma’s or some other.”
Dainsleif only arched an eyebrow at him.
“I see where your priorities lay,” he said, dry but humorous. “I can’t say I disagree.”
Varka’s following grin was sharp – oh, yes, he sure hoped they could fight shoulder to shoulder again sometime.