"Hey—what are you playing at?"
"Why did you walk out with her?"
The moment Venti saw Istaroth emerge alongside Rowan, his world wobbled.
Before he ever became the Anemo Archon, Venti had been a carefree wisp of wind—one thread in a thousand. And wind has never been far from time in Teyvat. Thanks to Istaroth's favor, he'd received a fragment of her and a sliver of temporal authority. Otherwise, what wind-sprite would dare fight gods at humanity's side? It wasn't that wind-sprites were so mighty—someone had his back.
As for why Decarabian ultimately entrusted his authority to Venti… very likely because he sensed Venti's tie to Istaroth. Why not entrust a human, or a lover-god? Isn't that just Teyvat's underlying code?
Given his bond with Istaroth, calling her "mother" wouldn't even be a stretch.
And now Rowan and Istaroth walked out together. No funny business between them? Who would believe that?
Mother, I asked you here to help me keep order—how did you end up defecting?! I treated you like a brother, and you want to be my dad? Looks like the clown… is me.
"What's wrong with you?" Rowan asked over a private whisper of wind.
"This is on you," Venti shot back. "If you hadn't told her about your situation, would she have come down out of curiosity? And why did you call her here in the first place?"
Rowan was speechless at Venti's villain-complains-first routine. You told Istaroth first; she came down, saw everything, and now you're pinning it on me? If Venti weren't his big boss, Rowan would have argued it out right there.
For now, they were using windborne voice—no open bickering. To those below, it only looked like Rowan took the throne and started trading meaningful looks with Venti. Attention drifted to the regal woman behind Rowan: Istaroth.
She didn't look like a Mondstadter at all.
Another "traveler," maybe?
They didn't know about Descenders. To them, anyone from another world was a Traveler. When Klee's mother Alice first arrived, that's what they called her—until she made a name as a legendary adventurer.
"It's because of you," Venti grumbled. "You wanted to declare war on Snezhnaya right off the bat! I figured I'd have her cover our backs."
"And who knew you weren't just a reckless brute!"
"Hey—who are you calling a brute?"
"Don't dodge the question. Explain why she's walking out with you. Did you two… last night—"
As their private spat heated up, Istaroth's voice cut cleanly between them.
"Are you talking about me?"
Venti locked up on the spot. Right. His mother also commanded the winds—and more potently than he did.
"Of course," Rowan said smoothly. "I was just praising your beauty—stunning beyond compare."
"Really?"
"Hehehehehe~"
Even knowing they hadn't been saying that a moment ago, Istaroth couldn't help laughing. Her smile was unguarded, pleased. Both Rowan and Venti exhaled; best not to let her hear the earlier parts. (That was Venti's concern—Rowan didn't really care. It was Istaroth. He couldn't beat her, perhaps, but he wasn't afraid either. Worst case? Mutual destruction.
Thirteen Seals released, the Star-forged Holy Sword unbound—firepower to maximum. He'd almost like to see whether Teyvat could withstand a world-saving strike.)
"Enough," Rowan said aloud. "I'm not wasting breath. The assembly starts now. If you've got doubts, Venti, go ask your mom."
With Istaroth present, continuing the argument was pointless. Rowan cut the wind-whisper and looked down over the hall.
"Let's keep it brief. Today's morning assembly begins. First matter—"
Before he could finish, Jean stepped forward.
"My king, forgive the interruption—who is the lady standing behind you?"
This was, after all, a high council of Mondstadt; nearly all the city's pillars were present. Even Diluc and Albedo were top-tier talents. But who was this unfamiliar noblewoman?
Rowan paused and glanced back at Istaroth. Right—he knew her identity, but those below did not. How to explain this—
Istaroth raised her hand with a cheerful smile.
"I am your king's queen."
"—!!!!"
The hall erupted into a storm of whispers.
And no one's reaction was bigger than Venti's.
"What!!!"
Hadn't he said there was something off between them? Queen already—and you're telling him there's nothing?
Rowan stared at Venti, who looked ready to curse but didn't dare. He had no words. This time, Istaroth really had thrown him to the wolves.
Not that he feared trouble—even if Venti wanted to make a scene, Rowan would manage.
"Was that wise?" he murmured aside.
"What's there to fear?" Istaroth replied lightly. "My true self sleeps. Even if I joined with you, what of it? And with your station as a Descender, are you really afraid to be linked to me?"
A Descender, by definition, shakes worlds.
First Throne: Phanes.
Second Throne: Nibelungen.
The Third Descender is unknown—eliminated—but each of the three wielded fearsome power. Even the one who fell nearly overturned the order ordained by Celestia. The Seelie were collateral—abandoned by the heavens because of him.
"That's true," Rowan said. "But do me a favor—don't pin hopes on me. I'm not a good man."
(End of Chapter)
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