"What does it mean to be free?"
A simple question, which is a good one. Freedom is not a universally accepted fact, it is an opinion, and each one differs from the other.
And so, the bard looks around the corners of the city, as usual. Nothing new is being added to the monotonous lifestyle he so carefully chose. Taking a sip from his dandelion wine mug, he breathes in the spring air, which suspiciously smells like apple pie from the vendors' stalls. Glancing at the never-changing notice board, taking a look at the untouched missing posters about the traveling sibling, and watching the white birds pecking at seeds near the overly slanted rooftops.
Yes, this is freedom to him.
Venti stood up from his spot, left the wine on the wooden counter, opened the tavern door, and glanced at the empty tables. There were no customers; the sun was still rising, and people were still getting ready for the workday. He looked up and saw the red-haired individual, grumpy as ever with his usual duties.
"You're here at this hour? I'm not even surprised. And congratulations, I've never seen you drink outside the tavern," Diluc said condescendingly, cleaning the wine glasses near his hand and briefly glancing at the annoyingly familiar customer.
The bard kept walking, ignoring his words, and sat on the high wooden stool facing Diluc.
"You're complimenting me? How novel!" Venti replied playfully, but the man didn't take his comment lightly.
"Did you bring the mug into the tavern? Did you clean it?" he asked.
"Uhh, about that..." Venti looked around, playfully sweating and scratching his head in defeat.
"Pfff... I already know the answer, since you came in empty-handed." Diluc crossed his arms, sighing.
"Hey! Why should I clean? I'm like, a super-dedicated customer of your great establishment!" Venti tried to butter him up to get out of it, but seeing Diluc's look, he just placed his arms and head on the bar table.
"You're really a child."
Venti lifted his head, placing a hand on his chest in an offended manner, making Diluc almost roll his eyes.
Climbing to the tavern's second floor, when he came back down, he gave a tiny smile seeing Venti had fallen asleep happily on the bar counter.
The bard woke up, seeing Diluc again, extending his hand. Venti smiled and took it before Diluc looked at him confused and grabbed his arm.
"What? You extended your hand. That's a sign of truce, right?" Venti said, confused, before Diluc frowned and swatted his hand away, Venti looking at him with a pout.
"Payment."
"What?"
Diluc glanced at Venti's mugs left outside through an open window in the corner.
"For your drink. It'll be three thousand mora, please," he said calmly, as Venti slumped over the table.
"Oh, come on! Don't treat me like a customer! I perform at your tavern every Friday night!" Venti said, knowing he didn't have a single mora in his pocket.
"That I didn't ask for?"
Venti discreetly scooted his stool away from the bar table as Diluc turned once again.
"Don't be a grouch, grumpy red-haired bartender! I'm sure you love my performance!"
"Yeah, I really adore it," he said in a bored voice, sighing.
"See! Even you agree!"
"That was sarcasm, you idiot."
As he decided it was a good time, Venti whistled again to distract from the squeaking noise of stools on the wooden floor as he moved them, before getting up and opening the door to leave the tavern. He heard a voice behind him.
"Hey! Come back and pay your bill!"
But Venti playfully stuck out his tongue, before exclaiming:
"I will! As soon as fat pigs fly!"
Grabbing his lyre from the wooden table outside where he had been before, he dashed out of Mondstadt's entrance, looking over the stone bridge ahead of him and waving at the guards watching over the city.
As the white birds flew away when they saw Venti running toward them, a young boy looked at him with disdain, frowning once again, muttering about annoying people disturbing his leisure time with his pet birds, but Venti shrugged it off. They'll come back anyway.
He hummed along with the trees, before seeing a familiar sight in front of him.
The large tree, combined with the river overflowing around the plants and gardens, along with rocky formations growing around nature, and the familiar statue of himself—Lord Barbatos, as they call him—lay around the center.
Venti lazily fell near the tree, his back resting against the trunk before strumming his lyre. The shadow cast below him by the tree's leaves made the temperature cooler. A fine melody was carefully plucked on his lyre before he began humming and closing his eyes.
The once-powerful god had renounced his divine power, choosing instead to live among the people as a common bard.
Venti's decision to grant freedom to Mondstadt's citizens and establish a new order was a heavy one, but it was a choice he made with great care. The burden of divinity had become tiresome for him, and he longed for the simple joys of mortal life, living with easy alcohol and the smallest burdens in his life. The idea of a "new Mondstadt," where freedom would reign—not under the rule of a god, but under the guidance of its people.
As the stars began to sparkle in the dark sky, Venti continued to play his lyre, the music filling the air with a sense of peace and serenity. He watched as Mondstadt's lights came to life during the night.
Venti was lost in the enchanting melodies of his lyre when a voice, clear and authoritative, broke through the music. It was a voice that carried the weight of the world, the heavens, the firmament, the realm, and the very universe.
And the brief winds that had been listening to the melody of his lyre halted, as did the world.
"Barbatos." It echoed throughout the world.
Venti looked around, quickly turning his head in the starry night, searching for the voice.
"You may think you are no longer a god, but you still understand the true essence of freedom." the voice continued.
Startled, Venti stopped playing and looked around, his emerald eyes glowing with caution and danger. He thought he had left behind the realm of the gods and the influence of Celestia forever.
"Do not compare me to those fools who do not understand their pathetic existence, reduced to nothing but arrogance."
"How?" Venti responded, more scared now.
"I am the Truth of all things. Reading an almost-exposed mind like yours is nothing more than a simple game."
The voice persisted, weaving its power into the air.
"You once believed that true freedom lay in the hands of mortals, didn't you? You severed your ties with us, the divine, in pursuit of that belief."
Venti gripped his lyre tightly, aggressively holding the strings as he looked down.
"Yes, I did. Mortals should be free to shape their own destinies, free from the whims of the gods."
The voice listened carefully and responded calmly.
"Then I will give you a new expectation, in a world where both gods and mortals are at the mercy of destiny, a powerful and mysterious force."
"What do you mean by that?" Venti hesitated, confused by the direction the conversation was taking, his fingers stopping and pressing hard on the strings of his lyre.
"Venti, true freedom is not just the absence of divine rule, but the ability to choose one's own path, to embrace or reject responsibility voluntarily. And it will depend entirely on you whether this world will have such a blessing."
Venti frowned, contemplating the voice's words.
"And you think I'll obey you, do what you want with this nonsense you're talking about, and abandon my people? After all the suffering my people have endured?" Venti replied with disdain.
"When did I say it was a choice?"
Venti stood up from the ground, his patience exhausted, interrupting the voice, his voice filled with anger.
"Enough! I'm tired of your cryptic words and celestial riddles," Venti exclaimed.
"No, Barbatos, these are not riddles but enlightenment. The true essence of freedom is beyond the limits of divinity or mortality. It is the freedom to shape your destiny and understand the cosmic order that governs us all."
With a heavy heart, Venti felt his small body weaken as the last winds disappeared. He lay down under the ancient tree in Windrise.
"What are you doing to me?"
"Giving you a new chance to unlock a new level of understanding. But first, take something that belongs to you. Don't worry, Celestia won't be able to do anything to you—you're beyond their limits."
Floating at the height of the bard's chest was a chess piece, which, in a flash, entered Venti's chest, filling him with a power familiar to him.
Closing his eyes, he slept peacefully as the voice vanished into the night air.