Night had fallen over Mondstadt, and Diluc strode through the quiet city streets. Ever since Stormterror's attack a few days prior, Mondstadt's nights had been unusually calm—save for a few drunkards, hardly anyone ventured out.
Scattered here and there, members of the Knights of Favonius searched the city for the two who'd stolen the Holy Lyre. They carried wanted posters, but the sketches on them were vague, likely because the patrolling church guards hadn't managed to catch a clear look at the thieves' faces in the darkness.
Noticing Diluc, a few knights approached him.
"Master Diluc, have you seen two people—one with blond hair, the other dressed in green?" The knight gave a rough description of Aether and Venti.
Diluc glanced at the wanted poster. "What happened?"
"Those two stole the Holy Lyre."
"To think someone would actually steal the Holy Lyre… Honestly, they'd have better luck stealing from my wine cellar. At least that's got some real value."
The knight gave an awkward laugh. Truth be told, none of them really understood why anyone would go after the Holy Lyre. As a harp once used by the Anemo Archon, its symbolic significance far outweighed any practical value. Everyone in Mondstadt knew of it; even if you managed to steal it, what could you possibly do with it? The knights honestly couldn't figure out the thieves' motives.
Still, confusion or not, the search had to go on.
After all, this was Mondstadt's greatest treasure. It couldn't be allowed to fall into the wrong hands.
"Master Diluc, have you seen them?"
"No." Diluc handed the wanted poster back, then continued on his way.
He released his owl into the night and made for the Knights' headquarters.
Even at this late hour, the Acting Grand Master's office was still lit. Inside, Jean was hunched over her desk, working through a mountain of paperwork.
There was just too much to do lately: trade routes destroyed by the attack needed to be rebuilt, orchards required repair, wounded citizens awaited comfort and aid, and city defenses had to be reinforced.
And on top of these daily affairs, she faced pressure from all sides—the Fatui, internal factions in Mondstadt, and even dissent within the Knights themselves. More than a few knights were advocating for the destruction of Stormterror.
All of it was wearing her thin.
No matter how you looked at it, she could never agree to destroy Stormterror.
Stormterror had once been one of the Four Winds, Mondstadt's ancient guardians. Both in principle and sentiment, he was someone to save, not an enemy to destroy.
And then there was the Abyss Order's activity outside the city.
Their movements had grown increasingly frequent, and hilichurls under their control were migrating toward the city in a disturbingly organized fashion. It felt like an attack could come at any moment.
As if that weren't enough, treasure hoarders were plotting to take advantage of Mondstadt's weakened defenses and cause trouble in the city.
And just recently, Jean had received word of the Holy Lyre's theft.
With a headache, Jean pressed her fingers to her brow. Even though she was used to an endless stream of work, having so many problems at once left her exhausted.
A knock sounded at the door. Jean paused, glancing at the clock on the wall.
So late—who could it be? Or had something else happened already?
She composed herself, tucking her fatigue away. "Come in."
Seeing Diluc step through the door, Jean was momentarily taken aback.
"You're here, Senior? At this hour?"
Diluc's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly at the word senpai. "Don't call me that."
"Alright, Diluc." Jean's expression tightened with concern. "Did something happen for you to come here so late?"
"There's been an incident."
Jean said nothing, waiting for him to continue.
"You've heard about the Holy Lyre being stolen, haven't you?"
"Yes." Jean nodded.
She'd just been wondering who would want to steal the Lyre in the first place.
"The two who stole it are with me right now."
Jean's brow knitted. "What exactly happened?"
Diluc briefly recounted the events. Jean listened, then let out a long sigh.
Diluc looked at the Acting Grand Master. "How do you plan to handle this?"
"This involves the Holy Lyre, the Honorary Knight, the Fatui… and Venti." Jean trailed off, but Diluc understood her meaning.
All of this was orchestrated by Venti—whether it was the story of Dvalin or the Lyre's true purpose, none of it was something outsiders should know. Anyone could guess at Venti's identity with just a bit of deduction.
If even the Anemo Archon himself wanted to save Stormterror, the Knights of Favonius certainly couldn't go against their own god.
Diluc stayed silent, waiting for her decision.
"If the Honorary Knight is a suspect, then as a member of the Knights I shouldn't get involved. I'll offer my help in a personal capacity."
Diluc nodded at her firm answer. "Eight o'clock tomorrow morning. Angel's Share."
With that, he turned to go—but paused at the door.
Jean looked at him in confusion. He glanced back, eyes lowered. "Finding the Holy Lyre won't be easy. You should get some rest."
And without waiting for a reply, he left.
Jean watched Diluc disappear from the office, let out a wry smile, and closed the files in her hands.
These can wait for Lisa tomorrow.
Diluc was right—retrieving the Lyre from the Fatui was no small matter. She needed to be at her best.
After leaving headquarters, Diluc leaned against a wall and quietly waited for his owl's return.
Eventually, the owl circling above found its master, landing precisely on his shoulder.
Diluc removed the little brass ring from its leg, taking out the intelligence report within.
Once he finished reading, a flame flickered in his hand—the paper vanished in a wisp of smoke, leaving no trace behind.
Out on the moonlit plain, La Signora—Eighth of the Fatui Harbingers—stood with her arms crossed, expressionless as she regarded the figure before her, someone who had no business being here.
She lifted her chin, her gaze condescending. "My dear puppet, what possible reason do you have for being here? Seizing the Anemo Archon's gnosis is my plan."
"Is that so? From what I hear, your plan isn't all that impressive. Even when your master's followers are suffering, that so-called Archon hasn't shown himself, has he?"
The visitor's tone was mocking. "These so-called gods are always cold and indifferent to anything that doesn't benefit them."
"Don't use your narrow little mind to judge my plans. How do you know the Anemo Archon hasn't shown himself?"