Chapter Text
It all started, innocently enough, when Venti noticed something odd.
Strolling through Mondstadt’s bustling market square, he caught sight of a merchant selling bright trinkets—pins, keychains, tiny statues—and paused. There, nestled between miniature wine barrels and Anemo slime plushies, was a figure unmistakably familiar.
Himself.
Or more precisely: Barbatos.
In full archon regalia, tiny wings, a lyre slung across a grinning face.
Venti blinked. He leaned in closer. Another stall over had entire shelves dedicated to Barbatos merchandise: collectible cards, prayer journals, illustrated songsheets, even plush dolls with tiny capes.
Three thoughts crashed into Venti’s mind all at once.
First: Why? Times ten thousand.
Second: Huh? I didn’t think people liked me enough for this. Isn’t this more of a Morax thing?
Third: ...Sweet Archons, look at how much money they're making.
Initially, he thought it charming, cute, even. A lovely devotion to the spirit of freedom.
Then he stumbled, quite accidentally, onto the underground market.
NSFC: Not Safe for Church.
Here, hidden under innocent-looking covers, were stories—and art—that made even him choke on his own spit.
Dramatic tales of Barbatos in scandalous adventures, compromising positions, and very flexible poses. Illustrated in vivid, lurid detail.
Venti was mortified.
For about two seconds.
Then a wicked, delightful idea blossomed in his mind.
If they wanted scandal, oh, he could give them scandal.
Grinning like a devil, Venti locked himself away for days, scribbling furiously. He wrote racy stories, outrageous tales of fleeting liaisons and mysterious lovers that would have made even stoic Morax faint mid-sip of his tea.
There was no plot—only chaos, temptation, and audacity.
When the stack of parchment towered higher than his lyre, Venti packed it up and made a discreet visit to a certain very pink fox.
Yae Miko took one look at the scandalous mountain of stories, skimmed a single paragraph, and laughed so hard she almost fell off her chair.
"This," she said, clutching her sides, "is art."
Within the week, the first wave of “Anemo Whispers” hit the black market, and then the official publishing stands under very legitimate, very profitable channels.
Venti didn’t stop there.
He added old fairy tales from Vinedhagnr Peak, fables whispered through Khaenri’ah long ago (carefully disguised), and ancient songs only the winds remembered. Yae, delighted beyond measure, polished them for print, and the sales exploded.
In a month, Mondstadt saw a suspicious uptick in visitors—scholars, travelers, aspiring writers—all murmuring about the mysterious "bard’s collection" that captured the spirit of Barbatos so... vividly.
To Venti’s increasing shock, even the more innocent collections—the love ballads, the lost poems, the old fables—became wildly successful.
He tried releasing music scores next. They sold out immediately.
He published old songs from before Decarabian’s downfall. They were hailed as national treasures.
The situation escalated... rather dramatically.
Thoma, visiting from Inazuma, innocently spoke at one gathering, spinning heartfelt tales of Mondstadt’s spirit, the Windborne Bard, and the freedom their absent Archon once wove into the earth itself. His speech was so emotional, so inspiring, that half the noble children in attendance vowed to pilgrimage to Mondstadt immediately.
The craze reached a fever pitch.