Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Your hands are healing nicely,” Varka notes as he carefully wraps the bandage around Kaeya’s palms. Indeed, the burns have begun to fade into a pale pink and the worst of the blisters have scabbed over. One month ago, when Varka had first seen Kaeya’s hands covered with angry red burns, he didn’t think the young Knight would be able to wield a sword again. He has never been more glad to be proved wrong. 

“Thanks,” Kaeya mumbles, his expression carefully blank. His hands are so small in Varka’s. Once he finishes, the Grand Master squeezes Kaeya’s hands reassuringly and gets to his feet. 

“Shall we get going?”

Kaeya nods. As they weave through the empty halls of the Ordo’s headquarters, Varka keeps an eye on Kaeya. It had taken Varka and Jean several days of constant prodding for Kaeya to finally open up about his injuries. Even then, Varka doubts that Kaeya shared the full extent of the damage to his body. Sometimes, Varka catches the quick flash of pain in his eyes or the tender way he holds himself during patrols. It’s clear that he’s hurt and that his pain extends far deeper than any flesh wound. But if Kaeya doesn’t want to share, then all Varka can do is take care of Kaeya in any way the Knight will let him.

The pair make their way outside to the Ordo’s training grounds. Above them, the stars are barely visible, covered by gray and heavy clouds. This late at night, the area is deserted, just as it always is. Perfect.

A cluster of training dummies stand in one corner of the clearing. Varka huffs. He needs to have a word with the newest recruits about properly cleaning up after themselves. Still, at least for tonight, it saves him a journey to the storage shed. Varka drags a training dummy over to Kaeya. “Ready?”

Kaeya takes a deep breath and draws his sword. Though Kaeya’s hands still shake, Varka is pleased to see that his grip is firmer than it’s been in their previous sessions. As soon as he had seen Kaeya’s injuries, Varka had personally insisted on helping Kaeya regain his motor skills. He knew the last thing Kaeya wanted was to appear weak, especially when Kaeya took such great care to craft a mask of easygoing indifference. Asking any other Knight to help was out of the question, since it would have meant one more person learning Kaeya’s weakness. That left him and Jean, but Jean was overwhelmed as it was, picking up the work Diluc left behind when he resigned as Cavalry Captain. So, Varka had taken it upon himself to pester Kaeya, chipping away at his mask until the younger finally agreed to private training sessions. 

They’ve settled into a quiet routine -- at the end of the day, Varka and Kaeya linger at the headquarters until the sun goes down and the other Knights go home, then they practice Kaeya’s swordsmanship under the cover of night. Though progress is slow, Kaeya continues to train, gradually regaining his former strength. It seems there’s more to this Knight than meets the eye. Perhaps one day, he would make a fine captain. 

Kaeya hacks at the training dummy with grace and determination. Varka nods with approval, occasionally offering corrections. 

“Step into your swing, Kaeya,” He instructs. Kaeya swings his sword into the training dummy’s body with a resounding thud. 

“Widen your stance.” Kaeya’s next swing makes the dummy wobble. 

“Parry. Thrust. Lunge.” With a slice of his sword, Kaeya sends the training dummy’s head flying off its body. Kaeya pants for breath, flexing his fingers around the sword’s hilt. He looks so surprised that Varka bursts into laughter.

“Good.” Varka beams at Kaeya and thumps his back. Kaeya stumbles from the momentum, but his eye glimmers with pride and the corner of his mouth twitches upwards.

“Catch your breath, and let’s go again,” Varka pats Kaeya’s shoulder and leaves to fetch another training dummy. As he hauls the dummy towards the training area, a drop of water splashes against his head. Varka holds a hand up, just as a light drizzle begins, and he curses under his breath. Rain means that Varka will have to cancel their practice for tonight -- if he chooses to continue otherwise, then at best, the straw dummies develop mold but at worst, Kaeya could get sick and Varka won't risk his health, especially without knowing just how hurt Kaeya is. For now, he should probably return the other training dummies left outside to their proper place in storage.

Varka groans and turns back to Kaeya, wondering if he can get away with passing off these chores as a “training exercise.” Instead, he finds Kaeya hunched into himself, the sword abandoned at his feet and his arms crossed defensively in front of him. Immediately, Varka drops the dummy and runs over. Something’s wrong. 

“Kaeya?” Varka reaches out, but Kaeya flinches away. It’s only then that Varka notices that Kaeya’s breathing is harsh and ragged. His eye, haunted and unfocused, locks onto Varka’s face. Rivulets of rain run down his face -- if Varka didn’t know any better, he would think those were tears.

“S-stop.” Kaeya sounds so fragile. The Cryo Vision at his waist glows slightly. Around them, the temperature drops as raindrops start to crystallize into ice. Varka freezes. “D-don’t come closer, please -”

“Kaeya, hey.” Varka slowly lifts both his hands in the air where Kaeya can see them and takes a step back. “It’s okay, you’re safe. What’s wrong?”

Kaeya shakes his head mutely. He shivers and digs his nails into his arms. The bandages on Kaeya’s palms are tinged with red. Varka winces. Kaeya’s wounds must have reopened. 

“Let’s get you inside. Do you think you can walk?” Varka asks gently. Kaeya nods. Varka scoops up Kaeya’s sword from the ground. He doesn’t miss the way that Kaeya’s eyes widen in fear, and he quickly dematerializes the sword, tucking it out of sight. 

Varka leads them back into the building, making sure to keep his space from Kaeya. Once they’re inside the Grand Master’s office, he guides Kaeya onto the couch. Varka is thankful for the spare blanket he keeps in his office. He wraps it around Kaeya’s shoulders, and the Knight clutches at its edges as though the thick fabric can shield him from the rest of the world. 

The Grand Master takes a deep breath, doing his best to push away the pang in his heart. He busies himself with pouring a cup of water for Kaeya. He won’t ask, he won’t push, he won’t give in to his instincts to find whoever hurt Kaeya and throttle them, he won’t-

“Sorry for messing up training,” Kaeya whispers hoarsely when Varka places the water in his hands. 

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Varka pulls a clean roll of bandages from a cabinet. Kaeya’s eye flickers with understanding, and he offers his free hand to Varka, who peels back the wet layers of bandage. Up close, Varka can see the glitter of Kaeya’s ice digging into his burned skin. Gently, he cleans the blood and ice from Kaeya’s palm. It’s silent as Varka rewraps Kaeya’s hand with a fresh bandage, then-

“It...it was raining then,” Kaeya begins hesitantly. He fidgets with his cup. Varka hates the way his voice trembles. “Diluc...he...”

“You have nothing to explain to me either.” Varka cuts him off firmly. He had his suspicions -- there are not many people in Mondstadt who can leave burns the way that Kaeya’s hands are burned. But what happened between Diluc and Kaeya is between brothers. Varka knows what it’s like to carry secrets and he won’t push Kaeya to share his.

“....Why are you doing this?” Kaeya looks up at Varka, his eye shining. The Knight searches Varka’s face, desperately searching for an answer. “Helping me with my hands, staying behind to train with me, and now this. You have no obligation to help me, so why…?”

Varka sighs. He bends down on one knee so that he’s at Kaeya’s eye level. Gently, he places a hand over Kaeya’s. Archons , they’re so small in his. If Diluc ever returns, Varka will have some words with that boy.

“I don’t know what happened to you in the past, but frankly, I don’t care,” The Grand Master says simply. “You’re a citizen of Mondstadt and a Knight of Favonius, Sir Kaeya. You want to know why I’m taking care of you? Because the Knights are a family. Because you are a part of this family. And family looks out for each other.”

Kaeya stares down at his reflection in his cup. Varka squeezes his hand one last time, then hauls himself to his feet with an oof. 

“Get some rest, son.” Varka moves behind his desk and pulls out some paperwork. He won’t be getting any sleep tonight, so he might as well be productive. Kaeya nods stiffly and curls into the blanket. 

“Grand Master Varka?”

“Yes?”

“...Thank you.”

By the time Varka looks up from his paperwork, Kaeya is already fast asleep. 

Something changes after that night. Kaeya comes out of his shell around the other Knights, his confidence becoming more than just a mask. It makes Varka’s heart swell with happiness and pride to hear Kaeya is making a name for himself within the Ordo. Or at least, that’s what Jean tells him. Unfortunately for Varka, being near a distressed Cryo user in the rain means catching a severe cold, so Jean takes over most of his duties, including training with Kaeya. Still, Varka wants to make sure Kaeya is settling in well. It takes a few days to come up with a plan and make the right preparations, but as soon as everything falls into place, Varka drags himself out of bed and into Angel’s Share.

The moment he enters, everyone swivels to stare at him. Nimrod spills a pint of beer on himself. Cyrus shatters a glass in his fist. Varka shuffles to the bar, where Kaeya gapes at him.

“Can I get some dandelion wine, Charles?” Varka sneezes as he takes the seat next to Kaeya.

The bartender raises an eyebrow, but turns to fill his order. 

“Trying out a new style, Varka?” Charles asks, sliding his drink across the counter.

“Hmm?” Varka looks down. Sure, the tight black pants make his thighs bulge, and the steep neckline of his shirt exposes almost all of his muscled chest. Sure, the fur pelt on his shoulder makes his nose itch even more than his cold does, and the seams of his clothes rip every time he moves, and the entire outfit definitely looks better on Kaeya. But when he turns to Kaeya and catches him hiding behind a gloved hand, his eye sparkling with laughter, it’s completely worth it.

“Looking good, Grand Master.” Kaeya smirks.

“I do enjoy the attention.” Varka grins mischievously. “Perhaps I should wear this every day. You wouldn’t mind matching, would you?”

“Of course not. I think you wear it better, if I do say so myself. Though, your eyepatch is on the wrong side.” Kaeya taps his own eyepatch, then holds up his mug. “Well then. Shall we toast to your new fashion choice?”

Unfortunately, Varka hadn’t accounted for the fact that wearing an eyepatch would take away his depth perception. Much to Kaeya’s amusement, it takes Varka several tries to grab ahold of his drink. When he finally does, he holds it up high. “Cheers. To...a-a- ACHOO !”

Kaeya doesn’t even try to hold back his howls of laughter when Varka rockets from his seat and spills his drink all over himself. Varka groans from the impact, but he’s chuckling too. It’s the first time that Kaeya’s laughed since Diluc left, and it’s enough to let him know that, in time, Kaeya will be alright.

Chapter Text

As the Grand Master of the Ordo, Varka makes it his mission to get to know each of his Knights personally. These are the people he’s sworn to protect and to stand alongside in defense of their beloved nation. What Jean calls “neglecting his actual duties as Grand Master by distracting the other Knights from doing theirs”, Varka deems “collecting necessary intelligence on the Ordo’s personnel and establishing a friendly working environment”.

Despite his best efforts, Varka struggles to connect with Albedo. The first time he approaches the mysterious boy in a white coat, he tries to strike up a conversation about alchemy. Suffice to say, it doesn’t go well.

“Hello, Albedo! What are you working on?”

“Just some basic experiments.”

“Ah, interesting.”

“....”

“....So.....alchemy, huh?”

“...I’m sorry, Grand Master, did you need something from me?”

“No...I’ll just get going.”

Varka’s next attempts fail just as spectacularly. When Varka comments about his Geo Vision, Albedo stares at him blankly and tells him that he mostly uses it as a paperweight. Once, Varka tries asking about Albedo’s past, but the alchemist shuts it down so quickly that Varka feels guilty for days. 

Of course, Kaeya laughs at his efforts, while Jean reassures him that perhaps Albedo just isn’t a social person. Varka resigns himself to a mostly professional relationship with the alchemical genius. He decides to reach out one last time, but work interrupts his plan of getting to know the new alchemist. Hilichurl activity rises in the grasslands surrounding the city’s borders, and Varka turns his concentration towards paperwork, patrol schedules, and Mondstadt’s safety. 

For a month, he pulls all-nighters in his office, sleeping on the couch for a few hours before dragging himself right back to his desk in the morning. For each new patrol route he adds, he also picks up an extra shift himself to ensure that there are enough Knights watching over his beloved city. Each day becomes an endless cycle of exhaustion, work, and as many cups of coffee he can chug before having to start all over again. 

Varka is so overwhelmed by stress that when he receives a report of hilichurl activity far from the walls of Mondstadt, he immediately accepts the mission himself in hopes that the walk will clear his head. The thought of getting to know Albedo has completely slipped his mind, so it takes him completely by surprise when he takes his mini-expedition to Dadapua Gorge and immediately stumbles upon the alchemist sketching a group of hilichurls. 

“Albedo,” Varka blurts out before he can stop himself. The alchemist is seated on a rock, just out of the hilichurls’ sight. Albedo’s gaze flicks to him before returning to the dancing hilichurls.

“Hello, Grand Master,” he greets. 

Varka shifts on his feet. He’d been planning to clear the area of hilichurls, but he doesn’t want to interfere with Albedo’s sketches. Well, he supposes he can always take care of the hilichurls later. By the time he decides to circle back after sweeping the rest of Dadapua Gorge, it’s too late to excuse himself without seeming rude. The silence that stretches between the pair is thick and awkward.

“So,” Varka says as casually as he can. “What brings you to Dadapua Gorge?”

“Hmm?” Albedo frowns in concentration as he erases a stray line. “Ah, I wanted to observe the natural behaviors of hilichurls and decided to sketch them. It’s necessary for my study of living beings.”

Varka peeks at his sketchbook. The page is filled with lifelike drawings of hilichurls, each of their movements captured in charcoal. It’s almost as though Albedo took the world in front of him and imprinted it onto paper. 

The Grand Master lets out a low whistle. He’s impressed - no, more than impressed. He’s never seen anything like it. 

“That’s pretty good,” he remarks. Varka takes a seat next to Albedo’s rock, laying his claymore across his lap. He could use a quick break. The grass tickles his shins. “Do you draw often?”

“When I have time, which is admittedly rare these days.”

Varka chuckles, “I see the Knights are keeping your hands full.”

“You say that as if you are not directly in charge of the Knights and my work schedule.”

Varka shrugs and smiles innocently. “It’s not usually this busy. But I’m glad that you’re settling in well.”

Albedo nods, and Varka leans back on his palms, watching a pair of cranes gracefully land near a pool of water. It’s quiet today, and only the soft scratches of Albedo’s pencil against the page fills the air. Varka takes a deep breath, enjoying the crisp, cool breeze.

“Have you ever been to Liyue?” Varka asks absentmindedly. “If you ever want to sketch landscapes, then Liyue is the place to go."

“I can’t say that I have visited before.”

“You should visit someday. There’s one area, uh, Jueyun Karst, I think it's called. There are columns of rock that stretch into the sky, hundreds of feet above ground. They say it’s the home of Liyue’s Adepti. And there are some people who live up there, so high that you can touch the stars.”

“That doesn’t sound very safe.”

“Oh, but the sunsets there are beautiful. You can see all of Liyue turn gold under the sun.”

Albedo hums in acknowledgement. He flips a page in his sketchbook. Something changes in his posture, but what it is, Varka cannot tell. “You must have a lot of stories from your expeditions.”

Varka rubs his chin thoughtfully. “I suppose I do. Have I told you about the time I broke my hip wrestling a Geovishap?”

Albedo raises an eyebrow. “No?”

Varka sits up, a mischievous grin on his face. “Well, it was during an expedition a couple years ago. I thought it was a simple job, just exploring some ruins around Tianqiu Valley. I was following the river when all of a sudden, I ran into this giant monster of rock and stone! We don’t have anything like Geovishaps in Mondstadt, so I thought I should try to fight it -- with my bare hands, mind you, I don’t do anything by the half -- and the Geovishap throws me into a wall of stone.”

“I’m assuming the collision broke your hip?”

“Oh, gods no, I broke my hip trying to put it in a chokehold. I won that fight, by the way. Kaeya and Jean will try to tell you otherwise, but they’re wrong.”

A smile twitches at Albedo’s lips. “Clearly.”

“You’re laughing at me. I can see you laughing at me.”

“I would never, Grand Master.” Albedo ducks his head, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

Varka harrumphs, but there’s no bite in it. “You know what’s a really funny story though? Once, I was on an expedition at Stormbearer’s Point...”

He tells Albedo about the Qingxin he finds on the peaks of Mount Tianheng, the drinking songs he learns in Natlan, the whispers of knowledge he picks up from passing scholars in Sumeru. He spins stories about Godwin’s lovestruck antics to win Glory’s attention, of the aftermath of Amber accidentally setting Lisa’s hair on fire, and the time Huffman rescued a cat from the roof of the Cat’s Tail only to get stuck up there himself. Albedo smiles softly at his tales, laughing when Varka waves his hands a little too wildly and smacks himself in the face. They sit there for hours, until the sky turns pink and golden with the beginning of sunset, but neither of them mind the passage of time. 

After Varka finishes retelling his most recent adventure into the depths of Dragonspine, Albedo clears his throat. He seems thoughtful.

“May I ask you something, Grand Master Varka?”

“Hmm? Yes, of course.”

“On your many expeditions and adventures,” Albedo says slowly. “Have you discovered the truth of this world?”

Varka hums thoughtfully. He’s learned many things, met incredible people, and seen the wonders that Teyvat has to offer, but the truth of this world?

“No,” he finally says. “I can’t say that I have.”

“...I see.” Albedo sounds disappointed. 

“But,” Varka muses. “I suppose that even if I could say that I have, it wouldn’t necessarily mean that I have the truth of this world. I will only have found my truth. What you are searching for, Albedo, may be something you have to find for yourself.”

The alchemist ponders this for a moment, then nods. “I see.”

Varka glances at the sun’s position then gets to his feet, groaning as his joints pop. It’s getting rather late. “Shall we head back to Mondstadt before it gets dark?”

Albedo shakes his head. “I would like to conduct a few more observations before heading back.”

“Then I’ll get going first. Thank you for your company, Albedo.” Varka means it. At some point in the afternoon, the awkwardness had melted away into something more familiar and comforting. Varka’s glad for it.

“I should be the one thanking you,” Carefully, Albedo tears a page from his sketchbook and offers it to Varka. “Here, take this.”

On the page is an illustration of Varka sitting in the grass, in the middle of telling a story. Soft lines capture the twinkle in his eye and the movement of his arms flying around him. He looks happy and carefree, without any trace of the stress and worries that have plagued him for the last month. 

Warmth and affection well in his gut. Varka turns to Albedo, ready to thank him, but the alchemist is already engrossed in a new sketch, his tongue sticking out between his lips as his eyes dart between a bunch of Sweet Flowers and the beginnings of an image on his page. 

Varka smiles. He tucks Albedo’s sketch into a pocket next to his heart and makes his way home to Mondstadt. 

Chapter Text

It really is a beautiful day today. The wind is warm and the sky is clear and blue, without any clouds in sight. To his right, the crystal clear waters of Cider Lake sparkle under the sun’s glare. Varka whistles to the tune of a drinking song as he heads towards Wolvendom. If he’s lucky, he’ll run into the wolf boy again, and he can pick up their claymore lessons where they left off last time. 

He’s about to turn onto the dusty path that will lead him to the heart of Wolvendom when a geyser of water erupts from the lake and soaks him from head to toe. 

His first thought is what the fuck just happened.

His second thought is to be on his guard and investigate for threats, because only an extremely powerful Hydro user could have created a blast of water like that, and to his knowledge, there’s no Hydro user in Mondstadt with that level of skill. Varka refuses to let anyone or anything threaten Mondstadt. Not while he’s around to stop it. 

By his estimations, the epicenter, and therefore the source, of the blast must be just behind that nearby cluster of trees. The Grand Master summons his claymore and creeps around the corner, ready to attack. There’s no time for a plan -- Varka will just swing and hope he doesn’t miss. 

There’s a rustle of a bush, then Varka hears light footsteps growing closer. This is it. He tenses and starts a mental countdown.

5… Varka hefts his claymore over his head and exhales. 

4... Each of his senses are locked on finding any clues about this mysterious attacker. He won’t let them escape. 

3 …Now that Varka’s listening more carefully, the footsteps follow an irregular pattern. Whoever this is...are they skipping?

2… Then he hears it -- a high-pitched voice sings cheerfully “Da da da da!”

1… Oh, fuck.

“Mister Varka!” Klee exclaims as she pops out of a bush.

“Hey there, little Miss Klee!” He greets cheerfully. His muscles burn from the effort of halting his heavy weapon’s momentum. 

Klee tilts her head, confused. “Whatcha doin’ there, Mister Varka? Is there a bad guy?”

“N-no, I’m just... scratching my back with my claymore,” Varka curses himself mentally. How could he forget that the Knights of Favonius’s favorite child pyromaniac makes a hobby of blowing up bodies of water?

“Okay,” Klee beams at him, and Varka quickly dematerializes his sword. “Do you want to see something cool?”

“Sure,” he agrees. Klee starts to rummage in her rucksack, then freezes and gives Varka a guilty look.

“Um, actually, maybe Mister Varka shouldn’t see,” she says sheepishly. “Klee will get going now!”

“Klee,” Varka sighs. Subtlety is not among the Spark Knight’s strong suits. “Do you have a bomb in there?”

“A bomb?” Klee’s eyes widen as she pretends to think it over. “No, Klee only has her treasure. So Klee’s not in trouble!”

“You’re not in trouble as long as you’re responsible.” Varka doesn’t know why he’s trusting a child with enough explosives to level all of Mondstadt to be responsible. Still, he sees the way that Klee’s eyes light up...and maybe he can let it slide just this once. As long as no one gets hurt, it should be fine, right?

“Do you want to go fish blasting with Klee?” The young Knight gives him her best puppy eyes, and Archons, how can he say no to that face? Varka makes a mental note to come back another time for training with Razor.

Varka rubs his chin and pretends to think about it, but he already knows that he’ll give in to whatever Klee wants. And besides, if he can supervise Klee, then hopefully he can keep damage to a minimum. “Sure! Varka would love to come.”

Klee squeals with excitement and grabs one of Varka’s hands. “Let’s go, let’s go!” 

Somehow, Varka ends up at the edge of the lake. He eyes the bomb that Klee shoved into his hand. It looks like a stuffed rabbit doll, it feels like a stuffed rabbit doll, but Varka has also seen Klee reshape an entire mountain with this doll. 

“So, Mister Varka, you just throw Jumpy Dumpty,” Klee explains. “And then all the fish will blast out of the water!” 

Hesitantly, he lets the bomb slip from his hands and watches the water swallow up the doll. For a moment, nothing happens. Then, with a rumbling boom, the lake erupts in a massive explosion. Water bursts over Varka and Klee, and he stumbles back from the force of it, gripping onto Klee’s hand to make sure she doesn’t get washed away. 

Something cold and slimy and wriggling slaps him in the face. Varka coughs and wipes the water from his eyes. Then his jaw drops in shock. It’s raining fish. They fall from the sky and land on the shores behind him, still flopping. Klee giggles as a fish falls into her arms. She shows it to Varka, grinning proudly. 

“That’s a big fish!” Varka chuckles. He follows her as she collects all the fish from the ground.

“Isn’t this fun? There’s more fish over there!” Klee points to another section of the lake. “Let’s do it again!”

And Varka finds himself fish blasting with Klee again and again and again. They settle into a routine. Each time fish come flying out of the water, Klee runs after them, skipping and singing happily. She shows off the most noteworthy catches to Varka -- “Look, Mister Varka, this one has three eyes!”-- then she dashes off to another part of the lake to go again. Her excitement is infectious and soon, Varka finds himself humming her song under his breath as he helps Klee scoop up fish. 

Klee tires herself out by the time the sun goes down, and Varka easily scoops her up and lifts her onto his back. Carrying a sack of their sizable catch of fish with one hand and holding onto Klee’s legs with the other, just to make sure she won’t fall off, he starts the long trek back to Mondstadt. Klee wraps her arms around his neck. 

“Mister Varka is the best!” She rubs her eyes and yawns. “Klee had so much fun today.”

“Varka had fun too,” the Grand Master says. 

“Hmmm, can we go fish-blasting again tomorrow?”

“Sorry Klee, Varka has a lot of work tomorrow, but maybe Klee and Varka can go again another time.”

There’s no response. Varka glances at Klee and finds her asleep and drooling on his shoulder. With a fond huff, he adjusts Klee so that she’s more comfortable and picks up his pace.

It’s late evening by the time they get back to the Ordo’s headquarters. Wearily, Varka climbs the steps of the building and enters the main hall. There, he pauses. Where even is Klee’s room? Maybe he should find Albedo. The alchemist would know. Varka starts in the direction of the laboratory when the creak of a heavy mahogany door draws his attention. 

“Grand Master? Have you seen Klee? She-” Jean peeks out from the Grand Master’s office, worry clear in her voice. When she sees Klee on Varka’s back, she immediately slumps with relief. “Oh, thank Barbatos , we were so worried.”

Varka keeps his voice quiet so he won’t wake Klee. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everyone’s fine. Amber reported seeing an explosion at Cider Lake, and I assumed it was just Klee blasting fish in the lake again.” Jean walks over to Varka. Her hair is wild and messy, probably from running her hands through it. “Usually Klee only throws one or two bombs then comes home. But today, there were just….there were so many explosions and she didn’t come back, and...and-”

“Varka- I mean,” he clears his throat, correcting himself hastily at Jean’s questioning glance. “Ahem, I was with Klee all day. She’s safe, she just got a little excited. I’m sorry that we made you worry.”

Jean sighs and drags a hand across her face. “Kaeya and Albedo are out looking for her right now. Amber’s combing the woods for Klee.”

“Are we in trouble?” Varka smiles sheepishly as Jean glares at him.

“You’re always in trouble, sir, but I doubt anyone can do anything about it. Klee, on the other hand…” Jean looks so tired. Varka feels guilty. He should make it up to her somehow. “I’ll probably give her a few days of solitary confinement.”

“Perhaps we can let Klee off the hook this once,” Varka suggests. “I’ll take full responsibility for this incident.”

“Still, I-”

There’s a rustle of movement as Klee shuffles in her sleep. Varka and Jean freeze, but Klee doesn’t wake. When Klee settles back down again, Jean lets out a long exhale. 

“I’ll take her to her room. We can figure out the rest tomorrow,” Varka says quietly. Jean nods in agreement.

“I’ll find Kaeya, Albedo, and Amber and let them know Klee’s alright.” Jean heads towards the grand doors of the Ordo. She pauses next to Varka and places her hand on Klee’s head, giving her hair a few gentle strokes. “I’m glad you’re both safe,” she murmurs. 

“I would never let anything happen to Klee. She’s young, but she’s one of us.”

Jean gives him a small smile. “I know.” She brushes by Varka, already halfway out the door when she calls over her shoulder. “Second floor, west wing, third door on the right. Look for the door with scorch marks.”

Varka shifts Klee on his back again, then sets off to put the child in bed. As he navigates the Ordo’s halls, Klee blinks a bleary eye open. 

“Hmm,” she hums sleepily. “Are we going to Klee’s room?”

“Yes. It’s past your bedtime, don’t you think?”

“Where’s Albedo? Big brother always tucks Klee in.”

“Albedo will be back soon, and you can say good night to him then.”

“Okay.” Klee’s voice fades away as she rests her head on his shoulder and drifts back to sleep.  “Good night, Mister Varka.”

“Good night, Miss Klee. May your dreams be filled with hope and love, and all the bad guys you could ever want to blow up.”

Chapter Text

Varka meets Eula in a clash of steel. Nimbly, she leaps back and swings her claymore at him. Varka rushes to meet her, and their blades send another shower of sparks into the air. 

The Grand Master roars with laughter, “You’ve been practicing, Spindrift Knight.”

Eula smirks. “Of course. I’m always prepared to take my vengeance.”

She twirls out of the way just as Varka smashes his claymore into the spot where she was standing. They circle each other, searching for an opening. To Varka’s delight, he can’t find any. Eula has improved immensely since their last spar. Soon, he won’t even have to hold back at all.

Just behind Eula, some spectators stop at the edge of the training clearing to watch them spar, whispering among themselves. It’s a rowdy group of men -- they’re regulars at the Angel’s Share, where Varka often sees them drinking until they’re vomiting on the floor and Charles has to physically drag them out of the tavern. 

Varka raises an eyebrow. “It looks like we have an audience.”

Eula scoffs and lunges. Varka parries, and they resume their dance of steel and blades. Under Eula’s flurry of attacks, Varka is forced to swivel away and take several steps back until he’s close enough to the group of bystanders to overhear their hushed conversation.

“-rence girl is a disgrace to the Knights. I can’t understand why they accepted her in the first place.”

“I heard she’s planning to overthrow the Knights. See, Lawrences can’t be trusted.”

“She’s attacking the Grand Master! Should we call for help?”

“Don’t bother. Grand Master Varka looks like he can put her down, then Mondstadt will have one less rotten Lawrence running around.”

Varka growls. How dare they speak about one of his Knights that way? Varka understands the reasons why the Lawrence family draws such anger and annoyance from most of Mondstadt, but it doesn’t mean he agrees with them. When he had first seen Eula among the newest batch of bright-eyed Ordo recruits, though, he had been shocked -- both at the fact that a member of the Lawrence family wanted to become a Knight and at the raw potential and passion in Eula. It was no surprise that she passed the entrance exam with top marks, and even less of a surprise when Varka found a petition for her immediate dismissal, signed by several Mondstadt citizens, on his desk the next morning. 

Varka still remembers how satisfying it had felt to rip the paper to shreds and watch it burn in his fireplace. 

From the moment Eula joined the Knights, she’s proven herself over and over again, rising through the ranks and earning a name for herself as the Captain of Reconnaissance. The rumors and reputation of her family may follow her like a shadow, but in Varka’s eyes, she serves Mondstadt with the grace and responsibility of a true noble.

The force of his next swing sends Eula backwards, and he takes the opportunity to stalk towards the group of assholes. He’s halfway there, an acidic rebuke on the tip of his tongue, when Eula gracefully leaps over his head and plunges to the ground in between him and the bystanders. 

“You should be more focused on me.” A warning flashes in her dusk-colored eyes. She picks up her claymore and points it at his chest. “Shall we dance?”

“Give me a moment,” Varka knocks the point of her weapon away. “I’ll just have a few words with-”

With a sweep of her leg, Eula kicks Varka’s feet out from under him. Instinctively, he tucks his head into his chest and uses his momentum to roll back onto his feet. Eula launches into another attack, forcing Varka to concentrate on his defense. 

“Eula,” He grits his teeth. He blocks Eula’s swing and leans in, pushing against her blade. Despite this, Eula doesn’t budge. “Let me go talk to them.”

“That is not your fight. This is.”

“I will not let anyone talk about you that way.”

Eula twists her claymore and disengages. This time, it’s Varka’s turn to go on the offensive, and he swings his claymore with force and precision. He aims at her forearms, her ankles, her shoulders -- anywhere he can knock her down just enough to call his victory. Despite his efforts, Eula is always just out of reach.  

“It’s how they’ve always talked about me.” Eula elegantly dodges his attack. “It’s true that the Lawrences are a terrible family who wish to see the freedom of Mondstadt burn at their feet. You won’t change anyone’s opinions with one conversation.”

Varka whirls his claymore with a grunt. He hates the truth in Eula’s words. “You don’t deserve that.”

For a second, something unreadable flickers in Eula’s eyes. Her parry falters, and she stumbles back. Quickly, she regains her footing, but Varka has already backed off. They circle each other again, panting for breath.

“You can’t say things like that, Grand Master,” Eula chides. Her steps are a little shaky.

“And why not? You’re a good Knight, Eula.” Varka wipes the sweat from his brow. He doesn’t know how Eula manages to look so graceful and put together throughout their spar. Eula narrows her eyes, and Varka makes use of her distraction to attack once again. 

“I’ve seen your reports.” Varka kicks out at her, and Eula stomps on his foot with her heeled boot. He winces in pain. Good girl. “Your intel is unparalleled. You dismantle threats before we’re even aware there are threats.”

“I’m only doing my job.”

“For Barbatos’s sake, you’re the Captain of the Reconnaissance Company.”

“Because it’s easier for the Knights when I’m not in Mondstadt.”

“Because no one else can do what you do,” Varka yells. Eula’s eyes widen in shock, but that moment of hesitance costs her, and Varka’s claymore leaves a shallow gash on her arm. Varka draws back, already forming an apology, but his protest is quickly cut off by Eula’s renewed offense. She fights with a vigor and determination that he’s never seen from the Spindrift Knight before. Eula flows gracefully from one movement to the next, keeping the Grand Master on his toes. Varka doesn’t see the sparkle of her Cryo Vision until too late. He swings his weapon, ready to disarm her and end their spar, when Eula suddenly spins and sends a spray of ice in his direction.

“Eye for an eye!”

The force of her blow sends Varka flying across the arena, knocking him to the ground. He grunts and staggers to his feet. 

“That was pretty good,” Varka admits. Eula quirks an eyebrow and gestures to his own claymore, buried in the ground only an inch from her leg. If Eula hadn’t counterattacked in time, then it would have been her laying on the ground instead of Varka. 

“A tie then,” she concedes. Eula wrenches his claymore out of the dirt and tosses it to Varka, who easily catches it with one hand. “Next time, I hope you won’t hold back.”

“We’ll see.” Varka leans on the huge sword and groans at the stretch in his muscles.

“Perhaps one day, I’ll be the one going easy on you, old man.”

Varka snorts, then sighs, “But I hope you think about what I’ve said.”

“...I will, but I still fail to see how this is meant to change anything. Mondstadt will always see me as nothing more than a disgrace.”

“On the battlefield, your fighting prowess is just as good as the Dandelion Knight’s. Trust me, I just sparred with you.” Varka holds her gaze. “And it’s not just your skills. Mondstadt may not recognize it yet, but your dedication to our people is just as great as mine or Jean’s or any other Knight’s. You’re a good Knight, Eula, and I’m honored to stand by your side.”

Eula blinks. Her eyes search Varka’s, swimming with sadness, gratitude, and the barest hint of a conflict Varka has never been able to decipher. She hesitates for a moment, then nods. 

“I told you not to say things like that.” She crosses her arms. “Now I’ll have to take my vengeance on you.”

Varka chuckles. He glances at the corner of the arena, but the bystanders have long since gone. 

“I’m headed out. Good spar today! You’ve improved a lot.” Varka starts to make his way out of their training grounds. Gods, he’s sore. He could use a good drink or two. Varka chuckles darkly under his breath. Maybe he’ll head to the Angel’s Share tonight -- after all, there’s a group of regulars there that he’d like to have a little chat with.  

“Make sure you get your arm looked at!” He calls over his shoulder.

Even without looking, he can hear the proud smile in Eula’s voice. “Yes sir!”

Chapter Text

They make quite a sight -- the Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius and his second-in-command, strolling through Mondstadt on patrol. Varka whistles cheerfully, hands in his pockets. Next to him, Jean is the image of the perfect Knight, her back straight and her hands never far from the hilt of the sword at her hip.

It’s a beautiful day, as it always is in Mondstadt. The winds are playfully warm, and they carry the scent of dandelions. Children chase each other through the streets, while merchants chat amongst each other. Varka basks in the feeling of the sun warming his skin, tries to commit the image of Mondstadt to his memory. 

(What he doesn’t do is think of the crumpled maps and notes locked away in a hidden drawer. He doesn’t think of the letter lying on his desk, but its words still ring in his head. Grand Master Varka, we’ve come across an urgent situation that requires your immediate attention. Please re- )

“Grand Master Varka?” There’s a tug on his leg, and Varka looks down to find a little girl, who holds two dandelions nearly the size of her entire palm. The child shyly offers the flowers to Varka. “My mommy and I say thank you for protecting us.”

Varka smiles and sinks onto one knee so that he can be at eye-level with the child. 

“Thank you.” Gently, Varka accepts the flowers, then gives her a pat on the head. The girl whirls around and runs back to her mother, hiding her face in her mother’s skirt. The parent laughs and waves at Varka in greeting, and Varka nods in gratitude.

Once the family is out of sight, he rises and offers one of the dandelions to Jean with a cheeky grin. “Would you like a dandelion, Master Jean?”

Jean raises an eyebrow. “That was a gift for you.”

“It seems more fitting for you to carry one, Dandelion Knight. You protect Mondstadt too. Besides, now we can match.” Varka tucks one dandelion behind his ear, and wedges the other into the ribbon holding Jean’s ponytail. Her hair is definitely messier once he’s finished, but she doesn’t touch the flower. 

They continue their stroll, greeting the people of Mondstadt as they pass. Jean gives him a detailed report on the Knights -- Kaeya has been settling into his new role of Cavalry Captain well, Eula and Amber have begun working closely together in the field, and Sucrose is no longer allowed to keep a hilichurl in the Ordo’s basement laboratories. Varka nods along as Jean reports, but soon his mind begins to wander again. 

( Sir, we believe that this matter should be investigated immediately. How many forces can you spare to-)

“Sir.” Jean’s voice brings his focus back to the present. Varka blinks and wipes the concern from his face, replacing it with a half-hearted smile. Judging by the look on Jean’s face, she sees right through him, but thankfully doesn’t mention it. “It’s been a while since we’ve been on patrol together.”
“Ah,” Varka chuckles sheepishly. “I apologize, I’ve been busy recently.”

Jean quirks an eyebrow. “Busy with what? I do your paperwork, and oversee most of the Knights, and cover your-”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Varka huffs. Jean smiles, and that eases some of Varka’s tensions. He’s always been able to rely on Jean.

“ I meant to say,” she starts hesitantly. Her eyes flick to Varka’s, then back to Mondstadt, ever watchful. “I have...missed our patrols together, sir.”

Varka softens and bumps his shoulder into Jean’s playfully. She nearly stumbles, but some of the stiffness melts from her form. “I missed this too.”

He really has. Varka is the one who trained her in Favonius bladework, who coached her through her first strategic meeting, who watched proudly as Jean grew from an awkward, shy teenager to a confident and graceful young woman. Now, Jean is one of his most trusted Knights. She has more than earned her place as his right-hand Knight, and she’s stood by his side for years. She has his back, just as he knows he will always have hers. If there is anyone that Varka can trust, it is Jean. And yet, when Varka glances at Jean, her eyes are full of the same bright determination as they were when she first joined the Knights. She may hold the weight of Mondstadt on her shoulders, but Varka has never forgotten just how young Jean is. 

“Well, you’ve told me about all the other Knights.” Varka says as the duo turn the corner and follow the street towards Angel’s Share. “But what about you, Jean?”

“Me?” Jean looks startled, confused. 

Varka sighs in fond exasperation. He flicks her on the forehead. “Yes, you. Have you been eating? You deserve a break.”

Varka does his best to understand all his Knights, but he has never been able to read Jean. She doesn’t put up walls like Kaeya or Eula -- no, Jean is just so selfless and self-sacrificing that she wouldn’t even recognize her own exhaustion until she collapsed from fatigue.

“I’m doing as well as I can, I think,” Jean answers. Varka knows that’s all he’ll get from her. 

“I’m glad, Jean.” Varka smiles warmly. He means it. “Have you visited the church recently?” 

How’s our favorite sister? Have you spoken to your father? His unspoken questions linger in the air. 

Jean chews on her lip. “I haven’t, but I’ve heard they’re doing well. The sisters are doing a good job taking care of the sick, and last I heard, the Cardinal of Daybreak was handling relations with visiting Fatui diplomats.”

Barbara is doing well, working hard. I have not heard from my father.

Varka nods and doesn't ask more. He’s about to change the topic, when raised voices echo from up ahead. In the center of the plaza, a Fatui agent argues with the two Knights guarding the city gates, while a little boy clings to the Fatui’s legs. 

Varka and Jean exchange glances. “Speaking of the Fatui.” Varka offers lightly as he and Jean hurry to the scene. 

“What seems to be the issue here?” Jean steps in between the Fatui and the Knights -- cool, collected, and professional. The Knights salute Jean and Varka, while the Fatui agent turns a contemptuous gaze upon them. 

“Sir Varka, Master Jean.” One of the guards, Swan, begins. “This Fatui-”

“These incompetent guards won’t let me pass,” the Fatui agent hisses, pointing at the Knights. Varka vaguely recognizes him from Kaeya’s reports. His name was….Viktor? “I placed a commission at the Adventurer’s Guild to escort a shipment of firewater from Liyue, but some stupid adventurer lost the entire shipment. I was planning to investigate it myself, but this menace- ” He gestures wildly at the child on his leg. “Won’t let go of me, and your senseless Knights won’t let me pass.”

“Sir, please cooperate with us. Where are you taking the boy?” Lawrence, the other Knight, barely bites back his frustration.

Jean frowns. She casts a quick glance towards Varka, and he shifts back on his heels ever so slightly. He’s leaving this one to her. 

She nods in understanding and turns back to the Fatui agent. “I apologize, sir. We’ll get this issue resolved so you can be on your way.” Then to the Knights -- “Do we have a report on the adventurer who picked up this commission?”

“It’s pretty bad. Hilichurls attacked while it was raining. There was a pyro vision wielder on the job, but the rain neutralized his attacks, and he got hurt. He’s been sent to the Cathedral for urgent care. It’s quite unlucky,” Lawrence reports.

“And you, sir? May I ask what your shipment of firewater is for?” Jean addresses Viktor. 

He scowls. “There’s a Snezhnayan holiday next week, and our delegation was feeling homesick. It was meant for a celebration.”

Ah. The pieces are beginning to fall into place. Jean turns and Varka tilts his head in the subtlest of hints, but Jean breezes past him. Varka feels a burst of pride in his chest. That’s his girl. She doesn’t need him, not when she already knows what to do. 

Jean sits on one knee, making sure to look the child in the eye. She smiles kindly. “Hello there. I’m Jean.” 

The agent shifts his weight -- not to shake the little boy off, Varka realizes, but to plant himself protectively between Jean and the child. Varka watches as the boy peeks out from behind Viktor and mumbles, “I’m Timmie.”

“Timmie? It’s lovely to meet you.” Jean keeps her tone steady. “Thank you for being brave, Timmie, it must’ve been scary to hear everyone yelling.”

The boy nods shakily. From the corner of his eye, Varka sees Lawrence and Swan wince. 

“I’m glad you have this man to look after you though.” Jean glances up at Viktor briefly. “Are you two friends?”

Viktor places a comforting hand on Timmie’s shoulder as the boy responds, “Yeah, Mister Fatooey helps me feed the birds. We were supposed to go today.”

“Timmie, I said not today.” The Fatui agent sighs. “Sorry, kiddo.”

Timmie only clings tighter to Viktor. Jean stands back on her feet and surveys the group. “Here’s what we can do. Lawrence, Swan, stand down. It seems like this was just a misunderstanding. I’m sorry about the lost fire-water, sir.” Jean pauses to think, while Varka winces. He’s not looking forward to chasing drunk hilichurls all over Mondstadt. Having come to a decision, Jean shakes her head. Then- “I’ll take your commission and retrieve your lost fire-water myself.”

Nope. Absolutely not. This is Varka’s cue to cut in, before Jean adds an impossible mission to her already impossible workload. He steps up next to Jean. “Actually, I can think of something better. Let me buy the Fatui delegation enough dandelion wine to replace your fire-water. It may not be the same as traditional Snezhnayan customs, but perhaps this way, Mondstadt can share our traditions with you as well.”

“I-'' Viktor's eyes are wide. He looks positively dumbstruck, glancing back and forth between Jean and Varka. His surprise is understandable -- dandelion wine prices have risen since the Ragnvindr heir disappeared, and enough dandelion wine for the entire Fatui delegation easily costs more than two or three shipments of fire-water, even when imported from Snezhnaya. Still, the Grand Master reaches for Viktor’s hand and gives it a firm shake. Then, Varka turns Viktor’s palm over, pulls the dandelion from behind his hair with his free hand, and closes Viktor’s fingers around it. 

“I’ll speak to Elzer about having the wine delivered to the Goth Grand Hotel.” Varka beams at Viktor. “Please take this gift as an apology for your troubles. Have a great day, sir!”

And that’s Jean’s cue. She gives a last smile to Timmie and Viktor, then promptly drags Varka away from the scene. Jean leads them up the stone stairs and past the fountain, until they reach a terrace far away from wandering citizens. 

He expects Jean to whirl on him and scold him. What he doesn’t expect is for Jean to sigh and run a hand across her face. 

“Sir, how are we going to cover the cost of that dandelion wine?”

“I’ll take care of it. It will not come from the Ordo’s expenses.”

Jean shakes her head. “It would be a lot easier if I tracked down the fire-water myself.”

“The fire-water is long gone by now. There are greater things that Mondstadt needs you for.”

“Varka-”

“I said no , Jean. That’s an order.”

She looks away. Varka sighs and wanders to the edge of the terrace, leaning his elbows on it. From here, he can see all of Mondstadt’s bustling city life. The street lamps flicker once, twice, then flare to life as the sun disappears below the horizon. Then, there’s a rustle of movement as Jean joins him, mirroring his position. 

“The dandelion at the end was a bit much,” she murmurs. Varka lets out a quiet chuckle.

“Did you see the look on his face though? Gods, that was priceless. That was worth the entire shipment of dandelion wine and more.”

“I had the situation covered. But giving that diplomat a dandelion? Grand Master, please take your job seriously.” Varka can hear the wry smile in Jean’s voice. “All of Mondstadt looks up to you.”

“Well, you are my second-in-command,” he retorts. “So, helping me out is part of your job description. This way, I can focus on the really important things, wouldn’t you agree?”

There’s no response. Varka peeks at Jean, and is met with an exasperated look. He snorts, then turns back to Mondstadt. 

“You did a good job handling that situation.” He fiddles with his fingers. “Defusing the conflict, listening to all sides, checking on the kid -- I couldn’t have done it better myself.”

“I just followed what you’ve taught me. After all, the chance to help someone in need-”

“-is reason enough for a Knight.” Varka finishes. He remembers teaching that to Jean when she was a bright-eyed recruit. He’s glad that she remembers too. 

They settle into a comfortable silence. Below them, the people of Mondstadt close their shops and trickle to the taverns. The city lights glitter and twinkle like the stars in the sky. By the Archons, his city is beautiful. Varka takes a deep breath of the crisp night air. He wonders how long it will be before he will see Mondstadt like this again. 

( We await your response. Please, Grand Master, we are counting on you. )

“Jean, I’m proud of you,” Varka says suddenly, breaking the silence. Jean hums in acknowledgement.

“I know.”

“You’re incredible, you know that? You’ve grown so much. I see the way the other Knights look up to you.” Varka knows he’s starting to ramble, but he can’t stop. He needs Jean to know. “Mondstadt is lucky to have you. And I’m so, so proud of you.”

“You’ve been like a father to me.” Jean’s voice is soft and quiet. Varka can feel the concern in her gaze. “What’s wrong, Varka?”

Varka exhales, low and heavy. He made his decision long ago, but he never imagined how hard it would be to say out loud. “....I’m leaving. On an expedition.”

Silence weighs heavily in the air. Then, Jean breaks out into nervous laughter. 

“You really had me worried there.” She giggles. “You go on expeditions all the time, there’s nothing wrong with-”

“I don’t know when I’ll be back. Could be months, could be years.” Varka fixes his eyes on his hands. Jean falls silent again. “I’ll be taking Knights with me. Many Knights. As many as we can spare. And you-” He takes a deep breath and looks Jean in the eye. She looks shocked, confused, heartbroken. “You will be Acting Grand Master of Mondstadt in my stead.”

“Sir....Varka, I-”

“There’s no one else I trust to take this role.” Varka reaches out and puts a hand on Jean’s shoulder. She’s shaking, ever so slightly. “You are going to be an excellent Acting Grand Master.”

“Can’t I come with you?” Jean pleads. Varka smiles sadly. He would love to have Jean by his side, but they both know she can’t. 

“Mondstadt needs you here. I need you here.” Jean is too young to hold the weight of Mondstadt on her shoulders, but she’s the only one who can. “I’ll help you prepare, but I must leave soon.”

“I’ll do my best.” Jean promises. Her eyes are glassy. Varka takes one of her hands in his and squeezes it. 

“I know you will.”

Chapter Text

For the next few weeks, the Knights of Favonius Headquarters descends into a flurry of activity. For Varka, time passes in a blur. The days melt into each other, an endless whirlwind of meticulous arrangements and visitors coming in and out of his office to wish him a safe journey. Jean is by his side the entire time, preparing for her own rise to Acting Grand Master. She’s been taking care of his work for so long that she already knows exactly what to do. Varka helps her move her files into his office and shows her the secret liquor cabinet, but otherwise, there isn’t much left for Jean to learn. He’s proud to see the Knights already turning to her for leadership.

On the other hand, he doesn’t see much of Kaeya or Eula. The young Cavalry Captain spends his days training his men and horses for the long journey ahead -- then as soon as night falls, he immediately slips away to the taverns. Kaeya laughs it off, saying that he needs a few drinks to cope with the upcoming absence of their beloved Grand Master, but Varka knows that the glint in his eye means that Kaeya is gathering intelligence to help Varka with his expedition. As for his Captain of Reconnaissance, Eula spends most of her time in the field, investigating leads about Varka’s mission. Like Kaeya, she collects as much information as she can, only reporting to Varka when she returns to Mondstadt every few days. Varka wonders if she will challenge him to one last spar before he leaves.

At least Albedo and Klee are among the few who act like nothing will change -- and for that, Varka is grateful. Albedo still pops into his office to deliver the results of his new alchemical experiments, and Klee still clings to his legs and invites him to go fish-blasting again. Perhaps Klee is too young and Albedo is too detached to give Varka’s upcoming expedition the fanfare that every other Knight seems to. Perhaps they know of the elephant in the room and are doing their best to maintain their share of normalcy. Either way, Varka finds comfort in knowing that no matter how long his journey may take, maybe there are some things in Mondstadt that will always stay the same. 

On the day of his grand expedition, Varka leaves his bed at dawn, simply so he can run his fingers over the worn stone walls of the Ordo’s headquarters one last time. He wanders the hallways, committing the memory of its worn tapestries and scarred doors into his memory. He finds the scratches in the floor from when he was a young recruit, dragging his first training sword as he ran through the halls. 

The headquarters of the Knights of Favonius hold the stories of every Knight that has come before Varka and whisper promises to those that will follow in his footsteps. Some of these Knights will accompany him on his expedition. Some of these Knights will not return. 

He is no fool. Varka knows he will not be the same man when he returns from his expedition. He knows Mondstadt will not be the same nation either. He’s taking most of his Knights with him on a risky and faraway quest, with no idea of when they will be able to return. Meanwhile, there are rumors of Fatui plots in the distance, alongside the ever-present threat of the Abyss. Which means he’s leaving his beloved city to the wolves. Vulnerable. Unprotected.

...No. Varka regrets the thought as soon as it crosses his mind. How could he think that? 

Because Mondstadt will have Eula, the Spindrift Knight with more talent and ability than the people will ever give her credit for. Eula, whose vengeance upon Mondstadt’s enemies bears the might of a hundred icy winds, the biting chill of frost, and every bit of elegance of a flurry of snowflakes. Mondstadt will have Klee, whose explosive energy cannot be contained. Even at a young age, the Spark Knight should not be underestimated, lest she show the untapped potential of her treasures. Mondstadt will have Albedo, the greatest alchemist Teyvat has ever seen and the most curious soul that Varka has ever had the pleasure of meeting. Albedo, warm and steady as rock, and more human than he ever thinks he could be. Mondstadt will have Kaeya, the charming and unpredictable Cavalry Captain with -- Varka chuckles to himself -- no horses. The young starry-eyed Knight holds more secrets up his sleeves than a magician does tricks, yet there is nothing that Varka would not trust Kaeya with. And of course, Mondstadt will have Jean, their dedicated and hard-working Dandelion Knight, who would give the wind in her lungs, the warmth in her heart-- who would give everything for the people of Mondstadt without a second thought. Jean, who Varka knows in his heart will one day become a wiser, kinder, and braver Grand Master than Varka has ever been. 

Mondstadt will have them all -- Lisa, Sucrose, Amber, even Noelle, once she passes her exams. Mondstadt will have his Knights. Mondstadt will have the family that he’s made, that he’s taught to protect and guide and lead with kindness and respect. And Varka knows that in their hands, Mondstadt will be safe. 

Varka takes a deep breath. In a few moments, when he rejoins the bustle of last-minute preparations, he will be Sir Varka, Knight of Boreas and Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius. He will be the stoic and courageous leader they need him to be. The journey ahead is long and dangerous -- there will be no time for emotions that could get in his way. But here, alone in this forgotten hallway, he can simply be Varka, a man who will miss his home and family terribly. He exhales slowly, closes his eyes, and lets the overwhelming wave of emotions wash over him. 

Ten minutes later, the Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius enters his office. He nods to Jean, already seated behind his mahogany desk. She rises to her feet, a little shaky, but they both know they’ve postponed his departure as long as they could. 

It’s time. 

It feels as though all of Mondstadt has come to see the Knights off. Despite the early morning hour, citizens line the streets, giving final hugs to the Knights as they prepare their horses. The air rings with the whinny of dozens of horses, the cheers of awestruck children, and the tearful goodbye of parting families. 

Varka stands at the entrance of the Ordo Headquarters. His silver armor shines under the sun’s glare, and the claymore strapped to his back is newly polished and sharpened. He is every bit the knight in shining armor. 

He isn’t surprised to find a line of Knights waiting for their own goodbyes. Though he lifts his chin and smiles confidently, Varka drags his feet just a little. 

Lisa is first. The librarian only raises an eyebrow and smirks. “You better return from your expedition soon, Grand Master. I haven’t forgotten the maps that you snuck into your saddlebag, and I do hate overdue books.”

Varka chuckles. “I’ll bring them back as soon as I can, but I hope you can forgive me if they’re just a little late.”

Lisa’s gaze softens. “As long as you - I mean, ahem - as long as you bring them back, I’m sure something can be arranged.” 

“I’ll do my best. Take care, Lisa.” Varka salutes her, then moves down the line. Amber barely holds back the tears in her eyes. 

“Outrider Amber,” he greets kindly. 

“Grand Master,” she sniffles and wipes a hand across her face. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” Varka reaches out and pats her head. “You know, I remember when you were a tiny kid. I used to watch over you while your grandfather was out in the field. It’s been an honor to watch you carry on his legacy. I’m proud of you, and I know your grandfather is too. So don’t grow up too much without me, okay?”

Amber lets out a choked giggle. “Yes, sir!”

Next in line, Sucrose and Albedo stand together, while Klee grips Albedo’s hand. As soon as Varka approaches, she runs towards the Grand Master and leaps into his arms. 

“Mister Varka!” she wails. “Big brother Albedo said you’re leaving!”

“Hey there, little Miss Klee.” He squeezes her in a tight hug. “I’ll be back soon though, don’t you worry. We still need to go fish-blasting again.”

“B-But Klee doesn’t want you to go.” She buries her face in his neck and sniffles. “Klee wants to go fish-blasting with you now. Mister Varka always has the best bedtime stories, and brings Klee to get ice cream, a-and Klee wants you to stay!”

“Oh, I wish I could, kiddo.” Varka smiles sadly. Albedo steps forward and gently pulls Klee away from Varka. 

“Come on, Klee, say goodbye to Mister Varka.” 

“Bye Mister Varka.” Klee gives him one last hug. 

“Bye Klee,” Varka murmurs. “Be good for Albedo and Jean.”

Sucrose shyly wishes him a safe journey and Varka wishes her many safe experiments. Then, Albedo takes a step forward. 

“Grand Master, I’ve left several potions in your bags. Each is labeled with their functions, so should you need medical treatment or elemental boosts, you will be sufficiently prepared for at least two years. I wasn’t sure if you had any alchemical experience so I also copied some notes for you to reference if you are in need of more. Some ingredients are hard to find, but I’ve packed those for you as well and-”

“Thank you, Albedo.” Varka cuts him off gently. “Your concern is greatly appreciated.”

Albedo ignores Varka and continues. “I’ve also packed some sketches of certain hilichurl anomalies that I’ve observed in the wild. You can use these as references if you find yourself in danger, though I doubt that you will be in a situation you cannot handle. Additionally-”

Varka grabs Albedo’s hand, and the alchemist stops in surprise. Varka gives him a firm handshake, then squeezes his hand. “It’s been a pleasure to work with you, Albedo.”

The start of a smile quirks at Albedo’s lips. He places his other hand on top of Varka’s. “When you return, I look forward to hearing new stories of your travels. Have a safe journey, Grand Master.”

Albedo steps away, and Eula takes his place. Varka starts in surprise.

“I thought you said you would be out in the field for a few more days.”

“Hmph.” Eula sniffs. “Did you think I would let you leave before I could have my vengeance on you? Certainly not. I’ve updated your reports with new information, so make sure you take a look at them when you have time. That’ll show you.”

Varka laughs. “And I certainly have to come back so you can enact the rest of your vengeance on me.”

“Of course, Grand Master. You still owe me a spar.”

He hums in acknowledgement. “That I do.”

“And make sure you don’t hold back next time. I’ll be training, so I hope you’ll be prepared.”

“I won’t hold back if you won’t hold back.” Varka promises. He extends a hand, and Eula shakes his hand to seal the deal.

“Safe travels, Grand Master. I still have to take my vengeance on you.”

Varka winks. “I’ll hold you to that. Don’t bring the Knights of Favonius down without me.”

Finally, he reaches the end of the line. There’s two people left waiting for him. Kaeya grins at him, holding the reins to Varka’s horse.

“Grand Master, your noble steed awaits.” Kaeya dips his head and flutters his free hand in a playful bow. Varka takes the reins in one hand, then turns back to Kaeya. The Cavalry Captain meets his gaze, his starry-eyed pupil twinkling. Kaeya holds out a hand to shake. Varka grips it, then yanks Kaeya into a one-armed hug. The young man lets out a surprised oof , but after a moment, his arms wrap around Varka as well. 

When they pull away, Varka takes a moment to study Kaeya. He’s really grown into himself. His once too-long limbs are now graceful and elegant with each movement. His eye no longer holds the same innocence -- instead it’s replaced by steely determination and sparkling charm. Kaeya has grown into a greater Knight than he ever imagined. Pride swells in Varka’s chest as he places his free hand on Kaeya’s shoulder and squeezes.

“Take care of them for me, alright?” He tilts his head towards the rows of Knights he will be leaving behind. “Keep them out of trouble.”

Kaeya’s eye swims with the briefest flash of sadness and surprise. Then, he’s smiling again, this time with genuine warmth. “Of course, sir. As a wise Grand Master once said, family looks out for each other. But don’t take too long with your expedition now, else I’ll have to come looking for you myself.”

Varka releases Kaeya’s shoulder. As he makes his way to the last person in line, he thinks he hears a whispered “Thank you, sir” behind him.

Then, all too soon, he finds himself standing in front of Jean. 

Jean, the Dandelion Knight. Jean, the girl who became the first of Varka’s own, who he’s watched grow from an awkward teenager into the capable and talented young woman that she is today, who is almost like his own daughter. Jean, Acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius. 

She looks up at him, her eyes watery with unshed tears. Varka ignores the sting behind his own eyes. He raises his hand to his heart in salute. 

“Jean-”

Immediately, she throws her arms around him, nearly making him stumble from the force of her hug. Varka lets go of his horse’s reins, wrapping his arms tightly around Jean’s back. They stay like that for several moments, both consumed by waves of emotion and years of shared memories. When Jean finally pulls back, her cheeks are damp with tears. 

“I’ll leave things here to you.” Varka steels himself against the swirl of emotions in his gut. “I mean, you’ve basically been doing my job for years now, anyways.”

“Leave it to me, Grand Master.” She smiles through her tears. “And come back soon. Don’t make me do all your work for too long.”

Varka laughs through the scratchiness of his own throat. “Take care, Acting Grand Master.”

She snaps to attention and holds her arm to her chest in salute. Kaeya follows suit, then Eula and Albedo, then every Knight on the terrace, until even little Klee has her fist to her heart. The tears threaten to spill from Varka’s eyes as he takes in the sight of his Knights saluting to him one last time. 

“Let the wind lead you, Grand Master Varka.” Jean tells him. “May the Anemo Archon protect you and the Knights on your journey.”

Varka raises a solemn hand to his chest and returns their salutes. Then, he places a foot in the stirrup and hauls himself onto his horse’s back. He clicks his teeth and snaps his reins. His horse whinnies and dashes forward, taking the first steps towards the great unknown. At his signal, dozens of Knights climb onto their own horses and fall into step behind him.

Before he passes through the city gates, Varka allows himself one last glance towards the Knights of Favonius, towards the family that he’s leaving behind. They smile and wave, calling their goodbyes after him. 

Then, stone walls block them from his sight. Varka turns and urges his horse forward. 

He’s going to miss them. But Varka knows Mondstadt needs him to fulfill his duty and to complete this expedition. The road ahead of him looks long and arduous, but the wind continues to blow forward, just as Varka knows he must.

And Varka cannot wait for the day that the wind will lead him back home.