The Second Archon War, Carmen Dei 22 (Patreon)

Carmen Dei 22: An Aria for the Ages

They called it the Battle of Munich. That was the official report that came out from the PRT, largely considered to be the leading expert on Endbringers and cape affairs. There was some intense discussion and arguments about if Khonsu, a name given to the monster after the fact, had indeed been an Endbringer. The alternate theory was that it had been some sort of Nazi Superweapon unleashed by the Gesellschaft, but that was largely discredited by Legend.

“The Beast of Munich, popularly called Khonsu, was an Endbringer,” Legend confirmed on live TV some days later. “It was slain by Lord Barbados in his defense of the city. That it arrived at the hour it did only shows how fortunate we are that we had already rallied to defeat the evil of Gesellschaft.”

In Germany, however, the event was given a different name: The Concert of Winds. It became the first Endbringer battle where live footage was not only readily available, but no effort was made by various organizations to stem the flood of information out of Munich.

Newsreels were flooded with videos of families singing together when trapped in a time bubble, only for the effect to end after a verse or two. More footage of neighborhoods coming together in impromptu choirs, or even of hodgepodge orchestras playing together in shelters. There was even one famous short video of brother and sister, Mina and Heinz Schafer ages 5 and 9, trapped in a time bubble away from their parents recording themselves singing while Mina played on a little toy piano. At the end of their playing, twin swirling green Anemo Visions appeared and fell into their hands just as their parents ran to them, weeping and embracing their freed children.

And through it all, the shots of an angel in the sky, wielding a bow, battling a demon. The footage was incredible and nearly impossible to believe, but the multitude of evidence was undeniable: Barbatos, called the Anemo Archon and the Angel of Freedom, had appeared just as the Endbringer had, and battled the monster to a standstill.

The entire fight, from the first appearance of Khonsu until both angel and demon vanished from the skies, had been 37 minutes and 42 seconds. For 28 minutes and 13 seconds, the Tone Deaf Bards had led the city in singing Ode To Joy. Skeptics abounded, but the evidence was undeniable.

The destruction was minor, and the casualties were minimal. Most cities visited by an Endbringer, even those where the Endbringer was quickly repelled, suffered near total destruction and billions if not trillions of dollars in damages, to the point that many were abandoned or condemned. The death tolls were always catastrophic when a major metropolitan area was hit, with hundreds of thousands of deaths being on the low end, and millions being the high point, such as the destruction of Moscow with over six million dead.

The casualty count from the Concert of Winds took some time to fully tally, but early estimates had the total number somewhere around 1000. That turned out to be overly pessimistic, even if one included the casualties from the confrontation between the Gesellschaft and the Knights of Favonius. Eight hundred fifty-three. In a city of 1.1 million people, less than nine hundred died in an Endbringer attack. It was the best argument critics had against this being the work of an Endbringer. In almost a decade, no Endbringer attack had resulted in such light losses.

The economic devastation was somewhat more severe, totaling hundreds of millions of marks. Again, most of that had been caused in the battle between the Knights and the Gesellschaft, including the near-total destruction of the Alter Hof. There was some disagreement if it had been the Nazis or the Endbringer that had destroyed the historic site, but it was a moot point. The fact remained that Munich had come through the storm in a miraculous fashion.

In the days that followed, Katherine Schmidt, also known as the cape Shinobi, and to her friends as Cookie, took charge of the situation, and the Knights of Favonius led the relief and reconstruction efforts. The face of the Grandmaster, with or without her mask, became famous throughout Germany and the world, and she became synonymous with names like Alexandria, Mushu, or Farasha as one of the most powerful and influential capes in the entire world.

Through all of this, however, one question was on everyone’s lips: Where was Barbatos? Where were the Tone Deaf Bards? What had become of the Savior of Munich? Was the Endbringer truly slain?

The world held its breath…and waited.

Cities were an invention that Contessa would personally have preferred had never occurred. To her, a large gathering of people was over one hundred. A big group might get as large as a thousand, but there had been only one time when she’d ever been to what she had then called a city in her youth, when her family had gone to purchase new bronze tools for their small village. She had never seen so many people in her life: hundreds of them in giant buildings as tall as a tree and more horses, pigs, and sheep than she had ever seen in her life.

The thing she remembered most though was the smell. The open sewage, the animal manure in the streets, the unwashed bodies pressed together. She had felt panicked and claustrophobic then, clinging to her father and uncle at the sight of such a metropolis.

What folly that had been. One of those wooden hovels wouldn’t even be considered of moderate size in Paris. It wouldn’t have even been called a town by the standards of this world, barely even a village. She’d heard people call Paris dirty and smelly, but she frankly didn’t understand that. Cigarettes? Try the smoke of a hundred cook fires, or the smell of a smithy, not to mention the lack of animal or human waste in the streets.

If not for her Path, guiding her through the crowds, the old panic might have returned and made Contessa nearly catatonic. As it was, she clutched the comforting weight of the Magic 8 Ball in her pocket and seamlessly wove through the endless press of humanity. Today, she braved her most challenging and terrifying obstacle yet:

Disneyland Paris.

While not in Paris proper, that would have been even worse, the suburb of Chessy was more than crowded enough in Contessa’s estimation. Thankfully, she was able to skip the lines for entrance, finding her way to an open side door and simply walking right in with a clipboard and name badge that looked official enough. She had no idea how to speak French, but her Path gave her the words she would need to fake it, though only in 6.3% of possible outcomes would that even be required.

Aside from the minor details of dodging security and making her way unnoticed through the throngs, Contessa kept asking her Path the same question: How do I meet Venti Luft, the one called Barbados?

Stepping out onto the main avenue, packed with tourists, Contessa gave herself over completely to her Path. The stress from the press of people vanished, along with any need to make choices or to even to think consciously. It was like she became a passenger in her own body, her power taking control as her feet walked upon the path, her body seamlessly moving and turning to avoid bumping into people. It was relaxing, easy, and felt safer than trying to navigate this mad world of untamed spirits and unchecked magic.

Contessa would never believe that this “science” was anything other than a large group of wizards imprisoning various spirits within their devices by some arcane art. How else could a man make something that flew? Magic was the only possible explanation.

Still, this was supposedly the “magic kingdom” and Contessa watched with interest at the shops and various attractions she passed by. She didn’t have the cultural appreciation for them, but it did feel like wandering into the land of spirits, to see totems and symbols of power brought to life for these people. Was this place not a grand temple or shrine to this Disney and his magical mouse?

Apparently, Contessa’s path determined that she either needed some calories, likely as she realized that she was extremely hungry, or that she needed to shake some heat by doing something innocuous. She stopped to purchase some food from a vendor. Or rather, the Path did, and Contessa watched herself purchase a hot dog, chips, and a soda. Distinctly “American” foods, but then again, this was supposed to be Main Street USA, despite being in France.

She did take over her body again to eat. People of this age, especially those in wealthy nations, had no appreciation for how wonderfully varied and rich their diets were. Her family had grown barley, cabbage, and a few other vegetables, and occasionally had some meat from animals they trapped or raised. But to have meat, with salt, and daily!? Wealth beyond imagination! Her Path had not required the soda she purchased, but the sugar was oh so wonderful, a delight she had never even dreamed of, better even than the rare honey she’d had as a child!

She ate as she walked, however, still following the Path, but taking a little extra time to savor her meal. It was easy enough to follow along, as her footsteps led her past Main Street USA and across the park to Frontier Land. It was rather disconcerting still to be amongst so many people, but she could ignore that for now, especially secure in her Path’s guidance as she was. It was like having her own little god in her head, a guardian spirit to light her way in a strange and terrifying world of wizards and demons.

At last, she came to Big Thunder Mountain, a monument to the hubris of man. Contessa had never ridden on a roller coaster. It would have been not only a waste of time, but it looked utterly terrifying. It had been scary enough the first time Contessa had ridden in a car. She didn’t mind as much now, but she still surrendered to her Path when she had to go at truly death-defying speeds. Which in her mind was anything faster than a horse could run.

Still, to achieve her goal and find the information her Path so desperately needed, she would brave it. Perhaps this would be the puzzle piece that would finally allow her to find the path that would allow humanity to survive the rampage of the Evil God. It was what she had worked for all these long years, and what she would continue to strive for, no matter the odds.

Even with that motivation, standing in this line was absolute hell. It was cold, less than 10° Celcius, and the day was overcast. She had on a coat, of course, her path had warned her of that, but it was still rather miserable waiting in line. She began to realize why her path had not had her drink the soda: she was going to need to relieve herself before she could get on the ride.

However, her Path also warned her that the person right in front of her was a kindly woman, and Contessa turned to her and begged, “Please, I need to use the toilet, but I don’t want to lose my place, will you hold it for me?”

“Of course, dearie, you go right ahead,” the woman said quietly, then more loudly, “I told you to go before we got on, now hurry, or we’ll miss it!”

Blushing, Contessa hurried to the lavatory and relieved herself, following her Path into the male one. She got some odd looks, but no one accosted her and she was in and out much more quickly than the women’s side would have been. She profusely thanked the woman back in the line, and did her best to ignore the dirty looks from the other people in the queue. They were inconsequential, her Path was not.

After what felt like an interminable amount of time, but was more like 35 minutes and 27 seconds, not counting the potty break, Contessa finally reached the front of the queue and was placed on the ride. She looked around, wondering where Venti was. Her Path still told her this was what she needed to do, and where she needed to be, but she did not see him, or understand why she had to be here yet. But this was the time and place of her promised meeting, so she waited patiently.

The ride began, and Contessa felt no small amount of trepidation. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she nearly let her Path assume control, but something stopped her. Despite herself, a scream escaped her throat, as the train pulling the coaster immediately descended into darkness. The ride bucked and jolted, and Contessa gripped the bar holding her in place for all she was worth.

Sudden moisture hit her face, and Contessa gasped for breath as the coaster went through fog, then a waterfall. She shrieked again, a gleeful grin spreading over her face as she raced along the path, her heart pounding, her face flushed. It was all going by so fast! It was thrilling, it was wonderful it was-

There was a loud mechanical shriek, and the ride suddenly jolted to a halt. At first, Contessa thought this was just part of the experience, and she eagerly looked around, ready for more. It was all so wonderful! Why had she never gone on a roller coaster before now!? Did Doctor Mother know how much fun these were?! She had to take Doormaker and Clairvoyant on this ride, they would love it!

Then the people around Contessa began to complain and grumble, and she heard the phrase “broken” repeated several times.

Under your seat.

The prompting was different from her path, but it was still clearly the voice of a spirit. Slowly, Contessa reached down under her seat, and pulled out a piece of paper. On it was some writing, along with a crude and rather rude drawing of a small figure in an outfit that didn’t belong in this time. Venti.

Hope you enjoyed the ride! Sorry, but your bard is in another castle! Maybe try some of the other rides at Disneyland? Well, when you get off. Hope you brought an umbrella! Next time, try using your brain instead of relying on that bit of a dead god in your head. You really should get that looked at: it’s not good for you at all.

XOXOXO

Barbie Toes the Large Latte

PS

Consider this revenge for what you’ve done to my name, Kloʊθoʊ

Contessa very nearly dropped the page, and felt all the blood drain out of her face. That name…that was a name she’d abandoned long ago. A name no one in this entire world knew. How…how had Venti…?

Then it started to rain. Gently at first, then a steady downpour. The people on the ride cried out in misery, and the paper in Contessa’s hands turned to a wet mess before dissolving into a worthless paste.

For her part, Contessa looked up at the sky, and laughed. Her Path had been wrong. Even now, it told her that she was meeting with Venti, despite him manifestly not being present at all. She reached into her pocket, dug out the Magic 8 Ball, shook it, and whispered, “Will I meet Venti today?”

She had to wipe the moisture away from its face, but she did manage to see its oracle: Very Doubtful.

“I may as well have asked you, hadn’t I?” Contessa giggled and slipped the Magic 8 Ball back into her pocket. In some ways, it was terrifying, to know the God of the Path could err.

But in others? Contessa felt like she’d just gotten her life back.

She decided she would go on several more rides before she departed the park, especially with the complimentary passes and even a free stay at a resort she got when she and the other riders were finally rescued more than two hours later.

She didn’t mind. It was nice to simply let life happen to her for once. It did raise one question though.

Where, exactly, was Venti?

The answer to the great question of “Where is Venti?” had a single and nearly universal answer: In a bar somewhere. It didn’t matter if you were asking that question on Earth Bet, Teyvat, or anywhere else. Wherever the wine and beer flowed, you were likely to find the Tone Deaf Bard.

“Mazel tov!”

Glasses and steins clinked together, and the whole party laughed and cheered as the two brides blushed and grinned, mostly at each other. They were dressed in their finest clothes, though not traditional wedding dresses. Naomi was wearing a floor length pale green silk dress, with a high cut bodice and flowers woven into her braided hair. Capri was wearing purple, which matched her newly violet eyes, though her skirt was only ankle length, it had far more ruffles and a bit of lace on the long sleeves.

Around them, their friends all laughed and cheered, raising glasses in salute. Chaim and Malka were there, along with a dozen other friends of Naomi’s, including a few cousins and her favorite uncle Levi. Notably absent were her parents. Capri had sent them an invitation after Naomi fretted about it for a full day and told her about it later, which had resulted in a very loud and long argument, even if in the end Naomi had cried and thanked Capri once she’d worked everything out.

She’d gotten a check from her father and a note that simply hoped she and her “friend” were in good health. Her mother’s far more scathing letter had somehow gotten lost in the mail when a mischievous breeze had blown it into a paper shredder at the post office.

“A toast!” Leon said, his voice slightly tremulous as he rose up in his wheelchair, glass held high. “To our two blushing brides! May the laws finally catch up with our hearts!”

There were cheers at that, and everyone drank, even Leon as he sank back in the wheelchair. He had come out of his imprisonment much the worse for wear. His Vision had been taken, and though it had been returned to him, he’d buried it with Gunter and no longer bore it. In the few days of his captivity, he seemed to have aged twenty years, even after Venti had healed the physical wounds. There was an empty place beside Leon’s chair, with a stein of Gunter’s favorite bitter. It was an emptiness that everyone felt, even on this day of celebration.

“So, are the two of you going to settle down now? Help me with running this crazy mess?” Cookie demanded, leaning back in her chair so that only two of its feet rested on the ground. She was one of the bridesmaids, though in this case, that meant she was wearing a purple dress similar to Capri’s and had her green hair hanging loose about her shoulders for once.

Capri and Naomi exchanged a look, then shrugged. “Nah,” Capri said. “Wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I was stuck in one place all the time.”

“We’ll go wherever the wind may take us. As we always have,” Naomi agreed, smiling and glancing down to the end of the table.

All eyes turned to the most famous man in Europe, er, well, most famous woman in Europe at the moment. Venti ostentatiously looked behind herself, as if someone was standing behind her, then back at the crowd around the table. “What?”

“Come on, Bro!” Itul said, leaning forward on the table. “What’re you gonna do now? I mean, they’re talking about rebuilding Frauenkirche Cathedral with a giant statue of you! Shit, half the country’s converted to, uh, whatever religion you are. Even the pope said you’re cool, and that old fart didn’t like Raiden!”

“Well, I figure I’ll accompany my friends on their honeymoon, then perhaps visit Plovdiv. I hear there’s great wine in Bulgaria!” Venti said cheerily, raising her glass and grinning.

“Just because we let you marry us doesn’t mean you get to come on the Honeymoon,” Capri said, narrowing her eyes at Venti. “I’m kicking you out of the van for a week.”

Venti had indeed performed the ceremony, showing up much to several people’s astonishment and her own obvious amusement in female form, dressed in a formal-looking white dress and hat Venti said she “borrowed from Barbs,” then proceeded to perform a very traditional Jewish wedding ceremony. What the theological ramifications of that were, no one knew, but Naomi was very pleased with the result, and not even Malka complained too much.

“Darn. Well, I suppose I’ll have to find someone else to use these cruise tickets to Sardinia with me. Hey Keith, wanna go on a boat ride?” Venti said with a grin, flashing a pair of expensive-looking tickets.

“Hmm, what do you think, Arthur?” Legend said to his own husband, a scholarly-looking man with a neatly trimmed brown beard and horn rimmed spectacles.

Arthur rubbed his chin. “You think you could get more time off work? I can write my articles anywhere.”

“Well, with another Endbringer down, I can afford to take those vacation days I probably have saved up,” Keith mused.

“Ah, we’ll take those, thank you, Venti,” Naomi said, twirling one of her fingers. A buff of breeze snatched the tickets from the bard’s hand and blew them across the table. There were hotel reservations as well, which combined with the gift from Naomi’s father would make a rather excellent honeymoon.

“Oh darn. Well, I’ll just have to borrow the van and bum around for a bit, get to know my new home a bit better,” Venti said with a giggle and a wink.

“Oh? Where are you from, then? Keith never said,” Arthur asked, leaning forward in interest.

“Didn’t you see on TV? He’s like Raiden!” Itul said, folding his arms over his chest.

Venti’s eyebrows rose at this sudden burst of wisdom, and even Cookie nodded thoughtfully.

They should have known better.

“My Bro’s totally Japanese,” Itul said confidently, which prompted Cookie to do a spit take all over his face, Naomi to snort in a most undignified passion, and Capri to cackle at the outburst. Keith put his face in his hands, while Arthur just looked confused.

“She doesn’t look Japanese,” Arthur said, frowning at Cookie as he peered around the assembled party guests.

“Is he stupid?” Malka asked Naomi in a very loud whisper. “I know goyim can be strange, but-”

“Malka, please. Itul isn’t an idiot because he’s a goy!” Naomi said, throwing her arms up in exasperation.

“Dear, he’s a nice boy and Naomi’s friend, let’s not insult him where he can hear us,” Chaim said, desperately trying to keep a straight face, though his lips kept quirking up.

“Yeah, he’s not an idiot because he’s a gentile,” Cookie agreed, smacking Itul on the shoulder.

“Yeah!” Itul agreed, glaring at Malka, who rolled her eyes.”

“-he’s an idiot because he’s a great big lug with more muscles than brains,” Cookie finished.

“Yeah!” Itul agreed again with a nod, raising one arm and flexing it. “Check out these- HEY!”

“They’re not from Japan, Arthur,” Keith sighed, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. “That much I can tell you.”

Arthur nodded, but still looked insistent. “Well, alright, but then where is-”

A guitar suddenly sounded, and everyone looked up from their table. Somehow, Venti had gotten up on the small stage at the front of the little bar they were in. The band that had been playing looked amused, but Venti was the one on the mic, holding a green guitar.

“This one goes out to two very special ladies, who just got hitched today! Let’s give Naomi and Capri a big hand, folks!”

Naomi and Capri blushed, but waved and stood, smiling and holding hands.

“Now, it wouldn’t be a wedding party without a little dancing, don’t you think?” Venti said, strumming her guitar again. “And I have a few special songs for the brides! Don’t worry, ladies, I’ve been listening! So let’s play some music!”

There was clapping and cheers, and Venti motioned to the floor at the center of the bar, and people pulled aside tables and chairs to make room as Naomi and Capri moved onto the dance floor. The first song was, of course, Lovesong by the Cure, with the happy couple dancing alone for the first dance.

After that, the band went into Hava Nagila, despite the fact that none of them were Jewish. Most of the bar ended up on the dance floor despite that, joining in on the Hora enthusiastically. Keith Jr was a little confused about what was being sung as his dads danced, singing “Agua, new gills agua,” until Chaim and Malka’s two daughters taught the four-year-old boy the proper lyrics.

The band played on and on, broken up by people going up to the microphone to toast the two brides, and everyone cheering excitedly. It took a little while, but the residents of the bar began to realize just who they were partying with. Prague wasn’t that far from Munich, and Legend was of course famous the world over. After that, no one in the wedding party needed to buy themselves a drink, even Arthur who tried to explain that he and Keith were “just friends from America.” But there weren’t that many American Knights, and certainly only one that was as famous as Legend.

Strangely enough, no cameras worked that evening except for the ones owned by the Knights, and thanks to an alcohol-induced (or perhaps Anemo assisted) haze, no one could really remember Legend’s face or name the next day.

Towards the end of the evening, the band was sitting down, exhausted, but Venti was still playing. The Guitar was gone, and she’d gotten out her lyre, from where no one had seen. She sat back on a high stool, smiling out at her friends, and raising a glass of wine.

“A toast to these lovely maidens. May the winds always bring them joy and freedom,” Venti said, and there were loud cheers, with Naomi and Capri sharing a kiss that got even more applause.

Smiling, Venti drained her own glass, then set it aside. “For the last song of the night, I give you a verse from my homeland. It’s a traditional love song, and one I find appropriate tonight.”

Strumming her lyre, Venti waited for silence to fall, and soon the entire crowd was spellbound as she began to sing.

Though I wander far afield,

Across the hills and valleys

My heart to you shall yield,

So my love, do not dally

As the wind kissed the flower

So I long for you again

My song now this hour

Recalls when our love began

It wasn’t a song any of them had heard before, but it brought tears to every eye, and smiles to every lip, with Naomi and Capri standing again and dancing once more across the floor. As Arthur leaned up against Keitih near the wall, he heard a wheel squeak, and looked down to see Leon rolling his chair over.

“You asked where Venti is from?” Leon said quietly as the bard sang on. Leon raised one finger, pointing towards the sky. “I dunno what anyone else would tell you, but I know where I think the Angel of Munich is from.”

Arthur blinked at that. “You don’t mean, Venti really is a-”

“Shhh,” Keith said, squeezing Arthur’s hand. “Just enjoy the moment.”

And so, the Song of Freedom came to the lands of Earth Bet, and the people, for a time, knew peace, and rest.

Author’s Note:

It’s going to cause some temporal shenanigans (basically several chapters will take place out of chronological order) but there will be an interlude next chapter, and then, Nahida. It didn’t work to have what I originally planned drop before Nahida shows up, as it starts a new storyline and that’s best done in a batch with Nahida’s story also beginning.

OCTOBER: Chag Chanukah Sameach!

PHILO: THE MAGIC 8-BALL WASN’T SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME FEEL THINGS!

TGC: More fics should involve the characters going to Disneyland.

DR_Feelgood: Contessa needs a divorce from her Life Coach