Abel and his squad of knights left the refugee camp. On their way back, the atmosphere within the group was complex and subtle, with less of the previous tension and more silence and contemplation.
Throughout the day, there was no movement from the Lawrence Clan—no new provocations, no news at all.
The refugee camp operated as usual, repairing shelters, processing food, and maintaining patrols, as if last night's little episode had never happened.
It wasn't until night fell again that a sentry at the edge of the camp brought news: there were visitors.
Only five people had come. Four were clearly knights of the Lawrence Clan, escorting a mysterious figure completely concealed by a cloak. The visitors claimed they wanted to see Gunnhildr to discuss new settlement terms.
Upon hearing the news, Gunnhildr went to the edge of the camp to greet them personally. She didn't bring many attendants, with only Parsifal at her side.
As she led the visitors toward her tent, Gunnhildr paused, reached out, and pulled the heavy leather flap of her tent wide open, leaving the interior space completely exposed.
The furnishings inside were simple: just a sleeping mat on the ground, a low table, and a few cushions. A candle burned steadily, illuminating every corner.
"Please," Gunnhildr said, turning to the side and making a gesture for the escorted, mysterious person to "please inspect."
Confirming there was no threat, the escorting knights relaxed slightly.
The mysterious person raised a hand slightly, signaling the four knights to wait outside the tent, then followed Gunnhildr inside alone. Parsifal stood guard at the entrance.
The tent flap fell, cutting off the sights and sounds from outside.
Inside the tent, the candlelight flickered. Only Gunnhildr and the mysterious visitor remained.
Only then did the mysterious person raise their hands, untie the clasp of their cloak, and shed the disguise, revealing a head of ice-blue long hair.
The visitor was none other than the true leader of the Lawrence Clan, Matriarch Venerare.
She wore dark, simple clothes suitable for moving at night, her eyes as sharp as ever as she sized up Gunnhildr.
"Hmph," Venerare spoke first, her voice steady and emotionless. "Abel's report was quite... colorful."
Facing the one who truly held power, Gunnhildr didn't beat around the bush:
"Your Excellency has come in person, surely not to repeat the 'oracle.' It must be for 'cooperation'."
Venerare nodded slightly, tacitly agreeing. "You have proven that you are indeed qualified to be partners of the Lawrence Clan, to stand with us on equal footing."
"Equal footing?" Gunnhildr repeated, her tone calm. "I'm afraid that might disappoint quite a few people in your clan."
She was referring to those Lawrence members who still clung to their sense of superiority and were unwilling to accept the refugees as equals.
Venerare didn't deny it and cut straight to the point: "The Lawrence Clan can provide a plot of land to the west of the Temple of a Thousand Winds—that circular temple you visited before. The land is large enough to accommodate all of you. It's close enough to the temple for you to participate in its various activities."
She paused, then stated her terms: "On the condition that, first, all refugees must participate in production and sacrificial activities alongside the clan."
Gunnhildr responded immediately: "We are not lazy people who shun work. We love to labor and provide for ourselves. On this point, there is no issue."
"Second," Venerare's gaze sharpened, "when the Lawrence Clan has amassed enough strength to launch a counterattack against Mondstadt City and Decarabian, the refugee's order of knights must join the battle unconditionally."
Hearing this condition, a look of near-elation flashed across Gunnhildr's face—the excitement of finding a fellow traveler on the same path.
Venerare keenly caught this subtle change in expression. She leaned forward slightly, her tone certain:
"You didn't leave the storm wall merely to escape. You left to find a power capable of opposing that high tower, correct?"
Gunnhildr admitted it freely: "It seems we share a common goal. To overthrow the tyrant and fight for freedom. We accept this condition."
Venerare nodded, then turned to the crucial point: "According to Abel's description, and our own prior observations, it seems you have already found an extraordinary power. That 'Master of the Wind'?"
"That's right," Gunnhildr affirmed. "His name is Barbatos, the god who governs freedom and wind. His protection can also extend to the Lawrence Clan, should you be willing to believe in him."
Venerare mused for a moment, then said, "A change of faith is no simple matter. I can try to persuade the old stubborn fools in the clan. But," she raised her eyes, her gaze like a torch, "this 'Master of the Wind' had better be real."
As if she had anticipated this question, Gunnhildr turned to a corner of the tent where miscellaneous items were piled and called out softly, "Venti, you can show yourself now."
As she spoke, a faint cyan glimmer lit up in the shadows.
Then, the small body of the wind spirit Venti, glowing with a soft light, floated out gracefully, hovering beside Gunnhildr's shoulder and looking at Venerare.
Venerare's gaze instantly locked onto Venti. She carefully studied its white body, the cyan patterns, and the small wings that fluttered gently like wings of light.
A complex, indescribable emotion filled her eyes, as if she was recalling something.
"Interesting..." Venerare began slowly. "Back when I had not yet become the matriarch, when I was surviving in the northern wilderness with the clan elders... I had seen some wind spirits then, too."
She looked at Gunnhildr. "Such free, scattered, and capricious elemental beings. What special method did you use to compel them to offer you protection?"
Gunnhildr shook her head. "We never 'compelled' him. His name is Venti, and he is my friend, a friend to all the refugees, and the object of our freely chosen faith. We traded poems, songs, and stories he enjoys for his goodwill and protection. It is an exchange, but more so, it is a bond."
Venerare pressed, "Then, to make him willing to provide the same protection for the Lawrence Clan, and... when necessary, assist in our production activities, what price must be paid?"
"The condition is simple," Gunnhildr's reply was clear and firm. "Let the Lawrence Clan, in the name of the 'Master of the Wind', believe in Venti."
Venerare frowned slightly. "But it is just a wind spirit, not a true god. To believe in a being that is not a god..."
Gunnhildr interrupted her. "Faith can make a wind spirit into a god. Even if he lacks divine power now."
"Without divine power, can it still be called a god?" Venerare retorted.
"Not for now. That power must be seized from Decarabian."
Venerare's pupils contracted slightly. After a moment of silence, she asked, "Deicide? With such a tiny wind spirit?"
Gunnhildr met her gaze:
"Of course. As long as Venti is worshipped alongside the 'Master of Time' within the Temple of a Thousand Winds."
___
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