Dahlia

In this city blessed by freedom, people choose to follow many different paths — from those who seek peace and leisure, to those who yearn for the thrill of adventure. As for Dahlia, well, he's the kind of person whose morning prayers are filled with entreaties for trouble to come his way.

Deacon of the Church of Favonius and leader of the church's choir, he is a man blessed by the gods who is said to hear the will of the divine. When the people face hardships and seek guidance from on high, it is Dahlia who leads their morning prayers, beseeching Barbatos for answers on their behalf. More often than not, his appeals do not go unanswered.

Many a curious mind has speculated as to why Dahlia was blessed with divine favor. Some say it's due to his noble character and willingness to help those in need. Others claim that it's because of his singing — a sound as sweet and intoxicating as Dandelion Wine. While a third theory postulates that he has perfected some esoteric form of divination that allows him to predict the future...

If anyone were inclined to ask Dahlia himself, he would wink and flash a mischievous grin. "Perhaps it's because I enjoy meddling in others' affairs that the gods allow me to help them with their troubles."

Before becoming a deacon, Dahlia had long pursued a life of excitement and delight.

Like a keen-nosed detective, he would scour the streets of Mondstadt and the surrounding countryside, sniffing out the latest news. Wherever there was a thorny issue to be solved or someone in distress, he was always among the first to know and would rush to the scene to get involved.

When people would praise his kind-heartedness, he would smile at their warm words. Unbeknownst to them, he was mostly just thrilled to be in the thick of the action — people's problems getting solved was merely a happy coincidence.

However, Mondstadt was enjoying a long period of peace, and the everyday troubles of its citizens were insufficient to satisfy Dahlia's appetite for excitement — curbside quarrels, drinking debts, and absconded animals were far too nondescript for his tastes.

And whenever something truly thrilling would arise, the elite Knights of Favonius were always on hand to swiftly restore mundane order.

Thus, after returning his 19th lost cat and clearing his 30th Slime-induced key road blockage of the year, it occurred to Dahlia that he needed to inject some real turbulence into his life.

When he felt the winds begin to blow, he picked a single dandelion and held it in the palm of his hand, praying to Barbatos that something new and exciting might happen to him.

The dandelion seeds spiraled into the air and were carried on the wind to the plaza before the great Church of Favonius, coming to rest on the outstretched fingers of the Anemo Archon's statue.

In the plaza, a bard was playing a chelys, a child was feeding the pigeons, and the denizens of Mondstadt were praying before the Archon's statue.

Yet Dahlia could sense something was off amid this idyllic scene — that keen nose of his had detected the slightest whiff of trouble.

There were two sisters nearby talking in hushed and solemn voices. Dahlia sidled up beside them and managed to just about catch the words "missing" and "urgent."

In line with his standard approach to "meddling," he politely approached the two sisters and inquired if they needed his help.

They glanced at each other uncertainly, not sure whether they should involve a layperson in their current quandary.

Dahlia patted his chest reassuringly, announcing himself as a devout believer in the church and stating that there would be no greater honor than to help.

Moved by his impassioned words, the sisters ultimately explained the situation — one of their fellow sisters had been missing for several days, leaving the work she had been tasked with undone.

And so it was that Dahlia came to undertake this sister's work "for the benefit of the people of Mondstadt."

The "work" the sisters had tasked him with consisted of replying to letters from the congregation in the name of the church. The clergy would usually take it in turns to complete this task, but though it was now Sister Rosaria's turn, she had left the city on an investigation and had not been heard from in days. As such, the letters were piling up.

Dahlia took a deep breath and set about opening letters as though he were unwrapping candy.

Like a snowdrift in a blizzard, the letters piled high around him. All the troubles that people felt unable to share with their neighbors and friends were laid bare before him on white paper snowflakes.

Dahlia read each one carefully. Fortunately, most of these troubles were well within his power to solve.

A young maid confessed that she had fallen for someone beyond her reach and was uncertain whether to pursue things further. Dahlia wrote in his reply: The most beautiful emotions are often those we leave obscured, yet a brave decision can sometimes bring joyful rewards. Both are fine choices, so perhaps you should let your heart decide?

A merchant complained that their business was going nowhere, and they could not give their family the life they deserved. Dahlia wrote in his reply: A modest return is always better than a loss. Remain patient and be on the lookout for new opportunities. Perhaps in time, your fortunes will change.

A scholar questioned the history of Old Mondstadt. Dahlia cited records from authoritative texts and gently reminded the scholar that perhaps only Barbatos himself could help one learn the truth of the past.

On the morning of the third day, Dahlia was still furiously scribbling at his desk when his door was gently pushed ajar to admit a tired-looking sister. There were stains on her clothes that might have been mud but could well have been blood.

"You must be the sister who's been missing these past few days... It looks like the work you've been doing was far from easy."

"Thank you for your help, stranger. Victoria appreciates your kindness. She's hoping to persuade you to stay here and work with us." Rosaria began relaying the things she'd heard upon her return to the church.

As far as Dahlia was concerned, helping the church and working for the church were two completely different things. The latter involved far more than simply assisting the congregation in solving their problems — it required spending a significant amount of time on monotonous prayer and ceremony. For Dahlia, dull repetition was the greatest enemy of all.

He shot up from his chair, hurriedly declaring, "I seek no payment but the joy of helping others! Anyway... now that you're back, my work here is done!"

Rosaria made no move to stop him from leaving. She simply looked on as he fled the scene like a sudden gust of wind.

Upon reading through the pile of responses left sitting on her desk, she instantly regretted allowing him to leave without first learning his address.

She made a note to find out where he lived before the next time she was tasked with penning replies to the people's letters...

Dahlia's friends tend to be pretty good at holding their drink — none more so than Venti.

The first time they met, Venti was drinking alone in a tavern, a bewildering array of empty bottles laid out before him.

Taking note of his bardic attire, Dahlia had assumed he was a frustrated artist, trying to drown his sorrows in wine. As such, he decided to accompany the singer for a round or three.

He gently probed, hoping to tactfully uncover the source of the bard's troubles. Was he suffering from writer's block? Had his latest work received negative reviews? Were his performances not bringing in enough money?

In the end, after downing his 28th cup of apple cider, the bard joyfully shared his reason for drinking:

The fruit harvest that year had been a good one, and the wine it produced tasted exceptionally sweet. The bard explained how once he had got going, he had found it difficult to stop until the room was spinning and his eyes glazed over.

...It appeared he was simply a connoisseur of fine wine.

So Dahlia paid for the remaining drinks and ordered round after round, until the two of them were not only satisfied and sated, but had become the firmest of friends.

And so, when Dahlia arranged to meet Venti atop the city walls to share his adventures of the past few days, he made sure to bring libations.

Venti was curious to know why he had fled. When common folk encountered trouble in their lives, they would often seek the Church's aid. Surely, that was exactly the role Dahlia wanted?

He thought back to his childhood, when his mother would take him along to morning prayers. He had always found these occasions too solemn and gloomy. He would think up ways to slip away or doodle absentmindedly on the pews. If he were to join the ranks of the clergy, these rituals were certain to become a regular part of his routine.

Not to mention, the thought of all those weighty tomes filled with scripture made him dizzy.

Venti gave a laugh and then asked again — if there was a way to make the rituals more interesting, would he consider it then? For instance, what if he were to help transmit the Anemo Archon's guidance to his flock?

Well, there was no way Dahlia was going to turn down an opportunity like that.

And thus, that night, it came to pass that Dahlia became the guardian of a scarcely believable secret, while Barbatos, in turn, gained a most trustworthy herald.

Before the sisters had time to lament his departure, Dahlia had returned to the Church of Favonius. This time, he claimed to be an oracle, bearing the words of Barbatos himself — words which required their help to pass on to the people.

Those present were understandably unsure. There had been many cases of charlatans abusing the Archon's name to defraud the common folk, but seldom had anyone attempted to hoodwink the clergy themselves.

Although, as Dahlia had a reputation for finding joy in helping others, the sisters were divided — some supported helping him while others remained unconvinced.

Those who were opposed believed that should this "oracle" prove false, it would damage the reputation of the church. While those who were in favor felt that oracular proclamations were nothing more than suggestions — should the things they predicted not come to pass, it would be of little significance to the common folk. However, should true prophecies be ignored, great harm could potentially be done.

After everyone had carefully weighed the benefits and risks, those who supported helping the "oracle" spread his word found themselves in the ascendancy.

Therefore, Victoria noted down Dahlia's enlightened words and proclaimed them to the faithful at morning prayers. After a few days, all of his predictions were proven true — timely rains fell for several straight days after Dahlia's call to plant seeds was followed, while a ferocious storm arose on the day he had called for none to take their boats out to sea, and on the day when he decreed the hunters should hunt, their captured prey was doubled...

During this time, rumors of a "youth blessed by gods" spread like wildfire throughout the church and the wider world.

The result was that the church formally offered Dahlia the position of deacon — a position he readily accepted.

On the first day that Dahlia conducted morning prayers, the Cathedral was packed to the rafters with common folk who had heard tell of his abilities. They enthusiastically told him their problems, hoping that they might receive divine guidance.

Even the longest-serving sisters had never witnessed such scenes. Previously, the only way to attract so many people to the Cathedral would have been to let Barbara hold a concert there.

"Please remain calm and await your turn."

"Our time is limited. I shall try to focus on the most important questions."

Dahlia answered the people's questions in an orderly manner before publicly announcing the date of his next time leading morning prayers.

Thanks to Barbatos's blessings, morning prayers were no longer the solemn and stuffy occasion they had once been, and there was now one more reason for people to come to church.

Once, when out searching for a certain member of the choir who had failed to turn up for hymn practice, Dahlia came across a young man lying unconscious near Dragonspine.

The youth's clothes were torn, and his body was covered in wounds. As he didn't appear to be local, Dahlia temporarily abandoned his search and took the young man back to the church to rest and recuperate.

A fortnight passed, and the youth made a full recovery. Hoping to repay Dahlia for his kindness, he asked about, seeking to discover what recompense might be most appreciated.

Shortly after, Dahlia received a valuable gift along with an official-looking letter.

It turned out the youth was a researcher from Sumeru investigating flora and fauna in other parts of Teyvat. Due to the regions he was researching being mostly uninhabited forests, mountains, and bodies of water, he would regularly encounter dangerous situations. His original companions were injured one by one, until only he was left.

After hearing about Dahlia's deeds, it occurred to the researcher that such adventures might be of some interest to him, and so he invited him to come along.

Upon reading the researcher's earnest letter, Dahlia fell into deep contemplation.

One of his favorite pastimes was reading popular adventure novels. The protagonists would all start out with ordinary, mundane lives before setting off on wondrous adventures following some unexpected opportunity.

He himself had dreamed of taking off toward a distant land and searching for even greater troubles to get involved in, stumbling from one dire situation to the next, all while engineering miraculous escapes.

And now, this invitation in front of him might truly have been just such an "opportunity for adventure." He could imagine all the wonderful surprises that might await him on his journey.

Dahlia considered the researcher's offer for a full day and even thanked him personally before turning it down.

He had many reasons to refuse the offer, such as his duties with the choir, who might fall apart without his leadership.

Or the friends he had in Mondstadt and those lost souls who sought divine guidance.

He wished to prioritize the problems that were already before him and enjoy the pleasures of his present position to the fullest.

The wind blowing atop the city walls, the bubbles rising in the finest Dandelion Wine, the cheerful laughter of the people... The day he might finally set foot on soil untouched by the whistling breeze, these things would surely become his most cherished memories.

Dahlia's book of hymns. Most of the songs contained within are odes of praise to the Anemo Archon that have been passed down for generations. However, a handwritten score has been inserted beneath the final page.

This recent edition is not an established official hymn, nor has it ever been performed by the choir as part of a public performance.

Its origins lie in a chance encounter — and more than a little wine. On that fateful day, Dahlia was drinking with his friends, so lost in conversation that they hardly noticed the sun setting and the stars now shining in their place.

One of his companions was curious to know how he could still drink through the evening hours now that he was an ordained deacon in the church.

Dahlia gave a mirthful smile. "It is through the Anemo Archon's blessing that this land produces such fine wine. Is enjoying the fruits that Barbatos has provided not itself a form of praise?"

All those present raised their cups and shared a toast to Barbatos. Venti, who was also there and playing a tune, felt a sudden wave of inspiration and began to perform an "Ode to Fine Wine."

Once the final chords had faded, he wrote the music down and declared it a gift for the leader of the choir.

Dahlia was naturally ecstatic to accept such a gift. The hymns he was used to performing were from a bygone era, and all followed the same stale style — to his mind, it was about time the choir's repertoire was brought up to date. As soon as he got back, he planned to add this new song to the program.

Unfortunately, many of the sisters did not share his modernizing views. As Victoria put it, only an appearance from Barbatos himself would sway her mind.

Dahlia could see it was a lost cause and quietly put the idea aside.

Until that year's Weinlesefest, that is, where Dahlia personally performed the ode — accompanied by Venti, of course — across multiple days of the festival.

And so it was that the hymn became popular throughout the city. Indeed, no matter which street you walked along back then, you could always hear its refrains carried on the wind from somewhere nearby.

Deacon Dahlia's name blew through the streets of Mondstadt like the lilting notes of a hymn. Even the cats, sunning themselves on the roofs and pavements, would meow in response to hearing it.

Those he had helped would smile and say, "Oh, I remember that Dahlia!" While those who had once been the object of his snooping interventions would turn up their noses and snort:

"How did that nosy so-and-so manage to climb so high, anyway? Come on, it's our turn to make some sport of him!"

The shuffling sounds of massing feet were swallowed in the cavernous hall of the Cathedral. The only sound that could be heard beneath the dappled light from the stained glass windows was Dahlia's voice. His words were clear and simple, yet conveyed a sense of gravity...

"That's not right..." A voice cried out, finally seizing the chance to challenge him. "Where in the scripture does it say that? I can find no such words!"

Those nearby turned their irate gazes upon this unwelcome speaker, and a well-minded stranger attempted to explain:

"Barbatos is the god of freedom, his words are not constrained by scripture..."

Dahlia calmly cleared his throat, his composure unwavering, a flicker of excitement dancing across his brow:

"No one can seize the wind that does not wish to dally. Yet now that this wind would grasp our hands, some stubbornly seek to trap it in the pages of a book."

This was simply an interlude, and as the speaker had not achieved their goal of humiliating Dahlia, they had no choice but to turn and walk unhappily away — in full view of everyone.

Yet when Dahlia returned home, he retrieved his book of scripture — as thick and heavy as a slab of rock — gently blew the dust off its covers, and began to read it word by word, until he knew its contents by heart.

No one had required him to do so, and Dahlia had never feared if others should question him.

Whether people believed him or not, he was Barbatos's herald. And because he was Barbatos's herald, he knew that the Anemo Archon was not some solemn deity who would leave behind sermons and commandments. This so-called scripture was, at its heart, a book of Mondstadt's history, of praise for the Anemo Archon, of gratitude for plenty, and of hopes for freedom — it had little to do with Barbatos himself.

But Dahlia understood that he was no longer the common, excitable citizen of Mondstadt that he had once been. He was a deacon of the Church of Favonius. His every word and every action was a representation of the church and of Barbatos. It would not be hard for him to give out the same quick, impromptu responses he had always done, but was that what the church and its followers truly needed?

A few days later, when Dahlia was once again holding morning prayers, the congregation noticed something different in his bearing. His movements were solemn, his speech notably full of purpose. His words now flowed like the finest poetry as the warm light from the stained glass windows reflected in his eyes...

By the time he had finished, even Victoria couldn't help but ask if Barbatos himself hadn't stopped by to give him some inspirational pointers.

He lifted his head, thinking of the Vision he had found lying like a bookmark on his tome of scriptures, and which he had now affixed to his robes.

"Perhaps fate smiles on those who are most diligent?" He gave Victoria a wink and flashed her a cryptic smile.

What he left unsaid is that he had already changed for the benefit of others. He now desired to use his power to guide the world along a brighter path.