Undercover in Snezhnaya, My Teyvat Spy Life [72]

“!?”

Following Artem’s gaze, Eula, shocked, also noticed the green-clad youth singing in the square.

But what had Artem just been muttering to himself?

That boy, he’s the Anemo Archon, Barbatos, revered by all of Mondstadt?

If that’s really him, with Mondstadt facing disaster on every side, why isn’t he at the Knights of Favonius, taking charge— why is he here… singing for coins?

“Shh, keep it down,” Artem whispered. “He’s the key to my promotion to Harbinger.”

“Come on, I want to have a real, heart-to-heart talk with him.”

With that, he took Eula by the hand and led her over to listen to the green-clad boy’s song.

As they drew closer, Eula watched the youth Artem claimed was “the Anemo Archon, Barbatos” with intense scrutiny.

He had an almost girlishly delicate face, two green-tipped braids falling over his shoulders—
if not for his flat chest, at a glance, you’d easily mistake him for a girl.

And no matter how she looked at him, this boy couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen.

But the Anemo Archon was said in legend to be three thousand years old.

So young… Could he really be Lord Barbatos?

With those doubts in mind, Eula listened carefully to the boy’s song.

And she had to admit, his voice was beautiful.

The melody was ancient, but when sung by him, it sounded like something from the heavens.

The only pity was with Mondstadt busy cleaning up the ruins left by the dragon’s rampage, almost no one had time to listen to music.

So even after singing his heart out for ages, there wasn’t a single Mora in the boy’s green hat.

Sigh—

“Has Mondstadt lost its love for music?”

When the song ended, and he saw his empty hat, the bard—calling himself “Venti”—looked visibly crestfallen.

Just then, a small pouch of Mora came flying from somewhere, landing neatly in the hat.

A teasing voice followed:
“Mister Bard, would you care to join us for a drink?”

Seeing both money and a promise of alcohol, Venti looked up and broke into a radiant smile at the man and woman smiling at him from nearby.

“Gladly!”

Soon, the three of them arrived at Angel’s Share. one of the few taverns in Mondstadt still open.

Thanks to its sturdy construction and careful supplies, Angel’s Share had survived the dragon’s attack mostly unscathed, reopening the very next day.

The only issue was the lack of customers, even at what used to be the busiest hour, only a couple of people were drinking at scattered tables.

Still, even in these lean times, the bartender, Charles, flatly refused to serve Venti any wine the moment he saw that boyish face.

Venti just didn’t look like an adult, and in Mondstadt, minors aren’t allowed to drink.

But his resolve was no match for Artem’s reputation.

Sometimes, the name of a Snezhnayan envoy could do more than a pouch full of Mora.

As soon as he heard Artem’s name, Charles poured Venti the most expensive dandelion wine the bar had.

“Hey, friend, thanks for the treat!”

After taking a long, contented sip, Venti’s cheeks flushed pink as he launched into a round of gratitude.

Artem swirled the wine in his glass, asking with apparent casualness, “So, what brings you back to Mondstadt?”

“Shouldn’t you be keeping an eye on Dvalin?”

“…”

Venti froze mid-sip, then put on his usual playful grin.

“Friend, are you talking to me?”

“Drop the act.”

Artem shot him a glare, blunt as ever.

“I know almost everything about you, and I’m pretty sure you know just as much about me.
So let’s skip the riddles and just speak plainly. Don’t you think, Mister Venti?”

“Or should I say—”

“The Anemo Archon, Lord Barbatos.”

When Artem named him so directly, Venti didn’t even seem surprised—just let his smile fade, set down his cup, and met Artem’s gaze.

The sudden tension between them made Eula’s palms break out in a sweat.

If this boy really was the Anemo Archon, then speaking to him so irreverently was surely bound to earn his anger, maybe even a divine punishment.

Just as Eula’s thoughts spiraled—

She realized:
everyone else in the bar seemed completely unfazed. People were still drinking and chatting,
not even glancing over when Artem said “Barbatos.”

“No need to be so surprised. That’s the Archon’s doing.”

Artem gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Lord Barbatos is easygoing—he won’t get angry over something so trivial.”

As if to prove Artem’s point, Venti flashed a mischievous smile, put a finger to his lips, and shushed them.

“Ehe, let’s not go spreading that around, alright?”

Then he dropped the act, looking a bit melancholy:

“I went to find Dvalin, I really did. But there’s this masked guy always following him around,
so I never got a chance to calm him down. Had no choice but to come back to Mondstadt and see if I could think of another way.”

“Oh.”

“I see.”

Artem didn’t press any further, instead getting straight to the point:
“Lord Barbatos, I want to make a deal with you.”

“Ehh— I’m broke, you know. You saw for yourself—after all that singing, I haven’t made a single Mora.”

“If you want a trade, you’d be better off heading south to Liyue and talking to old Morax.”

Venti kept the playful tone, playing up his own misfortune.

But Artem only smiled.

“Please. If you revealed your true identity as the Anemo Archon, do you really think you’d ever run out of wine money?”

“But—”

Venti had barely started when Artem cut him off.

“But if you did that, the people of Mondstadt would beg you to rule again. And that would defeat the whole purpose of the freedom you gave them.”

“And once you were forced to govern, after a few centuries you’d just become the next ‘Tyrant Barbatos.’”

“So you’d rather starve and go thirsty, living as a penniless bard, than ever reveal your true identity as the Archon.”

“There. Did I say it all for you? Any other excuses?”

This rapid-fire barrage left Venti totally at a loss.
Everything he’d wanted to say, Artem had already put into words.

Left speechless, Venti could only ask, “So… what kind of deal do you want?”

Exactly what I was waiting for.
With a smile, Artem counted on his fingers.

“First, I’m going to kill someone. You know who it is. Don’t protect him.”

“Second, I want your [Gnosis].”

As he finished, Artem fixed Venti with a serious look.

“As long as you agree to those two things, I promise not to destroy Mondstadt. At the very least, I’ll make sure Mondstadters can go on living as freely as they always have.”

Venti hadn’t even responded yet, but Eula’s face had already gone pale.

Threatening the Anemo Archon—
Isn’t that… isn’t he afraid of divine retribution?

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This is a fan translation of 提瓦特之我在至冬做臥底 by 曉風殘月聽荷 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!