"Apologies—I'm the same as Diluc."
"I don't want to be bound. And with the risks I carry, I can't stay in Mondstadt for long."
Albedo knew his problems all too well.
His mother, the Golden Rhinedottir, created him and called him the most perfect homunculus.
But he also understood his own flaws: he was not truly human.
A cold-blooded artificial life; human feelings were something he only partially grasped.
Much as Albedo disliked admitting it, he had to face the truth:
Deep in his heart lay a near-pathological pursuit of perfection and creation.
Once knowledge or experiments touched those domains, he became… obsessive. Detached.
Like his mother Rhinedottir—the one whose madness once dragged Teyvat toward the abyss.
Back then, as one of the Five Sinners, Rhinedottir seized the Abyss's power and stepped beyond the world.
But the curse cast down by the Archon of Death, Ruo Nawa, nearly drove her completely insane.
From that sliver of madness came the pitch-black cataclysm that swept across Teyvat.
Albedo knew that the same stubbornness—and the same madness—existed in him.
He knew better than anyone how terrifying the power in his body was, and that one day it might erupt—
And destroy Mondstadt.
So Albedo often stayed away from the city, keeping to Dragonspine—
To distance himself from crowds and quiet the storm within.
And to be closer to that place.
After all, the dragon Durin was also a work of Rhinedottir.
Compared to the "perfect" Albedo, Durin was a failed product.
But he was still, in a sense, Albedo's brother.
Having never truly felt what brotherhood was, Albedo instinctively wanted to be near Durin—and to think about how to replicate Rhinedottir's feat: to revive Durin, or create anew.
That is the ultimate secret of the world—the life's pursuit of every alchemist.
If Rhinedottir could do it, then why couldn't he, the homunculus who inherited all her knowledge and craft?
Rowan sighed. "All right—but let me be clear: you're overthinking this."
"The Round Table isn't 'above' the Knights. It's an honor for those I recognize as having made great, foundational contributions to Mondstadt."
"Even if you're not a Mondstadter—and even if you aren't in Mondstadt—so long as I recognize you, you can receive the honor."
"Becoming a Knight of the Round Table doesn't mean you must obey me or answer to some private army of mine."
"Understand?"
Rowan had to chuckle to himself. He wanted to revive the Round Table to attract more people to contribute to Mondstadt.
It was a badge of honor. Even after twelve seats were filled, anyone meeting the standard could still be awarded the title.
This wasn't Camelot, and he wasn't truly Arthur Pendragon.
No need to be shackled by the "name" of the Round Table.
If Rowan deemed someone worthy, they could become a Knight of the Round Table.
For instance, Snezhnaya's Captain Capitano—Rowan wanted to award him the title.
A man of absolute justice—more than qualified in strength and character.
Or Fontaine's Hydro Archon, Furina—five hundred years of sacrifice for Fontaine merited the honor as well.
The Round Table is an honor, a glory—
Not a constraint. Mondstadter or not, anyone could receive it,
so long as they had Rowan's recognition and respect.
Diluc and Albedo traded looks—this was not what they'd imagined.
But Albedo still had no intention of joining. Rowan could see it and waved a hand.
"Enough. I understand."
"I won't press you."
"The invitations are done—let's talk business."
"This is a kind of wine from my homeland. Lord Diluc, see if you can reproduce it."
Rowan produced a recipe—one of many oddities he'd "looted" from chests over the past month.
Not just wine, either: cement, concrete,
even things like phones, electric fans, transmission towers—the schematics and formulas for a modern world.
Not finished goods—just blueprints and recipes.
That was why Rowan had called Diluc and Albedo.
If Mondstadt's greatest vintner—indeed, the greatest on all of Teyvat—couldn't make the liquor, then perhaps only Liyue might.
And as for the phones, fans, and a thousand other contraptions—who better than Albedo, heir to Rhinedottir's alchemy?
If they could really build these things, Mondstadt's skyline would change.
High-rises would spring up, and a modern city would stand upon Teyvat.
Modern technology—and modern war—would bloom across the land.
Even if the Heavenly Principles stirred, there'd be little they could say.
This time, Rowan handed Diluc the simplest of modern recipes: a basic distilled spirit.
Diluc took the sheet and read carefully. The longer he read, the brighter his eyes shone.
By this method, the alcohol content could leap several grades above their usual winery brews.
It was a wholly new way of making wine!
"How about it—can you make it?"
Rowan asked, curious. It wasn't nostalgia for strong drink or for home—
It was strategy. Once distilled spirits appeared, Snezhnaya would be in Mondstadt's pocket.
Distilled liquors are strong—very strong.
Our baijiu, their vodka—both are children of distillation.
Distilled spirit is practically synonymous with "hard liquor."
And in Snezhnaya's ice and snow, the demand for hard liquor needed no explanation.
Diluc tucked the recipe away, thrilled. It included not only the steps but a diagram of the distillation apparatus.
If he couldn't make this, he might as well quit winemaking.
"Of course. Absolutely."
"Give me one month—I'll bring you a finished bottle!"
(End of Chapter)
[Check Out My P@treon For 20+ Extra Chapters On All My Fanfics!!]
[[email protected]/Draumel]
[Thank You For Your Support!]