Becoming a knight of Mondstadt was a tradition of the Ragnvindr Clan. From the very first clan head, they had upheld this ideal. But as the family line continued, the descendants' swordsmanship talent grew weaker and weaker. By Crepus's generation, not only could he not become a knight—he couldn't even master Favonius Bladework.
Yet through days of training and study, Crepus had grown increasingly confident, believing himself a genius of swordsmanship who would restore his family's honor. So when he saw the Knights of Favonius recruitment poster, he signed up without hesitation.
But three days later, when the selection began, the confident Crepus was eliminated in the very first round. He had lost his chance to become a knight.
Even Crepus began to doubt himself. Was he truly a failure at swordsmanship?
He refused to accept it, convinced something had gone wrong. So he trained even harder—practicing swordsmanship, horsemanship, archery—all in preparation for knighthood. After another period of training, he once again left Dawn Winery to participate in a new round of selection.
But again, he failed.
Two failures left him confused. But as a descendant of the Ragnvindr Clan, what were these trials compared to what his ancestors had faced? They were nothing. He would work even harder.
Driven by unwillingness and longing, Crepus signed up for the selection several more times. But each time, the result was the same.
Failure.
Failure.
And again, failure.
The truth was undeniable: Crepus Ragnvindr had no talent for knighthood. He was simply not suited for it.
Even his friends, seeing his repeated failures, tried to persuade him.
"Crepus, being a knight isn't all that great anyway. It's better to be a winery owner."
"Instead of practicing swordsmanship, why not focus on creating new wines?"
"Come on, have another drink."
"You're just not cut out for knighthood."
"To be honest, if you put all this effort into making wine, Dawn Winery would already be famous across the continent."
Clearly, unlike the blindly confident Crepus, his friends saw the truth. They had long known he was hopeless with a sword. No matter how hard he tried, he would never cross the threshold of knighthood. So why be so stubborn?
After repeated failures, though Crepus didn't want to admit he was a failure at swordsmanship, reality forced him to accept it. He could only sigh in resignation.
"Is the glory of the Ragnvindr Clan going to end with me? How unwilling I am."
Becoming a knight had always been the clan's tradition, a source of honor. In the eyes of the Ragnvindr family, knighthood represented honor, light, and justice. Becoming a knight brought one closer to the great Anemo Archon, to follow in his footsteps.
That was why Crepus Ragnvindr was so stubborn, so fixated on becoming a knight.
Just as he was sighing and lamenting to his ancestors, a boy of about ten burst into the room—his son, Diluc Ragnvindr.
"Father, Father! I've been reading so many knight stories lately. The knights in them are so cool—they're all heroes who protect Mondstadt! Father, you can become a knight too, right? A hero like them?"
Diluc looked at his father with hopeful eyes. He wanted to tell his playmates that his father was not only the master of Dawn Winery but also a great knight who protected Mondstadt.
But when Crepus saw Diluc's eager expression, he could only sigh helplessly. "Diluc, don't make trouble. Your uncles and I are discussing winery business. Go outside."
He felt a pang of guilt seeing the anticipation in his son's eyes. He didn't want to tell Diluc about his failures. He didn't want his son to know that his father was a swordsmanship failure, lest it crush his enthusiasm for knighthood.
Though reluctant, Diluc obeyed. "Alright—but next time you go to the knights' camp, you have to take me with you! I want to visit the Knights of Favonius too."
Still unaware of the truth, Diluc believed Crepus had already been accepted into the knights.
After Diluc left the room, Crepus sighed. "That child—still so mischievous. At his age, he should be learning about winemaking."
Though the family aspired to knighthood, the winery business remained essential.
Just then, one of his friends looked at the departing Diluc and spoke with a glint in his eye. "Crepus, I've just noticed something interesting."
Crepus, a little annoyed, said, "Interesting? Are you craving wine again?"
His friend smiled, unbothered. "I've noticed that your son seems to have a natural talent for swordsmanship. He might be the one to carry on the Ragnvindr Clan's will and become a great knight."
Crepus: "???"
Little Diluc, a natural swordsman? Who was he kidding? He knew his own son. The boy only ever read knight novels. He had never once held a sword. How could anyone tell he had talent?
Crepus said flatly, "His task now is to learn winemaking. When he's old enough to train, I'll hire him the best instructor."
Just then, a knock came at the door.
"Master, there's a bard outside who claims to be your friend and wishes to visit the winery."
It was the butler's voice. Since Crepus had thrown himself into swordsmanship training, most of the winery's affairs had been handled by the butler.
Crepus blinked. "A bard? Is it the one with two small braids, playing a harp and singing old songs?"
Come to think of it, a few days ago, while traveling to Mondstadt for the knight selection, he had indeed met a bard who only sang old songs. They had gotten along well. At their parting, Crepus had jokingly invited the bard to visit the winery, promising all the wine he could drink. It was meant as a polite gesture—nothing more. But the bard had taken it seriously and was now paying a visit.