To be honest, Crepus had a rather vivid impression of that bard. Not only did the bard play the harp and sing songs hundreds or even thousands of years old, but he also spoke with remarkable knowledge about wine—from its origins to its brewing, from tasting to evaluating quality. He carried himself like a true master, and even Crepus Ragnvindr, the owner of Dawn Winery, found himself respecting him.
So Crepus didn't dislike the bard. In fact, he had a certain fondness for him. Since the bard had taken the time to visit, Crepus figured he might as well invite him in for some fresh wine. It wouldn't be much of an inconvenience—surely even a wine-loving bard wouldn't come mooching every single day, right?
With that thought, a smile appeared on Crepus's face. "That fellow is indeed a friend I recently made—a good man. Please, show him in."
He immediately instructed the butler to invite the visiting bard inside.
Meanwhile, his friend, hearing that someone else had arrived, said, "Since you have another guest, I'll take my leave. Don't forget to let me know when the new wine is ready."
Crepus smiled. "Of course, of course."
After his friend left, the butler returned within minutes, this time leading the bard to Crepus's presence.
The moment the bard saw Crepus, his eyes lit up as if meeting a long-lost friend. He said with great grievance, "Crepus, I've finally found you! I came to visit the afternoon we parted, but you weren't home, and your servants chased me away. I came again yesterday, and they chased me away again. Today, I finally made it in."
Getting into Dawn Winery was truly a challenge. But the moment he smelled the rich aroma of wine, all his grievances vanished. Like a true drunkard, his face lit up with delight.
"Crepus, bring out your finest wine! Let me help you taste it."
Without any pretense, he sat down and demanded Crepus's best wine. The two drank to their hearts' content.
Seeing this, Crepus could only look resigned. This bard really made himself at home.
Not only Crepus, but the butler also frowned, tempted to throw the impertinent bard out. But since Crepus had spoken, the butler had to obey.
Smiling, Crepus said, "Butler, bring a jug of our newest wine. I'll share it with the bard."
The butler nodded reluctantly. "As you wish."
The bard eagerly interjected, "Eh heh, one jug? How could that be enough for the two of us? At least two!"
Crepus chuckled. "Then—two jugs it is."
The butler could only comply. "Yes, sir."
A few minutes later, he returned with two jugs of the newly brewed wine—a new vintage from Dawn Winery. Catching the scent, the bard grew impatient. "Crepus, you are truly a genius at winemaking, a pride of Mondstadt."
Crepus: "…"
A winemaking genius? The pride of Mondstadt? Compared to that, what he really wanted was swordsmanship talent—to become a great knight like his Ragnvindr ancestors. That was his true desire.
The two drank and discussed winemaking techniques. Before long, both jugs were empty.
The bard grinned. "Excellent wine. If only we had two more jugs."
Crepus was also tipsy. "Drink as much as you like. Butler, bring two more jugs."
The butler, seeing Crepus already a little drunk, didn't want him to continue but couldn't refuse. He brought two more jugs.
And so it went—two jugs after two jugs. Before long, the table was covered in empty wine jugs. Finally, Crepus passed out.
The bard had finally had his fill. "Burp—"
"Excellent."
It had been a long time since he'd enjoyed such a satisfying drink. Even the bard couldn't help but sigh—this Master Crepus was truly a good man, just like his Ragnvindr ancestors.
Since that was the case, he might as well help him out.
So, looking at Crepus slumped over the table, the bard let out a tipsy laugh. "Thank you for your generous hospitality, Master Crepus. As a token of my gratitude, I'll leave this sword manual for you. Oh, and let me give you a tip—this manual is better suited for young Diluc."
With that, he handed the butler a tattered, worn-out sword manual.
The butler stared at it in disbelief. It was ragged, barely held together, and even smelled faintly of rat droppings. Had this been picked out of a rubbish heap? And this was supposed to be a gift? How rude!
Though annoyed, the butler held his tongue—this bard was, after all, Master Crepus's friend. He could only reply coldly, "Understood. I'll give it to the master when he wakes."
The bard reminded him, "Don't forget to tell Master Crepus that this manual is perfect for young Diluc."
The butler replied impatiently, "Fine."
He began to escort the bard out.
But the bard spoke again. "Eh heh, you're kicking me out already? How cruel. I gave you such a precious gift—surely I deserve something in return? How about a few more jugs of your finest wine? I wouldn't say no."
The mention of fine wine made his eyes glaze over with longing.
The butler was now genuinely annoyed. First a ragged manual that looked like it came from a dump, and now he wanted a return gift? Was he dreaming?
He snapped, "There's none left. You've drunk it all."
In truth, even the bard couldn't have emptied Dawn Winery's cellars in one sitting. Hearing the butler's impatient tone, the bard didn't press further. Instead, he smiled.
"Ah, all gone? What a pity. When Crepus wakes, please tell him to stock up on more wine. I'll be back."