Venti seemed utterly oblivious to Rosalyne's face turning black as charcoal, her eyes dropping to absolute zero.
He continued reciting the historical lore with rhythmic, carefree theatricality.
"The Crimson Witch of Flames from five hundred years ago..."
"An ordinary flower, entirely unremarkable by the standards of living flora..."
"A burning crimson plume, collapsing in ceaseless, scorching embers..."
"A delicate vessel, through which molten heat flows in steady measure..."
"A traditional pointed witch's hat with a wide, flared brim..."
Lost in his own recitation, Venti failed to notice the surrounding leaders quietly shifting their chairs, retreating to a safe perimeter.
Tartaglia subtly flashed Venti a thumbs-up from the side, silently acknowledging a world-class display of pure, unadulterated recklessness.
Jean, Diluc, and the others kept their eyes lowered, fixing their attention strictly upon their notes as though they had suddenly gone deaf.
Every person present knew the history of Rosalyne and her past as the Crimson Witch of Flames.
They understood the deep-seated resentment she harbored toward Venti.
Watching the carefree bard poke mercilessly at her most agonizing wound, they knew she would be well within her rights to whip him raw.
None of them had any desire to step between them.
This was an intensely private grievance. Strictly speaking, Venti's prolonged absence five centuries ago had undeniably left his people to burn.
Furthermore, Rosalyne was a recognized hero who had incinerated her very life force to protect Mondstadt from the abyssal tide.
Getting entangled in their ancient feud was the last thing anyone wanted.
"The Crimson Witch..."
Venti continued with a bright, innocent hum.
"Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter..."
"Be silent!"
Rosalyne surged up from her seat, a scorching crimson whip materializing in her grip and cracking violently against the edge of the conference table right beside Venti.
Her gaze burned with bone-chilling hostility.
"You do not possess the right to utter that name!"
Venti swallowed hard, his eyes dropping toward the smoking, blackened gouge left on the polished timber inches from his arm. Pulling his neck into his collar, he offered a nervous, placating smile.
He had pushed the joke entirely too far.
"Ahem... it was merely a bit of light teasing. Please do not take it to heart!"
"When did I ever grant you permission to joke with me?"
Rosalyne leaned forward, her voice sharp and suffocatingly intense.
She had despised the bard from the start. For him to casually dredge up the tragedy of five centuries ago as casual parlor humor was unforgivable.
Did he truly believe that months of joint development in this realm meant she had forgotten how he abandoned his people, leaving her no choice but to burn her own mortal flesh to save Mondstadt?
Venti cast a frantic, pleading look toward Ryen, who merely rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"You reap what you sow. That loose tongue of yours was bound to catch fire eventually."
Regarding the tragedy of five centuries past, after spending months together developing this world, Rosalyne had managed a fragile, professional coexistence with Venti.
In truth, assigning absolute blame for that era was impossible.
Venti had been incapacitated, unable to return in time.
Rosalyne, consumed by grief and duty, had chosen to incinerate her life.
Neither choice sprang from malice. At its core, Rosalyne's hatred stemmed from the bitter feeling that her god had abandoned his flock.
Even knowing the calamity was tied to Celestia, he remained the Anemo Archon. When ruin descended, he had been absent, and that alone was enough for her to despise him.
The purer her faith had once burned, the deeper her resentment ran today.
She tolerated his presence only out of loyalty to the Tsaritsa and the strategic demands of developing this realm.
That tolerance did not mean forgiveness.
For Venti to poke fun at that agonizing sacrifice was dancing carelessly across an open wound.
Venti raised both hands in immediate surrender, his voice laced with sheepish apology.
"I was in the wrong! I apologize! Truly, I am deeply sorry! I should never have made such a joke!"
The Tsaritsa rested a calming hand on Rosalyne's wrist, whispering a few quiet words. Rosalyne shot Venti one final, murderous glare before dispersing the fiery whip from her palm.
"I have no use for a belated, hollow apology. Save your remorse for the souls who perished in the ash five centuries ago!"
She could not resist letting a final, venomous remark lash across the table.
Ryen shook his head helplessly, turning his gaze toward her.
"Let the heat dissipate for now. Our focus today is the Genshin Impact module. You know as well as anyone that Venti has been an erratic bard for thousands of years."
Meeting Ryen's gentle, steady gaze, the hostility in Rosalyne's chest softened. Averting her eyes slightly, she murmured in a low tone.
"My apologies. I lost my composure."
Ryen waved a hand casually.
"Do not dwell on it. Unreliable as Venti appears on the surface, he is not entirely heartless."
"He failed in his duties back then, certainly, but he was not indifferent to the tragedy."
"Venti told me previously that although he returned late and grievously wounded, he still managed to preserve the lingering souls of several heroes who fell in that battle."
"Including the Knight of Boreas, Rostam."
"He simply remained uncertain whether heroes who laid down their lives to protect their homeland would truly wish to be pulled back into the mortal coil."
"Mondstadt is a realm founded upon freedom. Moreover, those knights were mortal humans, not immortal gods."
"Resurrecting them five centuries after their time carries profound complications, which is why Venti has hesitated all this time."
"If you wish for it, he can channel the power of a Totem of Rebirth to bring Rostam back to life."
Venti nodded vigorously, eager to mend the rift.
"Rostam's soul rests safely with me. I have spent these past weeks wrestling with the dilemma, wondering if dragging him into a world five hundred years removed from his own would truly bring him peace."
"To atone for my offense, I can place his soul into your hands today. Whether he walks this earth once more will be entirely your decision."
"After all, he was your beloved..."
Before the word could leave his lips, another wave of searing heat cracked across the air, forcing Venti to duck backward with a yelp. He looked at her in complete exasperation.
"I just offered to return his soul to you! Why are you still trying to strike me?!"
"What right do you have to broadcast my private affairs to the world?!"
Rosalyne glared at him, though her eyes darted briefly, self-consciously toward Ryen out of the corner of her vision.
Ryen, however, showed no interest in their interpersonal history. Having finished his words of comfort, he had already turned back toward Ganyu and the others, casually sharing snacks.
Venti spread his arms wide, utterly bewildered.
"Fine, fine, I will keep my mouth sealed. His soul is in my keeping; whenever you want it, it is yours."
Rosalyne kept her icy gaze locked onto him.
"Who permitted you to discuss my private past with others in the first place?"
"What?" Venti blinked blankly. "You are angry over that? Women truly are the most baffling creatures in existence..."
Catching sight of the heat flaring in her eyes again, Venti raised his hands in defense.
"No, listen! The story of the Crimson Witch and the Knight Rostam has been common knowledge across Mondstadt for centuries! I did not invent a single detail! I was simply trying to mend an ancient romance!"
Desperate for support, Venti shot frantic glances toward Jean and Diluc, silently begging them to intervene.
Jean let out a soft, weary breath. Having the sovereign deity of her nation behave like this brought a faint flush of embarrassment to her cheeks.
"Miss Rosalyne, the ballad of the Crimson Witch and Knight Rostam is widely celebrated across Mondstadt. Lord Barbatos did not spread the tale with malicious intent."
"We hold immense reverence for the devotion shared between you two. Lord Barbatos has offered his sincerest apologies and provided the greatest restitution possible. If you wish to revive your beloved, you may approach him at any time."
"Please, forgive his thoughtless words."
Jean's plea was earnest and deeply respectful, yet it seemed to act like a spark upon dry kindling, sending fresh fury into Rosalyne's expression as she turned her glare directly onto the Acting Grand Master.
"My affairs require no management from your Knights! Does your celebrated City of Freedom govern its citizens by prying into their private sorrows?!"
At that remark, Lisa's teasing smile cooled.
Watching Venti get put in his place was fine entertainment, but lashing out at Jean crossed a line.
Lisa narrowed her emerald eyes, resting her chin on her hand as she spoke with smooth, deliberate edge.
"Miss Rosalyne seems exceptionally heated today. One has to wonder whether this fury is directed at Lord Barbatos, or at the memory of your past lover."
"The romance between the Witch and the Knight is a celebrated tragedy of our history. Is it truly such a shameful tale to speak of?"
"Your legendary devotion is sung across every tavern in Mondstadt."
"Could it be that five centuries later, Miss Rosalyne's heart has wandered elsewhere?"
Rosalyne stiffened, a flash of panic darting through her eyes as she snapped her head toward Lisa.
"You!"
Lisa raised a brow, holding her gaze with cool provocation before leaning back and softly tucking herself against Ryen's shoulder with an exaggerated, fragile sigh.
"Darling, look at her. She is glaring at me so fiercely. Your poor librarian is terrified..."
Ryen rolled his eyes, resting a hand on her hair with an amused shake of his head.
"Must you act like such a shameless little vixen?"
Despite the mild scolding, his touch remained gentle and fond.
Even if she was playing the dramatic coquette, she was his own companion, and he had no objection to indulging her performance.
"Enough, let us put an end to this detour. No more bickering; we still have the remainder of the module to cover."
Ryen turned back toward Rosalyne.
"Venti made a tasteless joke, he has formally apologized, and the soul of your knight is available for resurrection whenever you choose. That serves as his restitution."
"As for discussing your past, the history is well-known across Teyvat, though his timing was undeniably poor."
"If you wish to settle further accounts with him, do so in private after our meeting concludes. For now, allow me to finish the briefing."
Rosalyne parted her lips, eager to speak, but the Tsaritsa gently pressed a hand over hers, offering a subtle, warning glance. Swallowing her words, Rosalyne lowered her gaze and fell silent.
Within the Five-Nation Coalition, mutual cooperation was seamless, yet personal histories remained deeply tangled. Rosalyne's absolute disdain for Venti was permanent, but that was a private matter.
Ryen cared only for the deployment of the module.
"Where were we before the interruption?"
Ryen rubbed his brow, his train of thought slightly derailed by the argument.
Lisa glanced at Rosalyne, noting the lingering tension in the woman's shoulders, and curled her lips into a quiet, knowing smirk. Leaning in close to Ryen's ear, she murmured in a sweet, airy tone.
"We had just concluded our review of the artifact sets, darling."
Ryen glanced down at her with a raised brow. "Why are you being so excessively sweet today?"
"Why, does my darling find it unpleasant?"
Ryen chuckled, leaning down to press a light kiss against her cheek. "Even if you are being a troublesome vixen, you are still my favorite troublesome vixen."
Lisa flashed a triumphant glance toward Rosalyne. To avenge Jean's honor, she subtly shaped her lips into a silent, unmistakable phrase.
You stand no chance.
The silent words struck Rosalyne with far greater precision than any of Venti's careless teasing, making her jaw clench tightly.
Lisa did not bother pressing further. She disliked seeing Jean treated with hostility, and lingering resentment from their days in Mondstadt still remained.
More importantly, Lisa possessed sharp intuition. She could see quite clearly that Rosalyne harbored nascent feelings for Ryen.
It was hardly surprising. Given Ryen's strength, character, and generosity, most women who spent time around him developed deep affection. Ryen's open-hearted nature was something Lisa knew intimately.
Yet Ryen possessed firm, unyielding boundaries.
He refused to entertain those who appeared underage, regardless of their actual chronological age.
And he harbored zero interest in widows.
In Ryen's eyes, Rosalyne was the quintessential mourning widow bound to a fallen knight.
That realization brought a surge of private delight to Lisa's chest as she affectionately brushed her cheek against his arm.
Ryen shook his head at her sudden clinginess, shifting his focus back to the primary agenda.
The earlier spat had broken his carefully constructed momentum. He had originally planned to guide the room smoothly toward the reveal of the Morax raid boss, with his recording camera already prepped to capture Zhongli's horrified expression for posterity.
Gathering his cadence, Ryen smiled warmly.
"Regarding weaponry... or more precisely, our native divine armaments."
"The roster available within this module is far more comprehensive than anything you can imagine."
"To put it simply: with minimal development, universal access to five-star divine weapons will become an everyday reality for every single person."