Bard for Hire

Paimon's voice bounced off the walls of Galehaven Comics as she darted inside, her enthusiasm uncontained. "Harlan, we're back with a new friend!"

Wendy followed Lumine and Paimon, his sharp eyes tracing the shop's modern lines with a mix of awe and intrigue.

The polished shelves, cushioned seats, and vibrant portraits felt foreign yet inviting, a stark departure from Mondstadt's weathered stone.

As Barbatos, his divine senses prickled—a subtle, formidable energy pulsed within these walls, warning off any would-be troublemakers.

Harlan sipped his tea behind the counter, his smile warm and steady. "Good to see you again, and welcome to our latest guest."

Lumine tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her golden eyes. "Boss, we spotted Barbara leaving with a fluffy white creature—was that one of your rewards?"

Paimon nodded vigorously, her hands clasped in delight. "It was adorable—no girl could say no to something that cute, unless it's a creepy crawler!"

Harlan set his cup down, his tone casual yet precise. "That was Snowballmon, an infant Digimon Barbara earned from Digimon: First Frontier."

He knew keeping his customers hooked meant feeding their interest, and a glimpse of the shop's wonders did just that.

"Digimon: First Frontier?" Lumine repeated, her voice lifting with excitement at the fresh title's arrival.

Paimon's face lit up, her eagerness spilling over. "A new comic already—I'm dying to dive in right now!"

Their joy faltered as Harlan's one-book-a-day rule loomed, a restriction that drew a collective sigh from their lips.

Paimon zipped to Harlan, her expression pleading as she hovered before him. "Boss, I brought you a new customer—can't you stretch the rules so we can read more each day?"

Lumine chimed in, her voice earnest. "The stories are too amazing to cap at one—please, just this once, for bringing Wendy?"

Harlan pinched Paimon's cheek, his refusal unwavering. "No bending the rules—it's set by the system, not me."

He'd relish having them linger daily, racking up visits, but the system's iron grip held him as much as it did them.

Paimon's pout deepened, her soft cheek a fleeting comfort as Harlan shifted his gaze to Wendy's quiet figure.

"Welcome, Wendy, Mondstadt's most celebrated bard," he said, meeting the bard's probing stare with calm assurance.

He'd caught Wendy's earlier scrutiny but brushed it off—within these walls, he reigned supreme, untouchable by any threat.

Wendy flashed a charming grin, his tone light. "Word is your comics are a delight, so I thought I'd see for myself."

Beneath his ease, doubt churned—Harlan seemed a mere mortal, devoid of elemental spark, yet this shop's magic defied that simplicity.

Surely a man crafting such wonders wielded power beyond even a wind god's ken, he reasoned silently.

Harlan gestured to the shelves with a practiced sweep. "We've got One Piece: East Sea Saga, Cardcaptor Sakura's Magic, and Digimon: First Frontier—100,000 Mora per read, one a day."

Repeating the spiel grated on him, stirring thoughts of a sign or assistant to spare his breath.

Wendy's jaw slackened, his voice spiking in disbelief. "A hundred thousand Mora—for just one read?!"

Paimon's square-side chatter had skipped that detail, leaving him reeling at the price tag now thrust upon him.

"This is a pickle," he groaned, rubbing his temples as the cost sank its claws into his bardic pride.

Objectively, 100,000 Mora for a shot at rewards like Lumine's wind powers was a bargain, a steal even.

But as Barbatos, his purse stayed stubbornly empty—earnings from songs vanished in tavern tabs as fast as they came.

Paimon tilted her head, suspicion narrowing her eyes. "Wait, are you saying you're broke?"

"Hey!" Wendy chirped, his signature tic slipping out before he could catch it.

"Hey what?!" Paimon snapped, baffled by his habitual exclamation as Harlan stifled a chuckle.

The phrase echoed a past life's meme, a nostalgic tickle Harlan hadn't expected to relive here.

Wendy turned to Lumine, his grin pleading. "Honorary Knight, how about a loan—I'll repay you with hard work, promise?"

Fresh off saving Mondstadt, she had to be flush with Mora—or so he hoped.

Paimon's eyes bulged, her voice shrill. "What?! You're trying to mooch off us?!"

"Y-you can't give it to him, Lumine, or we'll run dry for new comics!" she added, panic lacing her plea.

Lumine hesitated, then shot Wendy an apologetic glance—200,000 Mora daily for her and Paimon already strained their haul.

More tasks loomed to keep their comic fund alive, leaving no room for charity.

Wendy sighed, pivoting to Harlan with a sheepish shrug. "Boss, how about credit—just this once?"

"Pay first, read after—that's the rule," Harlan replied, shaking his head with unshakable resolve.

"Rough day," Wendy muttered, his double rejection stinging as he racked his brain for options.

Borrowing from Morax in Liyue crossed his mind—the Geo Archon minted Mora, surely he had piles to spare.

But the trek was long, and time too precious, so he shelved that plan with a reluctant grimace.

Then Paimon's words sparked a flash of genius, his face brightening. "Boss, what if I work here—no pay, just free reads?"

He leaned forward, eyes gleaming with hope, pitching his bardic fame as Mondstadt's three-time favorite.

His songs could spread Galehaven Comics' name far and wide, a boon to any shopkeeper's trade.

"An employee?" Harlan mused, his brow creasing as he weighed the absurdity of a wind god on his payroll.

Wouldn't Barbatos risk ridicule if his divine mask slipped mid-shift?

Wendy shrugged inwardly—it'd be Wendy the bard working, not Barbatos, so where's the harm?

"System, can this fly?" Harlan queried silently, testing the proposal against the system's rigid framework.

The reply flickered back: "Viable, but limited to one employee."

Harlan nodded to himself—Lumine had drawn a few high-profile guests, but the shop's fame stayed small-scale.

Wendy's voice, renowned and resonant, could echo beyond alleys, hastening his task of thirty customers.

A wind god hawking comics in person? The thought amused him, a coup too tempting to pass up.

Still, he wouldn't cave easily—Wendy needed to earn it. "Alright, temporary gig—if your promotion flops, you're back to paying."

Wendy's face split into a grin, relief washing over him. "No one spins a tale like me—consider it done, boss, thank you!"

Paimon gaped, her voice rising. "Wait, he gets to read for free just like that?!"

She and Lumine exchanged stunned looks—they'd paved the way, yet Wendy reaped the reward.

"I'm Mondstadt's top bard—perks come with the title," Wendy teased, winking at Paimon's scowl.

Paimon huffed, her fists balling. "You're so annoying—I'm dubbing you 'Songster' from now on!"

The sting of his daily 100,000-Mora savings—her lost feasts—fueled her petty revenge.

Harlan cut in, his tone brisk. "Enough—comics are on the shelf, Wendy, one a day, pick your poison."

"Got it!" Wendy chirped, drifting to the shelves with a hum, then pausing. "Boss, which one's got that Gourmet Tablecloth?"

"That's in Doraemon—not here yet," Harlan replied, settling back with a shake of his head.

Wendy nodded, unfazed—time would bring it, and he could wait.

After a beat, he chose Digimon: First Frontier, the newest tale promising fresh thrills for his bardic soul.

Across town, Barbara reached the Knights' headquarters, cradling Snowballmon with a grin. "Jean's going to flip when she sees you, Snowball."

She hurried inside, her steps light with the joy of sharing this comic-born marvel.

***

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