Snezhnaya, Zapolyarny Palace.
Around a coffin, the figures standing nearby were all silent.
The reason was simple: the one lying in that coffin was their colleague.
Rosalyne, the Eighth Fatui Harbinger, La Signora, had t a tragic end in Inazuma, purged by the Raiden Shogun. Only a pile of ashes, suspected to be her cremated remains, had been transported back to Snezhnaya.
Even if Inazuma had tried to deceive them with a pile of li, they wouldn't have been able to tell the difference.
What infuriated Snezhnaya even more was that Inazuma refused to take any responsibility for the incident.
This is outrageous! At least offer so compensation!
These were the thoughts swirling in the mind of Pantalone, the Ninth Harbinger, known as "The Rich," who had already paid a massive sum in war reparations to Liyue.
In truth, Pantalone wasn't alone in this sentint. Among all the Harbingers present, perhaps only The Jester, Pierro, felt genuine grief over Rosalyne's death. The others were rely going through the motions.
They considered their re presence a show of respect—after all, so Harbingers hadn't even bothered to attend.
"Where are The Doctor Dottore, 'The Knave' Arlecchino, 'The Balladeer' Scaramouche, and 'Childe' Tartaglia? Why aren't they here?" Pierro asked.
Hearing this, the other Harbingers' expressions twitched, barely maintaining their composure.
There were only eleven Harbingers in total. With one dead and four absent, only about half were present today. No wonder the seats felt so empty.
Finally, Pantalone, the most well-inford among them, stepped forward to answer Pierro's question.
"We've contacted Dottore, but he declined to return, citing urgent matters. His Segnts also seem preoccupied."
"Arlecchino has vanished since Fontaine issued her wanted order, her whereabouts unknown, and we can't reach her."
"Scaramouche reportedly seized the Raiden Shogun's Gnosis before Rosalyne could claim it, but he hasn't turned it over. He's likely defected, and his current location is unknown."
"Tartaglia is recovering from injuries in Fontaine and unable to return."
After hearing Pantalone's words, The Jester took a deep breath, which, combined with Columbina's soft snoring, actually sounded sowhat pleasant.
The Jester abruptly slamd his hand against the coffin before him, as if about to speak, but the gesture ultimately dissolved into an emotional sigh.
"I know you all have your own agendas, but rember, you are still beholden to the Fatui. Do nothing that would disappoint the Tsaritsa."
After this subtle reprimand, The Jester began the funeral proceedings.
Following a speech vowing to avenge Rosalyne, The Jester abruptly changed the subject, asking the others how Scaramouche should be dealt with.
"Since Scaramouche has chosen to betray us, who among you is willing to track down this traitor, purge him in the na of the Fatui, and retrieve the Gnosis?"
The Jester's gaze swept across the assembled figures, but no one spoke.
"Why not send that Tartaglia fellow? Doesn't he enjoy field missions?" Pantalone suggested just as The Jester was considering singling soone out.
"Yes, Tartaglia would be perfect. It's a chance for him to redeem himself," Captain Capitano added, supporting Pantalone's proposal and leaving The Jester, Piero, speechless.
Tartaglia is already critically wounded. Sending him after Scaramouche would be suicide!
"Choose soone else. Tartaglia is unsuitable," Piero said slowly, his tone brooking no argunt, offering no further explanation.
Seeing his resolve, Pantalone and Capitano wisely fell silent. Pulcinella, The Rooster, watched them from the side with a smile, though his gaze held a dangerous edge.
Tartaglia is his recruit, his man. Pantalone and Capitano's actions have undoubtedly angered him.
"I'll go."
A sudden voice broke the silence. Everyone froze, startled to realize who had spoken.
Piero frowned deeply, staring at Sandrone, The Marionette, the notorious hobody. He could scarcely believe his ears—she had actually volunteered for a field mission.
In the past, even getting her to leave the city had been a challenge, let alone travel to another nation.
As for the surveying work, Sandrone had always entrusted it entirely to her subordinates and the Autonomous chanisms she had developed.
"Are you sure?"
"Mm-hmm. I have so personal business to attend to abroad, so I might as well keep an eye on Scaramouche's movents while I'm there."
Hearing Sandrone's explanation, Piero nodded. At this point, there was no better option.
Although Sandrone's rank was below Scaramouche's, her expertise lay not in combat but in Clockwork Technology. If she were to unleash her full capabilities, she could easily give Scaramouche a run for his money.
Reflecting on this, the idea of sending Tartaglia seed utterly impractical.
"Then I'll entrust this matter to you. I hope you can bring back what the Tsaritsa requires as soon as possible."
After giving his final instructions, Piero left imdiately.
By then, Columbina had finally woken up and staggered out, her disoriented state raising concerns that she might be vulnerable to exploitation.
Next ca Capitano. He had been extrely busy lately, deeply involved in the Pyro conflicts in Natlan. His return was a carefully carved-out exception.
After all, he felt it was his duty to see a fellow harbinger to their final journey, and his absence at such a mont would be unacceptable.
If he had known so many people were missing, he would have stayed away entirely.
Pantalone turned to face Sandrone, a fake smile spreading across his face as he approached her.
But just as Pantalone reached Sandrone and was about to speak, she abruptly commanded the Autonomous chanism behind her to carry her past him, away from the scene.
Pantalone paused, montarily taken aback, but quickly recovered. Unoffended by Sandrone's abrupt departure, he chuckled lightly to defuse the awkwardness before leaving himself.
Pulcinella shook his head, about to leave as well, when he suddenly rembered he had forgotten to inform The Jester earlier about his decision to halt work in Snezhnaya for half a day to commorate Rosalyne.
Is it too late to tell him now?
It wasn't too late, but Pulcinella believed this was the will of fate, and fate could not be defied. So, the holiday would be canceled after all...
Back in her quarters, Sandrone frowned, recalling the intelligence report from her informant.
A ship capable of breaching the World Barrier—Noah's Ark?
A highly integrated communication device—the Mobile phone?
A missile that detonates with a mushroom cloud—the Pneumousia Obliteration Bomb?
No way. When did Fontaine beco this absurd?
She was a genius in this field, yet even from the re description, she knew she could never replicate such a weapon.
Could the Fontaine Research Institute really have developed this without her? Or was it Rene?
While Rene had made unparalleled advancents in life sciences, in Clockwork Technology, she outstripped him by miles!
So it had to be fake. All of it!
Sandrone suspected her subordinates had been hoodwinked. After careful consideration, she decided to personally investigate Fontaine.
She refused to believe anyone could surpass her in Clockwork Technology. Fontaine must be spreading false information!
She wouldn't believe it until she saw it with her own eyes!
And that Noah's Ark spacecraft had supposedly been destroyed? What an absurd coincidence!
In any case, this was the perfect opportunity to probe Fontaine's claims. She had an excellent excuse, and no one would suspect her true motive: her refusal to acknowledge soone else's superior talent, which had driven her to investigate Fontaine herself.
But there was sothing even more troubling. Rene now seed to possess a completely new power, one so absurdly potent it defied comprehension.
Perhaps she could attempt to crack the code and use it on herself to enhance her own strength.
In any case, she had much to do and needed to depart as soon as possible.
As for pursuing Scaramouche and reclaiming the Gnosis, Sandrone dismissed any urgency. After all, only two Gnosis had been collected so far; there was plenty of ti.
She would attend to her own affairs first.
If her strength truly improved, she would certainly teach Scaramouche, that insufferable chatterbox, a lesson he would never forget.
With this thought, Sandrone imdiately instructed the Autonomous chanism behind her to pack her luggage.
Two hours later, Sandrone boarded a ship bound for Fontaine.
As she contemplated her impending reunion with Rene, Sandrone felt a mix of joy and a sense of destiny.
They had grown up together in the sa orphanage, inseparable friends and rivals since childhood, both possessing extraordinary talents far surpassing those of ordinary people.
However, she had devoted herself to Clockwork Technology, while Rene had pursued biological research.
This divergence had created a rift between them, eventually driving them to opposite sides and culminating in war.
During that war, she nearly died. After narrowly escaping death, she realized her own shortcomings and devoted herself to rigorous research within the vast Fatui organization.
Now that so much ti had passed, it was ti to deliver a technological shock to the obsolete Rene.
Sandrone was brimming with confidence. Back then, Rene might have had a slight advantage, but things were different now. She had grown far beyond her forr self.
Besides, Rene had been slumbering in so hidden place for centuries, long since abandoned by the march of progress and reduced to a relic of a bygone era.
Perhaps these false rumors were intentionally leaked by Rene to confuse her, a desperate attempt to avoid admitting defeat.
Her current abilities would surely make Rene's jaw drop in awe!
This ti, she would make Rene utterly submit to her genius!
As Sandrone's mind raced with these grand visions, the Autonomous chanism standing behind her briefly flashed its red eyes before returning to its usual dormant state, as if nothing had happened.
The Autonomous chanism's eyes remained fixed on Sandrone's back, its massive fra silently shielding her from any potential attacks or blind spots.
This was its purpose, its very reason for existence.
To protect the person before it from harm...
-
"Co on, this is a prison, not a playground for your amusent."
Wriothesley looked at Neuvillette, his face full of exasperation.
"I'm a prisoner now. What's wrong with entering the prison?"
Wriothesley stared at Neuvillette's serene expression, inwardly growing more speechless.
What's wrong? Everything's wrong!
"You really don't need to be so hard on yourself. You've already done so much."
Wriothesley tried to persuade Neuvillette, eager to get rid of this imposing figure. I can't possibly keep such a heavyweight here. Better send him away quickly.
"If those in power were to offer such explanations to the people for every minor mistake, the administration of Fontaine would grind to a halt."
"I've considered that. Furina and Focalors will manage Fontaine's governance well."
"After all, they can't rely on forever. They are the true Hydro Archons of Fontaine."
Neuvillette spoke calmly, but Wriothesley watched him with a probing gaze.
"Neuvillette, are you running away from sothing?"
"Is it a problem with those two?"
After a mont of silence, Neuvillette sighed.
"Your intuition remains as sharp as ever."
With Neuvillette's admission, Wriothesley's lingering doubts finally dissolved.
"No wonder you suddenly joined this Judgnt. Since it's between those two, I won't pry further."
"The Primordial Sea only recently receded, and the factories in the Old Fortress of ropide are still recovering. I doubt there are many suitable jobs for you right now."
"How about this? Go to the infirmary and assist the Head Nurse."
"She's been missing you a lot lately."
"Sigewinne? Alright, I understand."
After hearing Wriothesley's arrangents, Neuvillette nodded.
"Actually, there's another reason besides that. There's a matter I must address imdiately."
"Participating in this Judgnt grants the necessary ti."
Hearing Neuvillette's words, Wriothesley nodded, understanding he was referring to the individuals imprisoned deep within the Fortress of ropide.
Indeed, those beings were a constant source of trouble. It was best to resolve the matter sooner rather than later.
Previously, Fontaine had been in crisis, leaving them with no energy to deal with these matters. But now, with the crisis resolved, they could finally plan properly.
Of course, this matter had little to do with Wriothesley, nor did he find it particularly interesting.
"In that case, I'll provide you with as much assistance as possible. As for what happens after that, I won't interfere."
"For accommodations, arranging a room next to his should be acceptable, right?"
Neuvillette nodded, bid farewell to Wriothesley, and headed toward the cell where Dottore No. 6 was imprisoned.
Watching Neuvillette's departing figure, Wriothesley shook his head.
Co to think of it, when Furina stayed at the Fortress of ropide for a month, the Old Fortress of ropide fell.
And now that Neuvillette is staying for a month as well, will sothing unexpected happen to the Fortress of ropide again?
That shouldn't be possible. The Cult of No. 6 has been completely eradicated, and the Prophecy crisis has been averted.
Wriothesley stroked his chin. Yet, inexplicably, the more he thought about it, the more uneasy he felt...
-
Spy- I wonder how accurate Sandrone will be considering this ca out way before Nod-Krai
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