Chapter Text
It all went wrong. Deeply wrong. Everything was aflame and it was not her doing. As smoke billowed to a dark sky, so did Arlecchino’s eyes cloud over, suppressing the urge to fall to her knees. Blood poured from her abdomen, a fresh sword wound cut clean through it that burned hot like the world around her.
Lumine .
The infamous traveller, the wandering swordsman from the great beyond. The knave had to give her credit, she was nice. She and her little floating friend had tried so hard to ally with Arlecchino, yet the Harbinger knew it would betray the trust of the Tsaritsa. Lumine was an enemy of Snezhnaya, Lumine had struck down entire legions of Fatui on her aimless global quest. There had to be something beyond that righteous face, beyond her endless patience and…
Arlecchino knew the Fatui were in the wrong, she had had inklings before but never a proven example. Now, as blazing wood embers drifted lazily over the land, Arlecchino had irrefutable evidence. Il Dottore was dead, the Fatui incursion into Sumeru in full retreat on all fronts, and the whole world’s eyes on the snowy country. Another Harbinger is gone, this time due to personal hubris. The knave wanted the absolute peace the Tsaritsa promised; not like this, not through this absolute aggression.
Her own Delusion bit at her side, its impossibly cold power managing to resist the heat and keep her wound in stasis as she limped to safety. Subterfuge be damned, the whole operation in Sumeru was a failure; Arlecchino had had to step in and halt Lumine’s progress so her men could get away. ‘Live to fight another day’ she had told her vanguard, the cliché line unbelievable to either of them as the seemingly unlimited power of that girl loomed ever closer. Still, she was alive. Unfortunately, she was alive. Ajax’s public failure with the rising of Osial was downplayed by the Tsaritsa even though it effectively barred the Fatui any overt access to Liyue, but that was largely in part due to his reputation and favour with Her Imperial Majesty. Arlecchino had no such favour. Surely, she would be put to death.
Columbina .
By now, news of the happenings in Sumeru had most certainly reached Snezhnyigrad, and while the general public fell under the censorship of the Pravitelstvuyushchiy Senat, the Harbingers were under no such blockage. Columbina would know of her failure. Would she hate her? No. Would she know the consequences just as much as the knave did? Yes . Arlecchino didn’t know how she was going to show her face to her beloved after this extraordinary defeat.
To be fair, she had other options. Her sword hung uselessly at her side, one good swipe of it across her stomach would effectively end her misery before it began. Her Delusion, as helpful as it was in keeping her alive, could also be turned against her if she so wished, freezing her blood in place or letting her slip effortlessly into hypothermia. It would be so easy . Yet, at the other end of her mind, she knew it would be fruitless. If word made it back to the Motherland as to the cause of her death, Columbina would unquestionably resent her. That was something Arlecchino could not die knowing.
The time for tears was foregone, pointless in their effort as they evaporated away against one’s cheeks. There would be a time for Arlecchino to let herself go and break down, but not while she was still overseas. Not while the fighting force of an entire country was out for her head. If there was to be any spark of hope for her returning to the Motherland, it would be that the harbour her ship was docked at was still nominally under Fatui control.
Dripping a mixture of water and blood, Arlecchino entered the gates of the harbour to eerie silence. The shops she had seen overflowing with goods upon their arrival were locked up tight and the knave could feel eyes prying on her from the cracks of collapsed buildings and the gaps between blinds. Were it not that her battlefield prestige in the campaign preceded her, she was an easy target. Still, no one dared approach her as she staggered forwards towards the tall masts on the sea.
The same silence continued on her course to the ship, only breaking as the shouts of orders from aboard carried on the wind to her. She knew the captain was gravely injured, a longbow arrow having carved its way through his thigh and narrowly missing his artery as the lone warship had ended what little of Sumeru’s navy opposed them after Il Dottore’s actions further inland. She did not know who would take command in his place, but Arlecchino knew she would immediately pass on the duty if it fell to her; she simply could not deal with naval captaincy in her condition.
Much as the eyes of the Sumeran civilians caught her in their gaze, she could see the glowing irises of her soldiers piercing her from the gunports of the ship, its stark white hull blackened with ash and teeming with the tails of arrows. A weak wave from Arlecchino had two legionnaires quickly coming towards her, jumping down to the dock to aid her. With their assistance, she stumbled up the gangplank and put a hand to the foremast, centering herself before acknowledging anyone around her. While she was in her thoughts, an officer bearing the rank of unterleytenant came up and offered a crisp salute in contrast to his unkempt and scorched uniform.
“Ma’am, we’re just waiting for the Fifteenth Cicin Infantry Brigade to return from the mountains. Shall I call for medical attention?”
“No!” Arlecchino snapped, her eyes squeezing shut as the exertion put force on her wound. “No, just… just make sure my quarters are clear.” The unterleytenant watched her with uncertainty as his eyes darted down to the constant blood-water stream pooling on the deck.
“Y-yes ma’am, we kept them locked for the duration of the operation.”
“Thank you,” the knave grunted, nodding to both the officer and the two legionnaires that helped her. “My only order is that we cast off not a second after the last mage is aboard, understood?”
“Of course, ma’am.” A final salute from him effectively ended the conversation as Arlecchino stumbled below decks, grasping at the door to her cabin before finally getting it open. Shutting it as quickly as her near-delirious mind allowed her, she turned and fell forward, head impacting her bunk as the rest of her body slumped against the floor. Biting down as hard as she could on the sheets, the knave let out a blood-curdling scream while she channelled her Delusion to freeze the entire wound, a hard glaze prickling at frosted skin as icicles formed on the metal bed frame. Unconsciousness edged at her vision, the dark tinge almost overcoming her as she dragged her head down to look at the results. In its current state, Arlecchino could barely move herself, ice and torn muscles working against her body as she forced herself into the bunk properly. From outside her cabin, pained whimpers and moans could be heard long after her procedure was done. As she could feel the ship heave away from the dock, she turned onto her side and stared at the wall, her mind racing before narrowing down onto one cohesive thought.
Columbina. Columbina. Columbina…
-
Arlecchino was not entirely sure whether she had slept or not in the past three days. She felt somewhat rested, more so than the nights she had spent in tents near the battlefield, but it was up in the air as to whether that was true sleep or residual adrenaline. All she knew was that it took three days for her to be conscious of anything, present in her interactions. As soon as she was aware of everything, she had downed two entire ration allotments; according to the unterleytenant, who had apparently replaced the captain after he had passed from his injury, the knave had not eaten anything in that time. It tasted like nothing, both because of its flavourless profile and that Arlecchino was too far gone to care about her food in any significant manner.
The anaemic shore of Snezhnaya was fast approaching as the knave made her way back into the open air, the sweet, warm breeze of Sumeru replaced by the chilled wind she knew best. Pointed towers rose above the rest of everything as Snezhnyigrad’s glittering expanse lit up the otherwise black waters. Glancing around her, the rest of the ship was in a solemn sort of mood as sailors and soldiers alike took in their Motherland. There were less than half the numbers she knew to have been on the decks before the Sumeru incursion.
It was after sunset, the pale crescent above having risen hours earlier to cast its glow down on Snezhnaya. Arlecchino knew this was the Tsaritsa’s favourite time, the period in the day she addressed a majority of the visitors to her throne as she basked in the moonlight. So too would she stand in front of the great seat, eyes cast down as she gave her report to the imperatrix of the land. The Tsaritsa’s mercy was not something she would beg for, only hope for as her ostensible fate began to take hold as truth in Arlecchino’s mind.
The rest of the troops eventually made their way up to the main deck, the crowd still noticeably smaller as they arranged in parade fashion for their disembarkment ceremony. Already, muted tones of Snezhnaya’s anthem washed over the water to their ears, a crowd having formed at their berth. Overpowering the wind, a cold spike went down the knave’s back as she spotted a familiar form standing at the edge of the dock, hands clasped in front of her as her eyes searched for the tall woman. As soon as they made eye contact, they both froze, gazes locked together while the ship was tied down. The moment the gangplank was set, the band switched from the anthem to a quick march. Arlecchino let her body take over as she robotically started her stride, legs carrying her at the front of her division as orderly as she could in contrast to her outward appearance and internal strife.
The crowd didn’t help things at all. In typical imperial fashion, they were not informed of the true happenings in Sumeru, and presumed the soldiers coming off the ship were heroes. Uproarious cheers were belted into the night as they marched into the city. Quick steps cued Arlecchino to Columbina’s arrival, her face contorted with worry as she came up next to the knave.
“I heard what happened, are you okay?” she asked, eyes watching Arlecchino’s expression carefully as the taller woman’s jaw set.
“I’m fine,” she said curtly, “I’m on my way to see the Tsaritsa.”
“In your condition? Are you hur— Arkhonty, kakogo cherta! ” Columbina cut off her own sentence as she looked down, Arlecchino’s wound and blood still frozen against her.
“I’m,” the knave grunted in pain as each step pulled at the ice, “I’m fine . I need to get this done now or not at all.”
“Arlecchino,” Columbina pleaded, “she’s going to kill you. She was absolutely cross when the news of Dottore’s death reached the capital.”
“I know,” Arlecchino said simply, her eyes still trained forward as she continued up the road towards the towering palace of the Tsaritsa. “My fate is already sealed.”
“So this is it?” the damselette asked, the clouds of her breath in the cold air coming out at an ever-increasing frequency.
“Maybe,” Arlecchino held up a fist and called out to her men. “ Stoy! ” From there, each brigade split off in line to their respective barracks, leaving the two women alone in the middle of the grand promenade.
“What can you do?”
“Tell her the truth of everything,” the knave sighed, “honesty may sway her to keep me around.”
“That’s it ? Arlecchino, your life is on the line here, I can’t just…”
“I have to do this, I know she’s waiting for me. I—” the knave’s voice lifted an octave as she tried to control everything, “will you wait for me, little dove?” Knowing she was set on her course of action, Columbina momentarily stiffened before nodding, her eyes squeezed shut as errant drops traced dark lines down her face.
“Always and forevermore. Budʹ v bezopasnosti, lyubovʹ moya. ”
“I will. I’m sorry this is what I had to come back to you with, but my… failure has to be atoned.”
“You didn’t fail me ,” Columbina tugged at the knave’s hand.
“No, and I hope I never do. I love you, Columbina.”
“I love you, too.”
And then she was off, the air of Snezhnyigrad suddenly feeling foreign to her, hostile even, as she mounted the steps of the Zapolyarny Palace to see what would become of her.
-
“ Budʹte v pokoye , Arlecchino, you are home,” the Tsaritsa said, her voice laden with an unnatural sweetness as she regarded the knave from on high. While a smile was pointed at her, the rest of the imperatrix’s expression was that of a subdued glower.
“I am yours, my lady.”
“So you are,” the Tsaritsa grinned ominously, “what have you to report on the Sumeran campaign and the dealings of the late Il Dottore?”
For the next hours, well after the moon had set again and streaks of daylight came over the mountains, Arlecchino recounted every last detail of the collapsed operation, the misgivings she had had on Il Dottore’s leadership, and her own failure on the battlefield that forced the Fatui retreat. Like clockwork, her brain churned out point after point, dredging up all of the emotions she had felt in the recent days up to when she boarded her ship. Her Imperial Majesty was silent through the whole encounter, lips drawn in a line as she took in the personal account of a war half a world away.
“That is all there is, my lady,” Arlecchino finished, her eyes closed and her head bowed as she waited for an answer. Anything .
“You have done well, my Harbinger.” To say she was surprised would be an understatement as she jarred her head up to meet the Tsaritsa.
“Your majesty?”
“It is clear to me that the failure of Snezhnaya’s liberation of Sumeru was not your own, nor shall you bear the blame for Il Dottore’s vanity. I see no reason to blame the blameless as you led your men to safety. After all, I want my Harbingers alive if they are to achieve my goal.”
“You show great leniency, my lady.”
“Indeed.” The Tsaritsa rose from her throne, descending the few steps before she stopped in front of the knave, eyes tracking down as her expression darkened. “Failure can be tolerated in the present as long as final victory is achieved. I have made it so my Harbingers have the ability to live that reality, be sure not to squander that opportunity.”
“I won’t.”
“Good,” she said, before pressing a hand to Arlecchino’s abdomen. “How crude,” was her comment to the knave’s ice before an excruciating pain shot through Arlecchino’s whole being. After a moment, the Tsaritsa’s hand pulled away and the knave fell to the floor, hands clutching at her wound only to realise it wasn’t there. The thin rip in Arlecchino’s tattered overcoat revealed only untouched skin, almost pearlescent compared to that which existed around it.
“My lady, I—”
“Your troops are to be stood down until you have recovered. The wound is healed, but it will take time for your body to recover. Stay here in Snezhnyigrad,” the Tsaritsa smirked, “the lady Columbina is still stationed in the city.”