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«And the choice is yours, if you’re willing to choose
Seeing as you’ve got nothing to lose .»
The dim light reflects off the snow, enveloping untouched nature with a silvery sharp glow, flickering here and there, like fallen stars. Dark blue empty sky envelops the moon like silk sheets, unsuccessfully trying to warm it, struggling to fight this cruel winter. Even stars are afraid to show their presence, because frost is merciless to everyone equally.
Moon stays alone with those who are unlucky enough to be on the street, and tries not to look down. After all, if she doesn't see anything, she probably won't feel guilty about what is happening.
And for the fact that tonight she can only shine.
***
Tartaglia lowered his scarf, taking a deep breath. Frost prickled in his nose and on his cheeks, but young man just smiled and inhaled again and then exhaled noisily. Snezhnaya. His homeland, in all its splendor, stretched out in front of him for many kilometers, sparkling like festive lights. Even the dark fir trees were almost completely covered with snow. At the sight of them, blurred memories from childhood surfaced — how his father put him under the largest tree they had seen on the way from fishing, and then kicked the trunk several times, causing the spruce to shake, and snow to fall on the child happily clapping his hands. Naturally, there is always not enough entertainment for children, so the trees crumbled one after another, over and over again, until a lump of snow would fell by the collar, forcing little Ajax to shake it out of his fur coat with displeasure.
Tartaglia might have felt nostalgic because of this landscape, but another thought was throbbing in his brain, stronger and louder than the others:
«An ideal picture for bloodshed.»
It just so happened that several criminals who were going to steal secret documents from the main cathedral in Snezhnaya, in order to then use them as blackmail, slipped right out from under the noses of the guards. Now the offenders were on the run. They were last seen near one of the forests on the border. Their operation, as well as the retreat, were too well thought out and coordinated. This suggested certain thoughts. It was necessary to catch this criminals as soon as possible in order to find out exactly how they became aware of the placing of security within the cathedral. Tartaglia, inspired by the pursuit that could go beyond the borders of the country and lead him to another adventure, volunteered himself on the job when the issue was brought up for discussion on the meeting of Harbingers.
After Pulcinello's obvious and meaningful glance at Pierro, it was decided that Tartaglia needs... an escort.
«Someone who would control me. Why pretend, especially without much success?» young man snorted in his thoughts and almost rolled his eyes.
Child understood that, of course, the fugitives should be returned unharmed, so that Dottore could work with them later. "Talk" with them, as he knows how. But if Tartaglia gets into a little fight with them, it won't hurt, will it? It's kind of strange to take care of the health of those who were going to be handed over to the Doctor. A man whose sadism was known to everyone in the circles close to the Queen. Most often, against their will.
Was it possible that the concept of a "small fight" was different between him and the Fatuites of the higher rank? Pretty sure it was. But that's not his problem. Someone is just too stiff, always coming up with new plans and plotting, not participating in real battles, from which the blood is hammering into the ears, and because of the adrenaline, a victorious scream is torn from the chest.
While a heated discussion was going on at the table Tartaglia boringly examined the other harbingers, hoping to guess his future parthner before the name was announced.
Definetily not Pierro. Wasting their No. 1 strength on every little thing like this would be outright stupid.
Dottore and Sandrone are in the midst of their grandiose projects. For the last week, they were rarely seen outside of their laboratory and workshop. If now they are sent to an unknown place for an unknown amount of time, then both will cling to their experiments with teeth and claws. Besides, Tartaglia suspected that the mechanic couldn't stand the cold. No wonder the robot helping her was always warm to the touch, even in severe frosts.
Pantalone... actually would be a good choice. Despite his image of a pampered rich man, which he was, but only in acceptable quantities, economist calmly reacted to Child's jokes and from time to time grinned because of them into his fist, masking it with a cough (if Harlequin noticed this, she loudly demanded not to encourage these childish behavier). And even if Tartaglia did not understand even half of what this sly man says about funds, exchanges, political interests and mora...
..this will be much more pleasant to listen to than the way Harlequin verbally pulls him every five minutes, like a naughty dog. No, if they were put to work together again, then he himself would have to go on the run. This lady absolutely does not know how to have fun, walks constantly with such a face as if she had just woken up (and with the corresponding mood), and what is the worst, she is probably sorting through all his negative (and absolutely far-fetched!) traits, just like him! Her whole body makes it clear that she is not an option.
Meeting her piercing gaze, Tartaglia smiled broadly and narrowed his eyes, pretending to make a friendly grimace. He also wanted to wave, but restrained himself. Harlequin's eyes read too clearly, «my room is close enough to sneak up to yours and smother you with a pillow.»
Columbina, sitting next to her colleague, also looked at him for some reason and smiled blissfully. Child hoped she had something more important to do, too. Not that he had anything personal against Columbina, just... The girl was almost always silent, watched everyone closely from behind her mask and smiled very strangely. Nothing could erase this smile from this cute face, even the most terrible news. Considering that she was ranked number three, Tartaglia didn't know what to think. And he wanted to postpone their close acquaintance for later. When he gets used to her. And this smile will stop giving him goosebumps.
So it turned out that there was only one left...
"Yes, Capitano?" Tartaglia was brought out of his trance by Pierro, who speaked, because of which the discussion abruptly subsided. No. 1 Harbinger of Fatui was pointing with his palm at the Captain, who clearly had something to say.
"I need to go to Li Yue with a delegation. But I can start the trip earlier and accompany Harbinger Tartaglia to the mission.
«And make sure he does everything right,» captain probably wanted to add. But he didn't add it. Nice, nice. Even though they put a babysitter on him, at least now it looked like they're going the same way.
They took a cart to the outskirts of the village closest to the forest, and then decided to walk. Firstly, snowdrifts were too deep for horses, who were exhausted at the end of the journey. Secondly, it was much easier to track down the fugitives without attracting attention and at a lower speed.
Tartaglia and Capitano have been walking non-stop for the last forty minutes. To stop in Snezhnaya in such weather meant that you could freeze to death. But the encouraging thing was that almost at the very beginning, Child noticed the tracks of a sledge leading into the forest. Snowfall has not yet managed to cover it. They arrived just in time. "It better not be some weird kids who decided to play in the forest" Child thought.
Snow creaked habitually under shoes, fir trees slowly but surely approached on the horizon, diluting endless white field.
Silence between him and Capitano might have seemed strained from the outside, but in fact there was no tension between them. Definitely rom Child's side. Although young fatui said that he served exclusively to Tsaritsa, and intrigues and goals of the other harbingers interested him a little less than a little, it was difficult not to respect the captain. He had a chance to have a neutral relationship with their No. 2, but everything changed on the day when they had to fight shoulder to shoulder. Of course, there were other fatuis on the battlefield, and even Harlequino and Pierro, but every glance of Tartaglia after he performed a maneuver or killed an opponent was directed to captain.
He moved with grace and years of endurance. Not a single unnecessary movement, not a single second to think, not a single wrong step. A perfect dance in the snow and blood settling in dark spots on his uniform. He must have had many years of military experience, because he seemed to be unbelievable in sync with his weapon. The claymore (which he held with one hand, from time to time throwing it to the right, then to the left) gleamed triumphantly, as if winking at Tartaglia, who was fascinated by the moment. It moved in unison with his master, steadfastly bearing hits on himself.
Capitano rarely used his cryo attacks. For some reason, he preferred to rely on his own strength. But from what Childe had seen, his elemental powers was incredibly strong — man could knock down a dozen opponents at a time with a powerful directed whirlwind of snow.
As soon as Tartaglia came into contact with this power on the battlefield, almost all of his bias evaporated. Here he is a real opponent. A worthy opponent, whom he must defeat in order to prove to himself, to Captaino, to the Tsaritsa, what he is really good for.
After forty minutes of their mostly silent walk, fingers itched to pull out the blades and test this man again. Child tried several times to start a conversation and lead it to the idea of a duel, but captain turned out to be a little worse than an impregnable fortress, cutting off potential communication with short answers. Was it really more fun for him to listen to the wind humming behind them?
Or...
"Are you inspecting the battlefield?" his voice sounded too loud after a long silence, even for him, but the captain did not flinch. Only a little later he turned his head to Childe. In the darkness behind the armor, it was unclear with what emotion he was watching the young man now.
"No," Tartaglia did not have time to complain in his head about another short answer, because Captain continued, "What made you think that?'
Aha! So, the topic of battles is interesting to him.
"I've seen you fight."
"Yes, I know" Tartaglia remembered it, "But still."
Fatui made a thoughtful face, then grinned, shaking his head at the memories that came.
"You seemed very knowledgeable about the area. Almost immediately occupied one of the hills, which, of course, gave you an advantage. As if you had time to look around in advance. I thought that something similar was happening now, I wanted to take a master class."
Capitano turned away, to the disappointment of the young Fatui. And here he thought they had made contact.
"It was a familiar place to me. Familiar enough to know his strengths and weaknesses," Tartaglia noticed a vague wording that was not usually inherent in Capitano, but decided to start probing the ground by asking other Harbingers. Now is not the time or place to dig into someone else's dirt, it will come a little later, "But anyone who wants to achieve victory should take into account their surroundings."
"Hmm..." Child drawled thoughtfully, rubbing his chin through the scarf. He looked to the left, then to the right, made a turn on his heels, starting to walk backwards and examining path out of the tracks they left "And what can you say about this place?"
"If you are a Fatui Harbinger Member, then you can probably answer your own question without any help," there was no irritation or discontent in the Captain's voice. There was nothing in him at all, except an almost imperceptible interest. Young warrior preferred to think that he did not imagined it, and his answer is really expected.
"I wanted to be imbued with your great wisdom, but since you decided to be lasy... Okay, let's see," Child turned around again, finally walking straight, "Well, this is a snow field, deep snowdrifts, no snowfall un the near future," he looked at the lonely moon abandoned by clouds, "It's better to clear some space around yourself to be in a more stable position or prefer punches, since snow can slow down lunges with your feet. If you're a dirty tricks user, then snow in the face feels almost as terrible as sand," Tartaglia first snorted softly, and then uncontrollably laughed, "And if you are a fan of original murders, then you can try to drown the enemy in the snow. What's not a bike, huh? he almost jabbed his sharp elbow into captain's armor, but stopped a couple of centimeters away from it.
Captain exhaled loudly, unintelligibly shaking his head to the side, from which his pendants rang against the hull with renewed vigor. Young fatui has almost begun to get annoyed by the fact that he cannot understand what exactly this man is hiding under mystical confusing helmet. Surely, if it were not for this piece of iron on his head, he would have at least some idea of some emotions. Child usually found it attractive, but now the youthful impatience outweighed.
"Okay."
Tartaglia almost stopped dead. And that's... that's it? "Okay?" He tried to peer into the language of Capitano's body, but it was still. Nothing, not even fatigue from a long exhausting route.
"Okay, okay" Tartaglia replied in a careless voice, summing up the dialogue.
And immediately resuming it:
"I would say that this is not a bad place for a duel."
"Hmm..."
"Have you participated in many duels?"
"Not too much, since I joined the Harbingers."
"I want to have a duel. Right here and now. With you," Tartaglia stopped in front of the captain and cocked his head.
From the depths of the helmet, a sound was heard, as if someone sharply exhaled air. A chuckle? Or was it just a sigh?
"So what do you say? It's a tempting offer. There's no way you're not bored of fighting ordinary bandits and scammers," Child murmured ingratiatingly, shortening the distance between them by half a step.
"And what makes you an unusual bandit and scammer?"
"Ha!" Tartaglia exclaimed loudly, not expecting humor from the captain. He even slapped his thigh with delight, "At least I'm many times stronger than them, and I can offer worthy competition."
Capitano shook his head in a negative gesture and took a step to the side to get around Tartaglia.
"I'm not interested," Childe repeated his move, getting in the way again, as if it were a child's game.
"You must understand that a simple refusal is unlikely to suit me."
"We don't always get what suits us."
Tartaglia continued only because Capitano didn't sound annoyed. Not at all. Was it military restraint or just a characteristic lack of emotion? Or perhaps a hint? Tartaglia decided to try his luck.
"I was hoping that it was not such a case."
The tip of the spear pressed against the neck hidden under clothes. Chains rang softly as the imperturbable helmet jerked slightly to the side. More studying than trying to avoid a direct sight.
A ringing silence hung.
"So the rumors are true," now that Childe was so close to the man, Capitano's voice sounded even louder and more penetrating from the depths of the armor, "You are really stubborn when it comes to battles."
"I would prefer "persistent"," despite the playfulness in his voice, fatui tightened his grip on the shaft of his weapon. He did not move a muscle, waiting for his opponent's actions.
Capitano slowly raised his hand and touched the shaft a little higher than Tartaglia's hand was lying. Young man had to force himself not to look at the wide palm, but to continue to hypnotize captain with a squint.
"Well, if that's what you want," with these words, captain pushed the spear away from him, forcing Child to take a step back, slightly crouching at the knees so as not to lose balance.
"Yes, thank you," Tartaglia exclaimed with a smile on his face and knitted eyebrows, straightening up and watching Captaino walk about three steps away and only then turn to face him.
Pulling down the floor of the fur coat, Captain of the Fatui revealed his claymore to the light. A silver blade, gently curving from one edge (at the end the bend turned into a sharp angle of the tip), with white and blue patterns resembling a web of frost appearing on the windows. From different angles and lighting it was possible to see different ornaments, each unlike the previous one and never repeating, like snowflakes. The guard was proudly adorned with the Fatui sign, similar to the one on the commander's helmet, but in an enlarged version, from which there was a knotted pattern on the hilt, as cold and sparkling as the patterns on the blade. A thin chain was attached to the guard and to the end of the handle, immediately making it clear who the owner of this weapon was. On the straight side of blade was the most remarkable part of the claymore, at least in Tartaglia's opinion - black chrome strip of metal, about three fingers thick with large tines. It guaranteed that terrible scars would remain, not to mention the pain that the loser would experience. Blade was fixed on a leather belt located just below chest. It was a strange sight, considering the size of the weapon, but, Childe thought, the man himself was not small. Perhaps such a load does not bother him at all. Perhaps having a sword always near your heart is comforting. It's not for him to judge.
Capitano gripped his claymore tightly and twisted it several times with one hand, flexing his wrist before easily sticking steel into the frozen ground. Snow instantly scattered to the sides, as if from a powerful gust of wind, creating a kind of blizzard a meter away from the captain, ready for battle.
Child felt a tingling sensation in the area of his chest and immediately pulled himself back with displeasure. He can't afford to worry. Not now. Not in such an environment. Not before the battle, which he imagined more than once in my head.
...If it's even worry.
"You have six minutes."
"Why exactly six?" Tartaglia tactfully changed "only" to "exactly" so as not to seem desperate. He even grinned at such a sudden rule, raising a red eyebrow in a questioning gesture.
"We have a task that does not require delay" oh, yes, that's still a thing... "Five minutes is enough to find out real strength of the enemy. Six, so as not to seem trivial at the same time."
"So, you like to make it quick," Tartaglia couldn't held childishly stupid association behind his teeth, "I'll remember. For the future," despite the incessant witticisms, the time limit confused him. Solely because of the surprise of this decision. Of course.
Young warrior stood in a stance, summoning a spear and dividing it into two-handed blades with a light movement.
Capitano took off his outer clothes and pushed long strand of hair behind his back.
Inhale. Exhale. The clock is ticking.
Memories of this battle have been preserved in a very strange way. Tartaglia remembered all of it, but individual moments were captured in his memory by separate frames, frozen in front of his eyes, as if time had stopped at that moment until he remembered everything to the smallest detail.
In such cold, his hydro element quickly turned from a controlled flow of water into sharp cutting icicles, less controllable, but causing more damage. The first moment imprinted on the subcortex of the brain were cuts on someone else's glove and on the collar from a successful punch. Tartaglia was proud of this technique, as it was difficult to deviate from it, especially for those who had to work with heavy weapons. Later, he tried to repeat the success, aiming at the center of the helmet, but the blade reflected in the other direction.
The next is how the jagged side of the claymore approaches dangerously close to his face. Tartaglia managed to dodge. He only had time to hear his earring ring against one of the tine, flying off to the side with a piece of broken thread. Broken in millimeters from his ear.
Childe felt his pupils dilate and his lips stretch into a manic smile. He's taken seriously, otherwise Capitono wouldn't use a technique that could easily disfigure his opponent if he were less fast.
The next one was the blades combined into a spear in time, on which the Captain's weapon landed with a clang right above his head. As soon as the captain pressed a little, the blade sliced through the skin above the eyebrow. Child growls angrily and jumps back, in retaliation, throwing up his hand in a well-aimed attack right in the chest, from which captain staggers.
The next is the claymore chain, tightly wrapping around his wrists and pulling him forward, making him almost lose his balance.
The next one is his attempt to make a kick to break out of the grip and reenter the game. A strong palm grabs his ankle, sending him flying with the back of his head on the ground.
And finally.
Thin, deadly-sharp steel hangs right over his neck, like a guillotine. As soon as Capitano lets go of the hilt of his sword, it will fall, separating the head from the body with an elegant, almost imperceptible slice. Snow will be sprinkled with blood and begin to melt because of its warmth, eyes will forever remain open in awe, with which Child watches over the captain, hovering over him and covering the exhausted boy from the cold moon.
Tartaglia began to quickly calculate options for how he could get out of this mess in his head. Roll to the side? And will he have time? Strike the sword? Grab the handle yourself?
They say that before you die, your whole life usually runs before your eyes. The brain is trying to grab the last straw that connects you with existence — memories.
Tartaglia saw only strategy, possible outcomes, his own blood. Ajax did not even appear on his deathbed.
He has nothing to lose, because everything has already been lost. Too long ago. Too irreversible.
Capitano leaned even closer to him, so that Child felt the icy breath coming from the helmet and heard a rumble, as if there was an empty ballroom with high ceilings inside. And again he saw nothing. Only dark infinity that spoke to him:
"Your time is up, boy," Tartaglia swallowed a lump stuck in his throat and shook his head negatively (as best he could), looking into the endless darkness with the proud determination of a revolutionary going to the block.
"I doubt it," he croaked, gritting his teeth.
Capitano snorted (there was simply no mistaking it this time, Childe's senses were too sharpened to doubt them), straightened up and removed his claymore from the youngster's neck, sending the weapon to its rightful place.
"Get up, your six minutes have passed," captain picked up his fur coat, shaking it off the snow and putting it back on. There was a feeling that he had just returned from a quiet walk, so calm and peaceful all his actions looked "You were right. Such snowdrifts really interfere with the techniques performed by the feet."
As opposed to Tartaglia, who was still lying in the snow. He could only raise a hand and feel broken thread of the earring first, and then the cut right above eyebrow. Wound ached at the first touch, so fatui scooped up a handful of snow and put it on his forehead. A bright flash of discomfort, to which he growled restrainedly, was followed by a soothing coolness. It's not the best way to treat such abrasions, but he doesn't have anything else at hand.
Finally rising, Child came face to face with Capitano. After examining the man from head to toe, he squinted, then grinned, and then smiled broadly again, looking straight into the dark abyss of the helmet. Somehow he has become close to her over the past five... six minutes.
"I will remember not to reveal all the cards to you next time," a demonic light flashed in his gaze before going out again, returning him a slightly detached look, which was common to people who have passed through the Abyss.
"Is this a rematch offer?"
"I would say that I "insist" on it."
Capitano turned his gaze to the moon. At least, such a conclusion could be drawn from the way his head rose.
"We'll see. If I can find an extra six minutes. And now we have to go. Duty calls."
***
That night the moon could only shine.
She couldn't reason with a brash young man who had nothing to lose.
She could not restrain the Harbinger captain, who wanted to push his opponent to the maximum of his capabilities.
But in some incredible way, she witnessed not death...
... but rebirth.