Chapter Text
"Never trust a forecast," they often said in Snezhnaya, which used to genuinely puzzle Pantalone. How can you not trust forecasts when the weather outside is consistently cold—yesterday, the day before, today, and tomorrow?
However, the longer he lived, the clearer the reasons for such mistrust became. The cold was never the same. Sometimes the cold was gentle and dry, almost picturesque. And sometimes an icy wind would blow in your face, and a damp frost would rise from the ground—both so fierce it felt like your bones were literally freezing from the inside out.
"Never trust a forecast," he himself started saying now and again whenever the townspeople were promised a clear day but ended up with the sky once again covered with gloomy gray clouds.
Like a true northerner.
"We're well within the budget," Pulcinella said contentedly after solemnly declaring the holiday fair open. His fake smile was wider than usual today. "And considering that this year's budget was significantly cut due to a large amount of mora sent to Nod-Krai, I consider it a real success."
"I agree. Everything turned out just great," Pantalone said, smiling as he looked around the square. "I can feel it in the air. It’s the perfect time to forget all the troubles and enjoy the nice weather. Never trust a forecast, but this time it turned out to be surprisingly accurate."
"Yes, even nature itself is on our side today. So we're doing everything right."
"I never doubted it."
"Get some rest while you can. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go. I'm waiting for an important message from Her Majesty."
Pantalone watched him disappear behind the brightly decorated stage, where a local band was performing. Today, even the music seemed more light and cheerful than usual—and probably for the first time in a while, Pantalone actually felt relaxed. All the most important things were done, everything was under control. His health was great, too. Even Dottore, for whom this month was full of stresses and problems, finally regained his weight and got rid of the terrible dark circles under his eyes. Life was finally back to normal.
Pantalone lazily looked up at the sky and felt a light gust of wind on his cheeks. A pleasant, clear, sunny day. It seemed that nothing bad could possibly happen on such a nice day. That everything would be as good as it could be, and...
"This fucking sucks!" A familiar voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and Pantalone sighed.
"What happened?"
"The usual shit!"
"What usual shit?" Pantalone took a closer look at the face covered by the mask: Dottore's lips were bent in displeasure, and a small dark spot was visible on his cheek. His white clothes smelled strongly of metal and something burning—it seemed that he had been working with electronics before coming here. "Did something explode again?"
"I was sitting calmly, trying to rebuild the core of a gravity distortion machine that was given to me from the ruins of one of the flooded branches of the Fontaine Research Facility. The problem is, it only generates waves that…"
"Zandik."
"Oh, yeah. Anyway, that's when I received new information from Nod-Krai. In short, the initial stages of the project are being delayed due to a shortage of the necessary materials."
"A shortage?" Pantalone frowned. "I thought we had taken everything into account. You spent several nights in a row hypnotizing those papers instead of... well, I thought everything would be okay!"
"I fucking thought so too!" Dottore cussed and scratched his cheek, smearing the stain even more. "But it turns out we hadn't taken into account the things we thought we had. Soon we'll have to go to Nod-Krai in person, and the most important parts of the job aren't ready yet!"
Pantalone sighed, took a handkerchief out of his pocket and carefully wiped the stain off Dottore’s face. "Well, what can you do? I'll allocate separate funding for this. We're not in a position to cancel or adjust plans."
"It's not just the money, although that's part of it. The thing is, some materials are impossible to get either here or on the way to Nod-Krai. Almost all my people are currently involved in preparations, and we can't afford to trust strangers. Too much is at stake!"
Pantalone looked thoughtfully at the bank building, which could be seen modestly standing behind the stage and colorful tents.
"I don't have anyone to offer you right now either. Although Liyue may have some free hands, it's the largest branch of our Bank. And I have a network in Fontaine. Would you like me to send a request there?"
Dottore pursed his lips.
"That wouldn't help me. Your men won't be able to check the contents of the shipments anyway."
"Why not? My men aren't stupid."
"I’m sure they’re not. But, if I told you that I needed third-generation elemental energy beta transmitters in Fontaine, would your men be able to distinguish them from second-generation transmitters?"
"What kind of transmitters?.."
"See? And that difference is crucial to the case."
Pantalone remained silent. Dottore crossed his arms and muttered. "I knew I should have invested in new segments, I wouldn't have this problem now. I've got one left, but we can't rely on him, he's completely useless."
Pantalone stared at Dottore.
"You didn't mention you had a functioning segment left!"
"Might as well not have one at all," he snorted. "You could grow old waiting for him to do the simplest things, and he'd still screw up. A total mistake."
"Where is he now?"
"I don't give a damn. I used to send him to Mondstadt, but where he is now is another matter. Pfft... we'll have to figure something out with these materials quickly, we can't afford to waste any more time. It's already time to proceed to the next stage, and we haven’t even completed the preparations."
Pantalone cast a distracted glance at his watch.
"We'll figure something out today. Some solution must surely be found, the situation can not be hopeless."
There was a cheerful toast from outside, followed by shouts of approval. They looked in that direction at the same time.
"I've always hated events like this," Dottore said, pursing his lips. "Usually it’s just an excuse to get drunk. I hate alcohol, it turns people into idiots."
"Is drinking on holidays a thing in Sumeru, too?"
"What did you think? People are the same everywhere."
Pantalone looked at the crowd walking around. Everyone was having fun, eating treats and drinking various beverages. Even in the daylight, the colorful lanterns reflected in the snow and in frozen puddles. He involuntarily remembered walking around Liyue Harbor during the Lantern Rite Festival as a child; and all the festivals in Nod-Krai. Memories of festivals was probably the only thing that didn't make him feel sad and angry; his other memories were only of pain, loss, and hopeless, depressing poverty.
"People are the same everywhere," he repeated and looked at Dottore. Many years had passed since their childhood, and many of their memories were equally painful. He had no mora to his name, and often had to steal or swindle for necessities and even food. Dottore had faced loneliness, aggression and hatred towards himself since early childhood, and his life was by no means wealthy either. Quite the opposite.
Pantalone looked at the festive lights again. There was no changing the past, but now they had a lot of mora, a lot of opportunities, a lot of privileges. But most importantly, they had each other.
His nose caught a sweet smell coming from somewhere, and Pantalone smiled. "Your weight is finally back to normal, but I still think we should take a moment to build on it. You could use a few extra pounds."
"Why though? I'm not gonna fit into my clothes at this rate."
"What if I like it when you're a little heavier?"
Dottore grinned and already opened his mouth to say something, when the even hum of the square was suddenly disrupted by a shriek that made Pantalone flinch.
"No way, bro!"
He and Dottore turned around sharply, and Pantalone felt his face involuntarily lengthen.
"What the…"
A familiar pink ball with a cowlick was flying across the square, deftly avoiding everyone in its path. It was followed by a whole crowd: Ifa and Ororon were in the lead, followed by some guy in an apron, and Capitano, who was walking more calmly, closed the procession.
"Cacucu!"
"Bro, stop!"
"You have to pay!" the man shouted in desperation, trying to grab Ororon by the cloak.
Dottore lifted his mask and stared at the scene with interest.
"Curious."
"What's in his beak?" Pantalone squinted.
"Nothing less than a gem, considering all the fuss."
Meanwhile, the men continued to yell.
"Stop that... thing!"
"Cacucu!"
"Bro, what the hell! You can't do that!"
At one point, Cacucu seemed to be completely exhausted, because he hit one of the stalls, fell right in the middle of the road, and began to greedily devour what he had in his beak.
"It's a pancake," Pantalone couldn't believe his eyes.
Pushing people aside, Ifa finally managed to catch up to Cacucu.
"What the hell is this?! Bro, that's not cool! I'm so sorry," he said, looking at the panting man and then back at Cacucu, who had several food stains on his face but no shame. "You ate just a very short while ago. What's with this attitude?!"
"I need... money," the man said, stammering. "Who's gonna pay for that?! I sure won't!"
After another bite, it finally became clear why the vendor was in such a panic to chase after the Qucusaurus: after his beak finally tore through the soft shell, the inside of the pancake turned out to be filled with very expensive delicacies. Cacucu is a gourmet, as it appears.
"How much?" Ifa sighed and reached for his wallet.
"Ten thousand."
"How much?!"
"Put the treats for this saurian and his companions on me," Pantalone intervened. "Submit your request and the Bank will refund you at the end of the festivities."
"Alright," the vendor finally calmed down, threw another disgruntled look at Cacucu, then turned and walked back.
"Banker Gramp!" Ororon exclaimed, grabbing him with all his might. "You're alive!"
Pantalone tried to free himself from the guy's iron grip, but it was not that easy.
"Wait… you know too?"
Ororon ignored his question and turned straight to Dottore.
"Doctor Gramp! How's your drinking problem? You haven't puked on Banker Gramp anymore, have you?"
Even under the mask it was clear that Dottore's expression changed so dramatically it looked like he was fighting the urge to throw Ororon into the slow-moving canal. The square also fell silent at once: it seemed that the sight of the Fatui harbingers being hugged by the foreign pancake thieves was far more interesting than the games and contests.
"I have no drinking problem," said Dottore and pushed him away. "And get off me."
"I know it's a hard thing to admit. But I'm sure you'll be fine; you can handle it. Capitano told me about one of his subordinates who got too friendly with alcohol, and…"
"I have no drinking problem!" Dottore snapped at him more angrily, but Ororon didn't seem to be so easily persuaded.
"Granny Citlali doesn't like being told about her drinking problem either. But when her hand reaches for the bottle, I…"
"Ororon," Capitano finally spoke up. "Don't torture the Doctor, he doesn't have a drinking problem. It was only once that he got so drunk he hallucinated and threw up on Regrator."
"Fuck, why can't either of you keep your mouths shut…"
Pantalone snorted.
"Good to see you again, Capitano. I take it you've decided to invite some guests to Snezhnaya?"
Meanwhile, Cacucu muttered something contentedly, jumped up, and promptly flew back towards the stalls again. Ororon and Ifa glanced at each other and hurried to follow him.
"I was called here on a matter of business, and both Ororon and Ifa wished to keep me company. Tell me, Regrator, is it true what they say about an attack on you?"
Pantalone grinned wryly.
"Partially true, yes. And what kind of rumors have reached Natlan?"
"That there are big changes at the Northland Bank. In fact, that's one of the reasons why Ororon, Ifa and Cacucu came with me—they wanted to make sure you were all right."
Dottore crossed his arms over his chest.
"Your new friends are surprisingly friendly with us. But do they know what kind of monsters they're worried about?"
"They see you as their bros, Dottore."
"Have you not tried to warn them?"
"These young men are very smart, they are capable of drawing their own conclusions and making their own decisions. Besides, I believe that you and Regrator will not harm them."
Dottore took off his mask and looked at Capitano carefully.
"We've never been friends. So why the magnanimity?"
"Magnanimity has nothing to do with it. It is true that our paths do not cross often, and we prefer different methods in our work. But in Natlan, I saw the real you for the first time, and that is something I can respect. Even when the situation itself... does not favor respect."
A look of utter embarrassment appeared on Dottore's face, and he pulled his mask back. Pantalone chuckled—it seemed he vividly remembered getting drunk and talking to nonexistent people while holding a bottle.
"And what kind of business brought you back to Snezhnaya?" Pantalone decided to change the subject.
"A lot of things happened after you two left Natlan. But I prefer to remain silent on the details for the time being, because it was ordered from on high. And I must admit, my memory cannot quite put the whole picture together either. All I can say for now is that I have finally solved a problem that I had not been able to solve for many years, and now I am extremely relieved."
Pantalone looked at Capitano with interest. Judging by the tension in his posture, even if he had resolved some problem, he had certainly not yet managed to relax truly. Moreover, even back in Natlan, he had looked far more relaxed than he did now. Could it be that the long journey had worn him out so badly? It was unlikely, though, that a tough warrior like Capitano could be so exhausted from a journey, however long it was. Could it be something else?
"If you don't hurry, there won't be anything left," Ororon said as he walked over to them and grabbed Capitano's forearm. "Cacucu is already eating his sixth pancake, and he doesn't plan to stop."
Pantalone sighed in defeat. The little round saurian's gluttony was going to cost him a fortune.
"Ororon, I think there are more than six pancakes in Snezhnaya." Capitano remarked.
“Unfortunately,” Pantalone added mentally.
"Gramps, what are you waiting for? C'mon, let's go!"
Ororon pulled Capitano along, while the two of them stayed where they were.
"I'd rather shoot myself than go out with them," Dottore grumbled, turning in the opposite direction. "Let's get the hell out of here. I need a…"
"A drink? Isn't that what you meant to say, alcoholic gramp?”
Dottore groaned, "Fuck you. I hate you." He walked swiftly in the opposite direction of the festival, then stopped and asked, "Are you coming or not?"
Pantalone giggled and followed him, but then couldn't help looking back. Something interesting caught his eye: as Capitano walked beside Ororon, his gait indeed seemed a little more relaxed than usual.
Pantalone smiled. So even black ice can be melted after all?
***
Dottore wholeheartedly despised holidays. Or rather, people, who did strange things, said strange words, and acted strangely in general under the pretext of holidays.
Although some people didn't even need holidays to act strangely.
"I'm still amazed that something can grow in this frost," Ororon pondered, twirling a potato in his hands. "This root vegetable is impressive."
"Yeah, I don't think I've ever seen anything like it either," Ifa appreciated the vegetable too. "With a little more time, this potato would be the size of Cacucu."
"When we get back, I'll try planting this kind of potato in Natlan."
"You think it will grow exactly the same size?"
"Actually, there may be some kind of trick here. Doctor Gramp! Will this variety grow to be just as big in my garden in Natlan?"
Dottore closed his eyes and counted to three. A few times.
"I haven't done any research on potatoes growing in different climates yet," he said coldly. "But when I do, I'll let you know."
"Great, I'll be waiting. And when will the results be ready?"
Capitano looked at Ororon.
"Ororon, I don't think the Doctor's going to research the potatoes."
"Ahh," Ororon said. "Was that said sarcastically, then? I don't get that sort of thing right away. Doctor Gramp himself behaves like a potato sometimes."
Dottore could not resist and also looked at the guy carefully. "Why?"
"Potato skins are usually peeled off because they are not tasty. They have eyes in them, and sometimes they're even poisonous. It's just like you, Doctor Gramp. I'm sure there's a white part underneath the nasty peel that could make a delicious potato salad."
"Pfft."
"Although some people prefer to eat potatoes with the peel on despite the disgusting taste, and even claim that it's good for them," Ororon continued to ponder. "Banker Gramp is clearly one of those people. Even though it might not be healthy in some cases."
"Not healthy, bro!" Cacucu agreed. He sat exhaustedly on the tabletop, clearly having trouble flying after the amount of food that had disappeared in his beak earlier. "Not healthy!"
Dottore put his hands on his temples.
"Remind me, what are you even doing here?"
Tonight, the Bank's lobby was quieter than ever: despite the fact that some of the employees had to take care of business on holidays, there were no customers to be seen today. It was already getting dark: a few employees yawned longingly in the reception area, dreaming of the end of the workday. A small group of security guards stood at the door, looking with sadness at the bright lights and noisy festivities in the nearby square. Only the five of them — Dottore, Capitano, Ororon, Ifa, and Cacucu were in the far corner of the hall, giving the illusion of at least some activity.
"I've been told that Pulcinella has an urgent order for me from the Tsaritsa, and he's in the Regrator's office right now," Capitano explained. "That's the reason I'm here."
"You're the least of my concerns," Dottore gritted his teeth. "But actually, I'm here for the same reason. Pfft, I wonder what happened."
There was a distant noise of footsteps, and they looked up at the stairs at the same time, where two figures appeared—one tall, clad in black, the other short in a suit with a hat. They were talking quietly, slowly approaching them. At some point ears were finally able to pick up their conversation.
"So the next time we’ll meet in Nod-Krai. It's a very important matter, and it's not something you can postpone—I think you understand that very well yourself."
Is Pulcinella already going to Nod-Krai?
"Of course I understand. And yet I don't know how to organize it. I have so much to do, I can't just jump into other matters. Some of the issues are already delayed because I've had... health issues."
So Pulcinella wants to dump some of his responsibilities on Pantalone. How inconvenient.
"Everyone understands that. But at the same time, you must realize that there are more important matters at hand. Especially since it was Tsaritsa's personal order, no one has the right to question it."
Pantalone immediately pulled on one of his fake signature smiles.
"Of course. We'll be heading out soon."
‘We’...?
"Capitano, Dottore." Pulcinella shifted his gaze towards them and immediately noticed the unfamiliar faces. "Oh, and young men in foreign clothes. Are these your Natlan subordinates, Capitano?"
"No way, bro!"
"Oh-ho-ho, such a cute bird," he smiled contentedly and began tugging the Qucusaurus' cheek. "What a chubby little fella."
"For real, now?!"
"They're not Fatui, but I trust them like one of us," Capitano replied. "Ororon is a hero of Natlan, he has helped me and my people in times of need. Ifa is a very talented vet, who you can easily trust with your own health. Cacucu is his assistant."
"Oh, wow, bro!"
Pulcinella released Cacucu and folded his arms on his chest politely.
"Nice to meet you, gentlemen. They call me Pulcinella, I'm the mayor of this town. I'm very pleased to have foreign guests and I wish you to enjoy the festivities to the fullest. However, I'm afraid we need to speak privately now. And this is not up for discussion."
"Of course." Ifa turned to leave first, grabbed Ororon by his cloak, and pulled him along. "Cacucu, let's go!"
Cacucu grumbled and flapped his wings. The amount of food he had eaten made it difficult for him to get off the tabletop the first time. On the second try, however, he managed it and staggered after the others.
They watched in silence as Ororon, Ifa, and Cacucu left the Bank. And when the door finally closed behind them, Pulcinella shifted his gaze back to Capitano.
"What do they know?"
"They don't know anything they're not supposed to know."
"How much do you trust these young men?"
Capitano answered firmly, "I would trust them with my own life."
"And I will trust your judgment," Pulcinella replied. "But remember your responsibility. No one should know what they're not supposed to. Not everyone from the Fatui can be informed of our inner workings, let alone outsiders."
"Of course. I won't let them in on the details of our plans for their own safety."
"I'm counting on you."
"Is something the matter?" Dottore interrupted their exchange of pleasantries irritably, and Pulcinella looked at him.
"As always you want to get straight to the point, Dottore. Very well, then, let's get to it. The three of you will have a lot more to do now."
Dottore looked at him intently.
"What do you mean?"
"Her Majesty the Tsaritsa has received the latest information from Nod-Krai. There is a critical shortage of materials vital to the project. I assume you are already aware of this as well, Dottore?"
He pursed his lips.
"Yes."
"So the preparations did not go well enough. You made a mistake, Dottore. And mistakes must be fixed."
Dottore felt like he was about to boil over. Does this runt even know how much information he had to work with? Why the hell is he scolding him now?!
"I don't think I—"
"The Doctor is not at fault for subordinates' inability to properly use the materials. But either way, mistakes must be fixed," Pantalone interrupted him, and Dottore felt his hand on his back. "That is what we shall do. The Tsaritsa's personal orders must be obeyed, am I right?"
Dottore inhaled and exhaled deeply. The level of irritation had managed to lower slightly, and in the end he simply fell silent.
"That's right, Pantalone. The Tsaritsa's personal orders must be obeyed. And according to this very order, the Fatui harbingers in the person of Capitano, Pantalone and Dottore are sent as soon as possible to get the missing materials for the project around the countries of Teyvat, with further relocation to Nod-Krai. The lab's planned research, the Bank's business, the work in Natlan – everything is put on hold until the more important work is done. In fact, that's why we're here today, so I won't keep you any longer. I will only remind you once again that it is better to leave within the next few days, because, as they say, delay is tantamount to death. Have a good evening."
They watched in silence as he left the Bank's premises.
"What the fuck," Dottore muttered. "I've worked out this whole project myself down to the smallest detail, and now I'm the guilty one."
"How happy he must be, getting rid of me for such a prolonged time. Hmm… I guess the materials issue was resolved without our participation," Pantalone sighed and looked around the hall. "I don't like it either, but we have no choice. I'll just have to spend the next day finishing at least the most urgent issues. Then we can go."
"I never thought I'd come back here for another journey," Capitano said. "I suppose, I should let Ororon and Ifa know that we're going our separate ways from now on."
The doors burst open again, and the familiar Natlan bunch burst into the Bank.
"Are you done? The dude in the hat came out, we thought we'd invite you to the square."
"To the square, bro!"
"Listen, there's been a change of plans. We have to…"
Dottore put his hands on his temples while Capitano explained to his Natlan bros what had happened. His head was starting to buzz unpleasantly—he'd probably need to take some painkillers. It would take a sober head to quickly get some lab work done. And...
"So we're going on a journey? Cool, man!" Ifa's cheerful voice broke into his thoughts.
"If you're going anywhere, it's back to Natlan," Dottore said. "Fatui business has nothing to do with you."
"Gramps, we're going with you. You may need some extra hands, won't you?"
"We don't need your help, don't even think about it."
But then Ororon came at him so sharply and squeezed his shoulders with such force that Dottore jerked and immediately felt the mask begin to slip from his face. It was only a second before it fell to the floor with a clatter.
"Our bros' business is our business," Ororon said firmly, looking straight into his eyes. It was so uncomfortably close that Dottore felt goosebumps run down his skin. "We’ll go with you."
"Yeah, bro, yeah!" Cacucu shouted. "Pancake, pancake!"
"Let's go eat something," Ifa suggested. "And then we'll discuss when we'll set off. We need to prepare and double-check everything. Speaking of pancakes, we should probably get some of those sweet ones sold by the bakery around the corner for the road. And..."
Dottore and Pantalone sighed at the same time, and Capitano remained silent. It seemed they’d need to change tactics and leave Snezhnaya without those two and their voracious saurian noticing anything.
Because traveling in such a company would be simply unbearable.