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“Who?” Diluc whispered to Ajax as he tugged brutally on his arm, guiding him through whatever Fatui Base he was taken to.
“Don’t underestimate him,” Ajax whispered back as they made as a turn, “His means of torture can be just as bad as Dottore.”
“It’s not Il Dottore?” he asked in shock. What other harbinger would care that he was attacking the 2nd’s labs, killing his clones? “What will happen to me?”
“No idea what he’s planning,” Ajax admitted, “But I was told I’d get a pretty sweet promotion for finally capturing you.”
Diluc rolled his eyes, “At least there’s some good news.”
They stopped in front of a door. “Good luck, Red,” Ajax said, “I enjoyed our time together, really.” He smirked, “You know you might be able to bail yourself out if you ask for a job.”
Even though it might be the last time they see each other, Diluc smiled, “In your dreams, Ajax.”
Without more fanfare, Childe opened the door and pushed Diluc inside. The man was expecting some dark and dank torture chamber filled with devices that’d put his insides out. What he was not expecting was a table filled with the most exquisite foods in a room that could only be described as expensive.
At the head of the table sat a man with an unmistakable white coat, “Please, take a seat and help yourself.”
He remained where he was staring like a man looking into the jaws of death itself, “I’ll pass on the poison.”
The other man hummed before calling, “Childe!” The boy just a year younger than Diluc entered, “Make him sit down.”
“Yes, Lord Regrator,” he did a small bow, gave Diluc a pained look, and then proceeded to push him towards the table and into a seat.
It gave Diluc barely anytime to think about the implications of being face to face with the 9th Harbinger. What would a banker want? He guessed it was most likely having to due with how much he was costing them.
“Childe,” the harbinger chided, “You’re getting the Young Ragnvindr‘s blood on my carpet.”
“Apologies,” the ginger said through gritted teeth.
“Leave us,” the man pierced him with cold eyes.
Childe nodded and silently slipped away but not before taking one last look at Diluc. All there was now was the sound of silverware clattering as the Harbinger enjoyed his meal.
“Please eat,” the man said again. Diluc crossed his arms to which Pantalone just laughed, “I know you’re hungry, boy. You steal rations from the encampments you destroy and those rations are only edible muck with nutrients flavored to resemble something somewhat digestible.”
He gestured to the arrays of entire animals and vegetables that were glistening in the light, “I’m sure you’ll find this a much needed change.” And then the 9th gave a smile that looked sweet and kind but lacked warmth and just left a feeling of unease. That was the entire vibe of this room. Filled with things only the wealthiest could afford yet lacked any feel of home. Everything just seemed so… twisted.
When Diluc remained motionless the harbinger’s smile twitched and voice firmed, “Eat.”
The truth was Diluc was painfully hungry and the food looked mouthwatering. He really hadn’t had a proper meal in months. His only relief being the one’s Ajax took him out to.
Hesitantly he reached out to a slice of meet he recognized Pantalone had already cut from. Diluc felt the burning eyes of the harbinger as he cut barely a slice.
Suddenly Pantalone shot up from his chair and quickly walked to the other side of the table. He snatched Diluc’s plate and began filling it from all the dishes spread out. By the time he placed the plate back down, it was overflowing and the 9th walked back to his lavished chair and sat back down.
“Eat.” He repeated and Diluc slowly took a bite. Soon he found himself going for another and another. The starving gave out over the paranoia and the food could rival Adeline’s cooking. It was so so good and he was so so hungry.
Pantalone chuckled, “There he is. The starving boy lost so far from home, parents dead and brother abandoned.” Diluc froze and the harbinger smiled, “Kaeya is his name, yes?”
“Don’t—“ he began.
“Yes! Kaeya Alberich and oh, did you know? He went back to using his biological family name.”
“Stop it.”
“No,” he hummed, “You know I was betrayed by my brother as well. He ran off to become a doctor while I was left in the streets.” He leaned forward, “I was a hungry boy like you once. Abandoned and forgotten by people who said they cared about me. Except I didn’t have your privilege. I didn’t have your legacy or wealth or record breaking job or vision or happy little family. And you threw it all away at the first sight of things going sour.” He took a sip from his glass, “People would kill for a life like that. I know I did.”
Swirling the contents of his drinks causally, Pantalone continued. “You know I despise people like you,” the harbinger’s face feigned softness and voice was chipper but the eyes could rival the coldest of blizzards. “People so filthy rich. I suppose that’s why I made it my life to steal from them. To send them begging on the streets for scraps while my treasury is filled with all they lost. Mocking them as they mocked me.
“Do you know why I left your father’s winery business alone? Because I respect the man and he was a dear friend of mine. Very few can understand the elegance in creating and running a business. Nor can one fully know the ambitious drive. He and I were a lot alike in that way.”
“My father is nothing like you!” Diluc yelled before he could stop himself.
Pantalone simply laughed, “Young Ragnvindr where did all that etiquette training go? Don’t you know how to put on a faux smile and become a cool and calculating man when greeting a business partner?”
“Business partner?” Diluc grimaced.
“Yes,” the harbinger smiled and tilted his head, “Aren’t you intrigued?”
The banker‘s reputation was well known with anyone with even an inkling of knowledge related to business. The Regrator wanting a deal with you was a businessman’s black spot. It wasn’t something you’d ever come ahead on. Accepting it meant horrible terms that could potentially end in bankruptcy. Refusing would be insulting and suddenly your business was being snatched right from under you.
It all boiled down to when Pantalone wants something, he gets it.
And if you have it, you’re screwed.
“Here is my deal,” the man continued his meal like he didn’t just tell Diluc he was dedicating himself to ruining his existence. “You end your little temper tantrum, head back to Mondstat, take up your father’s winery, and cease directing your vengeance against Il Dottore.”
“What!” He growled.
“I know,” Pantalone seemed genuinely pleased with himself, “I’m too kind, practically spoiling you.”
“If you think I’ll let my father’s death go unpunished—“
The 9th scoffed and rolled his eyes, “My father this, my father that. Grow up. If you really wanted to do him proud you’ll realize your little loophole in the deal.”
Diluc thought a minute and his eyes widen.
“There it is,” the harbinger nodded, “There’s hope for you yet. Now go on, say it.”
“I can still hunt the Fatui,” he realized.
“Just not Il Dottore, or myself obviously. I know how people like you think, people so full of hate. There is no getting rid of you or your single minded vengeance so I simply suggest get as far away from me as possible and focus your damage in a poorly invested area. Control my loses as it were.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because you’ll hate it,” he smiled that twisted grin of his, “You really don’t want to be playing business owner surrounded by people who’ll constantly remind you of your father’s death but also will much rather you put on a fascade of normalcy. That you’ll happily live in boring, naive Mondstadt the rest of your life behind a desk. That you’ll gladly meet female and non-ginger suiters who’ll expect a family and marriage and all that dullness.”
“Non-ginger?”
“Boy I managed all Fatui finances. I know if Pulcinella’s little pet project is spending money on dinners and overnight hotel rooms. Except your dates tend to lean more to who can best the other in a fight just to decide who’ll top.”
At the sight of Diluc blushing the man just laughed, “Ah, youth.” His eyes narrowed returning to the subject at hand, “The only reason you’re getting such a good deal is because I owed your father one last favor. Also there is something embarrassing that it was me who sent you running. Not you surviving a battle with the deadly Captain, not the experiments of The Doctor, not the twisted world of The Damsel, but The Banker with his soft cushions and small glasses.”
“What if I refuse?” Diluc dared.
“Don’t,” he said immediately, “If you continue on this path than you’ll destroy the thing you wanted to avenge: Crepus’ legacy,” Diluc found himself frozen as the man rosed and calmly walked over behind his chair.
A small whisper in his ear, “You have no idea how easy it would be to buy Dawn Winery.”
Diluc sighed bitterly, “So this is my punishment?”
“Oh darling,” Pantalone chuckled, “This is just to get you out of my hair so you can live with your real punishment.”
The 9th walked over to wear an extravagant couch was that looked too pretty to actually be used. He patted to the spot beside. Reluctantly Diluc followed and the harbinger poured some tea. He gave the young man a cup while humming an opera tune.
Once Diluc sat down, the man casually handed him a file.
“What is this?” He shifted through the papers.
“A list of transactions of one Crepus Ragnvindr through the years. You’ll find not only a generous list of donations but also quite the amount of business trips.”
“He was in contact with the Fatui.”
“Oh dear,” Pantalone sighed remorsefully and pulled out an old locket, “He did more than just remain contact.”
The locket opened up to show a picture of three men. One with black hair and glasses, Pantalone, one with blue hair who Diluc recognized the face of as one he has killed many times, Il Dottore, and finally a redhead sporting a familiar glove.
“Dad,” Diluc breathed. “What was he doing here?”
Then Pantalone pulled out another file. This one was all news paper clippings with different headlines:
The Tenth Harbinger Strikes Again
Brighella Displays Loyalty to the Tsarista
Fatui Recruits Harbinger Blessed by Muratan
“No…”
Pantalone simply nodded, “Indeed. I did tell you that if you continued to attack the Fatui you’d damaged your father’s legacy.”
Diluc wanted to gag, “He was a harbinger?”
“Surely you must have wondered where you got such rage and hate from. A desire to burn everything down. You must have realized how that anger and thirst for vengeance was just like us. How you are just like us. How you are one of us.”
“Why.. why would you do this?” Anger seeped through his voice, “Why would you ruin him?”
“Because of you!” for the first time tonight The Regrator’s voice was pure vile, “Because once you figured out that it was Il Dottore who gave Crepus the disillusion you can after him. You slaughter three of his segments. Three! Did you know that when one segment dies, his memory gets transferred to Prime? I woke up to my husband screaming, clenching his face in pain. He was in agony in those moments because you burned his face off! You tortured my husband so I will ensure that you live the rest of your miserable and lonely life knowing that the hundreds you killed were for nothing. That those screams that haunt you know what a worthless cause this was. That deep down, you’re one of us, it’s in your blood and in the blood you’ve spilled.”
He gripped Diluc’s chin hard, “You came after something that was mine. You hurt someone that was mine. I really don’t give a damn about the other harbingers but if you so much as lay a finger on the Prime Dottore, I will tell all of Mondstadt about your father’s little hobby. I will tell everyone what you’ve done here. I will destroy Dawn Winery that will not only erase your father’s cherished business but wreck Mondstadt’s economy for a few years. By the time I’m done all people will be able to think about is the tainted Ragnvindr legacy.”
Pantalone finally let go and Diluc found his body already moving to get away from the intensity of the man before he could even think about what everything meant. The banker just stood up with regained composure like nothing had happened.
“You know,” the harbinger told him, “I would do this to my enemies. After taking everything they own and leaving them out on the street, years later I would invite them over. I would feed them and watch as you eat like pigs, like someone who had never starved before, never not had clean clothes and a hot shower waiting for them, someone who had never suffered like I did. They would beg and plead for forgiveness. Tell me what they’ve had to do to survive, who’d they stole from, who’d they killed, what substances they’d gotten addicted to to ease the pain, what they’d let other people do to them. They told me this like I hadn’t grown up around that. Like I hadn’t suffered through that,” he leaned in close, “I can’t wait to send you your invitation.”
Pantalone moved to open the door for Diluc and flashed that cheerful smile, “Now go back home and play businessman, boy.”