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The doors of the Northland bank branch in Liyue flew open, a certain distressed former-harbinger-now-an-archon barging in like it was not 20 minutes before closing time.
“Ekaterina! My comrade! Please save me!” Tartaglia exclaimed, earning himself an unimpressed look from the agent. His eye twitched as he and Ekaterina exchanged glances. She was always so good at reading him, by the grace of the gods let her understand what he meant now, as well. Ekaterina sighed and put down the ledger that was occupying her attention not five seconds ago. What she would give to live out her life in peace, surrounded by ledgers, taking pleasure from the mild Liyue weather and her colleagues’ inability to sort out their cute little crushes.
She looked Tartaglia up and down, taking note of the bags under his eyes and that his uniform was more undone than usual. A bit indecent for an archon, if you asked her.
“Well, well, look who’s back. Didn’t you maybe think through the fact that the Qixing might not look kindly upon the new cryo archon just waltzing into the middle of their city? The Millileth are going to be here in a maximum of ten minutes.”
Tartaglia slowly blinked at her, as if his new status didn’t even cross his mind. It probably didn’t. “Zhongli will talk with them about it.”
Ekaterina gave him an even more unimpressed look, arching an eyebrow. “I suppose he could bore them to sleep. Why are you here, exactly?” She always preferred to get down to business – no use wasting precious seconds. Though, if she guessed correctly the reason why Tartaglia was here, she will have more time than she ever thought possible.
“Comrade,” Tartaglia forced through his teeth, “I really need your help.” He took two steps towards Ekaterina put his hands on her shoulders. Ekaterina considered shoving him off, then thought better about it. No use agitating a new and mentally unstable archon who has never, to be frank, been the poster child of mental stability.
“I don’t know what a budget cut is. I don’t know what a nominal interest rate is. But the Rooster says I can’t run Snezhnaya without it!” he whispered as he stared into her sould.
Maybe him not knowing what a budget cut is explained why he never cared how much mora he spent on his Mister Zhongli.
“And if I have to hear about insufficient transportation infrastructure one more time, I’m-“
Ekaterina crossed her hands over her chest. “Is that the only reason?”
“What?” Childe stopped his burgeoning rant.
Ekaterina sighed. This man was going to be the end of her. “Is you not having basic knowledge of economy the only reason why you need my help?”
Tartaglia mumbled something under his breath.
“What was that?” Ekaterina asked, and since she couldn’t help herself, twisted his ear.
“Ow ow ow, Ekaterina, I suppose the stuff with Dottore trying to take over Nod-Krai is also a problem, please stop!”
“Alright, alright, calm down,” Ekaterina took pity on him and let go of his ear. “Let’s say we make a little deal, hm?”
“A deal?” Tartaglia asked cautiously.
“Yes, a deal,” Ekaterina nodded. “Hand it over,” she declared, stretching out her palm towards Tartaglia, who finally let go of her shoulders and took a step back.
“What? So you get the gnosis, and I get what, exactly?” He narrowed his eyes at her. Maybe he did possess a section of brain that was not focused solely on fighting, after all.
“Well,” Ekaterina appeared to think about it, playing with her braid. “You won’t have to learn about nominal interest rates. You’ll have much more free time, and space to move about as you please. And Dottore will stop being your problem.”
She saw the gears in Tartaglia’s head slowly turning. So just for good measure, she added, “You just want to go out and kill some stuff and occasionally meet Mr. Zhongli in his apartment without Ningguang throwing the Jade Chamber at your head. Is that it?”
A smile slowly spread over Tartaglia’s face, eyes going foggy. Yes.. meeting Zhongli and then going out to kill some ruin hunters together… that sounded like the most perfect day…
“Well?” Ekaterina’s voice cut through his dreaming. “Chop-chop, we don’t have all day. Give it to me.”
Obediently, Tartaglia reached to his pocket and pulled out a gnosis, slightly covered in plum jam from the kolach he stuffed next to it. Ekaterina took it elegantly and held it between her thumb and pointer finger, avoiding the jam.
“Thank you, Tartaglia,” she said, and used her newly acquired powers of teleportation to wink away to Zapolyarny palace.
A second later, the Millelith burst through the door.
***
The door opened, and Thrain walked through the door of the sitting room, dragging Tartaglia behind him by his scarf like a sack of potatoes.
“So where did you find him?” inquired Sandrone from behind her teacup. “You’re late, you know.”
“Qixing had him in prison for violating diplomatic rules of conduct.”
He let go of Tartaglia’s scarf, leaving him to lie on the floor next to Arlecchino. She observed him, and thanked whatever ruled the fate of the world that he never ended up in the House of the Hearth. She was a patient woman, but he might have been too much even for her. She turned away from him, instead focusing on Thrain.
“And how did you manage to get him out? I do not recall hearing Pantalone complaining about having to pay for bail.”
Thrain sat down on one of the plush light blue chairs around the table with a sigh. “He had to promise not to… engage in certain activities on the beach with a certain consultant anymore.”
Each year, there were more and more free chairs, Arlecchino observed. How long until all of them start collecting dust, she wondered.
Arlecchino’s thought were interrupted by Sandrone’s shrill voice as she rolled her eyes at Thrain. “You know you can say “fuck”, right? Anyway,” she leaned over the table so she could see better at Tartaglia, still pretending to be a part of the floor, “a bit embarrassing for you that we had to pick you up like a kid from the kindergarten. When did you give the gnosis over to Ekaterina?”
“Two days ago.” He mumbled.
“HA!” Sandrone stood up suddenly, chair scraping against the floor, pointing at Arlecchino. “You owe me twenty mora!”
Arlecchino pulled out her wallet and slowly started counting out the amount, Sandrone watching with unrestrained glee and Thrain with faint amusement.
“Wait,” Tartaglia jumped up from the floor, “did you bet on how long I would stay an archon?!”
“Well duh,” replied Sandrone, not looking up from the growing pile of mora on the table. “I bet on you not lasting a week, and Arlecchino thought you would last between one and two weeks. And since you only lasted 96 hours, the prize is mine!”
Tartaglia looked crestfallen but then turned towards Thrain. “At least you believed in me, comrade!”
Thrain didn’t look up from the slice of cake he had pulled toward himself from the centre of the table, but the exasperation was clear from his voice. “For one, I am not your comrade anymore.” Tartaglia opened his mouth, but Thrain interrupted him with a raised finger. “And for two, I did not think you would last more than three days.”
Tartaglia’s face slowly fell, his whole world shattered. He pulled out a chair next to Arlecchino, sat down heavily, and took a slice of cake as well. Drowning one’s sorrows in sugar was always a good idea. Thrain didn’t seem a slight bit remorseful – on the contrary, a feeling of the deepest satisfaction he has not known for hundreds of years slowly spread through his body. He poured himself a cup of tea.
“At least give him some credit, Thrain!” Sandrone leaned back in her chair, “he not only lasted four whole days, he also caused an international scandal and was witness to one of his subordinates finally lose his marbles and declare himself a god.”
Tartaglia glowered at Sandrone, then started to eat his cake mechanically. Arlecchino decided this was probably the best time to broach the subject.
“So.”
“So,” replied Sandrone.
“So,” agreed Thrain.
“So?” asked Tartaglia, not wanting to be left out.
Arlecchino decided to take pity on young man – any more humiliation today, and it might genuinely push him somewhere nobody wanted to see.
“We keep losing members. First, Rosalyne decides to challenge a famously mentally unstable archon, then Thrain here,” she pointed at Thrain with her teaspoon to his unending delight, “decided to take a sabbatical in the Night Kingdom, and now,” she pointed at the chair usually occupied by the little Moon goddess, “Columbina is who knows where thanks to Dottore.”
An uneasy atmosphere spread through the sunlit room. Arlecchino supposed everyone here had something against Dottore, even without him breaking up their little tea club even more.. She, for what he subjected the children of the House of the Hearth to, Thrain, for the laboratory in Natlan, Sandrone, for annoying her, and Tartaglia for not ever fighting him.
Perhaps not all reasons were equal, but they were reasons nonetheless.
Thrain drummed his fingers on the table, contemplating. “I propose a vote. Whether we will take solving this particular problem into our own hands.”
“I’m for,” Sandrone raised her hand.
“I as well,” Arlecchino joined in.
Thrain raised his hand too, then looked towards Tartaglia, who was busy playing with leftover cake crumbs on his plate. Arlecchino kicked him under the table.
Tartaglia jumped up a bit from his chair, and getting what was wanted from him, raised his hand as well.
“I love democracy,” declared Sandrone.
Childe briefly gained possession of the shared harbinger braincell and realized that, once again, Dottore was his problem.
***
Working out the actual strategy was a bigger problem than either of them realized. Maybe the teambuilding trips Rooster had suggested in the past weren’t such a bad idea, but by now it was too late to cried over spilled milk and never-done trust building exercises.
“Pulonia will…” Sandrone stated for the third time that day, only to be interrupted by Thrain who was beginning to have a headache. “Pulonia will do what, exactly? Put enough force into the punch to banish a newborn god through the Moongate? So The Doctor can be stuck there with Columbina?”
Sandrone leaned towards him over the table. “Do you have a better idea? A single better idea? Need I remind you, your first instinct when dealing with problems is to either push a boulder onto them or fight them with a sword, including,” Sandrone twirled a piece of her hair around her finger, a satisfied smile on her face, “when you have a crush.”
“Well,” Thrain replied, eyes narrowing, “at least I found a way to deal with my “crush,” as you call it.”
“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Sandrone slammed her hand down on the table.
All in all, Tartaglia was glad the attention was off him.
Arlecchino was glad she had experience handling unruly children. “I suggest,” she said before they could start disembowelling each other, “that we talk to him.”
Everyone turned their gazes to her – Sandrone shaking out the pain out of the hand she slammed down, Thrain ready to bolt and take matters into his own hands and Tartaglia looking at her like she lost her mind, which she honestly didn’t rule out as entirely impossible.
She stood up from the table and went over to the window overlooking the snow-covered roofs of Snezhnograd. “Think about all the meetings we all sat through, the boot-licking diplomatic parties we had to attend.”
She watched a snowflake fall on the windowsill and be absorbed by the rest of the fallen snow, one moment unique, the other a part of a single mass, undistinguishable from the rest.
“If there is one thing he loves, it is for others to recognize his brilliance. It is the thing he never felt he got during his time in the Academia. If we come asking, he will provide at least some, partial answers.”
“Yeah,” Tartaglia chimed in, “and once we tell him how great he is, he’s just gonna try and crush us with his new fancy god powers.”
“I’m surprised to hear this from you, Tartaglia,” she turned around to look at him, “you do not wish to fight him?”
Tartaglia’s mouth fell open. How predictable.
“So, to borrow Sandrone’s words, does any of you have a single, better idea?”
***
In the end, they decided that Arlecchino and Sandrone will go and try squeeze as much information as they can out of Dottore, while Tartaglia will inform the Traveller and their little group. Thrain volunteered to stay outside in Nasha town in case of some emergency.
Arlecchino privately thought that he was, for some reason, avoiding meeting with the Grandmaster of Mondstadt, but honestly, the less she knew about Thrain’s personal relationships, the more soundly she slept.
Tartaglia did not leave this without some protest, crying that only five minutes ago she promised him that he could fight Dottore. She replied that they would only try and gather information and that there would be enough future opportunities to get his neck snapped.
Tartaglia was waiting behind the door of the Curatorium, trying to listen in and employ more of this “strategic thinking” and “not being rash” Ekater-, ehm, the Tsaritsa told him about.
Unfortunately, Nefer’s ears were more finely tuned to people trying to listen in on sensitive conversations than Aino’s nose was to sniffing out krumkake’s, so his valiant attempt was unsuccessful.
“You can come out, go on,” she beckoned him inside.
“Tartaglia! You’re here! So it was you listening on behind the door.” Paimon cried out, not being able to stamp down on the urge to explain things that were obvious to everyone.
“Haha, yeah…” Tartaglia rubbed the back of his head, “I’ve just come to inform you that Arlecchino and Sandrone have gone to confront Dottore, to try and get as much information out of him. Capitano, ehm, I mean Thrain is staying in Nasha town in the meanwhile, to prevent any incidents from occurring.”
Varka’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “Capitano is here? I mean yeah, of course, good on him for keeping the townspeople safe. I mean it’s just that we met once already, when he was on his way to Natlan. Good man, good man, not that something happened. Haha.”
Flins put a hand on Varka’s shoulder. “It is alright, my friend. We understand. You are simply reluctant to meet someone who could challenge your fighting prowess.”
Varka disloged his shoulder from Flins’ hold. “I’m not afraid to meet him because the guy is stronger than me, we just had a one-“
The Traveller put their hands over Paimon’s ears, just as Ineffa put hers over Aino’s.
Varka managed to stop himself, but mouthed “little shit” at Flins, who looked as content as ever.
Lauma cleared her voice, getting everyone’s attention. “How about we go help Arlecchino and Sandrone? I’m sure they could use backup.”
“Great idea!” the Traveller exclaimed, running out of the door and dragging floating Paimon behind them, happy to be out of the awkward atmosphere. Flins, Nefer and Lauma followed, as did Tartaglia, excited to be presented with an opportunity to duke it out with Dottore.
Jahoda cast a side eye towards Varka. “Did you really have a one night stand with the first harbinger?”
Varka opened his mouth to respond, but Aino beat him to it. “One night stand?” she tilted her head, “Ineffa, what’s a one night stand?”
Jahoda and Ineffa exchanged glances, Ineffa’s eyes glowing ominously. Jahoda got the feeling that unless she triple locked her door this night, she was not going to get the opportunity to see tomorrow’s sunrise.
***
Afterwards, they all got together for a little rendervous in the Flagship. For whatever reason, all tables in their vicinity were empty and the Fatui recruiter looked like he was going to have a heart attack.
“The gall of him!” Sandrone raged. “He declares himself a god, AND takes over my base! If only I could take his stupid beak mask and ram it up-“
“Any other significant details?” Thrain interrupted.
Arlecchino shook her head. “Except for the fact that he is holding the Traveller who knows where, no, I don’t believe so.”
“And Paimon will soon turn to alcohol to drown her sorrows,” Tartaglia added, drawing shapes into the dust settled in the corner of the table.
Thrain shot him an exasperated look. “She’s depressed, Tartaglia, do not make fun of her for it.”
“Do not make fun of her, Tartaglia, concentrate Tartaglia, don’t get yourself killed, Tartaglia. Do you guys even have fun sometimes?”
Thrain put his face in his hands.
Tartaglia continued on, undeterred. “At least the fight with Dottore was a bit of excitement. Those machines shooting lasers were exciting to evade.”
“And another thing!” Sandrone suddenly yelled again, “he keeps going on and on how his creations are so much better than mine, how my machinery is sooooo unreliable compared to what he creates, but he’s just a hypocrite!”
She took a deep breath, and the few patrons that were left in the Flagship quietly took their leave. They had enough troubles already, an explosive harbinger was not something they wanted to deal with.
“The stuff he uses when he fights? Machines! Even the contraption for the Moon Marrows he went on and on about is just machinery in the end. Ugh, I can’t stand him.”
Arlecchino suddenly straightened up. “Machinery, you say?” She turned toward Sandrone in her chair.
“Uh yeah? That’s what I just said.”
Arlecchino quickly got up from the table, chair overturning and falling behind her. “I have to leave for Fontaine.”
“Fontaine?” Thrain asked, looking perturbed.
“Have you finally gone insane?” Tartaglia pointed an accusatory finger at her, “we have like fifty hours left till Ekat- I mean the Tsaritsa comes marching in!”
But Arlecchino was already heading for the exit, not really listening to what they were saying.
Sandrone leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. “Pulonia!” she yelled at the waiting robot, “Bring me a damn drink.”
***
Arlecchino walked to the docks, because Arlecchino didn’t run on principle, even if the situation maybe called for it, but she did walk faster than usual.
At the docks, she bribed a captain of a cargo ship heading for Fontaine to bring her on, then bribed her further to go over the speed limit one they reached Fontainian waters. Then she bribed the person operating the waterfall lifts to make it go faster, and she considered bribing Aeval to make to aquabus go faster too, but realized that might be pushing it, so she kept her mouth shut and dutifully looked at the sights the Melusine pointed out.
Once she got off, she speedwalked to the House of the Hearth, only stopping in a toy store to buy the newest Meka Destroyer 2000 Improved With Lasers (15% OFF!) that has been advertised everywhere the last few weeks as the new, best, most elaborate toy.
Inside the House, she climbed up, up, up, until she reached the ladder leading to the attic, ignoring the questions of the children about her whereabouts along the way. Climbing up the ladder with the toy held under an armpit, she considered whether it would have been a good idea to kick off her heels, as they were not the best choice of footwear for this activity. Her toes were starting to hurt from all the speedwalking as well.
Once she was high enough, she threw the toy inside the attic and climbed the rest of the way much more securely.
She looked around the dusty room, making a mental note to tell Lyney about perhaps cleaning it once in a while. She didn’t immediately spot who she was looking for, but, once she looked up, there she found her – Lynette, sleeping on one of the beams, curled up, her tail hanging down.
“Lynette,” she called out, to no effect. So, she tugged on Lynette’s tail, just a little, as not to startle her, also to no effect. Realizing she would have to employ more drastic measures, she finally took off her shoes, getting her socks dirty from all the dust, moved a nearby chair under the beam, and tried to get up. Admittedly, it was no easy feat, and some of the scrambling strategy she had to employ was a bit embarrassing, but, she reasoned with herself, time was of the essence. There would be plenty of time to be hard to approach and threatening later.
Finally on the beam, she wiped the sweat off her brow, and shook Lynette with as much force as she could while not totally throwing her off. When that girl got going, a star could fall upon the Court of Fontaine and she would not wake.
This approach, too, proved ineffectual, so Arlecchino decided to employ the last weapon. She lightly pinched Lynette’s ear.
Immediately, Lynette woke up, hissed and launched herself up from the beam, managing to land gracefully on her feet under Arlecchino. A few seconds had to pass before she truly realized what had happened and smoothed out her slightly ruffled hair.
“Father,” she said, in lieu of greeting.
“Lynette,” Arlecchino replied, grateful they were on the same page. Then, she jumped down from the beam as well and immediately regretted it once she felt the impact in her knees.
“Lynette,” she said once again when she managed to straighten up, “would you pick up the toy over there for me?” she pointed at the Meka Destroyer 2000 Improved With Lasers (15% OFF!) she left lying on the floor by the ladder.
Lynette bent down to pick it up, but once the toy was in her hand for more than a second, its head fell off, then an arm, then a leg, and then the entire torso crumbled into hundred little individual components.
It was completely unusable.
Arlecchino could have jumped for joy, but she still had some dignity and appearances to keep up.
So instead, she said, “Lynette, would you like to go to Nod-Krai? There is a certain matter that requires your involvement as a Fatui agent.”
Lynette blinked at her once, slowly, thoughts running through her head like water. “You need my help with the Doctor,” she stated.
Smart girl, Arlecchino thought. She bent at the waist so she was eye-to-eye with Lynette and put a hand on her shoulder for good measure. “If you come with me, I will arrange for hotel Debord to deliver you one dessert, every single day. Paid for by Fatui money.”
Lynette’s ears perked up in attention. “Until the day I die?”
“Until you remain in Fatui service.”
“Deal,” Lynette said, then stuck out her fist in front of her. Arlecchino fist bumped her back.
***
A few hours and many more bribes later, Arlecchino and Lynette landed on the shores of Nod-Krai. Nasha Town was mostly deserted, so it was easy to her Paimon’s high pitched cry of “UUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA” coming from the Curatorium of Secrets.
Opening the door and letting Lynette come through, Arlecchino was greeted with a picture she didn’t think she would see. The Traveller, safe and sound, sitting in a sofa, Paimon hugging their head with her whole body, everybody else crowding around them.
Tartaglia waved them in. “Comrades! You’re just in time! The Traveller is just telling us how they got away from Dottore. We had a whole rescue operation planned, but they just walked in like nothing was wrong!”
“Was this why you had to leave?” Sandrone sneered, “you had to pick up your kid?”
“Shush,” interrupted Nefer before the harbingers could start another of their petty fights, “let them continue.”
The attention turned to the Traveller again, half of their face obscured by Paimon’s body.
“So” they started where they left off before Arlecchino and Lynette arrived, “then he said that anything Columbina can do, he can do better. So I told him to put on her dress and sing her lullaby and he kicked me out of the experiment bubble for not taking this seriously.”
A deathly silence spread throughout the room, Arlecchino was able to hear her own heartbeat.
“What.” Thrain not-really-asked.
The Traveller leaned forward, finally pulling Paimon off their face and into their lap. Their eyes burned with intensity. “He said,” they repeated, “that anything Columbina can do, he can do better. So I told him to. Put. On. That. Damn. Dress.”
“Anyway,” they finally leaned back, and the oppressive atmosphere of the room somehow receded, “if you ask me, if a guy can’t put on a dress for the sake of an experiment, he’s clearly lacking conviction.” They patted a somewhat calmed down Paimon on the head.
“I mean,” they continued their train of thought, gesturing towards Thrain, “if Mavuika asked you to put on a dress, you’d do it, wouldn’t you? You’re full of conviction.”
Ah, thought Arlecchino. It seemed that among their many talents, the Traveller was also well versed in psychological warfare.
Thrain simply took a few steps back, his eyes not leaving the Traveller, and when he went as far as the wall would allow, he opened a window and jumped out onto the street without a word.
Everyone else also shuffled a little away from the Traveller, except for Paimon, who was still in a happiness induced coma.
“So, what’s the plan now?” they asked, seemingly oblivious.
Arlecchino knew they were faking it.
***
About three near murders later, everyone was sort of on the same page about the proceedings of the next few hours. Arlecchino sent Lynette to find Thrain and relay him the instructions, wherever he was having a breakdown over his newfound sexual awakening.
Tartaglia, she had to admit, surpassed her expectations. Not only did he not suggest he be the only one to fight Dottore to quench his never-ending lust for battle, he also told Sandrone, that “She’d be insane to go and fight Dottore with them and only would get herself killed, no offence.”
Sandrone took “No offence” as meaning “Yes offence” and Pulonia almost broke Tartaglia’s ribs (all of them) as per her instructions, but thanks to that Moonchanter’s speedy intervention, Tartaglia only sported a minor bruise on his left side in the shape of a fist.
***
Drawing out Dottore was not very hard. What Thrain did have to admit was a bit hard, was fighting him. He did not want to give out unearned compliments, and the bastard did basically steal two thirds of the power he was currently using, but he was damn good at squeezing out every drop that was afforded to him.
So he was slightly worried when the Moonchanter, Nefer and that weird Lightkeeper were stolen away to some containment dimension, even if it was a part of the plan.
The Traveller, Tartaglia, him and Lynette were all that was left, and he made sure to keep an eye out for the girl, out of pure concern (and not because Arlecchino had a bit of a “chat” with him).
Arlecchino and Varka (and wasn’t that an awkward encounter) were on the sidelines with that seelie Nicole, doing who knows what to bring the Moon into the sky proper. Sandrone, as per Tartaglia’s “advice” stayed behind, fiddling with her formula that would hopefully bring Columbina back.
Then, there came a lull in the fighting. Dottore looked up, finally noticing that the Moon was descending. With a smirk, he started closing the fissure in the sky, like a surgeon stitching a wound. Except in this case the surgeon put the wound there in the first place, so that didn’t really make sense. Thrain thought he should probably go light on the metaphors before someone started laughing at him.
The true sky lay once again beyond their sights and Dottore looked like he was, again, gearing up for one of his speeches.
However, the sky started cracking from the force of the descending Moon, and Dottore lost concentration momentarily, evidently not expecting this. “Lynette! Now!” He called out to the girl standing on the sidelines.
Lynette, in true cat fashion, took a few totally silent steps to gather speed and did a jump that could only be described as pouncing. Dottore, preoccupied with the Moon falling down on his head, did not notice Lynette descending, so he was very unprepared when the girl started clinging to the crescent-like contraption behind him.
To make sure Lynette was not the sole centre of Dottore’s attention, Thrain launched a few ice spikes at him, careful ensure none of them came close to Lynette.
Then, one of the metal panels fell down. Dottore looked at it, dumbfounded, when one of the Moon Marrows popped off and started rolling toward the edge of the platform. Tartaglia went to chase after it. Who knows where it would end up if it really did roll off.
A spike filled with some sort of blue liquid detached, more and more metal, the second Moon marrow, raining down like raindrops, except raindrops were usually made of water and not metal and pieces of the Moon and whatnot and Thrain really had to stop with the metaphors.
“No! What are you-“ he made to grab Lynette, but the girl was too fast and jumped a few meters away. Dottore, now with his fake Moon authority pretty much broken, couldn’t teleport to her and started running, which he was not very good at, since he was a scientist who sat hunched over in a lab most of the time. Still, Lynette did a little “Mrow” and ran towards Thrain, as she was instructed to do should something go wrong.
Thrain prepared himself to start fighting a powered down Dottore, but in the end he didn’t have to.
Sandrone’s world formula ran its course, and Columbina appeared in front of the Moon. She quietly assessed the situation, descended, and whacked Dottore on the head with her wing. Thrain hoped it didn’t hurt her, since he heard from Ororon once that bird bones (unlike bat bones) were hollow. He should probably visit the kid sometime again.
Anyway, predictably, Dottore collapsed on the spot.
For a few seconds, nothing happened, then the Moonchanter, the Lightkeeper and Nefer appeared on the platform, safe and sound.
Arlecchino and Varka both also joined them.
Lynette looked at Dottore, then Arlecchino, then Dottore, took him by the ankle and started dragging him toward Arlecchino looking rather like – well, rather like a satisfied cat presenting a trophy. Arlecchino scratched her between the ears and Lynette pressed her head against her Father’s hand, purring.
She was probably imagining all the cakes she would get to eat.
Columbina was flitting here and fro, greeting everybody and receiving hugs, nods of acknowledgment and pats on the shoulder.
“Not that I want to interrupt a heartfelt moment,” Varka interrupted a heartfelt moment, “but what are we going to do about him?” he pointed at Dottore, still unconscious.
Everybody turned to look at Thrain.
“Why are you looking at me?” he asked, knowing the answer.
“You got rid of the Racher of Solnari, quite efficiently, so they are expecting you to get rid of the Doctor, also efficiently,” Lynette helpfully supplied, still receiving Arlecchino’s ministrations.
“Oh, I have an idea,” Columbina floated towards him, and started whispering in his ear.
***
Dragging an unconscious body up the Volcano of Tollan was not the easiest job, especially since he was trying not to be seen, but Thrain was not one to complain. Still, he was immensely grateful one he reached the top and could take a breather.
He wondered what kind of drugs it was that were running through Dottore’s body for the last few days. That Jahoda girl showed up with them, told everyone not to ask questions and stabbed a needle into Dottore’s arm. Since then, he hadn’t even twitched, even when Thrain (not so) accidentally banged his head against a wall of rock on the way up.
He hoped nobody had seen him. He didn’t want the people of Natlan to think he viewed their land as a mere place to dispose of bodies.
He positioned Dottore at the edge of the crater, preparing to simply roll him into it with his foot, when he was interrupted by an “Ehm.”
He turned around, knowing he was failing terribly at not looking guilty.
“What are you doing here this fine night?” Mavuika asked, hands on her hips.
“Nothing,” Thrain replied.
Mavuika gestured with her head at the harbinger at his feet. “Clearly.”
“It’s Dottore?” Thrain offered.
That made Mavuika pause. “Really?”
When Thrain nodded, she walked over and kicked Dottore down herself without preamble.
She scrunched her eyebrows. “Was that one of his segments? Or the original?”
Thrain suddenly realized he had no idea.
“I have no idea,” he told her.
“Well,” she looked down at where Dottore was swallowed up by lava, “I’m sure we’re eventually gonna figure it out.”
“Hmm,” Thrain hummed noncommittally, also looking down at the lava. It was quite a mesmerizing sight, like Mavuika’s paints on the canvas, except paints were usually not highly flammable and made of heavy molten metals and-
Mavuika wound her arm around his shoulders and pressed the length of her body against his. “You know, a little dove told me something about a dress?”
***
When Thrain entered their usual sitting room in Zapolyarny palace, he was greeted with a very peculiar sight.
Namely, Columbina sitting on Sandrone’s lap.
He quickly walked over to his usual seat next to Sandrone and sat down, spine ramrod straight. Not because he was uncomfortable with this apparent relationship – after all, Columbina had quit being a harbinger so this could no longer be classified as workplace romance. No, he was rather wary of accidentally reminding Sandrone that she possessed emotions other than rage and annoyance and was, at times, capable of such things as “affection.”
It was usually the fastest way to earn her ire and a sparring match with Pulonia on top.
“You see,” Sandrone started in that haughty tone of hers, “I am also capable of dealing with my crush. And I don’t even need a sword for it.”
Tartaglia snickered at the double meaning.
Arlecchino kicked him under the table, gently. Then, her gaze fell on the macarons stacked on the table, and she suddenly leaned forward.
“Have I told you about the latest affaire of Fontaine’s minister for finances?”
Thrain also leaned forward. “You haven’t.”
“Well, Lyney told me he overheard Lady Furina speaking with a fellow actress, who, as luck would have it, is apparently his mistress.”
***
As Arlecchino detailed the various sexcapades of Fontaine’s elite, Columbina picked out two macarons. She fed the raspberry one to Sandrone, and munched on the mint and chocolate one herself.
It reminded her of the Frost Moon.
END