The eternal, biting wind of Snezhnaya cut across the vast snowy plains like a blade, howling as it battered the thick granite walls of Zapolyarny Palace.
Inside, it was nothing like the bitter cold outdoors.
A lively fire crackled in the hearth, its soft pops and warmth driving away the frost and casting light on two figures who had just finished a long conversation.
“So, this is your decision, Pierro?” The voice was rather young, yet carried a steadiness and sharpness that belied its years.
Dottore, the genius scholar who had only recently been brought back to Snezhnaya, sat in an armchair by the fireplace, holding a cup of steaming black coffee.
His gaze passed through the rising vapor and settled on the stern-faced, white-haired man across from him: the Fatui’s Chief Director, Pierro, the Jester.
Pierro did not answer right away.
His deep-set eyes stared into the dancing flames, as though he could trace the tracks of the future within them.
“Yes, Dottore.” His voice was low and resonant, weighted with the gravity of someone who had lived through much.
“Your brilliance should not be shackled by worldly dogma, nor buried because of past ‘mistakes.’ Her Majesty the Tsaritsa needs your wisdom.
This land, perhaps, also needs it.” He spoke slowly.
“Snezhnaya can offer you all the resources you require, an undisturbed research environment, and… understanding.” Dottore stirred his coffee, the spoon clinking lightly against the porcelain.
“Understanding?
Heh…” A faint, sardonic curl touched the corner of his mouth.
It was unclear whether the expression was directed at himself or at those so-called “peers” he had once encountered.
“I only believe in logic and empirical evidence.
However,” he shifted his focus back to Pierro, “I admit, the terms you have offered and the ‘foresight’ you have displayed do make this difficult to refuse.
Perhaps this frozen nation truly can become a breeding ground for certain ‘possibilities.'” “Not merely a breeding ground, Dottore.
It will be your most solid support.” Pierro turned his head and fixed him with a sharp gaze.
“I know you still have doubts.
That is only natural.
Time will prove everything.
Welcome formally to the Fatui, Second of the Harbingers, the Doctor.” “The Second Seat?” Dottore’s brow arched slightly.
“You seem to have high expectations of me.
Are you not afraid I might cause some more ‘earth-shattering’ trouble, just as I did at the Akademiya?” “Order requires strength to be reshaped, and strength often walks hand in hand with risk.
I trust you can manage that risk.” Pierro rose and walked to the window, looking out at the endless blizzard.
“Snezhnaya itself was built from a frozen, desperate land.
We have never feared challenges, whether they come from outside or within.” Dottore also stood and walked to Pierro’s side, standing shoulder to shoulder with him.
The glass window reflected their blurred silhouettes, one as steady as bedrock, the other as keen as a newly sharpened blade.
“Very well.
Then, my laboratory…” “Rest assured, it has already been prepared according to your specifications,” Pierro said.
“A three-story underground lab set up next to the residence arranged for you near Zapolyarny Palace.” He paused and added, “Naturally, the necessary supply channels will be established, but your independence and privacy will be preserved to the greatest extent possible.” “The efficiency is satisfactory.” Dottore nodded, and at last a genuine, faint smile appeared on his face, one born from a hunger for research finally being satisfied.
“In that case, I will begin the first batch of projects tomorrow.
The preliminary optimization plan for Delusions and some foundational restructuring theories concerning life alchemy.
I hope the resources can arrive in a timely manner.” “I will personally oversee it,” Pierro promised.
“If there is any progress, or any need, you can contact me at any time through the dedicated communication channel.” Their exchange was concise and efficient, lacking excessive pleasantries, yet it had already established a peculiar trust based on mutual recognition and clear objectives.
For Dottore, Snezhnaya was not a home, but it was an excellent platform.
Pierro was not a kindred spirit, but he was a rare collaborator who could understand and even support his mad ideas.
Just then, a light and somewhat hesitant knock came from the study door, as though the person on the other side was a little distracted.
“Come in,” Pierro said.
The door was gently pushed open, and a uniquely adorned young woman drifted into the room.
Her hair was as dark as night, with several strands of deep ginger red woven through it, adding a touch of warmth and mystery.
A delicate white mesh veil covered her eyes, making it difficult to fully perceive her features yet inviting even more curiosity.
She often appeared with her eyes closed, and her eyelids were lightly shut now.
At the back of her head, she wore an exquisite headpiece of six wings, like pinions condensed from moonlight.
Her attire was a white-and-blue lunar goddess-style garment, ethereal and sacred.
Her bare feet were particularly striking.
Beneath them, suspended water droplets and crescent-shaped high-heel bases hovered curiously.
Flowing white silk ribbons tied into bows wrapped around her wrists and legs, fluttering gently as she moved.
Instead of carrying an almanac or books, she held a delicate little plate, upon which rested a half-eaten slice of honey cake that looked very sweet.
“Mister Pierro…” The girl’s airy voice carried a dazed note, as if she had only just returned from some daydream.
“What you mentioned earlier… um… was I supposed to organize the northern almanac, or… try the new cake the kitchen made?” As she spoke, she tilted her head slightly, as though listening to invisible presences around her.
“The moon spirits say the almanac has already sorted itself out.
They rather like orderly numbers.
So I decided to try the cake first.
It’s very good.
Would you like some?” Pierro seemed long accustomed to her ways.
A barely perceptible hint of helplessness flickered through his single eye.
“Columbina, as long as the almanac is in order.
This is the newly appointed Second Seat, Dottore, the Doctor.” The girl called Columbina then “looked” in Dottore’s direction.
Despite her closed eyes, it felt as if she were observing him precisely.
“Oh?
A new colleague?
Hello, Mister Dottore.
I am the Third Seat, Columbina, the Damselette.” She drifted a few steps closer, the crescents and droplets beneath her feet glimmering faintly.
“My apologies for greeting you while sampling a snack.
Still, good food does lift one’s spirits, don’t you think?
Would you like half?” She amiably extended the plate toward him.
Dottore looked at the Third Seat with some astonishment.
Her peculiar manner and disjointed speech were far removed from any image of a Harbinger he had imagined.
His gaze swept swiftly over her attire and state, a scholar’s exploratory curiosity flashing in his eyes.
“Miss Columbina… a pleasure.
I’ll pass on the pastry.
I prefer the purity of coffee.” He paused and added, “Your… ‘moon spirit’ friends seem quite interesting.” He had keenly caught the oddity in her words.
“Eh?
You can understand them?” Columbina’s lips curved up happily.
“They really like the… um… ‘quiet’ feeling coming from the direction of your laboratory.
May I bring them to visit you someday?
I’ll be sure to bring new pastries, of course!” “Columbina,” Pierro interjected at the right moment, cutting off what could have spiraled into an endlessly branching conversation.
“In the future, if Dottore requires anything for his research and I am not available, you may assist in the allocation as you see fit.” “Understood.” Columbina nodded obediently, then turned her “gaze” back to Dottore.
“Mister Dottore, if you need help, or if you simply want someone to talk to and taste something nice, you can always come to me.
People who see each other often should keep in touch, after all.” Her tone carried a natural, unadulterated warmth.
Dottore fell silent for a moment.
Such direct and simple goodwill was something he had seldom encountered in his past.