Cold.
Dryness.
Loneliness.
Fear.
Pain.
Every part of the prison seemed designed to wear away at Diluc Ragnvindr’s body and spirit.
Bitter air seeped through the stone walls, iron restraints chafed against his wrists, and the darkness of the underground cell made it impossible to tell whether it was day or night outside.
In this frozen prison beneath Snezhnaya, despair was the only thing that remained constant.
Diluc had come here for revenge.
After his father’s death, he had followed every clue he could find concerning the Fatui and their production of Delusions.
His investigation eventually led him to one of their factories hidden deep inside Snezhnayan territory.
He had intended to destroy it, expose those responsible, and make the people who had ruined his family pay.
Instead, he had overestimated himself.
Three Fatui Harbingers had been stationed near the facility.
Against even one of them, victory would have been uncertain.
Against all three and the forces under their command, Diluc had been overwhelmed, captured, and thrown into a cell before he could complete his mission.
Under normal circumstances, imprisoning the heir of one of Mondstadt’s wealthiest and most influential families could create a diplomatic disaster.
The Ragnvindr name carried enormous weight, and Diluc had once served as the Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius.
Unfortunately, none of that could protect him now.
He had entered Snezhnaya secretly while travelling across Teyvat.
No formal delegation knew his route.
No official record stated that he had crossed the border.
To the outside world, Diluc Ragnvindr had simply disappeared somewhere during his journey.
His father was dead, leaving him without the protection Crepus had once provided through wealth and connections.
Diluc had also resigned from the Knights of Favonius.
Mondstadt therefore had no clear political obligation to defend him, especially when he had infiltrated another nation without authorization.
And then there was Kaeya.
Kaeya was not related to him by blood, but he was still Crepus’s adopted son and a member of the Knights of Favonius.
From a cold political perspective, allowing Kaeya to inherit the Ragnvindr estate might even be more convenient for Mondstadt than provoking Snezhnaya over a missing former knight.
Diluc leaned his head against the wall and released a bitter breath.
He had been reckless.
Young.
Arrogant enough to believe that determination could make up for the difference between himself and the Fatui’s highest-ranking monsters.
Before his death, Crepus had explicitly told both of his sons not to seek revenge.
Diluc had understood the words, yet he had ignored the intention behind them.
His father had known exactly how dangerous the truth was and had tried to keep his sons away from it.
In the end, Diluc had wasted that final act of protection.
This is my fault, he thought.
There was no reason to drag Kaeya into the consequences of his own decisions.
Even if he wanted help, no information could escape from this prison.
By the time Mondstadt discovered what had happened—assuming it ever did—it might already be far too late.
A metallic knock echoed through the corridor.
“Meal time!”
A rank-and-file Fatui soldier stopped outside the cell and pushed a tray through the narrow opening in the door.
A large loaf of hard bread.
A small wedge of cheese.
A portion of vegetable salad.
And a shallow bowl of thin vegetable soup.
That was apparently lunch.
Diluc’s entire body ached when he moved, but he forced himself upright and crossed the cell.
He accepted the tray through the opening, sat down, and began to eat with the same stern composure he carried everywhere else.
His future was unknown.
His captors had not told him whether he would be interrogated, experimented upon, exchanged, or quietly executed.
Faced with such uncertainty, Diluc made the most practical decision available to him.
He would eat first.
“What do all of you think should be done with Diluc Ragnvindr?”
A thick dossier landed on the polished table.
It contained everything the Fatui had gathered about Diluc: his family, his former position within the Knights of Favonius, his father’s death, and even the routes he had travelled across Teyvat during the past several years.
Seven Fatui Harbingers sat in the meeting chamber.
Each of them was a calamity in human form.
At the head of the table sat Pierro, The Jester and Director of the Fatui.
Beside him was Il Dottore, The Doctor, the Second of the Eleven.
The Third, Columbina—The Damselette—sat with her eyes peacefully closed.
Arlecchino, The Knave, occupied the Fourth Seat.
Scaramouche, The Balladeer, held the Sixth.
Sandrone, The Marionette, sat in the Seventh.
Near the end of the table was Rosalyne, La Signora, the Eighth.
Diluc was important by ordinary standards, but not important enough to justify gathering seven Harbingers solely to discuss his fate.
The matter had merely been raised at the end of a larger meeting held under the Tsaritsa’s authority.
Pierro rested one hand upon the dossier and looked toward Dottore.
“This affair began with your research.
What do you propose we do with him?”
Every gaze in the chamber shifted toward The Doctor.
Even Columbina’s attention seemed to sharpen despite her closed eyes.
Scaramouche, who had spent most of the meeting idly turning a Delusion between his fingers, finally looked up.
“Me?”
Dottore remained entirely unconcerned.
“His physical condition is excellent.
As an experimental subject, he may be capable of enduring the side effects of a Delusion.”
Silence followed.
Pierro did not respond immediately.
Neither did the other Harbingers, though several of them regarded Dottore with expressions that ranged from disapproval to detached disgust.
The Harbingers were hardly gentle people.
Each possessed their own ambitions, cruelties, and methods.
Yet even among them, Dottore stood apart.
His strength was monstrous.
So was his complete lack of humanity.
Diluc had entered Snezhnaya because of the Delusions produced through Dottore’s research.
Crepus’s death had planted the first seed of hatred, but what Diluc had witnessed while travelling across Teyvat had turned that hatred into action.
He had seen the harm caused by the Fatui’s experiments and the lives destroyed by counterfeit power.
Although the Tsaritsa had silently permitted the research to continue, not every Harbinger approved of it.
Even Sandrone, whose obsession with machinery and invention rivalled Dottore’s devotion to experimentation, had refused to participate in those projects.
From her perspective, Delusions were inefficient.
They caused severe damage to their users and were often less reliable than Visions.
If conventional engineering could produce weapons that were faster, stronger, and easier to control, why waste resources on unstable devices that consumed the people using them?
Seeing that Dottore had no intention of reconsidering, Pierro suppressed a sigh and turned toward Rosalyne.
“Rosalyne.
Her Majesty has assigned you a mission in Mondstadt.
It may be more useful for you to take custody of Diluc.”
La Signora paused.
Then she considered the suggestion.
Diluc was the heir to a great merchant family and belonged to Mondstadt’s uppermost social circles.
Keeping him alive could provide leverage, an introduction, or even a political opening during her assignment.
Using his identity as a stepping stone might prove convenient.
“Very well,” Rosalyne said.
“I understand.”
She knew perfectly well what Pierro was doing.
By transferring Diluc into her custody, The Jester was effectively saving his life.
The Fatui were not, strictly speaking, a gathering of mindless villains.
At least, Rosalyne preferred to think they were not.
Her resentment toward Mondstadt was personal, but it had nothing to do with Diluc Ragnvindr.
She had no particular desire to hand him over to Dottore’s laboratory simply because he had been foolish enough to invade Snezhnaya.
Pierro closed the dossier.
“That settles the matter.
The Tsaritsa’s plan is approaching its first stage.
Prepare yourselves accordingly.”
With those final words, the meeting ended.
One by one, the Harbingers pushed back their chairs and prepared to leave.
Scaramouche pocketed the Delusion he had been toying with.
Sandrone turned away without a word.
Rosalyne began considering how best to use her unexpected prisoner once she reached Mondstadt.
Then an unfamiliar voice casually drifted through the chamber.
“Hey, what were you discussing just now?
You finished before I even got here?”
All seven Harbingers froze.
In the next instant, every head turned toward the source of the voice.
Someone had entered the most heavily guarded meeting chamber in Snezhnaya without being noticed.
Who?
Far away in Mondstadt, Kaeya Alberich walked through the headquarters of the Knights of Favonius with Klee beside him.
He was supposed to be escorting her to solitary confinement yet again, but his attention was clearly elsewhere.
Diluc had not sent any message for nearly half a month.
Could something have happened to him?
The relationship between the brothers had deteriorated badly, but Kaeya had never truly stopped keeping track of Diluc’s movements.
Arguments, secrets, and old wounds could not erase the fact that they had once been family.
Two weeks earlier, Diluc had travelled toward Snezhnaya.
After that, he had vanished.
No letters.
No reports.
No trace.
The Knights had recently gathered disturbing intelligence regarding Fatui activity.
Combined with Diluc’s disappearance, it left Kaeya with a sense of dread he could not dismiss.
If Diluc had done something reckless, the situation could already be beyond ordinary rescue.
Before Crepus died, he had entrusted Kaeya with one final responsibility: take care of Diluc.
Kaeya had not managed that particularly well.
Once Diluc left Mondstadt, there was little he could do without exposing how closely he was still watching his estranged brother.
The situation in Snezhnaya had also changed.
After Pulcinella, The Rooster, assumed greater authority as mayor, he enacted a ruthless security campaign.
Foreign intelligence networks were purged, border controls tightened, and nearly every spy from the other nations was either captured or driven out.
The few remaining agents could gather almost nothing useful.
Kaeya had considered seeking assistance from Liyue, but he could not make the request under the name of the Knights of Favonius without authorization.
Even if he acted privately, he doubted he could afford the price demanded for an operation inside Snezhnaya.
The more he thought, the heavier his unease became.
He released a quiet sigh.
A large hand suddenly landed on his shoulder.
“Kaeya!
What’s troubling you?
You’ve been sighing like an old man.”
The voice was deep, cheerful, and immediately recognizable.
Kaeya paused and turned.
The newcomer was a broad-shouldered man with short blond hair, a powerful build, and an open, sunlit smile.
Varka.
Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius.
“Grand Master,” Kaeya said.
“It’s nothing.”
Varka studied him for a moment.
He clearly did not believe a word of that.
A little later, the two men sat inside a tavern.
Varka lifted a cup of dandelion wine, took a generous swallow, and looked at Kaeya with genuine confusion.
“Didn’t I tell you?”
Kaeya stared back at him.
“Tell me what?”
Varka blinked.
Then his expression changed.
“Oh.”
He slapped one hand against his forehead.
“I forgot!
The last time I went looking for you, you were away on a mission.
After that…
well, I forgot again.”
Kaeya said nothing.
That explanation was so perfectly in character that he could not even be surprised.
Varka searched through his clothes and finally produced a letter that had clearly been carried close to his body for some time.
“Here.
Read it yourself.”
Kaeya accepted the warm envelope with a puzzled expression, broke the seal, and unfolded the letter.
It had been sent by an organization called the Curatorium of Secrets.
Kaeya had heard the name before.
The organization operated under the mysterious Northern Intelligence Network, whose influence extended throughout the northern regions of Teyvat.
He read carefully.
By the time he reached the end, the tightness in his chest had eased.
Crepus had known Diluc far too well.
Before his death, he had apparently anticipated that his eldest son might ignore his final warning and pursue revenge.
As a precaution, he had arranged a commission with the Curatorium of Secrets.
If Diluc disappeared in Snezhnaya, they were to find him and bring him back alive.
For the first time in days, Kaeya felt something close to relief.
Then he noticed one troubling detail.
The Curatorium had sent only one person.
“Grand Master,” Kaeya said, lowering the letter, “they assigned a single operative to rescue Diluc.
Isn’t that too risky?”
“No.”
Varka answered without hesitation and emptied the rest of his wine.
“For an intelligence organization, reputation is everything.
If they accepted the commission, they must believe their operative can complete it.”
Kaeya remained unconvinced.
Varka leaned back in his chair.
“And even if the Curatorium’s rescue fails, I’ve already sent a formal letter to the Tsaritsa.
Diluc may have resigned, but he was once a member of the Knights of Favonius.
Snezhnaya will not risk killing him casually after Mondstadt has acknowledged his presence.”
Kaeya slowly exhaled.
With the Curatorium moving to rescue Diluc and Varka applying official pressure, the crushing weight in his chest finally began to lift.
For the moment, his brother was still alive.
And somewhere inside Snezhnaya, the lone operative sent to retrieve him had already walked into a room containing seven Fatui Harbingers.