Chapter Seven: Ally
Despite Tartaglia's many vices, perseverance was undoubtedly his most praiseworthy trait. Once he set his mind on a task, he would devote every waking moment obsessing about its completion and exhaust every means to achieve his goal. Why else did he bother practicing archery when it was plain to all just how hopeless he was with the bow.
At first, he had convinced himself that his skill would markedly improve once he found a level field with calm winds to practice in peace. But that had only produced minimal improvement forcing him to conjure up another culprit.
"Fetch me another bow!" He snarls flinging his bow in the general direction of a passing Cicin mage after his arrow flies wide of his mark for the seventeenth time that morning. "That wretched thing is busted."
"Yes, my lord," the mage replies with a deep bow. She disappears in a zap of electricity but quickly reappears and lowers herself into a bow before asking, "Which bow does my lor—?"
"Any one!" He barks snapping the arrow in his hand. The mage cries out as she vanishes once more leaving him alone in the ruins of some long-forsaken city.
Did they know the end was coming? He muses as he examines the crumbling remains of a once-mighty tower. Did they even have time to prepare? To run away? Or was it quick and painless?
He shakes his head as he senses the presence of a Fatui agent lurking respectfully in the shadows as he awaits the harbinger's acknowledgment. Tartaglia turns to face the agent, prompting his subordinate to reveal himself before bowing deeply.
"It appears the millelith have sealed the entrance to Il Dottore's lab," the agent informs him hesitantly.
"How disappointing," Tartaglia sighs, his blue eyes twinkling frostily.
"Apologies my lord. None of us know how exactly the millelith found out—"
"I counted thirteen of you patrolling this general vicinity just now along with a couple of hilichurls and slimes skulking around. Are you telling me that even with all that the millelith were somehow able to get past and seal the lab?"
"Apologies, m-my l-lord!" the Agent cries out, lowering his hooded head unto the ground. "I-it's just that after the Osial incident, your directives were to avoid any unnecessary skirmishes with the millelith."
"And what part of that directive told you to omit unusual millelith activity near a Harbinger's laboratory?!" Childe seethes. "Or are all thirteen of you blind and daft?!"
Just then, the Cicin mage returns carrying several cases of bows which she and her cicins carefully deposit at the enraged Harbinger's feet.
"If they're thoroughly incompetent wouldn't that mean that you've been neglecting your duties?" The Fair Lady muses as she approaches from behind.
The Eleventh Harbinger turns to fix the Eighth with a sinister glare before dismissing his subordinates with an annoyed flick of his wrist.
"How long are you planning on following me around?" Childe asks not bothering to conceal the edge of anger in his tone.
"Come now Childe, I'm merely doing my part to keep up appearances," Signora replies with a mocking pout. "After all, shouldn't lovers spend every waking moment in each other's presence?"
"Not if I can help it," Tartaglia seethes jerking his head to avoid his colleague's hand as she reaches to stroke the side of his cheek. "Seriously, what do I have to do to get you off my back?"
The Fair Lady tilts her head and pretends to consider his words carefully, tapping her chin with a long, gloved finger as she hums lightly, a condescending smirk twisting the corners of her lips.
"A kiss will do for now," she replies at length, her red lips curling triumphantly.
"No, thanks. I'd sooner swallow nails," the Eleventh Harbinger replies through clenched teeth.
"And here I was thinking that I was actually doing you a favor," Signora sighs. "Her excellency will be most disappointed to—"
Before she can finish her sentence, Tartaglia closes the distance between them and grabs her by the waist, pulling her until her body is flush against his. The Fair Lady blinks up at him, the sheen of surprise evident in her grayish blue eyes. When he leans in to kiss her, her lips part, inviting him deeper than he had originally intended. It takes every ounce of Tartaglia's willpower to not fling her away when Signora's hands snake over his shoulders to stroke his unruly ginger locks.
"My, my, Childe," the Fair Lady chuckles as she finally releases him. "You've improved considerably from the last time. If only you practiced your archery as thoroughly as you practice your kissing."
"Ugh, seriously again with this?" Childe fumes throwing his hands up in exasperation. "I was fifteen!"
"And you had already slain thousands," Signora counters without missing a beat. "There was no excuse for your pitiful performance."
"If it was so awful then why are you even here?"
"Because her Majesty sent me."
"If her Excellency wants me to settle down, I have no problem with that," the Eleventh Harbinger protests.
"Oh? If I didn't know any better, it would sound like you actually have someone in mind."
Tartaglia opens his mouth to retort but quickly catches himself and closes it once more, turning away abruptly before storming off. But the Fair Lady follows him closely, thoroughly intrigued.
They walk until they reach her carriage waiting along the road leading away from the Dunyu Ruins. Eager to escape his colleague's intrusive questions, the Eleventh Harbinger ducks into the carriage and slams the door without thinking. The footman opens the other side of the carriage and helps the Fair Lady aboard before closing it behind her leaving them alone together.
Smirking, Signora settles into the seat across from his, taking care to brush her long legs against his inner thighs as she crosses and uncrosses them suggestively. He shifts to give her a withering glare that only excites her further.
"You know, this doesn't have to be completely unpleasant," the Fair Lady informs him bluntly. "I'm sure her Excellency wouldn't mind if we indulged in each other now that we're engaged."
"Let's not get carried away, now," Tartaglia sniffs.
"Like that's ever stopped you," Signora shoots back, her gray eyes twinkling shrewdly.
"But really why bother? I mean what's the point?" Childe shrugs. "It's not as if we're going to have any kids."
"You never know," the Fair Lady returns with a coy smirk.
"You? A mother?" the Eleventh Harbinger scoffs.
"And why not?" Signora sniffs crossing her arms.
"Well for starters you've gotta actually like kids," Childe chuckles shaking his head dismissively.
"I'm not a monster you know," she informs him matter-of-factly. "Before all this, I actually had a lover and we always talked about settling down and having children."
"What happened?" Tartaglia sneers watching her with an unkind smirk. "Don't tell me he finally came to his senses or something."
"I suppose," Signora sighs.
The Eleventh Harbinger turns to watch his colleague quietly and briefly wonders if he had imagined the hint of a sad smile curling the corners of her lips. When she notices him staring, she straightens up and clears her throat loudly, forcing her face away as she pretends to admire the rolling countryside.
Is this some kind of trick? Must be. Signora never lets her guard down around anyone. Never. So why would she start now?
They arrive at Liyue Harbor as the sun begins to set over the bustling city and alight from their carriage. A Fatui agent greets them from the inn entrance and falls into step behind them as they walk past.
"Yes, Boris?" Signora snaps turning to address the agent trailing them.
"A note, milady. For you," the agent replies with a reverent bow.
"Who is it from?" Childe asks, turning to regard the Fatui agent as Signora receives the sealed envelope.
"It appears your guests from Mondstadt have finally arrived," she replies.
"My guests?" Tartaglia repeats blinking down at her in confusion as he moves to read the note over her shoulder.
The Eighth Harbinger crunches it before he can make out any words and turns to give him a pointed smile.
"Yes, your guests from Mondstadt. Or don't tell me you weren't expecting Mondstadt's shining idol."
"Mondstadt's shinning idol?" Childe repeats thoroughly flummoxed. "If this is supposed to be some sort of joke I'm not laughing."
"Oh, have you forgotten the lovely Miss Barbara Pegg so soon?" Signora taunts turning to watch him.
Tartaglia briefly considers his colleague's words as he desperately tries to remember why the name seems so familiar to him.
"My lady, she's not alone," the Fatui Agent informs them quietly. "Another sister from the church accompanied her here. And if I'm not mistaken a couple of skirmishers bumped into the Knights of Favonius' Cavalry Captain aboard the Pearl Galley."
"Another sister," the Fair Lady hums distractedly. "Is she a vision holder?"
"I believe she possesses a cryo vision, my lady," the Agent replies. "Our skirmishers couldn't get close enough to confirm but she did wield a polearm."
Tartaglia's pulse quickens as he recalls his brief but thrilling encounter with a tall, pale nun near the bridge leading out of Mondstadt the night he left the cathedral.
Kroshka!
"Oh, Miss Pegg," Childe chuckles softly. "Right, I remember her now. She's probably here to thank me for my little gift."
"Oh?" Signora hums crossing her arms as she turns to face him. "Your little gift?"
"Yeah. She's the one who saved my life when you poisoned me," Tartaglia explains before turning to address the agent. "Where is she now?"
"Right now, she appears to have checked in at an inn in Feiyun Slope. One of the skirmishers overheard that she plans to meet the Outlander at the Heyu Tea House later this evening."
"Well, I might as well swing by and say hello," Childe announces as he prepares to leave.
"I'll come with you," Signora informs him.
Knowing that it would be futile to try to stop her, Tartaglia merely shrugs and continues on his way leaving her to dismiss the Fatui Agent. They walk in silence easily parting the crowd of tourists and revelers with their imposing presence. When they reach the Tea House, Childe feels a smile curl his lips as he recognizes Paimon's voice in the distance and pauses briefly to listen.
"—wonderful and all but I'm afraid we really can't stay long," Barbara informs the floating fairy apologetically.
"Huh? Why not?" Lumine wonders.
"We only came to return Aj-I mean Mr. Tartaglia's g-gift," the Deaconess explains meekly.
"Gift? What gift?" Paimon wonders.
"Well, Mr. Tartaglia donated a large sum of money t-to the church—"
"He what?!" Paimon exclaims suddenly beside herself. "Why that rotten—we spent an entire day babysitting his little brother, Teucer, and he didn't even offer to buy us lunch or something!"
"Come now, why buy you lunch when I can treat you to a homecooked meal?" Childe chimes in as he emerges from his hiding spot.
Paimon and Barbara squeak in surprise as he approaches the group with a sheepish wave.
"Ajax, are you feeling bette—" Lumine begins before catching sight of the Fair Lady lurking behind him. "W-what's she doing here?!"
"Huh? Who is that?" the Deaconess asks shifting slightly to examine the Eighth Harbinger.
The taller woman turns to regard the petite songstress briefly before returning her attention to her colleague.
"That's my colleague, La Signora," Tartaglia replies before pointing at the vacant seat beside Barbara's chair. "May I?"
The Deaconess nods without paying attention as she blinks mutely up at the Fair Lady. When Signora notices the blonde songstress's distress, she pulls herself to her full height, staring down at her unkindly before wordlessly walking away.
"Eeep!" Paimon squeaks. "What was that about?"
"Signora's a bit of a bully," Tartaglia explains with an exasperated smile. "She enjoys intimidating and belittling others. Please, ignore her."
"Well, that's a lot easier said than done," Lumine huffs standing at akimbo. "Now that I think about it, weren't you two supposed to report back to Snezhnaya or something?"
"Yeah, what are you doing back here so quickly?" Paimon pipes up suddenly indignant.
"Well, I am currently stationed in Liyue Harbor until further notice and Signora—"
"I suggest you keep the rest of that sentence to yourself unless you actually have plans on convincing them to join the Fatui," Signora sniffs from her seat by the far wall where a team of waiters was already scurrying to take her order.
"Well, comrade?" Childe says turning to face Lumine, his blue eyes wide and hopeful. "What'll it be? Care to join our glorious cause?"
"Wha—a? Ajax, no!" The Outlander sputters leaning away from him. "I've already told you. I'm trying to find my brother."
"But you're an honorary knight," Tartaglia returns with a confused frown.
"Yeah, but they actually help others and don't bully and threaten them like the Fatui," Lumine replies coldly.
Tartaglia opens his mouth as if to retort before catching a glimpse of Barbara watching them quietly. He turns to face her instead, flashing her a disarming smile as he prepares to repeat his pitch.
"Well, what about you, Kroshka?" He wonders. "Would you like to join the Fatui? Before you say anything do remember that if you're not with me then by operation you are in fact against me."
The Deaconess flushes darkly at this and averts her gaze, pursing her lips as she desperately fights to contain the squeal of dismay caught in the back of her throat.
"I-I'm sorry A-aj—Mr. Tartaglia—"
"Please call me Ajax," he interrupts, resting an arm over the back of her chair as he leans even closer now.
"B-but—but! T-that wo-wouldn't be appropriate!" Barbara protests squeaking slightly as she shakes her head earnestly.
"What do you mean, Kroshka?" Tartaglia asks blinking down at her. "I thought we were friends. I mean, didn't we agree to cook for each other?"
Barbara's ears begin to glow a deep crimson as she bites her lower lip in obvious embarrassment.
"Alright, that's quite enough of that now," a masculine voice announces silkily. "It isn't nice to tease others you know."
They turn in time to see a tall dark-skinned man with periwinkle eyes and impossibly long lashes approaching them. The Eleventh Harbinger is about to ignore him when he notices the cryo vision dangling from his belt.
"And you are?" Tartaglia asks arching an eyebrow as he shifts to regard the exotic newcomer with his full attention.
"Kaeya Alberich," the stranger informs him. "Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius."
"Interesting," Childe chuckles. "Didn't your grand master leave on an expedition with the entire cavalry?"
"He did but he left me behind to help the acting Grand Master," the Captain replies coolly before turning to address Barbara. "Are you alright, Barbara?"
"Mmm. I mean ye-yes Captain Kaeya. I'm fine," the Deaconess nods, managing to flash him a weak but assuring smile before turning to address the Eleventh Harbinger. "I came to return your donation. I know you m-meant well but I'm afraid I cannot accept it."
"Huh? Why not?" Childe mumbles clearly taken aback.
"I'm sorry. I-I j-just can't."
Not taking his eyes off her, the Harbinger leans back in his seat as he replays her response in his head and carefully considers his next words.
"You mean you came all this way to reject a donation for no reason?"