Chapter Twenty-Seven: Pledge
Ajax stands at the window of the downstairs study watching the gilded jester's mask. His gaze hard and unfocused as he wracks his memories for every morsel of information he had ever gleaned regarding his reclusive colleague. But try as he might to parse through the rumors and conjecture surrounding Piero, they were all that he could manage for until now he had never taken a particular interest in the First Harbinger.
In all his time with the Fatui Ajax had only ever seen the Jester twice before and never once without his mask. Unlike most harbingers who either forewent wearing their masks altogether or allowed it to conceal only parts of their faces, the Jester's mask covered the entirety of his face without any slits for his eyes, lips, or nostrils. His short blond undercut was styled in a neat sideways part, held taut by a generous helping of hair gel. In the sunlight it often gave the illusion of baldness—something Ajax concludes could only have been deliberate.
A pristine white ascot of silk-covered Piero's long neck concealing much of his fair skin. He wore a large black and white coat that hung off his shoulders like a cape, revealing the sharp but simple gold waistcoat and dark slacks he wore beneath.
The Eleventh Harbinger feels his breath hitch when his colleague tilts his head ever so slightly to the side as if distracted by some fascinating creature.
"Good morning, comrade," he hears Tonia greet from the front porch.
Before the First Harbinger can utter a response, Ajax flings the study windows apart and calls out to his sister. He manages to strip out any hint of urgency from his voice, leaving it a hollow, toneless shell of his usual timbre.
"Don't talk to him, Tonia," he instructs without elaboration.
Tonia bristles at the noticeable change in her brother's voice as she turns to regard him with concern.
"Brother are you—"
"Come back inside," he interrupts before adding firmly. "Now."
It was a tone he rarely adopted with his younger siblings, and it had its intended effect. For no sooner had the words left his mouth did his younger sister retreat inside, shutting the door with naught but a nervous glance at the masked stranger silently watching her from beyond the front gate.
By the time Ajax reaches the living room, Tonia has shut the door and is now peering at his colleague through a gap in the living room window.
"Ajax, what's going—"
"There's no time to explain," he informs her, grabbing her shoulders as he reaches her. Their eyes meet and he allows a warm smile to twist his lips. "Get Stanis and return back home to mother and father. Go quickly but quietly."
"But he won't come," Tonia protests shaking her head. "We've been trying to lure him back home, but he quit his job when Marja left him and has been staying here ever since. Misha thinks he's too embarrassed to show his face again."
"I don't care Tonia," Ajax replies with a frustrated frown. "He can't stay here anymore."
"Why?"
"Because it isn't safe."
"What? How come? Does it have something to do with that man? I'm sorry, Ajax I saw his mask and assumed he was a harbinger."
"He is." Ajax sighs in reply reaching to pinch the bridge of his nose.
"But then why—"
"Tonia please," Ajax sighs. "I can't explain right now. I need you to listen and do exactly as I say. He seems to be alone, so I'll lead him away from here. Once we're gone get Stanis and return back to mother and father's house in Zapolyarny. Make sure you get Misha, Katya, and their kids too. Tell them I have a big surprise for them, but they need to stay—"
"But Misha's already at sea with his crew," Tonia informs him earnestly.
Fuck!
He has been away for so long that he didn't realize that he had returned at the height of the fishing season.
"Alright then just get Katya and the kids," he amends after a moment of thought. "Make sure everyone remains at mother and father's house."
"Alright, but what about Misha?" She presses watching him carefully now.
"I'll have someone pick him up," he assures her with a small smile. "Don't worry, your big brother won't let anything happen to that blockhead."
"Ajax, I'm worried," Tonia informs him as he pulls her in for a tight hug.
"Don't be," he insists, nuzzling her affectionately before pressing a fond kiss on her forehead. "I'll be back before you know it. Think you can manage to get everyone home in two days?"
"I'll do my best," she replies with a determined nod. "Does it have to be in two days?"
"It does," he returns before explaining. "A pink-haired friend of mine from Liyue will be arriving in Snezhnaya at that time. She will be helping me keep everyone safe. I gave her the address for mother and father's house which is why I need everyone there. I'll try to get word to her about Misha before she arrives but just in case if I can't, please tell her for me."
"Why won't you come with her?"
"There's something I have to do first," he replies quietly. "Don't worry, Tonia I'll be careful. I just need to take care of some things."
His sister furrows her brows and parts her lips as if to protest before catching herself. He feels a subtle sense of pride swelling within him as he watches the worry melt off his sister's face as her features harden into a determined frown. When their eyes meet this time only steely resolve remains and she purses her lips as she gives him an assuring nod.
Satisfied, Ajax releases Tonia and waits until she ascends the stairs to fetch Stanis before opening the front door. The gleaming jester's mask greets him from the front porch as the First Harbinger feigns indifference by leaning against the doorframe. As Ajax considers his greeting, he notices his colleague's unnaturally stiff posture and briefly wonders if the Jester is part machine.
While he didn't care to keep up with his colleague's endeavors, murmurs of Dottore's sickening experiments and sinister automatons had been enough to give him pause around his sadistic colleague. His time in the abyss had shown him firsthand the dangers of stretching the bounds of elemental science.
"Good day, comrade," the First Harbinger coos kindly. Ajax wonders if he imagined the hint of mirth laced within his soft but rich timbre.
"Good morning, comrade," Tartaglia returns with a breezy smile. "What brings you here?"
"Her Majesty would like a word," Piero replies pleasantly. "Will you come?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Childe asks angling his head to the side in a show of ignorance.
"Quietly," the Jester presses skeptically.
"Of course," Tartaglia replies tersely as he reaches back to shut the front door behind him.
The Jester turns to lead him through the tiny garden, past the gate, and toward the idling car parked in the street. When the back seat door flies open Piero reaches for it with a gloved hand before turning to watch the Eleventh Harbinger expectantly.
Childe manages a small shrug as he approaches the backseat door. Suddenly a gloved hand presses against his chest firmly rooting him in place as its owner lowers his head and reaches for the waistband of Childe's slacks. Startled, Ajax takes a quick step back, arching an inquisitive eyebrow at his colleague.
"Aren't we forgetting something?" Piero asks quietly. When the Eleventh Harbinger does not offer an immediate response, he continues. "Where is your vision, Childe?" There is something foreboding in the knowing tone of the Jester's query as if almost daring Tartaglia to lie.
"I can't find it," the Eleventh Harbinger replies after a quick pause.
"And your delusion?" The Jester presses.
Childe digs out his delusion from his pocket and holds it out for his colleague to inspect. The First Harbinger wordlessly collects the gem before beckoning the younger man forward. When Tartaglia complies, he reaches forward and pins the delusion onto the fabric of his plain dress shirt, revealing his own delusion beneath his overcoat.
Ajax is reminded once more of that glorious ceremony in Zapolyarny Palace when the First Harbinger had bestowed him with the evidence of his new rank and her Majesty's divine favor.
"Come, Childe," Piero beckons. "Her majesty awaits."
Ajax wordlessly slips past him and settles into the plush leather backseat within. The Jester eases into the seat beside him, shutting the door behind them before rapping his long cane against the back of the driver's chair. The car starts and takes off leaving Morepesok behind in a cloud of smoke and snow.
"Why didn't her Majesty send someone lower to fetch me?" Tartaglia wonders as he studies his colleague carefully. While he already suspects the answer, he was curious to see if the First Harbinger would even bother with a lie.
"Because she wasn't sure if you would come quietly," the Jester hums back.
"You must be pretty tough if she trusted you to subdue me by yourself," Childe notes with a cocky chuckle.
"I haven't had any need for violence in centuries," Piero confesses with a halting chuckle. "I find it far easier to negotiate a fair trade."
"A fair trade?!" Tartaglia repeats with a choking scoff. "The Fatui? That's rich."
"Ah yes, I remember now. You prefer a bloodier approach."
"Survival of the fittest," Childe shrugs. "That's the one rule of this world that will never change. The strong exist to crush and exploit the weak."
"You believe diplomacy is unnecessary?"
"In our line of work, yeah I do," Tartaglia admits without a shadow of hesitation. "Diplomacy is for schmucks. Why lose something to get what you want when you can just kill whoever you need to kill and take it from them?"
"Perhaps because violence breeds resentment and destruction," the First Harbinger offers with a bemused chuckle. "But alas, I am not surprised that this is your official position. However, perhaps consider that diplomacy might make it easier for us to achieve our goals."
"Nothing worth keeping should come easily," Childe shrugs.
"I see. Then what price would you place on your freedom?" Piero challenges as he angles his head to face him.
Tartaglia's heart sinks as the weight of the Jester's words sink in. He bites the insides of his cheeks to keep his features blank as his mind races for a suitable response.
"Come again, comrade? I don't think I quite understand—"
"We haven't time for foolish games, Childe," Piero cautions, his tone sinking ominously. "Her majesty demands to know the price you are willing to pay for your freedom."
"Freedom? I don't want to leave the Fatui."
"Then why is your family going into hiding as we speak?" the Jester sighs, tapping his cane impatiently against the floor.
"I'm not sure what lies Signora's told you, but I can assure you I am as devoted to her Majesty today as I was when I became a harbinger."
"And yet even now you seek to halt the very wedding her Majesty has arranged for you," Piero scoff, shifting to face his colleague fully now. The air around him shifts and Tartaglia finds his gaze drawn towards the carved mouth of his mask as he tries to picture the face hidden within.
"Look, I'm not really in the mood for riddles and games," the Eleventh Harbinger informs his elder bluntly. "I just need to clear up some things with her Majesty personally. If I've messed up or offended her in some way, I'd be more than happy to make up for it."
"Everything except the one thing her Majesty demands of you."
Childe opens his mouth to retort but can only manage an incredulous huff as he studies his colleague.
"H-her M-Maj-esty w-wants m-me married?!"
"She does," the Jester confirms before adding. "To Signora."
"Why her?" Tartaglia groans.
"Because she's proved herself to be resourceful and dependable. A suiting match to soothe your…pugnacious tendencies," the First Harbinger replies. "While your battle prowess is mythic and nothing short of astounding, I'm afraid your unpredictability is becoming a liability to her Majesty's goals. For instance, that debacle in Liyue—"
"—was Signora's idea," Childe snaps, angrily cutting him off. "The entire Osial incident was just a ploy to show Rex Lapis that his people were capable of protecting themselves without his help."
"Which was all well and good until you exposed the Fatui's involvement," Piero shoots back. "Your reckless desire for conflict single-handedly diminished our standing in Liyue, jeopardizing our business endeavors and destroying years of diplomacy within the region."
"Yes, her Majesty has already expressed her displeasure to me," Tartaglia sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "But I've already started making amends with my missions and commissions—"
"This isn't about making amends," the First Harbinger informs him curtly. "This is about insuring against mistakes going forward."
"And you expect me to believe that her Majesty thinks that me marrying Signora is going to somehow 'tame' me?"
The Jester turns away slowly, tapping his masked chin for a moment as if weighing his next words carefully.
"I expect," The First Harbinger sighs, his voice low and measured. "You to trust her Majesty's decision and obey."
"I'd rather bathe in lava,"
"Then you must name the price you are willing to pay for your freedom," the Jester scoffs, angling his head mockingly to the side. "Because I can assure you, you will pay."
"Why? I don't want to leave the Fatui," Childe protests, his frustration evident in every syllable. "I've served her Majesty diligently. Done everything she's asked—"
"Do not mistake her Majesty for a fool," Piero cackles. "She knew when she made you a harbinger that you only delighted in your newfound position because you believed it was something the world owed you. You serve her not because you are beholden to her or believe in her ideals. You serve because you enjoy the thrill and excitement of dangerous assignments. You serve because of your own selfish desires—"
"And you think I'm the only harbinger who serves for their own selfish reasons? You really think Dottore serves because he shares her Majesty's beliefs?" Tartaglia shoots back, thoroughly beside himself now.
"You misunderstand me," Piero sighs. "Her Majesty cares little if your ideals align with hers. She merely seeks your service as long as your conduct does not jeopardize her goals."
"So, my actions are jeopardizing her goals now?!" Childe notes with an acerbic chuckle.
"Yes, they are," the First Harbinger confirms. "Which is why—"
"What makes you think forcing me to marry Signora is going to do anything other than seriously pissing me off?" Tartaglia challenges, narrowing his eyes into deadly slits.
Before the Jester can utter his response, the car pulls to a halt and the doors fly open prompting them to exit. Childe hops out of the car and ascends the grand staircase leading up to Zapolyarny Palace at a trot, not bothering to check if the First Harbinger was following him.
His long legs carry him through the grand foyer and down a familiar maze of high-ceilinged hallways and corridors until he arrives at the entrance of the throne room. As he lifts his hands to push the doors open, a gloved hand seizes his wrist, holding it in place as he turns to find the gleaming Jester's mask hovering inches from his face.
"Let go," he warns in a measured but menacing tone. "If her Majesty demands this of me, I will find out why directly from her."
"And then what happens? Hmm?" Piero sneers, his grip tightening noticeably. "You defy a god? You defy the archon of the most powerful nation in Teyvat? Think, Childe, think. What do you think will happen once you walk through those doors and refuse her Majesty's orders? Think of your family. Your parents, brothers, sister, your niece, and nephew."
"I am thinking of them," the Eleventh Harbinger snarls as he wrests his wrist from the older man's clutches.
"Then I shall give you this final warning. Do not resist. Trust me," the First Harbinger's tone softens considerably as he watches his colleague intently. "The price is far too great to bear."
"What's happened? What are you talking about?"
"Your vision, where do you think it went?"
"I told you I lost it—"
"You didn't lose it," Piero states matter-of-factly. "It is back in Mondstadt with the woman you love."
A tense silence passes between them as Tartaglia desperately considers the older man's words. He replays and turns the words in his head over and over again, intent on discerning their meaning.
The woman I love? In Mondstadt? Barbara?!
Without thinking he seizes the front of Piero's collar and drives him into the nearest wall with enough force to leave a sizeable hole in the wall. The scent of mist grass permeates the air as tendrils of electro energy pulse menacingly around them.
"If you hurt Barbara—"
"Her Majesty takes no pleasure in spilling innocent blood."
"Piero so help me—!"
"Peace, Childe," the Tsaritsa orders calmly from the throne room doorway. "Be still."
The Eleventh Harbinger starts at the Tsaritsa's voice and releases his colleague before hastily sinking to his knees. An unnatural chill seeps into the air around them as the cryo archon approaches them, grey eyes trained on the wayward harbinger kneeling prostrate at her feet.
"My lady—"
"Rise, Childe." Tartaglia obeys without hesitation, hastening to hold open the throne room door for the marching archon. "I trust your stay in Liyue Harbor was enlightening?"
"Yes, it was, your Majesty," the Eleventh Harbinger replies, dipping his head as she marches past.
"Signora tells me Mondstadt's shining idol gave quite the performance during the Lantern Rite Festival."
"Yes, your Majesty," he nods. "She did."
Childe feels a chill run down his spine as the cryo archon studies his frame, scanning him from head to toe as if trying to discern something in his appearance that his words did not betray.
No matter how many times he came before her, the Tsaritsa's presence never failed to intimidate him. Her voice was low but firm carrying only a few feet in front of her prompting whoever she was addressing to lean in closer lest they miss something important.
In all the time he had served her she had never shown any emotion stronger than bemusement and disappointment. While she rewarded and acknowledged her subordinates fairly for their accomplishments, she rarely indulged them in praises. Like him, she prized honesty over flattery and always spoke in clear and concise sentences, preferring clarity and brevity over verbose proclamations. It was why when she asked a question, she expected a concise and honest answer and had very little patience for anything else. And so Tartaglia had learned never to volunteer anything further allowing the Tsaritsa to pry further if she so desired.
"Describe her to me," the Tsaritsa commands as she turns slowly to watch him.
"Er, well she's short…very um petite—"
"I see," the archon muses. "Is that why you refer to her as Kroshka?"
"Y-yes, your Majesty," the Eleventh Harbinger replies blinking rapidly as he is forced to hold his archon's gaze.
"Continue," the Tsaritsa prompts.
"Er, well she has blonde hair and blue eyes—"
"I heard she sings," the Tsaritsa interrupts once more. Childe begins to answer but hesitates when he notices the subtle sheen of excitement in the archon's icy gaze.
"She does, your Majesty."
"Describe it to me," she presses as she turns to face him fully now.
"Well sometimes it's quite soft and sweet," Tartaglia explains as he recalls the Deaconess' rousing performance in Liyue Harbor. "Clear and pure like a bell. But her range is very impressive, and she is capable of hitting notes very few have ever heard. She's got amazing control and is a fantastic performer. She always gives every performance her all. It doesn't matter whether she's singing a love song or an anthem her voice makes you feel…" he trails off unsure of how to explain the intoxicating power of his lover's voice.
Ex-lover. He reminds himself bitterly.
"It is as Signora said, your Majesty," Piero observes as he moves to stand at the Tsaritsa's other side. "He's fallen in love with her."
"I'm not—I mean I don't know yet," Childe protests. "But it doesn't matter anyway, we both realize that our duties won't let us be together."
"And yet you refuse Signora's hand," the First Harbinger notes with a chuckle.
"Your Majesty I—"
"Signora tells me that you wished to recruit this girl as a harbinger," the Tsaritsa queries.
"Y-yes your Majesty," Childe replies guardedly. "But she refused."
"I have sent Signora to recruit her," the archon informs him. "As a harbinger."
"Your Majesty wishes to use her voice?"
"It is the only way to avoid any unnecessary bloodshed," the Tsaritsa confirms as she prepares to ascend her throne. "Her gift will help us dissuade the Reformationists from their futile course."
"G-gift, your Majesty?" Tartaglia blurts in confusion.
"She is of the Gunnhildr clan," the archon explains. "The blood of Lady Gunnhildr the Beloved flows through her veins. Her sister's gift is far more manageable perhaps because her voice is untrained."
"I'm sorry I don't understand," the Eleventh Harbinger confesses shaking his head.
"The Gunnhildr clan founder lived during the early days of Mondstadt and was a devout follower of the original anemo archon until she saw how greatly her people suffered under his reign. She left Mondstadt and sided with the rebels against him—something historians believe turned the tide of the battle. Her contemporaries claimed that Gunnhildr's singing could sway people's emotions making them easy to mold and control as she saw fit."
"You think Barbara has inherited that ability?" Tartaglia asks arching an eyebrow as he turns to face the Tsaritsa.
"I don't think, Childe," the Tsaritsa replies, a knowing smile curling her lips. "I know she does. How else could have turned your eye so easily? Or don't you find it odd that you fell into her arms the very night she sang to you?"
"Respectfully, your Majesty but I've always been very impulsive," the Eleventh Harbinger mutters sheepishly.
"Then confess it now," the archon declares as she holds his gaze. "If I told you to slit her throat would you do it?"
Ajax opens his mouth to protest but falls silent as the Tsaritsa's expression hardens.
"I thought you wanted to recruit her?" He asks quietly, hastily averting his gaze lest his discomfort overwhelms him.
"There's a good chance that she will refuse Signora," the archon replies. "If she will not join us then she must be destroyed. I will not fall victim to the very same mistake that destroyed Decarabian."
"Pulcinella certainly has an eye for talent," Piero muses to himself with a wry chuckle. "What a shame."
"W-wh-what?" Tartaglia blurts as he shifts to face the First Harbinger. "What's a shame?"
"Do you take us for fools?" The Jester sneers. "Did you honestly think that a harbinger could plot against her Majesty without us knowing?"
"Understand me, Childe," the Tsaritsa says kindly. "We have known of Pulcinella's schemes for some time now. We know that he recruited you in the hopes of wreaking havoc within our ranks. But you have proved yourself loyal and sincere like my dear Piero here and my lovely Signora."
"I can't…I can't…kill…her." His voice cuts off as he closes his eyes, willing to regain some semblance of control over his emotions.
In his mind's eye, he sees Barbara smiling kindly down at him as he remembers that fateful evening when he had awoken to find her nursing him back to health. A painful lump swells within his throat as he recalls the sincerity and desperation in her voice every time she had pleaded for him to leave the Fatui. He feels his fists clench at his side as his fingernails dig into his palms.
"Then perhaps I should ask Balladeer to oblige," the Tsaritsa presses tonelessly, her grey eyes watching him closely now.
"Give me ten days," the Eleventh Harbinger pleads, his voice low and hollow even to his own ears. "I'll destroy Pulcinella's rebellion and present you with his head."
"And his replacement?" Piero presses.
At this Tartaglia turns to face the archon who is still watching him expectantly.
"She will either join us or die," the Tsaritsa informs him. "Whether it be by your hand or another's, it matters not to me."
"Then it will be by my hand, your Majesty," the Eleventh Harbinger vows.