The air was tense, far more than he'd ever experienced at Sandrone's tea parties, especially with the way the Knave glared at him
What can he say?He had kept her waiting, so it was only natural that she was upset. But if she asked, he pointed all the blame on that incompetent Fatui operative.
After all, he was the one at fault.
Silvando gently set his spoon on the cloth-covered table and dabbed his mouth with a handkerchief. As he lifted his green gaze to the approaching Knave, he subtly signaled to Stolas to keep watch.
"Ah, Ms. Arlecchino," he greeted lightly. "You look a touch pale. Perhaps some sun would do wonders for your complexion."
"I had hoped for a proper meeting with you," she said, ignoring him. "But it seems you decided I wasn't worth your time and went sightseeing instead."
"Oh? Keeping an eye on me, how delightful," he teased, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I'll be sure to pose elegantly for your spies."
Arlecchino narrowed her gaze. "Do you take anything seriously? Or is everything a joke to you?"
"Not really," he shrugged, masking the truth behind a playful smile.
Sitting across from him, she folded her arms. "That wasn't the answer I expected," she admitted quietly. "Still, the Jester speaks highly of you. So, I'll refrain from judging you as the man who shed a tear over a mere performance."
Oh? They'd spoken about him? Not that it mattered. He knew the Jester well. And unfortunately, he'd left an unexpected impression on the little Knave.
"Ah yes, Furina's show was quite the performance," he said. "But let's not get sidetracked. You wished to meet me, and here you are. What can this humble man do for you?"
Silvando watched as Arlecchino tapped a finger against her arm, her sharp eyes scanning the restaurant to ensure no one was listening.
Understanding her concern, he lifted a hand and, with a soft snap of his fingers, an invisible field sealed them off from prying ears.
"No need to worry," he said, tilting his head with quiet amusement. "No one will be eavesdropping."
He leaned back slightly, curiosity glinting in his eyes as he waited for her to speak.
"Very well," she said, noting the subtle shift in the air when he snapped his fingers.
"As you know, your current assignment is to locate the Hydro Gnosis. However, I advise you not to meddle in my operations. Her Majesty has given you a task, so I suggest you remain focused on it."
Oh? A threat? He raised a brow. At seventeen, no less, this girl certainly had nerves. Then again, she had killed one of his colleagues.
Leaning forward, he offered a measured reply. "If the young Knave expects me to stay out of her affairs, I'll ask the same in return—stay out of mine."
Arlecchino lowered her gaze, considering his words before crossing her legs. Her eyes drifted to the center of the table, where the bottle of wine sat unopened.
"It seems we have an agreement," she said, pouring herself a cup of wine.
"Splendid," he said with a soft chuckle, reaching for his own wine. "Now, another matter. I recently came across two remarkably talented children. If you're rebuilding the House of the Hearth, they'd make excellent additions."
"If you mean the children at the plaza, you have my appreciation," she said coolly. "I've had them under watch ever since I first heard of them."
"Excellent," he twirled a spoon between his fingers. "I was never fond of Crucabena, but there wasn't much to be done. You have my gratitude for removing that thorn."
"So you knew about the things she did?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as she studied his every movement for a trace of deceit.
"Of course I did," he replied evenly. "But it wasn't my place to interfere with what the others do. That's also why I prefer gathering intelligence over leading operations."
"Then why join the Fatui?" she pressed. "You don't seem like someone driven by vengeance or spite."
"We all have our reasons," he replied simply, sidestepping her question with an unreadable smile.
"Not giving a straight answer? Then tell me something you're willing to share. For example—Sandrone. She invited me to a tea party at the end of the month."
Silvando's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. That brat hadn't even sent him an invitation. He almost wanted to sulk but decided it would be far more entertaining to tinker with her machines again.
"Yes, Sandrone," he said with a smirk. "She's a bit temperamental, even with that politeness module of hers. But I suppose you'll get along. She'll never admit it, but she gets lonely sometimes."
"Then I suppose I'll look forward to meeting her," she said. "But there's one more thing, who exactly are you? Are you willing to share that much?"
Oh? The Jester hadn't mentioned his real name, surprisingly, to say the least. After all, practically everyone else knew it, so he supposed it was only fair that she did too.
"Ahem, allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Silvando, Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers, though some may know me better as Fenriel, the God of Trickery."
Arlecchino raised an eyebrow. "So you're a god, then?" she asked, her tone calm but her eyes sharp with curiosity. "Tell me, are you from this era, or from the time of the Archon War?"
"Quite curious, are you? Very well, I'll indulge you just this once. Yes, I'm a god who fought in the Archon Wars, a terrible time, truly—but as you can see, I survived."
Before Arlecchino could ask another question, one of her operatives approached, unaware of the gravity of the conversation.
"Apologies for the interruption," the man said nervously.
"Go on," Arlecchino ordered.
"I have the report you requested on the organization involved in human trafficking. Several nobles have been purchasing young girls."
Human trafficking and the purchase of young girls? Silvando's eyes narrowed.
Fontaine's situation was far worse than he had imagined, though still not as dire as Natlan's current state. Even so, the Archon seemed increasingly naive.
"It seems I'll have to cut this meeting short," she said, rising from her seat. "Oh, and more more thing, if you know anything about Fontaine's prophecy, do send it my way."
He barely registered her departure, his attention fully consumed by the new information he had just heard.
But before he could even process it, the invisible field he had created shattered. Then a familiar wave of pain shot through his chest like tightening chains, forcing him to clutch it.
"Damn… it" he gasped. How could he forget the backlash of "his" power—especially in a weakened state?
He drew a ragged breath. The spoon bent under his grip as he struggled to compose himself. Stolas hooted in concern. Nobles nearby whispered uneasily as he endured the pain.
And with a quick decision, he flung a handful of mora onto the cloth and stumbled toward the nearest exit. But just as his fingers brushed the doorknob, the door flew open with a deafening bang.
Light streamed in, catching the blue dress of a figure hurrying toward him.
In that instant, her small frame slammed into his, stealing the air from both of them as they tumbled to the ground, and the girl ultimately landed squarely atop him.