Riposa in pace, Strega delle Fiamme
Tsaritsa Bronya Alexeievna Zaychik expresses her gratitude and many affections specifically held for who was once The Fair Lady — Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter — at the altar in the church.
Her majesty almost weeped as she followed her most heartfelt, unscripted eulogy. Had this funeral been held for any other Harbinger, the Tsaritsa wouldn’t spare the effort of a few sentiments, for she held none extra in the exception of her favorite. La Signora had lost her life on a mission she failed in Japan, in an attempt to obtain the reality-altering Book.
Her majesty drones on about Lohefalter, as if the woman was her illegitimate daughter. The rest of the Harbingers bow their heads in respect to their Queen, as well as the Fair Lady (or at least, what remains of her. Who knows what they found underneath the rubble of the Skull Fortress…). The Lady’s colleagues would soon rejoice after the burial, in a meeting at Zapolyarny Palace.
It would take a while for the Tsaritsa to return and actually begin the meeting, so the ten Harbingers are left to mingle… or rather, argue.
Pulcinella, the 5th, stepped up to the end of the large meeting table, and announced, “We are gathered here today to remember our dear comrade. In honor of her sacrifice, all work should halt for half a day as the nation mourns her passing.” Pantalone, the 9th, merely chuckles at this announcement. “Merely half a day,” the muses, “people say the Northland Bank’s true currencies are blood and tears. But Mayor, even speaking as a banker, that sounds a little unconscionable.”
“… Rosalyn’s died in a foreign land,” Arlecchino, the 4th, spoke up. “But you heartless businessmen and dignitaries, always with a convenient excuse to remain in the comfort of your homeland, you couldn’t hope to understand. So why don’t you just keep your mouths shut?! We don’t want to make the children cry…”
Tartaglia, the 11th, scoffed. “Hey, c’mon now, even I don’t think this is the right time or place for a fight…!”
”Utterly risible,” Sandrone, the 7th, spat under her breath.
“Though her methods tarnished her honor,” Capitano, the 1st, right beside her, began, “Lohefalter’s sacrifice is a great pity. Her loss shall not tarnish our efforts. But Dottore…” The sinister 2nd swirls a little test tube full of an unknown liquid, and hums. ”… What of Fyodor Dostoevsky and the events that unfolded at Mukurotoride?”
”… Conventional wisdom holds that Divine Knowledge cannot be rationally comprehended,” Dottore simply stated, “it is practical that Tatsuhiko Shibusawa invited Lohefalter solely for her ability. What that man intends to do with it remains confidential to us currently.”
“It’s time to end tonight’s foolish theatrics,” at last, Pierro, the official leader of the Fatui Harbingers, enters the meeting in place of their Majesty. “Right now, you have no captive audience. Let every worthy sacrifice be carved in ice, and with this nation endure for all of time.” The Harbingers bow their heads as they occupy a place at the table.
“In the name of Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa, we will seize the authority of the Book. Absolute peace… such is a gift from the Tsaritsa, such is Her Majesty’s benevolence… Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter; now you rest in your coffin, encased in layer upon layer or ice. But I promise you… your final resting place will be in the entirety of this world.”
—
“… I must say, you’re looking very young today, Doctor,” Columbina, the 3rd, commented to Dottore.
“… You know very well that I do not take that as a compliment,” he unenthusiastically replied. “So.. where’s the segments in the prime of his life, then?” the Damselette asked.
“… Heh,” he scoffed, “he’s… busy with a little experiment in ‘blasphemy’.”
—
~1 month later, and 8:17 AM in the House of the Hearth~
All the orphans have gathered for breakfast in the main hall. Arlecchino makes an uncommon appearance, silently surveilling her children, until she finally reaches her main target. She gently places her hand atop his shoulder, although despite the gesture being gentle, it comes across as anything but soothing to the child.
“… Atsushi,” she says, “I need to meet with you in my office after breakfast.”
Atsushi turns and looks up at her with his round, purple-yellow eyes, pale cheeks full of blini.
Arlecchino pats his shoulder, “be sure to see me when you’re finished.” The eyes of the children surrounding Atsushi at one of the long tables follow their Father as she leaves. Atsushi swallows his blini, feeling a little unsure about what’s gonna come next.
It’s not that Atsushi doesn’t trust his Father, not when she makes a hell of a lot better father figure than the Headmaster from his previous orphanage. She’s just… authoritative. In an unintentionally intimidating way…
He tries to separate that part of it from the fact that she literally saved his life when she transferred him in, but he’s also never really learned to trust any kind of authority with personally meeting them. Nonetheless, it sounded like it was important, so he works on his blini a little faster. Eventually finishing, Atsushi brings his plate and utensils to the kitchen, and takes a long journey all the way up to his Father’s office.
Atsushi rubs his thighs a bit, before eventually reaching for the steel doorknob and twisting. Inside, Arlecchino can be found sitting right at her ebony-wood desk; her claws holding up some documents as she scrutinizes them meticulously. Her ears pick up on the door’s creak, and she shifts her focus to Atsushi who stands in the doorway.
“... Pardon me,” she turns back to her carefully spread-out documents. Atsushi comes up to her desk, fiddling with his fingers as his Father collects and organizes her papers. Settling them back into the top-right drawer, she rests her elbows on her desk, intermingling her fingers as she faces her Son once more. “My child,” she began, “you’re eighteen, yes? Forgive me for being so lax about your assignments, and admittedly, for dropping such a weighted one upon yourself today.”
Atsushi tilted his head at her statement, still massaging the knuckles on his left hand. “Oh–no–” he raises both hands up as mock-surrender, “it’s okay, I…”
“—Atsushi. The mission I have for you is more blunt, and should be meticulously approached. It’s a fairly idealistic one, I’ll admit, but the merit to this is your potential.”
Atsushi lowers his hands, as they rejoice below him. Arlecchino continues, “You’re aware as well as everyone else that aunt Rosalyne has passed in an attempt for this ideal — she died to the hands of a man so equally as pompous, yet intelligent as the Harbingers. Just three days ago, we had arranged a more gradual, step-by-step plan to obtain the Book.” Atsushi almost perked up with interest — he and Lyney were more knowledgeable about their Father’s work-related affairs.
”Which is where I need you,” is what grabbed his attention the most. An uneasy pool gently swirled in his gut, as he got vaguely reluctant about what’s coming after this news. “Atsushi,” Arlecchino stood up. She walks around her desk, and comes to face him. Placing her hands upon his shoulder once more, she states to him, “You are the key to getting the Book. This assignment is an overseas mission.” She doesn’t miss the way Atsushi’s eyelids raise, with the way his silver eyelashes pull up like a butterfly fluttering about.
“We’ll need to send you to Japan, and collect it for us.”