Chapter Text
Clorinde was running. Her lungs burned. Her legs screamed in exertion, and her heart hammered in her ears. “Navia!” she howled, reaching out for her. Navia was right there, just beyond her grasp. Something was dragging her into the darkness, and terror was writ large on her face.
“Clorinde!” she screamed, reaching back for her, one hand scrabbling desperately against the ground for purchase. No matter how fast Clorinde ran, she could never catch up with her, forever out of reach. In fact, the distance grew, Navia’s desperate cries becoming louder and louder until, finally, she was pulled into the darkness with a final, terrified shriek—
Clorinde sat up with a gasp. “Navia!” she cried out, before realising where she was; her bedroom in the Court of Fontaine. She swallowed, her heart beating painfully in her chest. Brushing her fingers across a cheek confirmed what she suspected; she’d been crying in her sleep again.
“Another nightmare…” She sniffed, rubbing her face with her hands. Navia… Even nearly two years after her disappearance, getting an undisturbed night’s sleep was a distant fantasy. Two years of regrets, unspoken words and half-bloomed feelings. Two years of ‘what ifs’ and self-blame.
And now, knowing she’d never be able to get back to sleep, she had to endure another early morning of pretending she wasn’t collapsing around the edges of where she’d been hollowed out. Like she wasn’t working herself into an early grave with the extra hunts and duties. Like her social circle hadn’t dwindled to almost nothing. Like there wasn’t a layer of dust covering her books for the Tabletop Troupe…
Swinging her legs out of bed, she hauled herself to her feet. Maintaining the mask day in, day out was essential. Fontaine’s paparazzi were insufferable enough without giving them so much as a glimpse of her pain, and she refused to give them any more ammunition. They’d already had their fun with their articles after Navia went missing; how could they resist poking and prodding at the one who’d killed her father?
Clorinde growled, shaking her head to dispel the thoughts. She stepped into the bathroom, grimacing as she spotted the broken mirror she’d yet to replace, before stepping into the shower. Once clean of the sweat and tears from the nightmare, she dried herself off and started getting ready to face the day ahead.
Some time later, the very picture of the Champion Duellist stepped out of Clorinde’s front door. Her uniform was as perfect as ever, her hat at its customary, askew angle. Makeup covered the bags under her eyes, and a check in the mirror had confirmed she hadn’t cried enough to leave her eyes red and puffy. Small mercies…
It was early enough that Fontaine was only just starting to wake up. The other early-risers were out and about; the paperboys were finishing their rounds and the bakers were filling the streets with the delicious smells, only slightly muted by the pouring rain. It felt appropriate, somehow, that the rain had only been getting heavier the closer the days drew to the anniversary of Navia’s disappearance. Anniversary, like it’s a celebration, Clorinde thought bitterly.
At least the rain cut down on the people on her route to the Palais Mermonia; only the most dedicated journalists tended to hang around outside on days like this, and the tabloid-spinners tended not to count amongst their number. Clorinde made her way inside with a perfunctory nod to the guards outside, shaking off her umbrella before stepping through the doors.
As ever, the rooms of the Palais Mermonia were full of gestionnaires hard at work. ‘Work’ might have been the wrong word, Clorinde reflected. Hard at avoiding doing any actual work was more likely, an opinion supported by an ongoing argument over stamp ink. Shaking her head, Clorinde made her way to the part of the building rather more relevant to her; the rooms used by the Maison Gardiennage and the Marechaussee Phantom.
In contrast to the rest of the building, the officers here appeared to be actually doing their jobs. As Clorinde watched, forms for cataloguing evidence were being filled out, arrest reports submitted, and one suspect was taken for questioning. The greater productivity on display here might have had something to do with the presence of one officer in particular. “Captain Chevreuse,” Clorinde greeted her.
“Clorinde?” Chevreuse asked, turning to Clorinde and blinking before peering up at her. Clorinde never liked that look. Chevreuse was always the best at seeing through her mask. “Clocking in early? Weren’t you on the late shift last night?”
“I woke up early and thought I might as well make a start on things,” Clorinde lied. She could hardly admit she’d had another nightmare, or that staying alone in her quiet house felt suffocating. Or that without anything else to do, she’d likely find herself at the liquor cabinet sooner or later. She wasn’t an addict, but she knew she spent too much time with her bottles for it to be considered a healthy habit.
“Right…” Chevreuse’s tone confirmed that she didn’t believe Clorinde. She glanced around to make sure no one was listening in before lowering her voice. “Are you sure you’re alright? Everything that’s coming up, I know it’s a sore spot…”
“I’m fine,” Clorinde quickly assured her. “We still need to finalise the security arrangements for the gala.”
“Right, the anniversary gala,” Chevreuse said, giving Clorinde a pointed look. When Clorinde’s poker face failed to crack, Chevreuse sighed, shaking her head. “Sure, we can go over those. Actually, there has been an important development there.”
“Oh?” Clorinde asked, frowning slightly. “What sort of development?”
“The Palais Mermonia received a diplomatic notice from Snezhnaya last night, requesting an invitation for one of their diplomats,” Chevreuse reported. “They say they intend their attendance to be a ‘display of solidarity’ between Fontaine and Snezhnaya, and a sign that they will offer what support they can to the on-going ‘Serial Disappearances’ investigation. Monsieur Neuvillette and Lady Furina have apparently decided to take this at face value—or more likely couldn’t find a polite way to say ‘no’—and have sent an invitation to the diplomat.”
“I see… Did they indicate who this diplomat would be? An envoy, the ambassador?” Clorinde guessed. Chevreuse’s expression, one an almost pained grimace, told Clorinde she was both wrong and would not like the truth.
“One of the Fatui Harbingers, the one called ‘the Knave’.” Clorinde closed her eyes, schooling her expression into one of calm acceptance.
“Right,” she said shortly. “A Harbinger. That… Certainly makes things more complicated.” At the very least, a guest of that nature in attendance would at least give her something more pressing to concentrate on than the occasion for the gala. Clorinde almost felt grateful. Almost. “We can assume they will have an entourage of some description?”
“Likely a small number of ‘aides’.” By which she meant ‘operatives’, of course. “Probably not an actual ‘plus one’, though.”
“What do we know about this ‘Knave’?” Clorinde asked, wracking her own brain. Whilst she was formally part of the Maison Gardiennage, her duties as Champion Duellist—and bodyguard to Furina—meant she rarely interacted with those arms of Fontainian law enforcement that most often handled the Fatui.
Fortunately, Chevreuse and the Special Patrol were the sort that did handle them, at least often enough. “More than most Harbingers, actually,” she said, sounding halfway pleased about that. “Ranked fourth amongst the Harbingers, she is apparently a Fontainian native as well. She replaced another Harbinger formerly known as ‘the Knave’, a woman called Crucabena.
“Apparently, the current Knave’s predecessor was quite active in Fontaine. She ran the House of the Hearth, the Fatui’s ‘orphanage’ here in Fontaine, and the current Knave has taken over that role as well,” Chevreuse added, a thoughtful note entering her voice at the end.
“Her combat capabilities?” Clorinde asked. The Knave’s politics and responsibilities, whilst important, were of less concern to security proceedings than how dangerous she might be.
“Well, getting concrete information like that on the Harbingers is always tricky,” Chevreuse groused. “However, being ranked fourth means she’s got to be pretty damn scary. She’s been seen with a pyro Vision, but we have no reports of her in an actual fight.” Clorinde let out a small grumble at that. “There are suspicions she’s behind a few assassinations, but no evidence outside the circumstantial.
“There has been one interesting development in the Fatui, however.” Clorinde raised an eyebrow, gesturing for Chevreuse to continue. “So, after ‘the Fair Lady’ was killed by the Raiden Shogun, a lot of the Harbingers more-or-less went to ground. Not that big of a surprise; if the God of Thunder killed one of them, maybe she’ll be after more.
“However, they’ve started being a bit more active again, and there’s been a bit of a reshuffle of the Harbinger ranks. The top four, and the director, haven’t changed, but ‘the Rooster’, previously ranked fifth, has been moved down.”
“Who replaced him?” asked Clorinde.
“We don’t know, other than someone has. Below rank four things get murky as far as our intelligence is concerned. ‘Regrator’ and ‘Childe’ haven’t moved, we at least know that. We can, however, make some… Educated guesses about the nature of the new number five,” Chevreuse said, an uncharacteristically nervous look on her face.
“Go on…” Clorinde said cautiously.
“Well… ‘The Rooster’ was at rank five off the back of his political power. For him to be overtaken by an unknown implies the new rank five is at that rank based on their personal power.” Chevreuse waited a moment to let the implications of that sink in. “‘The Fair Lady’ was at rank eight, and based on all our reports she was far from a push-over. And now there’s a new rank five…”
“That’s… Alarming news, to say the least,” Clorinde agreed. Then, a thought occurred to her. “Could the Knave attending the gala be related to this reshuffle?”
“Maybe? It’s hard to tell what’s internal politicking and what’s a collaborative scheme when the Harbingers are involved.” Clorinde grunted in agreement. “So, stepping up security to account for a highly-ranked Harbinger and her Fatui hangers-on…”
“I’ll round up some of the Marechaussee Hunters. We should increase gardemek deployments as well.” As the two got to work working out the final security arrangements for the gala, Clorinde found she could almost stop thinking about Navia for the moment.
Almost.
A few days later, it was the night of the gala. Never one for high society functions—or socialising with crowds at all—in the first place, Clorinde’s anxiety and irritation were at a higher level thanks to the nature of the event. All the press around the gala, as well as the various signs and banners around the grand ballroom, had proudly claimed it was ‘in honour of the victims of the Serial Disappearances Case’. The timing of the event, two years after Navia’s own disappearance, was painfully transparent.
The rain hadn’t relented, more-or-less confining the guests to within the ballroom itself. At the very least it made security easier, as it was highly unlikely anyone in attendance would risk ruining their expensive outfits by venturing outside. As had become customary at events like this, Clorinde was spending the evening at Lady Furina’s side. Quite why an Archon needed a bodyguard had puzzled many over the years; Clorinde, however, had come to learn just how many trivial distractions her presence kept away from Furina.
Tonight, however, her presence near Furina meant she had to tolerate some of the most wretchedly irritating members of Fontanian society, narrowly beating the paparazzi; Fontaine’s rich and powerful. Whether aristocrats or wealthy merchants, both parties were making Clorinde’s skin crawl with every bit of fawning sycophantry or false outpouring of sympathy towards the victims and their families.
They didn’t care. No one that had approached Lady Furina or Monsieur Neuvillette really cared about any of the disappeared women or the people left to miss them. Whatever motivation Lady Furina had for throwing this gala, the weasels had turned it into a self-aggrandising mockery. Especially the ones that took the time to offer condolences to Clorinde specifically, like they’d had any insight to the relationship they’d had before Callas’ death tore it apart.
The only people present who did care were as much the subjects of gossip as Clorinde herself was. Chiefly, the small group from the Spina di Rosula. That the organisation still existed in any form worth mentioning after Navia’s disappearance was a much-discussed topic in Fontaine. By all accounts, it was Navia who had kept the organisation together after Callas. Logically, the Spina should have splintered apart with her gone.
To the contrary, though there had been a significant dip immediately after Navia vanished, over the last year and a half they’d gone from strength to strength. Someone was keeping their accounts topped up. The most likely candidate, Marcel and the Confrerie of Cabriere, had effectively cut all ties in the wake of Navia’s disappearance, however. Some more wild rumours suggested the Fatui were involved; but then, according to the rumour mill the Fatui were always involved with anything even slightly mysterious.
Clorinde recognised Melus amongst the Spina delegation, along with Silver. The older man seemed to be the one running the organisation now, with Silver as his protegé. Clorinde briefly entertained offering some form of greeting, but decided against it. It would be too painful, and she doubted they wanted to see the woman who’d killed Callas, the boss they’d loved. It was part of why she’d never been back to Poisson after the duel. Too many memories, and too many people she’d disappointed…
A minor commotion at the entrance to the ballroom drew Clorinde’s attention. A man and a woman in black dress uniforms and masks that instantly identified them as Fatui were walking in. They scanned the room, seemingly indifferent to the chorus of ‘well-I-never’s that greeted them. Clorinde glanced at the various people on security. Chevreuse nodded in return, her Special Patrol squad looking more alert, whilst the other Marechaussee Hunters smoothly disengaged from the conversations they’d been having.
Then the herald stepped in, clearing his throat. His demeanour instantly caught Clorinde’s eye. Calm, composed, even cheerful for the entire evening to this point, he’d undergone a dramatic transformation. His eyes were wide as saucers and his face had gone pale. Something had shaken him badly, and Clorinde was certain it had something to do with the Harbinger that had just arrived.
“Ladies and gentleman,” the herald began, licking his lips and swallowing. “A-announcing the arrival of our honoured guests f-from Snezhnaya.” His voice wavered a little, catching on the occasional word. “P-please welcome the Lord Knave and—” He looked back at the entrance, as if he were double-checking who he was announcing. “A-and the Lady Balladeer.”
‘The Balladeer’... So, they finally reassigned that one after so many centuries. Wait, that means two Harbingers? A cold feeling sank into Clorinde’s gut as a polite, perfunctory applause began. Then, as the two figures entered, the applause came to a chaotic halt, replaced by gasps and exclamations of disbelief.
The Lord Knave was as Clorinde remembered from the photographs on file and the occasional in-person glimpse. Tall and imposing with sharp features and dressed in an extremely high-quality charcoal suit, she however faded into utter insignificance in Clorinde’s perception next to her partner for the evening, walking arm-in-arm with her. Next to Clorinde, Furina gasped, her hands covering her mouth.
Her skin was pale, her hair two-toned in black and white, and her irises were an unsettlingly-vivid red. None of that distracted from the fact that this woman was Navia. It was Navia. She was even wearing the dress and hat she’d commissioned from Chiori those years ago, though now the colours were a mix of blacks, whites, greys, and reds that matched her eyes. Her golden geo Vision was still pinned to her arm, but the Fatui emblem at her waist left no illusions as to her new allegiance.
Clorinde could do nothing but stare stunned and slack-jawed as the pair made their way across the ballroom, heedless of the utter disbelief being directed at them. So shocked was she that she didn’t register that they were coming her way until they were almost right in front of her. Purple eyes met blood red ones, and the ghost of something flickered within them briefly before the Knave began speaking.
“Good evening, Lady Furina,” she said. Her voice was cold, composed, and slightly raspy. Clorinde could immediately tell this was a woman who was used to giving commands and having them obeyed without complaint. That the Knave was taller than her only added to that commanding presence. The Knave’s eyes flicked to Clorinde, the x-shaped pupils finally managing to distract her from Navia.
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your companion,” the Knave observed cooly.
“Ah, where are my manners?” Furina said, regaining her composure quickly. “Allow me to introduce Miss Clorinde, Champion Duellist of Fontaine,” she said, gesturing grandly to Clorinde. Clorinde briefly wished she could recover her senses as quickly as Furina seemed to.
“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Clorinde,” the Knave said, her tone sounding more intrigued than pleased.
“Likewise, Lord Knave,” Clorinde managed to say. Her mouth felt dry. Feeling eyes on her, her vision flicked back to the Knave’s side, meeting Navia’s gaze again.
“I don’t believe my companion for the evening needs any introduction,” the Knave continued, and Clorinde picked up the slight hint of smug sarcasm in those words. “But, for the sake of politeness and to introduce her new role…”
“Please, allow me,” Navia said. Her voice hadn’t changed, still as bright and lively as ever. That was somehow worse than if it had changed, a gnawing void opening in Clorinde’s stomach. “I am the Balladeer, fifth of the Fatui Harbingers,” she said loud enough for the whole room to hear, adding a theatric curtsy for good measure.
Fifth — Clorinde felt sick. Past Navia’s head she spotted Chevreuse, the officer’s face going pale at that revelation. There were two incredibly powerful Harbingers in the room, and one was Navia…
“Of course, most of you already know me as Navia,” Navia said, glancing pointedly around at the signs and banners. Then, her eyes once again found Clorinde. “Clorinde,” she said simply, politely.
“Navia…” The name came out quite a bit more wistful than she’d intended. A quirk of the Knave’s eyebrow told her that the tone had definitely been picked up on, and Clorinde couldn’t help but linger on the fact that Navia’s arm was still linked with the Knave’s. That did not make her feel any better, quite the opposite in fact. That unidentifiable flicker appeared in Navia’s eyes again, before she broke eye contact again.
“Well, we won’t take up any more of your time,” Navia said. “We’ve got quite a few people to speak to. We’ll have time to speak later, of course,” she added, mainly to Furina.
“Of course,” Furina replied, nodding and smiling and not letting a hint of her disquiet show. The two Harbingers walked away, making their way over to the Spina members clustered in one corner. They were, Clorinde noticed, the only ones not utterly astonished at the fact Navia was alive. As her attention lingered on Navia, she noticed another change; Navia was noticeably more muscular than she had been two years ago.
“Clorinde?” The sound of Furina’s voice wrested Clorinde’s attention away, and she turned to look at her. “Are you alright?” The question was posed quietly, evident concern in Furina’s eyes.
“I’m fine, Lady Furina,” Clorinde replied quickly. Furina held her gaze for a moment, her lips set in a worried line.
“If you need to take some time for yourself…”
“And leave yourself, Monsieur Neuvillette, and any number of other members of Fontaine’s government in a room with two Fatui Harbingers? Absolutely not.” Duty, at least, remained something Clorinde could bury herself in.
“If you’re certain,” Furina relented. “Don’t feel chained to my side this evening, however. If you want to keep an eye on Miss Caspar…”
“... Thank you, Lady Furina.”