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The mission wasn't under her jurisdiction, but Pulcinella's. Still, it is nevertheless a shame to lose members raised from the House of the Hearth.
At least Nikolay Snezhevich and Katarina Snezhevna had served the Fatui well until the bitter end.
"Tea?" Columbina asks.
"Hmm? Oh. Yes, please." She responds, offering out her teacup.
Arlecchino doesn't quite know where the idyllic tea breaks between her and the Damslette had started, but it was... fine. It brought some reprieve from work in the orphanage and all other Harbinger duties, and she got to spend time with someone who does not have any other motives but tea and talk.
Well… nothing was ever easy with the hidden agendas and differing motives of each of the Harbingers, and Columbina was not exempt from them. Call her a hypocrite for refuting her earlier statement, but she is aware that the woman uses the breaks to sometimes wheedle information from her, whether reports of what Arlecchino's men have been up to or the other Harbinger's business.
She does not mind. The Knave may be a servant to the Tsaritsa, but as the roles see fit, she is also in service to the Damselette.
Arlecchino reaches a hand under the table, fingers searching blindly for the small basket of sushkis she knows she bought and left here the last time. To her dismay and annoyance, the basket is there, but there are only two pieces left.
She clicks her tongue. Taking the basket out to the table, she takes one for herself, then slides the rest in Columbina's direction. "Did you eat the rest earlier?"
The Damslette looks appalled. "Why would I? I may like the ones you buy from the bakeshop in Stalingrad, but I enjoy the ones with the poppy seeds more."
"Then who would— ah." She realizes once the sweet taste of the sushki floods her tastebuds. "Scaramouche, the little bastard."
The Balladeer may have fucked off the Tsaritsa knows where with the Electro gnosis, but he still manages to leave her an irritating little memo of eating almost all of the sushki she bought. Perhaps she's grasping at straws here, but it was an open secret to everyone that the puppet had a sweet tooth that would put the little ones in the House of the Hearth to shame.
"You can always pick up another bag on your way back to the House of the Hearth. Or would you like me to buy it myself the time we do this?"
Arlecchino takes the last piece of sushki. "Will you buy the ones with the poppy seeds?"
"Do you not want me to?"
"No, no I don’t mind." She shakes her head. It’s just that anyone, from the normally indifferent Sandrone to one of Dottore's mischief-prone segments, thought it was their duty to snag a piece of whatever food you were carrying if they ever spotted you in the hallways. It's been an unspoken tradition of their lot for as long as Arlecchino remembers being a Harbinger. "Just make sure you don't run across any of the others on your way here, lest you want half of the bag emptied before we can even start boiling the water for tea."
She would know, considering she stole a piece of Pantalone's jade parcels last month, not knowing it was spiked to the core with jueyun chilies. Damn Liyueans and their spice tolerances.
Columbina smiles and raises her teacup to take a sip. "Duly noted. Though, I don't think any of them would try and risk having their wrists snapped in half if it was me."
Arlecchino raises a curious eyebrow. Knowing Columbina, yes, few would dare try to pull anything on her. Even the ever battle-hungry Tartaglia backs down from picking fights with her.
Now that the basket of sushkis was empty, Columbina notices, and brings forth a tin of digestive biscuits. A quick glance at the name and logo of the tin brings the thought of Sandrone to Arlecchino's mind.
There was this one round table discussion between the Harbingers years ago, where Pierro had given the mechanic a passing compliment about her machine patents increasing the capabilities of their nation's food production. It didn't mean much at that moment back then, but Sandrone's patented brand of digestive biscuits has exploded in popularity and has practically become a staple in the Fatui and the Snezhnayan market.
Just the sight of the ruin grader with a top hat logo often brings the image of the small blonde Harbinger to her mind.
Plus, the House of the Hearth was never without those tins. She had sometimes caught the orphans snooping through one of them, and to their disappointment, found out the tins were filled with sewing supplies instead of cookies.
They often came in the plain or chocolate-covered versions, but somehow Columbina has always managed to procure those maple and pecan-flavored ones every time they go on their tea breaks.
Arlecchino picks up her gold-rimmed teacup. All of the Harbingers have been gifted one, courtesy of Rosalyne after her trip from Liyue to acquire the Geo Archon's gnosis. She'd waxed on and on about it being expensive and handmade by the most renowned porcelain craftsmen from the nation, and that the richest of cor lapis and gold had been etched into the fine china with great skill. She cannot refute the craftsmanship of the teacup, it really is well-made.
Too bad there's a slur etched in loopy, elegant text in every teacup La Signora gifted to them.
Pantalone had called it a 'gag gift' when he showed the rest of them what insult was in his teacup. (It was the words "I hope you choke" written on the insides, for anyone that asked.) Tartaglia, still steaming after his embarrassing screw-up in Liyue, nonetheless kept the cup that had 'Tequila' printed on the bottom, despite all the contempt he held for La Signora.
She watches Columbina take a sip out of hers, the words "Mother Fucker" emblazoned in the middle.
In Rosalyne's words, it fit the Damslette very well. Something about Arlecchino being the orphanage director and technically being a mother to the children in the House of the Hearth, and a few other sentences the Harbinger said that was muffled to her ears because she was too busy trying to fling her own teacup at the woman's head.
Arlecchino can still remember Rosalyne's laugh ringing throughout the hallways of Zapolyarny Palace. Why the Tsaritsa does not stop their hijinks, that she will never know.
She takes a sip of her tea. "Has anything interesting happened lately?"
Columbina huffs, setting her teacup down. "Haven't you heard? Pantalone and that Liyue spy he keeps butting heads with for years had another altercation this week. Apparently, she was disguised as a Liyue merchant in one of his business meetings and beat Pantalone black and blue just to get back a bracelet he stole from her."
She snorts, snagging another biscuit from the tin. "Insanity. Did Regrator fight back?"
Come to think of it, she had seen the Regrator sometimes fiddle with a new jade bangle on his wrist. For his love of wearing rings and all other opulent jewelry, he's never struck her as one for bracelets.
"Do you think the man can withstand a punch from any of us without using that geo delusion of his?" Columbina deadpans.
That steals a laugh from her lips. "Alright, fair enough."
"Moving on from our dear Regrator," Columbina leans forward, resting her hand under her chin. "How is it at your end, my Knave? Are the children in the House of the Hearth clamoring for my darling presence again, after so long?"
She rolls her eyes. Yes, quite a lot of the young ones adored Columbina, mostly those fascinated with her airy, angelic appearance and the fact that she was able to play sweet tunes on the old grand piano that sat in the far corner of the orphanage. Nikolay— the corporal who perished in the mission in Liyue's Chasm, had been one of those children, so overly fond of Columbina's music that he'd be the first to the piano room whenever Columbina stopped by. The corporal had become so passionate about music that one of the orphans, Katarina, her name was, gifted him a balalaika.
Of course, nothing stayed quite the same. If the Electro Archon's idea of eternal stasis was in any way real, the boy would've still been here, baby chub in his cheeks and listening to the Damslette play the piano with her deft hands.
Instead of that, however, the years went by and young Kolya had left to serve the Fatui, being stationed here and there until Pulcinella sent his company into the Chasm, all of them unknowing that they all will be walking into their deaths.
Ultimately, losing children men was a normal facet of life when it comes to total service to the Tsaritsa. Shame, but Nikolay had not been the House of the Hearth's first loss, nor would he be the last. The boy would simply become one nameless tombstone amongst the thousands, perhaps millions, of tombstones in Snezhnaya, his name and memory lost to time.
Ah, she was getting too sentimental over the orphans again.
"Not exactly. Tartaglia's visit this Children's Day has endeared most of them to him, leaving you in the dust." Arlecchino says, shaking her head in false sympathy to turn away from Columbina. But secretly, she cracks a grin. She's never been fond of the Tsaritsa's Vanguard, all too reckless and fixated on the grandeur of his bloodlust. What's better than pitting the Third against the runt of the litter?
She thumbs the golden engraving on her teacup.
Cunt, it said.
Arlecchino is one petty cunt, that she is honest about.
"Oh?" Columbina hums. The Damslette looks down at her teacup, now empty. That lace covering her eyes may obscure most of her expressions, but up this close Arlecchino can see her frowning. "I... see. I'll just have to... hmm, step up my game."
"Don't murder Tartaglia in the process, dear."
"My, a proper lady does not use violence to solve problems, Lord Arlecchino."
She raises a brow. "What about that one time we were in Sumeru and an Abyss Herald insulted you?"
"Violence was a last resort."
"It was over your doves, Columbina. Your hail doves."
"I will not stand someone who insults Frosty."
"Don't you call all of them that?"
"Exactly. No one insults my hail doves and gets out of it alive."
Ah, there was this dark energy forming in the room, the center of it being her teatime companion. Arlecchino doesn't quite know why Columbina is strangely defensive of the doves she can conjure out of snow. They're barely sentient, really, but she supposes it worked along the same lines of Sandrone shooting anyone point-blank when they insult one of her creations. Though when it comes to Dottore, insult one of his segments and the man would likely shrug it off.
"On the topic of the Abyss," Arlecchino starts up the conversation, realizing it's tapering off to silence. "Have you heard anything... strange from them? They've been woefully quiet these past few months. It's suspicious. They're up to something, aren't they?"
Columbina takes a biscuit. "Oh, who knows what the Abyss is up to these days. Though seeing that it's nearing December, I think the Prince and the Tsaritsa are having a... truce of sorts."
"Truce?"
"Ah, yes." Columbina dips the biscuit in her tea. The Damslette had one serious case of dunking, a general breach of proper etiquette, but it's not as if they're in any formal function. Besides, they weren't overly posh nobles from Mondstadt. Far be it for her to scold the Third Harbinger for her eating habits when Arlecchino does it herself when the pastries are too sweet or the tea is too bitter. "Once upon a time, the Tsaritsa and the Abyss Prince were quite... close. But, after some many incidents, deaths, and a final lover's spat four hundred and twenty-eight years ago, they finally broke off and decided to do their own thing."
She stops midway from grabbing a biscuit. "What."
"Don't tell that to anyone though. It's a sore subject for her."
"Do I have to sign an NDA then?" Arlecchino contemplates out loud. With how many laws the Fatui has bent and broken and buried under layers of secrecy, NDAs were incredibly important here, if blackmail and promise of broken bones didn't work.
"Oh no, you don't have to. Believe me, if the Tsaritsa finds out you know this, you'd certainly be beheaded."
...
...
...
Columbina sends her a placating grin. "As long as you keep your silence, you won't have to retire from your post too early."
Arlecchino takes the biscuit and shoves it into her mouth. "Archons." She mumbles, muffled.
The Damslette shrugs, smiling. "Don't think of it too much."
And so the world-shattering revelation about the Tsaritsa and the leader of the Abyss Order puts their conversation into a lull. Arlecchino stares into her tea, eyebrows knitted as she tries to process that information. With those two being the most powerful beings in Teyvat, a literal archon and someone who leads the scourge of all scourges, how can she use that information to her leverage?
Columbina watches her in amusement.
That is until she feels a presence at the front door. The Damslette looks up, noticing a dark figure standing over the doorway.
"Need anything?" She asks, snapping Arlecchino out of her thoughts. The Knave follows her line of sight, turning around to see a Fatui Agent awkwardly standing there, hand raised to knock on a door that's been... open. They left the door open wide, so it seemed.
"Javert." Arlecchino deadpans.
The agent rises from the attention, standing, his spine ramrod straight. "Yes, Lord Arlecchino!"
Columbina can hear the disgruntlement in the Knave's voice. Displeasure also courses through her veins at the sudden interruption of their tea break, but Columbina supposes it would be too rash to judge too early on about whether this agent looked better dead and defenestrated than alive.
"To what do we owe your presence?" Columbina purrs at him, her voice overly saccharine.
"The Tsaritsa requires your presence, Lord Arlecchino." Javert turns to Arlecchino. That little voice changer fitted into the masks of most Fatui agents made it incredibly easy to give away any breaks or hitches in their user's voice, but surprisingly enough, this one remains stoic. It spikes her interest, but only in the way she'd find amusement in some strange trinket for a few minutes. "Immediately." He adds.
Arlecchino clicks her tongue.
"Just my luck." The Harbinger drawls. "I'm afraid we'll have to cut our meeting short, Damslette."
Columbina can only keep the veneer of polite aloofness, only because of the presence of the damned agent right by the door. She shan't get angry at the Tsaritsa— perhaps the timing was simply unlucky.
But she wonders to herself, was it all predetermined? Every time the Knave and herself get sometimes for themselves together, something happens to pull them off opposite ways.
The first instance she can think of off the top of her head was their dinner in a five-star restaurant in Novgorod, where there was a missive immediately ordering her to go straight to Fontaine to solve the mess one of Dottore's many segments made with some human rights laws there. Another instance was when Signora— back then still alive and well— had come barging into Arlecchino's office in the House of the Hearth to tell the Knave news of Tartaglia going too far and breaking some of the limbs of her agents.
Never bothering to knock, Rosalyne got quite the eyeful of them both. None of the staff or youngins in the House of the Hearth ever had the gall or guts to pull off such a thing, but Rosalyne simply raised an eyebrow at the sight of them in the middle of their romp in the hay (ie: Arlecchino's desk), and continued with her report.
It was supposedly a friendly spar between the boy and the agents, but broken limbs were broken limbs and those agents were trained by Arlecchino herself. Tartaglia has been on Arlecchino's shit list since then, if the boy hasn’t been in it in the first place.
Such incidents had barely anything to do with their dear Tsaritsa, but she cannot help but wonder. Did she have a hand in them?
Was her Archon cockblocking them?
Columbina smiles to herself. She's always been a bit fond of conspiracy theories. A long life has exposed her to the many truths of this world, but it was so much better and amusing if you indulge yourself in a bit of conspiracy every once in a while. Kept you from getting bored and going off the deep end and all of that.
Of course, special mention to Dottore's deranged ramblings too, whenever she stopped by his lab to fiddle with spare ruin guard parts. Sandrone was always too protective of the ones in her possession, and the Marionette wasn't all too fun when she starts going off about mechanical jargon that only ended up going through one ear and out the other.
"—bina?"
"Ah?" She looks up to see Arlecchino, whose gaze was expectant. "Yes?"
"I'm afraid I'll have to get going. I'm terribly sorry we'll have to cut our tea break short, but," The red slits Arlecchino has for pupils look back at Javert, quite spitefully. If the agent flinches, he's adept at hiding it. "Tsarita's orders. You know how it is."
"Of course, don't let me keep you here."
Arlecchino nods, turning back to the Fatui Agent standing at the doorway. The man is as still as a statue, and she could have mistaken him for a realistic dummy until the man turns his head at the two of them.
"Shall I lead you to the Tsaritsa's meeting room or—"
"No need." Arlecchino raises a hand, stopping him. "You're dismissed. I'll go there myself."
The agent nods. "Yes sir." He says, bowing deeply at them before turning his heel and leaving.
The two of them wait for a beat, then two, until the sound of the Fatui Agent's boots disappear. Arlecchino heaves out a soft sigh, looking at her.
"I apologize. I need to go."
Columbina shakes her head. "Please, it's no bother when it's in the name of the Tsaritsa. Just, come over here for a quick second, will you? I have something to give to you before you go."
"Hmm?" Arlecchino slides her chair into the table, then approaches her. "What is it?"
She beckons with a finger. "Lean down. You're too tall."
Arlecchino leans down, right where Columbina wants her. Grabbing and tugging down the turtleneck the other harbinger always wore, Columbina presses a chaste kiss on the woman's cheek. Her cheeks are cold against her lips.
Columbina lets go of her hold on her.
"Until next time then." She tells her.
Arlecchino stares at her. She blinks, gingerly touching her cheek. "Ah."
"Oh." The woman mumbles. Her current expression looks completely out of it. Arlecchino blinks a couple more times until clarity comes back to those normally razor-sharp eyes. "I— I will see you next time. Until then, Columbina."
The Knave hurriedly shuffles out of the room. Columbina is pretty sure she hears her breaking into a sprint down the hallway.
Unfortunately, it seemed that Arlecchino had been ordered specifically by the Tsaritsa to join Capitano's forces in the heart of Natlan. Something about that insufferable Traveler always prying into our business, she had grumbled to her on the dockyard, waiting for her ship. It won't be until the next two winter solstices that she'll step foot into Snezhnaya again, bags under her eyes and posture tensed up like she's about to kill anyone who glances at her wrong.
Columbina prepares tea for them both, pouring black tea into the cups Signora had gifted them.
Yes, the ones with 'Cunt' and 'Mother Fucker' on them.
The Tenth slams open the door. Arlecchino's black and red eyes land on her, then on the samovar with the string of sushkis wrapped around the metal urn.
"From that bakeshop in Stalingrad?" Is Arlecchino's first uttered words to her in months. Her voice is raspy, in the way that she's been doing nothing but yelling orders to her and Capitano's subordinates to salvage their plans from falling apart in the nation of Pyro. That famed Traveler's doing, most likely. Columbina cannot wait to meet them.
She coos at her Knave. "Take a seat and have some tea first. You sound like the dead. Also, would you like some jam on your tea?"
Arlecchino grunts out a no, taking her teacup and downing the still-steaming tea in one gulp. That'll likely make her throat worse, but it's Columbina's offer that counted. It is then that the Knave takes a seat in the chair right in front of her.
"S'been a while, Damslette."
"As to you too, Arlecchino. Welcome back to Zapolyarny."
Arlecchino snags one of the sushkis wrapped around the samovar, popping it into her mouth and crunching on it loudly. Columbina simply watches her, seeing those beads of Agnidus Agate glow and dim on her neck, giving away her rising and falling mood. The Knave has always been temperamental, despite that graceful and polite facade, but watching that mask slip gives Columbina some sort of wicked glee.
"The next time I see the Traveler," She grumbles. "I'm killing them on sight."
Columbina leans on the table, resting her chin on her hands. "Tell me about it?"
The tea grows cold as she listens to a full account of Arlecchino's trip in Natlan, and the Knave's passioned, seething hatred for the Traveler.
She quite loves her tea breaks, as rare as they come.