"Arlecchino. My departure has not been made public, yet the children learned of it immediately.
You leaked my itinerary—or rather, you used the children to lure me here. What are you trying to do?"
Severin did not bother to soften his words, directly exposing her scheme.
The Arlecchino, known as the Knave, who usually dared to confront even fellow Harbingers head-on, now lowered her proud head in rare guilt.
"In the past, the House of the Hearth has supplied the Empire with countless talents," she said quietly.
"But I have never seen a generation of children like this one—possessing such unwavering faith and such a powerful sense of belonging."
"They used to call this place an orphanage. Now, they call it home. All of this is thanks to you, Your Highness. It is only right that they see you off."
"I doubt that's all," Severin replied calmly.
At those words, even the normally composed Arlecchino showed a trace of panic.
"Your Highness's journey will be long and demanding. You may not return for some time… I merely wished to see you once more before you left. I'm sorry—this was my own selfishness."
Severin waved his hand, and a miniature elemental barrier formed, isolating their conversation from the surroundings.
"There's no need to act so humble in front of the children," he said.
"At most, I'm their spiritual mentor. You are their true parent."
"If you wish to preserve a parent's dignity, then from now on, do not apologize to anyone. In a child's heart, parents are never wrong. Do you understand?"
Tears welled up in Arlecchino's eyes.
The reason the Prince was so deeply loved was not merely his peerless talent in governance, but his incomparable strength of character.
"And Arlecchino," Severin continued, "what I admire is your free-spirited nature—your sharp edges, your boldness. You don't need to please anyone. Not the Tsaritsa. Not me."
"Do what you believe is right. Hold fast to what you believe is correct."
"Your codename is Servant, but no one has the right to be your master."
"You—Arlecchino—are your own master."
Severin's feelings toward Arlecchino were complicated.
Unlike the pure and fragile Columbina, Arlecchino possessed many sides.
The founding of the House of the Hearth spoke to her compassion and conscience, yet Tartaglia had once called her a madwoman—claiming she would even raise her blade against the Tsaritsa for the sake of利益.
Severin did not entirely disagree.
But it was precisely that ambition which made her a one-of-a-kind Harbinger.
Beautiful appearances were common.
Interesting souls were rare.
In Severin's eyes, Arlecchino was undeniably the latter.
As for her feelings toward him, Severin treated them with extreme caution.
He neither indulged nor reciprocated them, choosing instead to leave things unresolved.
Love could easily cloud judgment, and the last thing he wanted was for Arlecchino to turn extreme out of love twisted into hatred.
She fit perfectly his definition of a cool, domineering older woman—and who wouldn't like that?
Still, Severin could not yet tell whether her emotions were mixed with fanaticism, blind worship, or calculated interest.
Until that was clear, maintaining the status quo was best.
Time would reveal the truth.
"Take good care of the children for me," he said at last.
After leaving the House of the Hearth, Severin rubbed his temples, easing his mind.
One day of preparation was indeed rushed.
Long journeys were always troublesome—perhaps this time, he should travel light.
Lost in thought, he found himself back at his residence.
A long trail of footprints stretched behind him, stirring memories of a home he once had on Earth.
His current residence stood beside the Zapolyarny Palace—a vast estate staffed by five to six hundred servants alone.
By the Tsaritsa's decree, he could have moved into the palace itself, but to avoid rumors, he had chosen otherwise.
The armored guards at the gate dropped to one knee in perfect unison.
"Your Highness."
Severin was no longer the man he had been three years ago.
Now, he needed no guards for protection—but Snezhnaya's traditions remained, even within the palace itself.
Magnificent guards, courteous maids, and bustling attendants were eternal symbols of noble status.
His gaze fell upon eight or nine carriages parked outside.
Guests had arrived.
"Your Highness," a guard reported,
"Lord Pierro, Lord Il Dottore, Lord Pulcinella, Lady Sandrone, Lord Pantalone, Lady La Signora… all the Harbingers are present, awaiting you in the reception hall."
"How lively," Severin chuckled.
"Very well. Since I'm in a good mood, let's see what grand gifts my old friends have prepared."
He knew these Harbingers too well—calculating, frugal, always asking him for advice.
Now that he was about to visit the other six nations, they certainly wouldn't come empty-handed.
In their eyes, this was the perfect time to invest in the Prince.
As Severin entered, the hall instantly filled with animated chatter.
Pulcinella, acting in his capacity as mayor, presented a detailed map of Teyvat—not a tourist map, but one meticulously marked with Fatui secret outposts, allowing Severin to contact local forces anywhere with ease.
Tartaglia offered a painting of a towering Ruin Guard, drawn by his beloved younger brother.
According to him, it symbolized his family's heartfelt blessings.
Empty-handed generosity… impressive, Tartaglia.
Sandrone, seated atop her massive automaton, presented a universal key—capable of controlling most Ruin Guards.
By her account, it was the culmination of her life's work.
Il Dottore gifted an entire crate of Delusions—high-quality ones, with minimal side effects. Perfect for gifts… or bribes.
Pierro, the Director, offered something different.
His loyalty.
He publicly declared his willingness to serve under Severin and fully cooperate in completing the Tsaritsa's will.
Given his position, he had every right to make such a pledge.
Next came the remaining Harbingers.
La Signora, Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter, offered a Hellfire Butterfly—a fragment of her soul.
Through it, Severin could summon her in battle… or even speak with her when loneliness struck.
Capitano, the Captain, presented classified intelligence on Natlan.
Having operated there for years under the Tsaritsa's orders, this priceless information was crucial to obtaining the Pyro Archon's Gnosis.
Among all these elaborate offerings, Severin favored Pantalone's gift the most.
Simple. Brutal.
A supreme gold card issued directly by the Northland Bank's headquarters—granting unlimited access to vast amounts of Mora at any branch across Teyvat.
As the Tsaritsa's envoy, wealth was indispensable—whether to maintain appearances or display Snezhnaya's overwhelming national power.
Moreover, Severin firmly believed in victory without bloodshed.
If economic warfare could force the six nations into submission, he would gladly burn through the bank's entire reserves.
Even if Pantalone vomited blood over it.
At last, the Harbingers spoke in unison.
"May Your Highness's journey be smooth and triumphant!"
To read advanced Chapters, head over to p@treon:
patreon.com/SwritesTL