The Fatui Harbinger Pantalone let out a long breath, feeling as though a great weight had finally lifted from his chest.
Yet he still did not rise, remaining respectfully on one knee.
"Your Highness," he said softly, "you have not yet given your command."
Whenever the Eleven Harbingers finished reporting to Severin, there was always an order to follow—approval, correction, or an entirely new alternative plan.
Unlike the Cryo Archon, who spent most of her time cultivating her power and tending to her wounds, the Prince of Snezhnaya functioned more like the nation's supreme strategist and chancellor.
"Pantalone," Severin said calmly,
"the distribution of Visions has never been the authority of the Seven. The gods are accomplices at most—the original sin lies above the sky."
"The one you should truly hate is not Morax, nor this world itself, but the throne that sits high above all."
Pantalone bowed deeply.
So the injustice of his fate had never come from the gods after all.
Then the object of his hatred was no longer Liyue, no longer the Geo Archon—but the heavens.
With that realization came a pang of guilt toward the Tsaritsa.
If, on the very first day he joined the Fatui, he had spoken to her as honestly as he had just spoken to the Prince, then Her Majesty would surely have corrected his twisted thinking as well.
"I won't force you to abandon your near-pathological obsession with wealth," Severin continued,
"but your distorted worldview must be corrected. Remember this—destroying the world will never fulfill your desire."
"I understand, Your Highness."
"You should consider yourself fortunate," Severin went on.
"All this hatred and suffering forged the person you are today. Though you never received a god's gaze, you rose from among countless mortals to become one of the Eleven Harbingers."
"You earned the right to follow the Tsaritsa—and to serve me. That is the revelation your future has given you."
"This… must be destiny," Pantalone said hoarsely.
"Destiny?"
Severin's voice turned cold.
"I am destiny."
At that instant, thunder rolled across the sky.
High above, Celestia shimmered faintly once more with a distant, sacred glow.
Only Severin and Zhongli—only gods and demon gods of Teyvat—could perceive it.
Severin cast a disdainful glance skyward, then continued.
"Letting a Fatui Harbinger lose face in front of outsiders demands compensation. You'll do something for me—something that restores both dignity and pride."
Pantalone answered immediately, "Your Highness reprimanded me publicly so I would never forget."
"Go prove your devotion to the Tsaritsa," Severin said,
"and prove your rebirth to me. Now—listen carefully, Ninth Harbinger."
Severin walked with Pantalone to the railing.
From the heights of the Jade Chamber, the nightscape of Liyue Harbor lay spread out below them.
"Do you see," Severin asked, "the island chain wrapped in lightning out at sea?"
"Yes, Your Highness. That direction is Inazuma."
In truth, Pantalone could not see Inazuma from here—but he understood the metaphor.
Severin pointed another way.
"Do you smell the dandelions carried on the wind?"
"Yes, Your Highness. That is Mondstadt."
"And over there—oases like strings of pearls set into the desert."
"Sumeru, Your Highness."
"And farther still—where steam and machinery coexist, where court musicians play symphonies beneath moonlight; beyond that, warriors clash in coliseums, and people bathe in hot springs born from volcanic eruptions…"
"Fontaine and Natlan," Pantalone said, voice steady now.
"I see them all."
Severin turned back and issued his order.
"From this day forward, wherever your eyes can reach, I want to see the Northland Bank's insignia."
"Wherever Mora circulates, there must be a Northland Bank branch."
"Ninth Harbinger—Pantalone—do you understand?"
Severin deliberately addressed him by his codename: The Regrator.
The change was subtle, but to Pantalone it carried immense meaning.
From this moment on, he—and all future inheritors of the title The Regrator—would exist solely to execute the Prince's will.
The core of the command was simple yet terrifying:
To establish Northland Bank branches across the Seven Nations of Teyvat.
Or rather—to ensure that anywhere Mora was used, the Northland Bank would be present.
Until now, Northland Bank branches existed primarily to counter Liyue's Golden House, with only small, temporary offices elsewhere.
Pantalone had never even imagined planting permanent branches throughout all nations.
As the Prince's ambition-filled command echoed in his ears, a vast blueprint for the future unfolded in his mind.
Tears streamed down his face once more—
But this time, they were tears of exhilaration.
If he succeeded, his achievements would rival those of gods themselves. His name would be etched into history.
The Prince had given him a new path in life.
"I will devote my entire existence to this goal," Pantalone vowed, confidence surging back into him.
The task was immense, arduous, and fraught with danger—but it was also exactly what he excelled at, what he had always longed to do.
Just thinking about it made his blood race.
People revered gods because gods brought wisdom and protection.
But to Pantalone, divinity was no longer distant or mythical.
The true god stood in Snezhnaya—
right before his eyes.
Seeing the fanatic light rekindled in Pantalone's gaze, Severin knew the transformation had succeeded. Though correcting a warped worldview took time, tonight had clearly been a strong beginning.
"Inner malice can sometimes make us stronger," Severin said lightly,
"but it can also lead us astray."
"Compared to shaking the foundations of the world—wouldn't it be more meaningful one day to print your own portrait on Mora?"
Severin tossed the forged Mora into the air.
"At Wanwen Bookhouse's auction, I spent some Mora. Boss Ji Fang gave me an ancient coin."
"Now—it's yours."
Pantalone caught it instinctively.
The moment he looked down, his breath caught.
The image on the Mora—
was his own face.
A sensation unlike anything he had ever felt surged through him. He couldn't help imagining every Mora in the world bearing his likeness.
…That would be magnificent.
"Your Highness," he said with a shaky laugh,
"this idea is even crazier than destroying the world. Though perhaps your portrait would suit Mora better."
"Enough," Severin replied.
"We've already offended Morax enough for one night. If we keep going, he might truly lose his temper."
He turned and returned to the banquet table.
"Since your brother is present tonight, the two of you should talk."
"One became a Fatui Harbinger of Snezhnaya. The other became one of Liyue's Seven Stars—the Tianxuan."
"This kind of opportunity is rare. After tonight, we and the Liyue Qixing won't be sitting together so calmly, sharing food and wine."
Pantalone looked toward the green-haired young man wearing glasses, a white serpent coiled loosely around his neck.
"…Brother."
The word came out stiff, unfamiliar—
yet heavy with everything left unsaid.
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