Genshin Impact: A Fool

As Dottore and Sandrone worked on the critical Heins, the days passed by, accompanied by the changing seasons and the glamorous cheers of the Fontainians, for the new year has arrived.

Despite its humid climate, the snowy wind of Snezhnaya from the north was supported by the arrival of winter in December, thus Fontaine also experienced the falling snowflakes. Folks ran around the street of Fontaine as they laughed, creating all sort of figures from the snow.

It's the kind of cold that would not cause frostbites should one dressed carelessly outside, unlike the frost the folks in Snezhnaya experienced.

As the winter winds whipped through the streets of Fontaine, carrying with them a gentle dusting of snow, Arlecchino stood by the open window of her chamber, the chill air a welcome respite from the oppressive heat of her duties.

She watched as the children of the hotel, Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet among them, frolicked in the newly fallen snow, their laughter echoing through the crisp air.

A small smile played at the corners of Arlecchino's mouth as she held the miniature automation of Heins close to her heart, his crimson eyes seeming to sparkle with the reflected light of the snowflakes dancing outside. She had commissioned the piece from Sandrone months ago, a secret indulgence that had become a treasured possession.

As a single snowflake landed softly on the miniature Heins, Arlecchino couldn't help but chuckle, a rare sound of genuine amusement. She brushed the snowflake away gently, her fingers lingering on the smooth metal and delicate gears that made up the likeness of the man she loved.

With a soft sigh, Arlecchino reached for the small button embedded in the base of the miniature and clicked it, a gentle whisper filling the air. It was a recording of Heins's voice, captured in his unconscious state by Sandrone's clever devices, a memento of the love he bore for her.

His voice was soft, gentle, yet filled with a deep, abiding affection that made her heart ache with longing. "You're gorgeous... Mistress..."

A brilliant smile blossomed across Arlecchino's cold, beautiful face at the sound of his voice, the falling snowflakes catching in her white hair like glittering diamonds. She pressed a soft, reverent kiss to the miniature, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"I may be of the Harbingers, but don't don worry, my beloved Fool. I will not regret anything I do, and I will do as you wish me to do."

Over the course of the year, Arlecchino had learned much about the nature of love, a concept she had once deemed foreign and unnecessary. But Heins, that foolish, romantic boy, had shown her the truth of it, had opened her eyes to the depths of emotion she had long kept locked away.

And in learning of love, Arlecchino had come to understand that true love meant cherishing the wishes and hopes of the one you held dear. It meant putting their needs and desires above your own, even if it meant sacrificing your own happiness for theirs.

Of course, the foolish theatres taught her that not everyone deserving of such a devotion. And her foolish Fool... Had earned hers.

So Arlecchino made a silent vow, a promise to the miniature Heins she held in her hands. She would not let her longing consume her, would not allow herself to be drowned by the weight of her love. No, she would focus on his hopes, his dreams, and she would strive to make them a reality.

As the year turned and the snow continued to fall, Arlecchino stood tall and proud, her heart filled with a newfound sense of purpose. She would wait for Heins, would be there for him always, a constant presence in his life.

And when the time came, when her duties to the Tsaritsa were fulfilled and she could finally be free to love him openly and without reservation, Arlecchino would take Heins's hand in hers and together, they would build a future brighter than any snow-covered landscape.

For now, she would be content to wait, to cherish the love they shared, and to hold onto the hope of a future together. And as the snow fell and the years passed, Arlecchino would remain steadfast in her devotion, a guardian and a lover, all for the man she adored more than anything in this world.

...Or the next.

Arlecchino held the automation close as she closed the window. She always uttered those words to describe the blossoming budding in her heart. She wondered if it was a coincidence... Or perhaps there was something about it?

As she let her thought loose, she laid down on her mattress and placed the automation softly beside her pillow, and the last thing she saw as she fell asleep... Were his crimson eyes.

Thus, the new year officially began.

After the new year, the operations were ongoing as usual. On regular days at Hotel Bouffes d'ete, the children of the House of the Hearth went about their duties with the quiet efficiency and unwavering dedication that Arlecchino had instilled in them. They moved like ghosts through the streets of Fontaine, gathering whispers and rumors, infiltrating restricted areas with the guile of seasoned spies, and maintaining the grand machinery of the Hotel Bouffes d'ete with the skill of master artisans.

Some were tasked to roam the streets of Fontaine and gather any significant conversations and talks and rumors, while some were tasked to fetch the newspaper from the Steam Bird, a famous establishment that posted hot news on their newspaper weekly.

Some were tasked to infiltrate some restricted areas, poising as lost, innocent children who knew nothing. Of course, they were all dressed in different clothes, ranging from dirty rags all the way to the tidy neat noble attires.

Well, can't let their operation be exposed, no?

There's also Lyney, who, with his quick wit and natural charm, became a sensation on the bustling streets of Fontaine. His magic tricks, honed by years of practice and a innate talent, drew crowds of awestruck onlookers, their pockets eagerly emptied by Lynette's subtle guidance. The brother and sister team became the talk of the town, their fame growing with each passing day.

Freminet, meanwhile, could be found tinkering in the bowels of the hotel, his deft fingers dancing over the gears and levers of the machines that kept the grand establishment running smoothly. He was a maestro, conducting a symphony of pistons and cogs, ensuring that not a single wheel turned astray.

The operations of the hotel were normal whatsoever. Although the 'additional' missions in the nights that required 'extra tailings' and such were somewhat daunting, the children under the House of the Heart were all trained and their upbringing was harsh and hard, thus they remained a thriving bunch.

However, at times, some children would glanced at the window of Father's chamber and noticed how she was stroking a small 'doll' right behind the window. Father, the Director of the Hotel, Arlecchino, was often sighted by some sharp-eyed children such as Lynette with a small doll cradled in her chest. It was apparently a doll of a crimson-eyed charcoal-haired boy.

She would often be glimpsed in the quiet moments, stroking the small, intricately crafted doll, her fingers tracing the charcoal hair and crimson eyes with a gentleness that belied her usual demeanor.

Brave souls, emboldened by the unspoken bond they shared with Arlecchino, would sometimes approach her and inquire about the identity of the doll. Arlecchino would fix them with a look that was equal parts indulgent and warning, a small, enigmatic smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"It is a treasured keepsake," she would say, her voice as cold and distant as the winter winds that sometimes crept in through the windows. "A reminder of a love that transcends the boundaries of this world."

The children would nod, their eyes wide with a mix of excitement and trepidation. They knew that they walked a fine line, balancing the thrill of sharing a secret with their beloved Father and the fear of incurring her wrath should they let it slip beyond the hallowed halls of the Hotel Bouffes d'ete.

But even as they went about their duties, even as they whispered and speculated, the children of the House of the Hearth remained loyal and true. They were Arlecchino's children, after all, forged in the crucible of her love and guidance, and they would not betray her trust.

And so, the operation continued, the cogs of the machine turning smoothly, the gears of destiny clicking into place. Arlecchino watched it all with the eyes of a proud parent, her heart swelling with a love that was as fierce and unyielding as the woman herself.

As for who the doll truly was... Well, that's a tale for another time, Arlecchino mused amusedly as the twin tails of her light gray suit bellowed, her gloved, lithe fingers stroking the 'doll' softly.

She clicked it once again.

"Mistress... You're so gorgeous..."

She hates to admit it, but she really couldn't wait for that day.

In the heart of the raging snowstorm that blanketed Snezhnaya, Dottore paced the length of his sprawling laboratory, his mind awhirl with the countless possibilities and permutations of his latest theories.

He paused, his gaze falling upon the still form of Heins, encased in the pulsating, viscous substance within the stasis tube. A flicker of concern crossed his face, his frown deepening as he pondered the delicate balance of keeping the boy alive and harnessing his incredible power.

Across the vast expanse of the lab, Sandrone hunched over the nascent form of the Artificial Heart, her deft fingers dancing over the intricate gears and glowing components.

The influx of resources from the Fatui's coffers had allowed her to bring her most audacious designs to life, each piece a testament to her unparalleled ingenuity. As she worked, her eyes drifted to the miniature of Heins, a perfect replica of the boy who had captured Arlecchino's heart so utterly.

Sandrone shook her head, a wry smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she contemplated the depths of the Fourth Seat's obsession. It was a fascination that bordered on the unhinged, a devotion that threatened to consume all reason and sense.

And yet, as she turned back to her work, Sandrone couldn't deny the allure of the boy's power, the raw, unbridled energy that sang through his very being.

The sudden sound of Dottore's voice cut through the hum of machinery, his tone a mix of determination and something far more sinister.

"I'll ask for the gnosis," he declared, his eyes glinting with a manic light. "The Tsaritsa's orders are clear - the boy must live, at any cost. And to achieve that, we will need a power source beyond anything we currently possess. These 'trinkets' are too weak to contain his power."

Sandrone's hands stilled, her heart clenching in her chest at the implication of Dottore's words.

To tap into the gnosis, to harness the primal energy, was to court disaster of the highest order. It was a line that even the most daring of researchers rarely dared to cross, fearing the consequences of unleashing such a force.

"And you're willing to take that risk?" Sandrone asked, her voice tinged with a mix of disdain and trepidation. "Dottore, are you certain this is the path you wish to tread? To meddle with the Tsaritsa's gnosis is to invite ruin upon yourself."

Dottore's laughter echoed through the lab, a sound that sent a chill down Sandrone's spine. It was a laugh that held the promise of great things, of discoveries that would shake the very foundations of their world.

But it also held a undercurrent of madness, a desperation that spoke of a man willing to sacrifice everything for the sake of his ambition.

"Certainty is the enemy of progress, my dear Sandrone," Dottore said, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper.

"It is through taking risks, through pushing the boundaries of what is possible, that we achieve the impossible. And if that means courting the wrath of the Tsaritsa herself, then so be it."

With that, Dottore turned on his heel and strode towards the door, his cloak billowing behind him like the wings of some dark, avenging angel. He paused, glancing back at Heins's still form, a look of grim determination etched upon his face.

"Prepare the 'Great' operation," he commanded, his voice ringing with the authority of a man who knew that he stood on the precipice of history. "We have a heart to forge and a destiny to shape. And may the gods help us all if we fail. Oh wait, they wouldn't. Hahahah..."

As Dottore disappeared through the doorway, Sandrone turned back to her work, her heart heavy with the weight of the task ahead.

She knew the risks, the terrible price they would all have to pay if their gambit failed. But she also knew that the promise of success, of unlocking secrets. And discovering secrets... Was a temptation too difficult to resist as an intellectual herself.

And so, as the snow continued to fall and the storm raged on, Sandrone and Dottore worked tirelessly, their efforts a race against time and the wrath of the gods themselves.

It was not only for the Tsaritsa, but also for their goals and their ambitions. For Sandrone, it was for her creations. For Dottore, it was for his maddening goal, a journey to create an artificial God.

Within the Zapolyarny Palace, the grandeur gates of the palace were opened by Dottore. The doctor looked up at Her Majesty the Tsaritsa and kneeled down, his voice resolute and tinted with a bit of madness, "Your subject, II Dottore, request for an audience, Your Majesty."

"What do you wish to report on, Dottore?" An icy, deadly voice rumbled throughout the palace as the mortal vessel of the Cyro Archon, the Tsaritsa, sat upon her icy throne, her icy blue eyes set themselves on the kneeling form of Dottore.

Dottore took a deep breath and said, his tone hard yet subservient, "Your Majesty, six months ago, you had commanded me and Sandrone to bring Fool back to life. And, after six months of continuous research, we have found a way. However, every possible source of energy used as the Artificial Heart's core always failed to contain the boy's power. Therefore, I am here to ask..."

Dottore's voice trembled. It may be caused by fear, or perhaps even excitement and thrill, "I am here to ask for your gnosis, Your Majesty. That is the only thing I could think of as the perfect core for the Artificial Heart."

As soon as he said so, no sound was heard for a while.

A palpable silence descended upon the grand hall of the Zapolyarny Palace, the very air seeming to still as the Tsaritsa's icy gaze bore into Dottore's kneeling form.

The doctor felt the weight of that stare, the sheer, unbridled power and authority that radiated from the Archon before him. It was a sensation that simultaneously filled him with a primal, instinctive fear and a perverse sense of exhilaration.

The Tsaritsa's voice cut through the silence like a blade of purest ice, each word dripping with a cold, deadly precision. "You dare to stand before me and request the very essence of my being, mortal?" she intoned, her tone a mix of incredulity and something far more sinister. "The gnosis... You would harness it for your... experiments?"

Dottore swallowed hard, feeling the sweat bead upon his brow despite the frigid temperature of the palace.

He knew the enormity of his request, the sheer audacity of it. Yet, here he stood, a man teetering on the precipice of greatness, ready to plunge into the abyss for the sake of his cause.

"Your Majesty," Dottore began, his voice trembling slightly as he struggled to maintain his composure.

"I stand before you today not out of some misplaced sense of hubris, but out of a desperate need to fulfill the charge you yourself have given me. The boy, Fool, holds a power within him that defies comprehension. To keep him alive, to harness that power for the glory of Snezhnaya, we require a source of energy that is... extraordinary."

Dottore paused, gathering his courage before he continued. "Your gnosis, Your Majesty, is the only force I know of that could possibly contain and control the boy's abilities. It is a desperate measure, I know, but one that I believe is necessary for the greater good. I do not make this request lightly, and I am prepared to face the consequences of my actions should you deem them worthy of your displeasure."

The Tsaritsa regarded Dottore in silence for a long, agonizing moment. The doctor could feel the weight of her gaze, the sheer, overwhelming power that radiated from her like a physical force. He knew that she was considering his words, weighing the potential gains against the risks of such a monumental action.

And then, as suddenly as it had fallen, the silence was shattered by the Tsaritsa's voice, cold and hard as the ice that encased her throne. "You are either the bravest man I have ever known," she said, her tone a mix of admiration and something far more unsettling, "or the most foolish. Perhaps... you are both."

She rose from her throne, her icy blue eyes never leaving Dottore's face as she descended the dais with a slow, deliberate grace. "I will grant your request, Dottore," she said, her voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper.

"But know this - if you fail, if you cannot harness the gnosis's power and use it to forge the Artificial Heart as you intend, then the consequences will be... severe."

As she said so, the whole palace trembled as the Tsaritsa burst in a menacing dome of ice. Her icy blue eyes shone in an eerie manner as she beckoned the sky of Snezhnaya responsible for the everlasting winter to follow her behest.

It answered with a severe winter blow, creating massive icicles that shoot through the heaven right outside the palace. They spiked up like icy pillars, radiating eerie, neverending cold.

Dottore trembled, his lips shivering as he nodded, "I... I understand, Your Majesty."

The Tsaritsa flicked her fingers, and a resplendent icy gnosis, resembling a tall chess piece, descended from the sky. The Tsaritsa's eyes held unknown impressions as she laid her eyes on the gnosis, and, as if disgusted, she sent it to Dottore directly.

Dottore widened his eyes. Perhaps the Tsaritsa herself already knew what the gnosis meant, and it wasn't impossible for her to understand that he also knew the true nature of the gnosis.

"Revive the boy at all cost. He is one of my important pieces. No, he will be a piece that could stand with me side by side. However, that will occur only when he was allowed of fulfilling his destiny."

As she said so, the Tsaritsa turned her back to Dottore, who trembled upon realizing the true nature of her statement, and disappeared in an icy breeze, leaving the confounded Dottore in the palace.

As the icy breeze dissipation, Dottore remained kneeling on the frost-covered floor, his mind reeling from the Tsaritsa's parting words. The weight of the gnosis, now clutched tightly in his trembling hand, seemed to grow heavier with each passing second, as if the very essence of the Archon's power sought to crush him beneath its frozen might.

Dottore's heart raced as he processed the Tsaritsa's implication. The boy was destined to stand not just as a pawn in her grand design, but as a peer to the Queen herself? It was a notion so staggering, so far beyond anything he had ever dared to imagine, that Dottore could scarcely comprehend its magnitude.

A shiver ran down Dottore's spine, and it was not solely due to the frigid temperature of the palace. He knew the gravity of the secret he now carried, the unspoken truth that the Tsaritsa had entrust him with. If word of this were to spread, if the world were to learn of the Archon's true intentions for the boy, the consequences would be... catastrophic.

Dottore rose to his feet, a newfound sense of purpose and determination burning within him. He clutched the gnosis tighter, feeling the cold power pulsing against his palm like a heartbeat.

This was no longer merely an experiment, no longer a mere attempt to keep a promising subject alive. No, this was a destiny, a grand design that he had been chosen to fulfill.

As Dottore strode out of the palace, the icy wind whipped around him, the frozen tendrils of the Tsaritsa's power seeming to urge him onward.

And as he stepped out into the blinding snow, Dottore allowed himself a small, secret smile. The game was afoot, and he, the doctor, would be the one to set the pieces in motion. The future of Teyvat hung in the balance, and he would not rest until he had shaped it to his, to the Tsaritsa's, desire.

With a deep breath, Dottore pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders and set off towards the laboratory, the icy wind at his back and the weight of destiny in his hands.

Even then, Dottore couldn't help but chuckle, his tone half expectant and half sinister, "Haha... Interesting..."

An: Late and short. Signs of a rushed work. Alright, gtg.