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"Tartaglia - if you cannot act with decorum, you will be removed from the court."
The tap of the cane is ignored. "I am acting with the decorum that this situation demands, Rooster - someone has to speak to the sheer insanity of this proposition!" Childe folds his arms across his chest, tightly, pressing his elbows into the thick cloak. "We cannot in good conscience continue on this path!"
"To be a Harbinger is to enact the will of Her Majesty." Pulcinella's gaze is something much less calculating and something far more stoic. "You serve in her name; you will do as is commanded of you, Eleventh."
Childe turns from the Rooster, "This plan is - the people of Snezhnaya will suffer - " He makes his appeal toward the throne, "Your Majesty, you have always stood for what is good and what is —"
Fairness is relative.
The words still sting.
He corrects. " — right. You cannot - you cannot think this - this - "
"Come now, Eleventh." The Regrator's tone carries that lazy curiosity, "Surely you wish to herald in the new dawn and challenge the order of things? That is your usual…repartie, after all." He waves one hand in something dismissive, "I find it to be rather galling that you would consider yourself to be able to comment on such complicated matters as this."
"I thought 'challenging the order' was to protect the people of Snezhnaya, not to risk them all for this." He all but glares at Panatalone, "and I know what is happening here. I have seen the documents - I know now what Project Stuzha actually entails - I know what you are planning to do."
"What we are planning to do, Tartaglia."
There is a tensing to Childe at the voice of the First Harbinger.
"You are complicit." Pierro continues, "As is correct, based on your devotion to her Majesty."
"My devotion is to my people." He turns and stalks toward someone who may yet choose to side with him - "You cannot support this. You know they are planning to use the House of the Hearth for this. What about Lyney, Lynette - they will both be at risk - all of them."
"We will do as is requested of us." Arlecchino responds. "As we have always done."
"But - you - Sandrone - "
One beat.
"Sandrone has committed herself once more to the project, Childe. You would do well to consider doing the same." She shakes her head, strange gaze remaining on his, "This is a far greater project than you can understand. There is far more at stake, here."
Something icy grips at the very core of him. Humiliation. "I understand what is happening! Do not speak to me as if I am a child. I understand what is happening." Once more, toward the throne. "Your Majesty, I understand that it must have been difficult - but the people of Snezhnaya today need us to protect them, to ensure their survival, to give them more time - not to be the bearer of those sins!"
The final word is delivered like something of an unelashed arrow.
"I would tread most carefully, Tartaglia." The Jester's syllables now are beyond icy. "Most carefully."
There is quiet.
Childe does not take the words back - he merely stares, up. Neither does he speak to fill the silence.
"Childe." Arlecchino tries again, with whatever softness she is able to offer. "All you need do is play your role. Do as has been asked of you. Understand that - though I appreciate your work to learn of Project Stuzha and its components - this has been planned for, for a very long time. Those with far more authority have deemed it efficient and effective."
Childe does not move.
The responder to Arlecchino therefore speaks without invitation.
"This is the only way, Ajax."
Silence.
A long, long silence.
"I do not think you believe that, Zhongli." Childe says, finally. "I cannot see how you - who have protected your people for six thousand years - what if it was your nation that was asked to be the sacrifice, or the gambling chip." Now Childe faces Morax, "I would not see the Lord of Geo stand aside or encourage such a fate."
"It is not my nation, Ajax." Morax reasons. "But all will bear the price, if we do not."
"That is not yet inevitable!" Childe raises one hand, "There are other ways - we could fight them - challenge them - "
"That is not an option." Morax replies. "And to suggest it is to speak without sanity nor logic, beloved."
"Is it?"
"Ajax - "
"I refuse to follow this path. This is not right for our people - and I do not acquiesce." Childe's hands curl into fists as something deep, deep within stokes the fire, encourages him forward. "I refuse to carry out Project Stuzha."
"To refuse is to declare yourself no longer aligned to her Majesty's cause." Pierro gestures, quite cleanly, "That which you wear upon your breast is therefore forfeit."
" — I would be cast out for wanting to protect the people of our nation?!" He takes three steps more, "Your Majesty - I have done everything you have ever asked of me - I have battled across the nations in your name - I have done all you have asked - "
She answers him, most finally. "It has all been in service of this, Eleventh."
His right hand trembles.
"Ajax. Please consider…"
He curls his fingers around the Delusion upon his chest. "Then I will forge a new path."
The red talisman is ripped from his cloak.
It hits the floor before the throne.
"I have never needed this to do what I have been planning for. If you will not take the battle to those who threaten us - then I will go."
Not one of the Harbingers moves.
"Get out of my way, Zhongli."
"Ajax. You are not strong enough —"
Oh, but he is.
"You are just like the rest of them, Morax." Childe hisses. "Not strong enough to do what is right." And he does not quite push past Morax, but it is close - as the creature within claps its hands, and writhes in delight at the lack of constraint.
And when Tartaglia is gone, there is a moment.
Before.
"And there he goes. Exactly as predicted." Pantalone remarks, as if remarking on the bitter snows of the northern nation. "Or — should I say — exactly as planned?"
"He will be the necessary catalyst and therefore the distraction. We must take full advantage of this opportunity." Pierro's words are a command in themselves, but one remains for a moment longer.
"Lord of Geo indeed. A heart of stone, after all." Arlecchino's words are a censure of correctness.
And yet —
Zhongli's golden gaze remains upon the door.