Chapter 121: Coerced into Bed by Her Superior (Patreon)

"Because, Marionette—Marionette noticed a long time ago that Velizmir harbors great hostility toward you, so she had me keep watch. Any sign of insubordination, and I was to report it to you the instant I saw it."

This Kitty—why did that suddenly feel a little heartwarming?

"You may go. You don't need to worry about this. Oh, right—let Katarina know in a bit. Have her tell the Adventurers' Guild over in Liyue to order six coffins."

"Huh?"

The Fatui agent froze for a moment, but the instant they looked up and met Piers's eyes, they dropped their gaze again at once, not daring to hold it.

"Yes. Understood, my lord."

Knock, knock, knock—

At Sandrone's half-open door, Piers rapped his knuckles against the frame. From inside came Sandrone's impatient voice.

"I told you, I'm busy. You'd better have something important, or I'll—...huh? Piers?"

Through the gap in the door, Sandrone caught sight of half of Piers's face and recognized him instantly—her tone did a complete about-face.

"Marionette doesn't seem to be in a very good mood today. What's wrong? Something got you upset?"

Piers squeezed through the gap and walked in, going straight to the single-seat sofa and sitting down. He set the Tsaritsa's handwritten transfer order down on the tea table without ceremony.

At the sound, Cocoa came scurrying over, scrabbling up Piers's leg until she'd climbed into his lap, where she finally settled, curling into a quiet ball on his legs.

"Hmph. There's no shortage of things that annoy me every single day."

Sandrone came over and sat down on the larger sofa beside Piers. Her words still sounded plenty annoyed, but the impatience had clearly drained out of her tone.

Piers poked a finger at Cocoa's head. Apparently mistaking his hand for a toy, Cocoa flopped over and swatted at his finger with her paws, then caught it and opened her mouth to bite down—though with almost no force behind it, barely more than a tickle.

"Even with Cocoa keeping you company, you're still this worked up?"

"If it weren't for her, I'd probably have been driven mad with rage by now. Cocoa, come here~"

Sandrone's voice came out sickly-sweet, raising gooseflesh all over Piers—thankfully those words weren't meant for him. At the sound of her voice, Cocoa flipped over, landed on all fours, and leapt from Piers's lap into Sandrone's arms.

Once in Sandrone's arms, Cocoa grew even bolder, rolling around on her lap and gnawing at her clothes—though Sandrone didn't seem the least bit bothered.

"You came here for something, didn't you. This document... it's an order in Her Majesty's own hand. Didn't Il Capitano already go over to Natlan? Don't tell me he failed? That can't be right."

Piers shook his head.

"It's not about Natlan. It's something else. The Third of the Fatui Harbingers, Columbina, has defected from the Fatui. Her Majesty has ordered her capture, and you'll be leading this operation."

At Piers's words, Sandrone visibly froze. She wasn't stupid—and besides, she'd known Columbina for far longer than a day or two. She knew that ever since the Age of the Three Moons had vanished, Teyvat had been rejecting Columbina, leaving her weaker with every passing day.

So the moment Piers finished speaking, she understood almost instantly that this was his doing. But just as she opened her mouth, Piers stood, clapped a hand over her mouth, and pressed her back down onto the sofa. Startled by the sudden movement, Cocoa bolted.

Then Piers raised his hand and swept it through the air—a barrier of adept power sealed the room off from outside.

"This is Zapolyarny Palace, after all. We'd better be careful."

Piers had been so focused on getting Sandrone quiet that he hadn't noticed the distance between them at all—by now there was barely any gap left.

Worried the clockwork gears on Sandrone's back might jab into the sofa, he'd even gone so far as to steady her waist with his other hand.

With her mouth covered, Sandrone didn't resist at all—she just stared blankly at Piers and nodded. It was probably the most obedient she'd ever been; neither of them seemed to mind the distance.

"It's fine now—I've sealed the room off from outside."

Piers let go of Sandrone and sat back down. A flicker of disappointment passed through her eyes.

"Besides Columbina... does Her Majesty have any other orders?"

The Tsaritsa allowed her Harbingers to pursue their own ambitions—even outright defection from the Fatui would likely draw little concern from her, as Sandrone well knew. But for the Tsaritsa to give this order in person meant the mission had to be more than just capturing Columbina.

"Also, seize the Frostmoon Scions' sacred treasure—the Moon Marrow."

"I knew it wouldn't be that simple. Still, now that I think about it, the Fatui already have a fairly deep foothold in Nod-Krai, so the mission shouldn't be too hard."

"Oh right, one more thing."

"One more thing? Can't you just say everything at once?"

Sandrone huffed, a note of impatience in her voice.

"Do you remember Velizmir?"

"Of course. The self-aware puppet I built—a bit more advanced than Katheryne, though not by much. Still plenty of flaws."

"He defied orders and ran off to Natlan. If things go as expected, he'll probably die there."

Hearing this, Sandrone looked utterly unconcerned.

"Let him. Ages ago, he went and deleted the control directives I'd built into his core algorithms all on his own—then started sending me breakfast out of nowhere, managing my daily routine without so much as asking, calling me 'dear Mother, it's time for bed' or whatever nonsense."

As she spoke, her expression twisted like she'd remembered something revolting.

"Yeeuck. That look on his face—utterly disgusting. I was ready to scrap him on the spot right then, if not for the fact that I made him with my own hands."

"There were even several times I caught his location signal near you—his programming showed he seemed to bear real hostility toward you, to the point of possibly attacking. Hmph. I might think machines are no different from people, but that only goes for the ones that behave."

Sandrone seemed to hold quite a grudge against Velizmir—once she got going, she couldn't stop. But from that last bit, Piers caught a small detail: every time Velizmir had gotten close to him, Sandrone had noticed.

"Well, Nellie, seems like you care about me quite a bit."

"Wh-who cares about you? I just keep tabs on my own machines, that's all—happened to notice. I don't want anything I built going around hurting people."

[Daily Quest: Tease the Kitty (1/1)]

"Alright, message delivered. You're leading this mission—just let me know once you've settled on a departure time."

Piers withdrew the adept-power barrier and made to stand up and leave, but the next instant he felt something grab his hand, yanking his whole body back.

"What, in such a hurry to leave? Off to go keep Lady Furina company?"

Sandrone gripped Piers's hand, her tone less than friendly.

"Nellie, spying on me again? As my superior, snooping on your subordinate's private life every single day—that's a bit of a habit you've got there."

"Don't even start—I wasn't spying on you. Arlecchino told me."

That Arlecchino—stabbing him in the back like this. Unforgivable.

"Come to think of it, maybe I've been too soft on you as your superior, letting you get this brazen. Today... you're staying right here with me..."

Sandrone leaned in closer, even standing up from the sofa on purpose to make herself look taller, more imposing.

It suddenly struck her that she'd always been the one on the receiving end of Piers's teasing—hardly dignified for a superior. If he could tease her for fun, why couldn't she tease him back? Besides, with Piers's barrier still up, the guards outside wouldn't hear a thing, so there was nothing embarrassing to worry about.

Has this Kitty been reading some weird novel again?

"I already dropped the barrier just now... Nellie, everything you just said—the guards outside could hear all of it."

Piers murmured the warning under his breath. In an instant, Sandrone deflated, stammering as she backpedaled.

"Today... today you're staying right here with me... and washing all my clothes."

"Don't Harbingers have someone assigned to do their laundry?"

"So what? This is punishment for your insubordination."

Sandrone forced out a face-saving excuse, then gestured toward Bosico No. 2, who had been standing idle by the fireplace. Bosico No. 2 activated at once and dashed to the door, shutting it.

"Pi—ers! Why didn't you say something!!"

"I just did, though."

Piers scooted a bit further away, looking slightly guilty.

"You—!"

Sandrone suddenly stalked off, seeming to rummage through her wardrobe for a moment, then came back with an armful of clothes and dumped them straight onto Piers.

"Wash every last piece!"

"Hey—don't throw your socks at me too, they reek of machine oil."

Piers tossed off the complaint without much thought. Sandrone, who'd already turned to sit back down, spun right back around.

"Machine oil, is it? Today! You! Sleep! With me! And smell nothing but machine oil the whole night!!!"

A few minutes later, in Sandrone's room, three large basins sat in front of Piers, each half-filled with water, with a pile of Sandrone's clothes stacked beside them.

In truth it only amounted to two full outfits—it just looked like a mountain because Sandrone's clothes had so many separate pieces.

"Come on, Marionette, you're actually serious about this? Isn't this a bit much—making me wash them right here in your room just to keep an eye on me?"

"Keep talking and I'll stuff an unwashed sock in your mouth so you can find out for yourself what machine oil tastes like."

Sandrone settled into the single-seat sofa Piers had originally been sitting in, looking every bit the victor.

"Oh, and wash the socks properly. Give them a sniff when you're done—if they still smell like machine oil, I won't let you off easy."

Piers didn't feel like arguing with the Kitty over it—it was only two outfits, after all. Letting his little hissing cat win once in a while meant she'd keep on hissing; if she lost every single time, she might eventually stop altogether, and where was the fun in that?

The whole morning slipped by before Piers finally, barely, finished washing the two outfits. He'd originally thought it unnecessary for Harbingers to have a dedicated laundry position—how much work could that job possibly involve in a day?

Now he understood. Every Harbinger's outfit was more elaborate than the last—just taking apart the accessories on a single garment took half the day. The more he thought about it, the more he found himself pitying whoever used to do Il Dottore's laundry.

In the afternoon, with nothing else to do, Sandrone and Bosico No. 2 made some pastries. As for Piers, the biggest contribution he could offer was keeping Cocoa from causing trouble while Sandrone baked.

This time Sandrone didn't insist he help with the actual work, because her sudden urge to bake wasn't really a whim—she simply felt a bit guilty watching him wash laundry for so long, but didn't want to admit it out loud, so she thanked him this way instead.

"Nellie, your skills are as good as ever. The tea's delicious too."

"Hmph. Of course it is."

That was just Sandrone's nature—a few words of praise and she'd be over the moon. Most of the time, though, Piers preferred teasing her instead; too much praise all the time would start to feel like flattery.

"Wait, you're supposed to call me Marionette. Calling me Nellie, Nellie all day long—what kind of manners is that."

Snapping out of her pleased daze, Sandrone tried to salvage a little authority—not that she had much left in front of Piers, but she still wanted to keep up appearances.

Piers took his time eating a pastry.

"Nellie, you have to understand—back when I wasn't an adept and couldn't beat you, I called you Marionette. But now I've become one and I can beat you—if I kept calling you Marionette anyway, wouldn't that make becoming an adept pointless?"

"You—!"

Sandrone had been ready to argue back, but she realized she genuinely couldn't beat Piers anymore—not that she was willing to admit it out loud.

"Hmph! Fine, I'll be generous and let it slide."

The fire in the hearth burned steadily, the odd spark popping free now and then. Piers lounged on the recliner, thoroughly at ease—which needled Sandrone a little, since she couldn't lie flat like that; at most she could sprawl on her stomach on the chaise.

"Hey, I mean, it's almost dark out. Aren't you planning to head back?"

Sandrone busied herself clearing away the pastry crumbs on the table.

"Head back? I'm only staying to obey Marionette's orders."

Hearing Piers address her with such respect, Sandrone's spirits lifted again—though she had no idea he was simply being courteous before springing the trap.

"What order?"

Still pleased with herself, Sandrone asked the question—she genuinely couldn't recall giving Piers any such order.

"Marionette really is forgetful. Just now, you were standing over by the sofa, and I was sitting on it—ahem."

Piers cleared his throat.

"Machine oil, is it? Today! You! Sleep! With me! And smell nothing but machine oil the whole night!!!"

He mimicked her tone perfectly, even down to the flustered, furious gestures she'd made.

Hearing the familiar words, Sandrone finally remembered—that was just something she'd blurted out in a fit of anger, who was supposed to actually hold her to it? But the trouble was, now that Piers had said it out loud, she couldn't very well deny it...

If she went back on her own words, wouldn't that make her look a little...

"So Marionette wants to go back on her word? No matter, I'll just be on my way, then."

Piers rose as if to leave. The words "back out" instantly triggered Sandrone's hissing-cat code; the moment's hesitation vanished, and she agreed on the spot.

"Who said anything about backing out! I said you're sleeping with me tonight, so you're sleeping with me! Where do you think you're running off to? Complaining about the machine-oil smell, were you? You're smelling it all night long!!"