Chapter 154: Hypocrisy is Kitty's Core Code (Patreon)

She ran forward with her head down, welling up with frustration, tears already brimming at the corners of her eyes.

At that moment Piers was walking through the alley when he saw Vesna barreling toward him, her head bowed so he couldn't make out her expression.

Before Piers could figure out what was happening, Vesna crashed straight into his arms.

Feeling herself collide with something, Vesna stopped short. She looked up, and her damp eyes met his—rims faintly red, lashes still glistening with tears, achingly pretty.

"—! Piers?! What are you doing here?"

Vesna choked back her tears at once. She straightened up quickly, wiped roughly at her eyes with the back of her hand, and sniffled.

She'd really just needed to vent for a moment, and now that someone had seen her, it was more than a little embarrassing—the commander of the Winter Pact, reduced to this...

"Lady Vesna, are you..."

"It's nothing, I..."

She turned her head away, avoiding his gaze, her lips moving a few times without forming a complete sentence.

Unable to think of an excuse, she suddenly coughed twice to clear her throat and looked back at Piers.

"Ahem... today isn't a rest day, is it? What are you doing here? First time I've caught you slacking off."

"Lady Vesna, I sent someone to find you, and your Anemo adept said you were patrolling the streets—that's why I came looking for you here."

"Ah... right, I was patrolling the streets."

Vesna was clearly a repeat offender at this sort of thing—she seized the excuse without missing a beat, straightening her back and striking the pose of someone on patrol. Piers didn't believe a word of it.

"You want to see Her Majesty? Come on, then, let's go."

She spun around fast, already striding out of the alley.

"Hm? That's all it takes? You're not even going to ask what I need?"

"Why bother asking? Your work is all intelligence business anyway—if you want to see Her Majesty, it's probably about that. That kind of thing gives me a headache just hearing about it. Besides, you've never once come looking for an audience with Her Majesty before, so if you're going out of your way to ask me for one now, it must be something important."

She'd talked herself into it within seconds. Piers followed along behind her and didn't bother explaining.

Sure enough, coming to Vesna had been the right call. If he'd gone through the head maid instead, arranging an audience would have been far more trouble.

Some time later, Zapolyarny Palace.

A frigid room, the air thick with cold. Vesna led Piers to the door, and the Anemo adept standing guard outside merely nodded at the sight of her, making no move to stop them.

Vesna knocked. There was no response from within.

She waited a few seconds, then pushed the door open a crack and peered through the gap. Once she'd confirmed the situation inside, she opened the door fully and led Piers in.

What lay beyond the door wasn't an ordinary room at all, but a throne hall.

Fatui agents stood guard beside nearly every pillar. A road of smooth, straight-laid ice stretched all the way to a flight of steps, its surface reflecting the hall's cold light and stretching their shadows long behind them.

Above the steps sat a magnificent throne, and on it was Tsaritsa herself.

She held a sheet of paper, studying it closely, and the instant Piers and Vesna stepped through the door, Tsaritsa's gaze lifted from the page to the two of them.

Her gaze carried no warmth at all. It swept over Vesna, then settled on Piers's face.

"Vesna."

"Your Majesty, this is—"

"You may leave first."

Vesna had been about to eagerly introduce Piers to Tsaritsa, but she was cut off mid-sentence without mercy.

She froze for a moment, then quickly composed her expression.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

She bowed, stepped back twice, then turned and walked out of the hall. The door closed behind her.

"The rest of you may leave as well."

The Tsaritsa set down the paper in her hand and gave the order to the soldiers stationed throughout the hall.

The Fatui soldiers didn't answer, but immediately snapped their feet together and marched out of the hall at a brisk, precise pace, closing the doors behind them.

Once everyone had filed out, only Piers and Tsaritsa remained in the hall.

The Tsaritsa's gaze settled on Piers again. She rose to her feet and descended the steps one at a time, the weight of her heavy garments trailing behind her, the hem brushing across the ice with a faint rustle.

"Piers, is it?"

"Yes. Your Majesty knew I'd be coming?"

"A friend told me you'd likely come, and told me to wait for you. I know what you want to say—Snezhnaya... is being watched by a god. You've already sensed it, haven't you?"

"Which one?"

"Death."

Piers's eyes darkened slightly. He didn't speak right away, instead bowing deeply to Tsaritsa.

"My apologies, Your Majesty. I hadn't expected you to already know. In that case, I won't trouble you any further."

Piers had come specifically to report that one of the Four Shades was stirring up trouble in Zapolyarny Palace. After all, Tsaritsa's Severe Winter Plan was meant to develop something capable of standing against the Heavenly Principles, and as a member of the Fatui, intelligence this critical was naturally something he had to pass along to her.

But it seemed Tsaritsa already knew ahead of time, so his task was more or less complete—and he'd even learned the exact identity of that presiding entity.

He'd just taken a step back when he was suddenly called to a stop.

"Wait."

"Does Your Majesty have further orders?"

"I need you to make a trip to Liyue and restore your Three Corpses. Afterward... you'll join me in standing against the Heavenly Principles."

The Tsaritsa spoke bluntly, without preamble or pleasantries, her eyes fixed on Piers the entire time, betraying not a trace of emotion.

Piers felt his heart skip a beat. That gaze felt like being stared at by a corpse—cold and utterly hollow.

"Your Majesty..."

Long ago, back in the Liyue storyline, Zhongli had mentioned he'd made a deal with the Cryo Archon.

Given the situation, both the severing of Piers's Three Corpses and this order to send him to Liyue were probably things Zhongli had requested.

"And while you're at it, have the one inside that little trinket on your wrist restored as well. She isn't much for combat, but she's an Archon all the same."

The Tsaritsa's gaze dropped to his wrist, then flicked away again.

Now Piers was even more certain—if Tsaritsa knew about Guizhong too, she was definitely in contact with Zhongli.

"Understood. I'll go arrange passage on a ship bound for Liyue right away."

"Why not just fly there directly?"

The Tsaritsa's tone remained even, without so much as a rise in pitch even for a question.

"Sorry—too many years as an official. I default to following procedure out of habit."

"Go there now. Find... Morax."

Piers thought to himself: of course, no wonder he was the most reassuring man around—was he keeping real-time tabs on Piers's affairs in Snezhnaya too? That paper Tsaritsa had been holding earlier... it couldn't be a letter Zhongli had written her, could it?

"Uh..."

"Is there a problem?"

"It's just that I'm technically under Lady [Marionette]'s command—I'd like to inform her first."

"No need. I'll let Sandrone know afterward myself. Just go on ahead."

Piers sighed inwardly.

Kitty, oh, Kitty... I really was going to tell you myself. Sigh—but Her Majesty won't allow it, so there's nothing I can do about it. Don't go blaming me for this.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

The next instant, Piers vanished from the hall, leaving behind nothing but a few wisps of adept power.

But the spot where he reappeared a second later wasn't on the road to Liyue—it was right outside Sandrone's door.

As far as he was concerned, no matter how urgent the situation, restoring the Three Corpses and restoring Guizhong's power weren't things that could be finished in an instant—there was time enough to say a proper goodbye first.

He stood before the door, drew a deep breath, and raised his hand.

Knock, knock, knock.

Piers rapped gently three times.

"Who is it?"

"Lady [Marionette], it's me. Have you finished swapping in your fresh heat source?"

"Piers? Wait just a moment, I'll be right there."

Faint sounds of movement came from inside, like the rustle of clothing.

About a minute later, the heavy door swung open from within. Sandrone peeked out warily, half her head and one bare, smooth shoulder visible, the arm holding the door completely uncovered.

"It's... is something wrong? I haven't finished changing my heat source yet. If it's not urgent, could you give me a bit more time? But if it is urgent..."

The look she gave him grew more and more bashful. Even though a puppet couldn't blush, that gaze was every bit as intense—it just didn't show on the outside; the feeling came straight from within.

"It's nothing urgent. Go ahead and finish with your heat source first, Lady [Marionette]."

Sandrone nodded and carefully closed the door.

Piers stood outside, leaning back against the wall, waiting quietly.

Another half hour passed before the door in front of Piers slowly opened.

Sandrone's arm, now properly sleeved, reached out, grabbed Piers by the wrist, and yanked him inside.

"All right, what is it? Sorry to make you wait half an hour out there—it couldn't be helped. I just got orders that Dottore left behind several more laboratories, and if not for that, I wouldn't have needed to rush getting my heat source ready."

After pulling Piers into the room, Sandrone marched straight ahead without a glance back, stopping only at the long sofa arranged around the tea table.

The teapot on the table looked freshly brewed, steam still curling from its spout.

Two teacups sat on the table, already washed and waiting, it seemed. Sandrone picked up the pot, poured two cups, then lifted one and took a sip.

"Sit down. Just tell me straight, whatever it is. I have to head out again in a bit—shouldn't take too long this time, just a few days or so."

Piers didn't sit. He just looked at her.

"I'm heading to Liyue. Orders from Her Majesty."

The moment the words left his mouth, Sandrone froze, the cup she'd been about to set down after sipping suspended in midair.

The cup hovered there, still resting against her lips. Her fingers tightened slightly, and the tea inside swayed with a faint ripple.

"I was actually going to ask if you wanted to come along with me, but it looks like you don't have that kind of time to spare now."

"Heh... I'm not a child. What, you need me tagging along just to go to Liyue? Go on your own—it's fine. Even if I weren't off on a mission, I wouldn't have the free time to accompany you to Liyue anyway."

When people panic, they tend to blurt out hurtful things they don't mean—and that was exactly what Sandrone was doing.

In truth, if she'd wanted to, she could easily have postponed her mission and gone to Liyue with Piers. But she wouldn't do that—if she did, she wouldn't be Sandrone.

"Understood. But I've accomplished what I came for—now that I've told you, Lady [Marionette], I'll be on my way."

"Suit yourself. Like I'd ever—"

Even as she spoke, Sandrone turned her head just enough to catch him at the corner of her eye.

But unfortunately, by the time her glance reached him, Piers—who'd been sitting on the sofa—had already vanished.

A shallow dent still remained in the cushion, but the person was gone.

Refusing to give up, Sandrone got to her feet and looked around. Once she confirmed there really was no trace of Piers, her whole body seemed to lose all its strength at once, and she dropped back into her seat.

"Honestly... you could've at least had some tea. Was there really that much of a hurry?"

She murmured this quietly, fingers tracing the rim of her cup. The tea had long since stopped steaming.

Knock, knock, knock.

Three knocks sounded from outside the room.

The familiar sound made Sandrone's heart lurch, cutting through her low mood. She hastily set her cup down on the table, not caring that a few drops of tea splashed out, and hurried to the door to pull it open.

For the first time, her smile was this bright.

Unfortunately, that radiant smile didn't last long.

Because the person outside wasn't Piers—it was Odette.

"Odette? What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

Sandrone reined in her feelings, both the joy and the disappointment alike.

"Lady Rosalyne sent me to bring Lady [Marionette] some fruit from her garden."

Odette stood ramrod straight in the doorway, a basket hooked over one arm.

"Huh? Didn't she usually just send whoever was on hand to do this? ...Wait. Did you two... make up?"

It suddenly dawned on Sandrone—if Odette was running errands for Rosalyne now, the two of them were, at the very least, no longer at each other's throats.

"Right. It's all thanks to Lord Piers. I still need to bring some over to his place too, actually."

Odette kept her head slightly bowed as she spoke, her expression cool.

Hearing Piers's name, Sandrone couldn't help feeling a fresh pang of disappointment. She stepped aside, clearing the doorway.

"Come in, have some tea at least. As for Piers... you don't need to bring any over to him. Her Majesty sent him off on a mission—by now he's probably already on his way. And by the way, you're Rosalyne's designated successor, so by rank, he should be the one calling you Lady."

Sandrone said this flatly, not looking at Odette, already turning to walk back into the room.

At the news that Piers had already left, something strange flickered across Odette's face—something she probably couldn't name herself. But whatever it was, it was no longer cold, at least.

She lingered in the doorway, fingers unconsciously tightening around the basket's handle.

With her back to Odette, Sandrone's slight frame settled back into her earlier seat. She picked up the cup she'd hastily abandoned in her excitement—the tea still warm—but she didn't drink. She only held it.

"Sit."

Seeing Odette follow her in, Sandrone gestured for her to take a seat.

"Since Piers has already left on his mission, I suppose this extra portion goes to you, Lady [Marionette]."