La Signora, having delivered her initial, flowery pleasantries, moved to the heart of her diplomatic offensive. She did not speak of gnosis or gods; she spoke of mortal affairs, of cooperation, of the invaluable and, in her telling, entirely benevolent role the Fatui had played in the maintenance of the Shogun's eternal state.
"Your Excellency," she continued, her voice a smooth, persuasive melody, "Her Majesty the Tsaritsa's respect for your vision of Eternity is not merely a matter of words. We have endeavored to demonstrate our support through action."
She gestured vaguely in the direction of the city. "The Kanjou Commission, for example. A vital, yet often overburdened, branch of your government. We have been honored to offer our… assistance. With the logistical and financial backing of the small local branch of our Northland Bank, the bureaucracy in Ritou now operates with an unprecedented efficiency. Trade tariffs are collected flawlessly, outlander processing is handled with a firm, orderly hand. The Kanjou Commission, through our fruitful cooperation, is finally able to fully and truly enforce the letter of your Sakoku Decree."
Her words were a masterful tapestry of half-truths and calculated omissions. She presented the Fatui's infiltration and corruption of the Kanjou Commission not as a hostile act, but as a generous, supportive partnership, a gift of Snezhnayan efficiency to their Inazuman friends.
Her gaze then turned, with a feigned, respectful solemnity, to the unseen soldiers of the nation. "And the Tenryou Commission," she said, her voice full of a false, noble gravity. "Your brave soldiers, tasked with the sacred and difficult duty of upholding your will. The Fatui have been proud to offer our support to them as well."
She spoke of sharing Snezhnayan intelligence on smuggling routes, of providing "tactical advice" in the enforcement of the Vision Hunt Decree, of helping to patrol the waters and keep the rebellious forces of Watatsumi Island "at bay."
Ren, listening from his silent perch, felt a cold, quiet rage build within him. It was a lie. A beautiful, elegant, and utterly poisonous lie. He knew the truth. He knew from Sayu's reports, from the whispers he had heard. The Fatui were playing both sides. While they offered "tactical advice" to the Shogunate, they were simultaneously smuggling food, weapons, and their life-draining Delusions to the desperate soldiers of the resistance. They were not keeping the rebels "at bay"; they were pouring fuel on the fire of Inazuma's civil war, ensuring the conflict would be as bloody and as prolonged as possible.
But La Signora's performance was flawless. She was painting a glorious, heroic picture of the Fatui as the selfless, indispensable allies of the Shogunate, the generous foreign power who was helping Inazuma achieve its own, perfect, eternal peace. She was a serpent, her forked tongue weaving a web of beautiful, deadly deceit, all for the benefit of the silent, impassive god on the throne.
She was not just a diplomat; she was an artist, and her medium was the lie. Her masterpiece was a world where the Fatui were not conquerors, but saviors, not parasites, but partners.
She finished her grand, sweeping oration and stood in a proud, respectful silence, her head bowed, awaiting the Shogun's judgment, confident that she had presented an unassailable case for the Fatui's continued, and even deepened, presence in the nation. She had shown that they were not a threat to Eternity, but its greatest, most loyal, and most effective foreign champions.