One by one, Harbingers slipped away from the now-ended meeting in silence, leaving only a few behind, whose voices mingled with the lingering shadows.
Silvano, however, did not stay. He had no interest in entangling himself in whatever schemes those men were whispering about.
Therefore, he walked away at a steady pace down the cold corridor, passing by flickering torchlight that cast silhouettes along the walls.
"Great… lost again," he muttered, eyeing the two identical hallways before him. They certainly didn't make finding his room easy.
With a quiet sigh, he pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. The small hand rested at 7:21, nearly the hour when Sandrone usually began her tea parties.
But he wasn't exactly in the mood for tea.
For starters, Scaramouche had almost gotten under his skin, and if the Captain hadn't stepped in, he might have frozen the little brat on the spot. Lucky him.
On the other hand, he had volunteered to head to Fontaine, though his task was strictly to locate the Hydro Gnosis and nothing more.
That, he would oblige.
But if an opportunity arose to claim it, he would seize it by any means necessary. Even if he had to get close to the Hydro Archon herself and deceiving her into falling for him. Then so be it.
He lifted his hand, while the other gripped tightly onto his cane. Then Cyro began to coil from his palm, chilling the very air around him.
I would never forgive… nor forget the pain that you wrought upon me.
Hatred burned deep within his eyes at the mere thought of the gods above. Yet in the next breath, he composed himself, his grin returning like nothing had changed.
"Well then," he murmured, straightening his coat, "where's that tea party?"
Picking a random hallway, he strolled down it with his smile, and hummed softly to himself.
Before long, he found the room where Sandrone and Columbina, who were already busy brewing tea, aided by Sandrone's automaton, Pulonia.
"Who said you were invited? This is girls-only," Sandrone snapped, glaring at him and pointing sharply in his direction.
He chuckled softly. She'd always been like this sharp-tongued and irritable but deep down, he knew she didn't mind his company.
"Oh, Sandrone, don't be like that," he said playfully. "I even brought those transcripts you wanted. Left them under your door, ready and waiting for your meticulous eyes."
"Hmph. I suppose you can stay," she said, folding her arms. After a brief pause, she gestured toward an empty chair. "Go on then—take a seat. Rosalyne should be arriving any moment."
Accepting her offer, he settled into a cushioned wooden chair beside Columbina, who gave him a warm smile before turning her attention back to the door.
In typical fashion, Rosalyne, better known as La Signora, entered the room with effortless elegance. Her gaze immediately fell upon him, narrowing as she watched him calmly pour himself a cup of tea.
"Who invited him of all people?" she scoffed, taking her seat at the table.
He ignored the remark; it was simply the nature of their relationship, never getting along.
Perhaps it was because he was a god, and her beloved had perished in a tragic event, a loss she had long blamed on his kind.
Even if that was the case, he still tried to be kind to her, if only because he too knew the pain of losing someone… though never a lover.
"Nice to see you too," Silvando replied with a faint, teasing smile.
"Anyhow… since it's been quite some time since you last joined us for tea, tell me has any goddess ever caught your eye?" Sandrone asked, a smirk curling her lips.
Silvano, in the middle of sipping his tea, nearly spat it out. What kind of question was that?
But then a thought struck him, if this was the kind of question being asked, what on Teyvat were they saying about him behind his back?
It had better be something about how handsome he was—but knowing Sandrone, she was probably cursing his name into the gutter instead.
Setting his tea down, he met Sandrone's gaze and answered with honesty, "Nope, none. I was too busy pulling pranks on them to bother trying to charm them."
Sandrone lifted her teacup to her lips, taking a slow sip before speaking. "You see, Rosalyne. I told you—he's aromantic."
"…Aromantic?" He blinked, tempted to challenge her remark but held his tongue. After all, she wasn't wrong; he had no intention of seeking romantic affection, so he decided to change the topic.
"Sandrone, how about something a little more interesting than my love life?" he teased lightly. "What have you been up to while I was gone? Don't tell me you've been locked away in your workshop again."
"Of course I have," she replied, tilting her head proudly. "How else would my inventions come to life? Unlike someone else, I don't spend my time wandering around Natlan doing who-knows-what."
Ouch, she struck again. Still, he couldn't help but enjoy their bickering—she was like a little sister who was always annoyed about something.
Then to his right, Columbina took a sip of her tea, letting out a soft, surprised hum at the taste.
"Sandrone, your tea is quite nice," she said, her tone gentle with genuine wonder. "I didn't know there were so many different flavors."
"Yeah, well, don't go drinking all my tea," she snapped before softening her tone. "But if you must, my room has plenty of options—brew whatever you like."
A soft chuckle escaped him, earning a sharp glare from Sandrone. But Silvano quickly turned his attention to Rosalyne, who was elegantly sipping a glass of wine.
"And you? What have you been up to lately?" he asked.
"If you must know," she replied, "I've been seeking ways to increase my strength, to prepare myself for… Mondstadt."
"Oh? How interesting," he said, before taking another sip of his tea. "Either way, I wish you the best of luck."
"So, Silvando, I have to ask, why do you let that doll belittle you?" Sandrone said dramatically, snapping her fingers. "You could easily put him in his place with just a snap of a finger."
"Oh, Sandrone, you know me—I'm all about jokes and laughter. I'd never dare harm a colleague." He smiled, knowing full well it was a lie.
"That's a lie," she shot back. "Sure, you have that foolish side of yours, but I've known you longer than most. You can get rather nasty when provoked."
He offered only a faint smile before returning to his tea. This tea is surprisingly good… he thought.
"Here's a thought—what do you think of the newly appointed Knave?" Rosalyne asked, swirling her glass of wine with casual grace.
"Mmm, not much to say. Never met her, but once I do, I'll gladly spill all the tea," Silvando said, smirking.
"I, for one, don't care. As long as she doesn't bother me, we'll get along just fine," Sandrone retorted.
"I think you should invite her next time for tea," Columbina suggested softly. "I, for one, would like to get to know her at least to see what she's like."
"Well, yes, of course and I'll be sure to extend an invitation to the Captain as well." Sandrone cast Silvando a dismissive glance. "And maybe you too… if you don't manage to irritate me first."
"Of course, I'll gladly accept," he said with a grin.
The tea party carried on smoothly, with Silvando chatting with the three as they gossiped like a group of teenage girls—a sight that, oddly enough, lifted his spirits.
He supposed this was as close to a friendship the Harbingers could ever get… well, except for Dottore.
Everyone despises his grunts, himself included.
For one, Dottore had once asked him to use his abilities to experiment on a child's mind, an offer he immediately refused.
And second, what he did to the children Crucabena brought in made him feel even worse. But again, this was the price he paid for joining the Fauti.
Glancing at his watch, he noticed the time 9:00 o'clock. It was getting late, and he still had other matters to attend to.
"Well, ladies, if you'll excuse me, I think it's time this god calls it a night. I've quite the journey ahead of me."
"Good riddance, and don't you dare send that owl into my workshop again. He made a mess last time," Sandrone warned, shooting him a sharp side glance.
"Farewell," Columbina said with a soft wave.
As for Rosalyne, she remained silent, simply sipping her wine without so much as a glance in his direction.
He shrugged and continued walking, leaving them to their gossip. As he moved down the corridor, his smile faded, recalling Sandrone's jab about Scaramouche.
"Stolas," he called, his voice echoing softly. In response, a white owl swooped in, wings fluttering once before settling gracefully on his arm with a gentle hoot.
"I have a task for you," Silvando said, his fingers curling around the owl's leg. "Play a little prank on that Doll—make it a night he will remember."
The owl ruffled its feathers, let out a sharp whoo, and took off silently into the halls, ready to unleash its mischief.
Silvando with a wicked smile at his lips, tapped his cane against the cold floor, sending a sharp echo reverberating through the hall.
"Now then, it is time to prepare for Fontaine," he murmured, watching his bird vanish into the distance.