Chapter Eighty-Two: The Judgment of the Servant (Part One)

The next day, at the Opiklé Opera House.

A semi-enclosed gallery wound around the tower, connecting it seamlessly. In front of the gallery sprawled a lively fountain square, while behind the tower loomed a grand, guillotine-like structure, as though it concealed some metaphor for the future.

Today, the fountain square was packed with throngs of people, for this was the day when the God of Water would publicly judge a Fatui Harbinger. More astonishing yet, the reason for this judgment was that the Harbinger had secretly attempted to assassinate the Water God!

What a sensational reason!

That the exalted Queen of Water could be the target of an assassination attempt by a Fatui Harbinger was a shock to the people of Fontaine. They were intensely curious as to how such a trial would unfold within the opera house, for there had never before been a judgment like this.

The citizens of Fontaine had never doubted Furina's safety. She was, after all, the Water God among the Seven Rulers, the most exalted of the Seven, Queen of all waters, and the supreme authority in Fontaine.

How could someone as mighty as Focalors possibly fall victim to a Fatui Harbinger's assassination?

The common folk found themselves wondering: how did a Harbinger, the Servant, dare even to attempt the Water God's life? And how did she survive? Could it be that the Water God herself allowed this, thinking it would make for greater drama?

Such a possibility could not be dismissed.

Furina was, after all, a deity with a passion for drama, one willing to immerse herself in theatrics. Her mercurial nature made her true intentions difficult to discern, so that almost anything seemed possible.

For a god so far above, her thoughts were never meant to be understood by mortals, and she expected no such understanding. The gods’ vision always extended farther than that of mortals; it was only natural that their perspectives should differ.

Thus, the people of Fontaine waited with bated breath, curious what spectacular drama would be staged inside the opera house, and how the Fatui Harbinger would be judged.

Within the resplendent opera house, every seat was filled with eager spectators. This was the most riveting spectacle; no one wished to miss it. Those unable to secure tickets could only sigh in resignation, waiting outside to hear firsthand accounts from those lucky enough to attend.

Clack, clack, clack.

The Servant walked forward in elegant steps toward her assigned place, her expression as calm as ever, though beneath that calm lay deathly stillness and despair.

It was not that she had been killed the day before; rather, it was that she had not been killed. This meant that Lu Mingfei and Furina cared not for her state—she had never stood a chance to resist.

Perhaps, in the initial dream, Lu Mingfei had killed her simply because he disliked her, aided by the trap Furina had set.

Alas!

It was her own misjudgment of the situation, her misreading of her circumstances with too little information, that led her to suggest a public trial in the opera house. Now, this seemed nothing but self-inflicted humiliation.

How pitiful.

After a brief sigh within, the Servant’s gaze unconsciously drifted toward Furina, who now sat beaming in her exclusive seat, her smile proud and confident, her beautiful leg already crossed with satisfaction.

Her legs were slimmer than those of ordinary girls—she was a famed star of Fontaine, after all, with a dancer’s dedication to maintaining her figure and controlling her weight. Those legs belonged to a dancer.

“She really is beautiful.”

In another world, Lu Mingfei gazed at the scene through the Eye of Perception, smiling in satisfaction.

As expected, the Mirror Eye was truly the best!

To be safe, and to prevent the Servant from making a desperate move against Furina, Lu Mingfei maintained constant contact with her. At the slightest sign of aggression, he would immediately use the Dream Tapir to pull her into a dreamscape.

Though being seen wielding black elemental power might be troublesome, such concerns paled in comparison to Furina’s safety.

Moreover, most people would not keep their elemental sight open at all times; used skillfully, the Dream Tapir need not be discovered.

A silent sigh escaped the Servant as she struggled with her thoughts.

The eyes of the Fontaine audience below shot toward her like arrows, piercing her with their intensity, while the faint murmurings stung her ears.

She still recalled Furina’s words of comfort from the day before, when she’d sat beside her on that infamous bench, patting her gently on the back and speaking softly: “Arlecchino, do not be afraid. Waiting is the prelude to harvest. Some things are bound to come, sooner or later. All we need is to adjust our mindset and face them, and things will always turn out better than we imagine.”

Waiting is the prelude to harvest?

I’m waiting for death!

Soon, a staff member approached her and politely asked, “Lady Arlecchino, would you like a chair? This is a special concern from Lady Furina.”

A chair… Furina… a bench! Ah!

Painful memories flickered in her mind. Her composure shattered in an instant. She took a deep breath, her gaze cold as she replied, “No need.”

“Uh… all right.”

The staffer forced a smile, quickly turning away. After walking a short distance, confident he would not be overheard, he muttered to himself, “How rude. Lady Furina herself arranged a seat for her, and this is the reaction? Is this what Fatui Harbingers are like?”

His grumbling reached the Servant’s ears. She clenched her fists, suppressing the flame of anger within, breathing deeply again and again to calm herself.

No, I mustn’t lose control.

Focalors has Nidhogg behind her.

That one is a monster.

What a disaster! Why did I ever propose a public trial? The elemental fire burning in my heart now must be the water that flooded my brain back then! How vexing!

This is Focalors’ design.

She did it on purpose.

But even knowing the truth, what can I do? What can I possibly attempt? Under the absolute power of Nidhogg, all my resistance is futile, and may even spark conflict between Fontaine and Snezhnaya. She has planned it all out.

Focalors is taking her revenge—she’s punishing me for attempting her life, using me for her own amusement in this trial. She delights in my struggle and rage.

If that’s how it is…

Why not defy her? I will resist her will in my own way, so that neither Furina nor Lu Mingfei can fully savor their triumph, so that their pleasure remains incomplete.

If they want a trial, I’ll plead guilty at once! I’ll make the whole process smoother than they ever imagined. A trial without twists is not what they want; a joyless trial is a failed one.

Yes! That’s what I must do!

With this thought, a burning resolve slowly lit in the Servant’s eyes. She clenched her fists, thinking: That’s right, a trial with no obstacles will make the people of Fontaine see through this as a mere play—an obvious, failed script, lacking any dramatic reversal, unable to give them the thrill they seek.

Moreover, if I confess at once, the whole thing will seem fake! Perfect!

But just then, a familiar figure slowly approached the same area, and the Servant’s pupils widened; her composure threatened to break entirely.

Lyney?

What is he doing here?

(End of chapter)