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Wriothesley was setting down a cup of his favourite tea when he heard his guards yell. Somewhere, down the hall housing the most dangerous criminals, the sound of a friendly jaunt echoed through its metallic walls. Wriothesley sighed, and waited until a sight of jingle hair comes into his office.
“What a lovely day today, Mister Warden,” He threw the locks of his jail cell down to Wriothesley’s table, making a clinking noise that Wriothesley eyed. “I bet it would be a nicer day if we get our bodies moving, preferably in a fight.”
“Monsieur Tartaglia, we are under the water.” Wriothesley said in a deadpan tone.
“So?” Tartaglia leaned on his table, making a brushing gesture on his shoulder despite having no perceptible dust on it. “Just because the weather here is either water or pitch black, it doesn’t mean that we should keep our bodies from moving. Where I’m from, we’d freeze–”
“I’m not obliged to entertain you in a fight.” Wriothesley curtly responded, looking away to hide the oncoming headache that’s growing on the back of his head. Tartaglia’s been here for less than two weeks and the amount of mental damage he had inflicted towards Fortress of Meropide can’t compare to any other criminal that has ever entered her. “Did you beat up the guards again?”
“Nope, they just said that the bill for the locks will be sent to the Northland Bank. It’s a shame that they didn’t even put up a fight.” Tartaglia sighed like he just missed the best part of an opera, and it’s a noise Wriothesley–regretably–has come to hear multiple times. Wriothesley should give the Gardes a weekend bonus after Tartaglia is gone, yes, and he should take some days off to the city to get rid of the memories of this monstrous week.
Tartaglia cleared his throat with a cough, “So what do you say, Mister Warden? Up for a spar?”
“No.”
“Oh, c’mon!” He threw his hands into the air like a child. “The people here won’t even fight me anymore after I beat up the ringleader!” Wriothesley massaged his temples, prompting the man to add hastily, “Of course, in self-defense.”
“You would’ve gotten an increase in your sentence if Monsieur Neuvillette is still busy investigating your case.”
“Say, if I happen to get a longer sentence, would you finally spar with me?” Tartaglia even had the audacity to throw him a wink. Did he think it'd work? Because all Wriothesley wants to do right now is to talk to a career counselor so he can change careers.
“Unless you pose a threat towards the Fortress of Meropide, I do not have the rights to keep you in check.” Maybe Wriothesley should ask Neuvillette to move Tartaglia to a different prison, preferably near to the headquarters of the Champion Duelists so Wriothesley doesn’t have to see him attempt to break into Meropide.
Tartaglia seemed to be in thought, “I just need to pose a threat to the prison? Then you’ll fight me? Hah, if I’ve known that it’ll be that easy, I wouldn’t have to wait a full week finding ways for you to fight me.”
Wriothesley felt like his soul just left his body, and he knew that he’s openly gaping in abject horror. But Tartaglia doesn’t seem to even entertain the thought that what he just said was wrong.
Thankfully, that’s the moment when Sigewinne decided to walk into their periphery.
“Good afternoon, Monsieur Wriothesley! Oh, and Monsieur Tartaglia too!” Sigewinne’s eyes darted confusingly between the two of them. Her strange expression of suppressed excitement and confusion, screamed ‘What is he doing here?’ to Wriothesley.
Meanwhile, Wriothesley hoped his dead eyes could convey his own message to Sigewinne, which is ‘Please, help me’.
“Good afternoon, Miss Sigewinne!” Tartaglia beamed, giving a cute wave to her, ignoring the communication of confusion between her and Wriothesley.
“Good afternoon to you too, Sigewinne.” Wriothesley said after a pause. “Is there an emergency?”
“Umm, a letter just came from Monsieur Neuvillette.” Sigewinne said, going up to his desk to place a letter sealed in blue wax. Wriothesley leaned forward, carefully sliding the letter into his fingers.
Archons, he hoped that Neuvillette found a lead so Tartaglia would be out of his hair. Or Neuvillette realized that Wriothesley hadn’t taken his holidays for the past year and sentence him to do so right now. Or maybe Neuvillette missed their discussion filled not-dates and would want his opinion on what to do with Tartaglia. Just thinking of Neuvillette’s handwriting that, hopefully, might free him from this hell, made him smile.
He carefully opened the letter, and read it with bated breath.
‘Dear Monsieur Wriothesley,
I am unable to find evidence or clues upon why The Oratrice Mecanique d’Analyse Cardinale delivered a guilty verdict. The traveller has been helping me as my assistant and provided clues for the case. It seemed that Monsieur Tartaglia was involved in an altercation in front of Beaumont Workshop. Although they had corroborated that he fought the Northland Bank clients due to self-defense, the Oratrice believes that he is still guilty. I do not know why Oratrice behaved this way, and Mademoiselle Furina is more baffled than explanatory. I do not believe pursuing the answer through her would be a fruitful endeavour.
It has led me to believe that the justice the Oratrice held, the justice Fontaine citizens placed in their trust in, behaves differently than what justice is. Just as humans believed that there is justice higher than life itself, there seems to be a sin that the Oratrice deemed higher than justice itself.
I had once believed that all sins are equally judged under the oratrice, but are some sins more justified in the eyes of it?
I’m afraid this investigation will take more time than you’d expect. I’m sorry for the trouble this will cause. Please assure Monsieur Tartaglia that we will try our best to free his name from wrongdoings.
Sincerely, Chief Justice of Fontaine, Neuvillette.’
“Monsieur Wriothesley, why do you look so sad?”
“He looked like me when Miss Clorinde declined my fights…”
“It seems that Monsieur Tartaglia will be… staying with us a while longer.” Wriothesley said, and he hoped that he was just imagining the sudden twinkle in Sigewinne’s eyes.
Meanwhile, the man in question hummed in confusion. “Did I get my sentence extended? Then–” His eyes brightened.
“The investigation isn’t going well.” Wriothesley cut him off, and his hopeful expression burst like a deflated hydro eidolon. “Monsieur Neuvillette said that he’s doing his best to get you out.”
“Ugh, I’m still not over this. I hope Mister Neuvillette can apologize by fighting me–”
“You will not.”
Tartaglia blinked owlishly, and only then did Wriothesley realize that he had abruptly stood up from his chair. Said chair fell to the ground with a loud bang a moment later.
“Yes! Because Monsieur Neuvillette is super strong!” Sigewinne came to the rescue, excitedly singing praises about him.
“Aww, even stronger than me?” Tartaglia asked in mock-hurt.
“I know you fought the traveller, and Mademoiselle Clorinde, and a leviathan for your little brother. But Monsieur Neuvillette can beat you up without breaking a sweat!” Sigewinne said like a salesperson. Wriothesley hoped that Tartaglia would take the hint and NOT go out of his way to fight Fontaine’s beloved Iudex.
“If that’s what you believe, then I will accept your advice, Miss Sigewinne.” Tartaglia laughed goodnaturedly, like he hadn't been thinking of wreaking enough havoc on the Fortress of Meropide so Wriothesley could fight him.
It’s a shame that Sigewinne couldn’t read Wriothesley’s thoughts, because she puffed her chest full of pride.
“Was there anything else on the letter?” Tartaglia asked.
“Nope.”
“Not even the traveller?”
“Nope.”
“I was hoping they’d come to visit me.” Tartaglia sighed wistfully.
“Monsieur–”
“Yeah, yeah, know my place and all that. But being here is so boring and dull. Can’t you understand that I’d want to meet my friends soon?”
Well, when he put it that way, Wriothesley could understand the sentiment.
“Are you lonely, Monsieur Tartaglia?” Sigewinne asked
“Mmm, a bit, but that’s not your fault, Miss Sigewinne! I’ve been enjoying my time telling you stories about my adventures! Well, if that is all, I’ll be going now.” Tartaglia bid both of them goodbye with a jaunty wave, and went down a different corridor from his own jail cell.
A few seconds later, they could hear muffled sounds of fighting echoing off the rusted metal of the fortress. Wriothesley sighed and put his head in his hands.
Right, Neuvillette hadn’t actually written anything to him. The letter was just too professional, like he was just talking to a random warden. Because maybe that’s what they were, just a judge and his faithful warden.
“Monsieur Wriothesley…” Sigewinne interrupted him out of his thoughts. “...Are you lonely? You had this look on your face…”
Wriothesley went to pat her head. “It’s nothing.” He said, like he’s talking to himself. “Now, let’s go clean up after the mess Monsieur Tartaglia had made.”
Another one of Tartaglia’s messes came in the form of a visitor. Now, Fortress of Meropide normally didn’t have a lot of visitors due to its reputation as a place full of criminals, and add to the fact that it was under the water. Almost close to nobody wanted to venture down to its depths.
Well, except for…
“Yo.” The traveller raised their hand, their eyes sort of blank even though they’re escorted by two confused Gardes. “I’m here to visit the guy you arrested two weeks ago.”
“It’s actually three weeks now.” One of the Gardes let out in a defeated tone, and it reminded Wriothesley of the proposal for a weekend bonus that’s been waiting on his desk.
“Yikes, that bad, huh?” At the very least, the traveler seemed to be empathetic towards their collective suffering.
“I believe that neither Monsieur Tartaglia nor you have arranged a visit.” Wriothesley said.
“Yeah, tried to get Neuvi to get me through, but he thought I’d be breaking that guy out, which I wouldn’t do, ever.”
The flying thing beside the Traveler turned to them, “I mean, he did get us out of suspicion in Liyue that one time. And he spent so much money for us and Zhongli. And–”
“Yeah, but the way he is now is way funnier.”
Wriothesley straightened up, trying to circumvent around asking for Neuvillette. “I presume that the investigation with Monsieur Neuvillette did not go well?”
“Oh, the investigation is going along swimmingly, I can assure you.” Wriothesley fought back the mental image of Neuvillette spending time with the Traveler. “ Although, the way you look now… Hmm.” The Traveler made a long drawn out noise. “...You’d prefer somebody else’s company other than Tartaglia.”
“I am in no position to speak about that matter with a visitor.” Wriothesley said to gritted teeth.
“That man from Snezhnaya has been breaking every lock we put.” The Garde beside her sobbed, wiping away a stress tear from his eye. “At least he beat up anyone who’d try to do a prison break with his shenanigans.”
“That sounds like Childe, alright.” The flying thing said, turning to the Traveler. “Paimon thinks that, maybe, having Childe in prison isn’t so bad afterall.”
“Oh, Paimon. He’d definitely do a prison break once he gets bored.” The Traveler replied, and then turned to Wriothesley. “I pressure you’re the Duke of Meropide?”
“Indeed, I am.” Wriothesley warily eyed the hand that they offered.
“Oh, Monsieur Neuvillette has said wonderful things about you–”
Wriothesley gave a curt and firm handshake. “Welcome to the Fortress of Meropide, Traveler.”
The Traveler gave a knowing smirk.
“Follow me, I’ll explain the rules along the way.”
So now here Wriothesley sat, monitoring and observing the capabilities of the Traveler as they went strike for strike with a Harbinger of the Tsaritsa. Even in his days as a warden, he had never seen anyone with such calculating and effective moves like the Traveler, nor had he experienced the attack of Tartaglia that flowed into one another.
It made him restless and worried as he watched the latter transform into a new form. He didn’t want to imagine the Fortress of Meropide crumbling under Tartaglia’s foul legacy, and it dreaded him that Tartaglia was planning on fighting Neuvillette with that.
Eventually though, the Traveller landed a finishing blow to Tartaglia’s side, knocking him to the ground. Wriothesley instinctively put a hand up to cover Paimon’s eyes, who was handed to him by the Traveler.
“H-Hey! Paimon’s not a child!”
Wriothesley ignored her in lieu of watching the Traveler helping Tartaglia get off the ground.
“It seems that you’ve gotten stronger, comrade.” Tartaglia laughed, rolling his shoulders while the Traveller rolled their eyes. “I’m glad you haven’t been slacking on your training.”
“The same can be said about you, Tartaglia. Some of your moves were different now that I have your vision.”
“Cool, isn’t it? What say you get me out of this place? I can show you a whole lot more when I’m not in cuffs.”
“You can’t even scratch me after you’ve exhausted Foul Legacy! Give up.”
“They get along well, surprisingly.” Paimon chimed in out of nowhere, and got self-conscious under Wriothesley’s stare. “W-what? I know they were just fighting and all, but they’re, uhh, friends!”
“Fights aren’t pleasant,” Wriothesley said, more to himself as he looked towards the two of them again, “you can’t be friends when you fight.”
“Do you not enjoy fighting, Monsieur Wriothesley?"
“Yes. Because fighting down here is ugly. You will fight with many criminals as a warden, and you will face the most deplorable and selfish people, who’d do anything to survive. For them, fighting is just a symptom of their depravity. There is nothing just in fighting.”
“U-Uhm, well… P-Paimon thinks it’s different! At least for Traveler and Childe…” They pause to stare as the people in question start another round, this time without elemental powers or weapons. “Childe likes battle way too much! And I think it’s his own twisted way to get to know people from the things he does best.”
From Wriothesley’s disbelieving look, Paimon hastily added, “It’s Childe’s equivalent of spending time together! L-like getting lunch or together or discussing the weather! Ugh, why is Paimon even defending that guy…”
Hearing Paimon’s words reminded Wriothesley of–unsurpsrisingly–The Chief of Justice himself. When examined more in detail, the relationship between the Traveler and possibly the most annoying not-guilty criminal Wriothesley has ever seen were unlikely, and even more so the strength of their bond. Even though Wriothesley and Neuvillette’s friendship seemed more likely than theirs, him and Neuvillette had never been that close, not as close as the Traveler and Tartaglia.
Eventually, the Traveller managed to subdue Tartagia and didn’t even help him off the ground. Instead, they walked towards Wriothesley’s spot.
“Are you finished?” Wriothesley asked.
“I’m here for one more thing, actually.” Traveler leaned in, too close to Wriothesley’s face, like they’re trying to break through his defenses through sheer power of observation. “Monsieur Neuvillette’s expecting a response. He didn’t say it outright… but,” Traveler seemed to have seen something they liked, and leaned back with a barely concealed smile, “seems like you need it.”
When escorting them out, the Traveler turned to him.
“He’s your problem now, so make sure to take him out on walks, because he gets bored easily. He doesn’t cause trouble intentionally, but never insinuate that you’ll fight him. He’ll get excited if you do. If he’s being annoying, just ask him about his family, ice fishing, or his time in Liyue.”
“You make him sound like he’s a dog.” Paimon pointed out.
Wriothesley couldn’t help but match the blank neutral stare of the Traveler’s.
That night, he stared towards the cold expanse of the abyssal sea while the Fortress of Meropide creaked in its sleep. Down here, he wouldn’t even notice if the sky was clear or cloudy, everything get swallowed down here.
Wriothesley tapped his pen as he stared at the blank paper in front of him. The thought of writing back to Neuvillette had consumed his waking hours, and when time had finally stopped for the seas, he found himself unable to write any of his thoughts. It is as if he had burned his tongue.
He must have been deep enough in thought that he only noticed Tartaglia when he was standing in front of him.
“Hey, I’ve been calling your name for a few times, is this how you guys treat your guests?”
“Apologies, I was deep in thought.” Wriothesley rose from his chair. The noise grating, yet disappearing altogether under the sea. “I’ll escort you back to your room.”
“I didn’t come here just to get escorted back.”
“Well, if it’s a fight you want–”
“Relax, I just wanted to do my reps in a wider space.”
So Wriothesley waited, still doing his job watching over Tartaglia while unable to write a single word. The frustration must have shown on his face, because Tartaglia eventually called to him.
“If you’re trying to curse me to go to sleep, don’t do it with such a cryptic expression.”
“If you’re done being a nuisance, please leave me alone.”
“Whoa, struck a nerve there, buddy?” Tartaglia stopped what he was doing to observe him. “What have you been doing?”
“Nothing.” Wriothesley's hand covered the empty letter contrary to his words.
“C’mon, entertain a bored man here.”
“You are not a ‘man’, you are a criminal.”
Ignoring his words, Tartaglia bounded up to him. “Oh, is this about that Judge Traveler had told me about?”
That Traveler told him? Wriothesley let out a sigh.
“It’s none of your business.”
“Well, just a word of advice from me. You should fight that judge.” Tartaglia swooned. “He caught me off-guard, but if I had known he was that powerful, I wouldn’t have turned my back against him.”
“That’s not an advice! And Neuvillette is my friend.” Wriothesley’s headache crescendos. “I’m not like you, Monsieur Tartaglia. I do not find pleasure in fighting, and I will never intend to hurt my friend.”
“What’s the problem then? If you’re friends, you shouldn’t have any problem writing a letter to him.”
“That’s… because…” Wriothesley didn’t have the bravery to tell him, or anyone for the matter, that he wished to be more than a friend towards Neuvillette.
“Just bare your true self to him. If he’s your friend, he’ll respond in kind. That’s why I fight, even with my friends. I find that fighting is when someone bares their truest self. The friends you obtain after exchanging blows will never disappear.”
“...Is that why you told me to fight him?” Wriothesley asked, his tone hard.
“Of course!”
He fought the urge to slap his forehead, a harbinger couldn’t be such a simpleton as this guy. But Tartaglia had proven himself to be as unexpectedly simpler than any of the Fortress’ inhabitants.
“Duly noted.” Wriothesley responded, but even with how… amicably callous he was, there was a shred of truth to his words.
He looked back to his memories. His discussions with Neuvillette always had an official feel to it. Even when they’d spent hours debating over their beliefs, Wriothesley had to remind himself that he was talking to his superior. He had never treated him more than Neuvillette, hell-bent on keeping walls as high as Fortress of Meropide.
Had he ever bared himself towards him? Had he given him his honesty and more to deserve the title of a friend? Neuvillette himself had shown every side of himself, this truth, as Tartaglia would call it, Neuvillette had been the one reaching out, and Wriothesley should respond in kind.
Neuvillette, I understand the troubles you are in. If I’m able to be of any help, I would gladly do so.Will it be alright if I ask for your time? Maybe this mystery can be solved with three heads instead of one.
Yours truly, Wriothesley
Wriothesley folded the letter neatly when Sigewinne bounded into the office with a tray.
“Are you done writing that letter, Monsieur Wriothesley?”
“Yes, I am.” Wriothesley said, his heart lighter than before. “Did you prepare some drinks?”
“They’re for you!” Sigewinne walked up to the step-ladder beside Wriothesley’s table to place a, surprisingly, normal looking cup of tea. She puffed her chest with a proud expression. “Big brother Tartaglia said that this blend helps with headaches!”
“Thank you, Sigewinne…” Wriothesley looked up to one of the windows. Although it showed nothing but an expanse of blue, the sight still calmed his thoughts. “...My headache has already subsided.”