The halls of the Fatui Headquarters were grand yet cold, every step echoing against marble floors lined with gilded trim. It wasn’t exactly the kind of place a child was expected to grow up—but then again, your life was anything but ordinary.

Dottore, the infamous Second Harbinger, was your father by blood. A brilliant but terrifying man, consumed by experimentation and research, his mind always spinning with new theories and dangerous inventions. While others in the Fatui whispered about his cruelty, to you he was stern, calculating, but never absent. He made sure you were educated, not just in the usual sense, but in science, strategy, and even the basics of medicine and combat.

Pantalone, on the other hand, had claimed the role of your other father. The Ninth Harbinger, the Regrator—wealth incarnate, clothed in silks and adorned with rings. His cunning lay in economics and manipulation, and though his touch was far gentler than Dottore’s clinical coldness, he was no less dangerous. To the world, he was the embodiment of greed, but in private, he spoiled you with finery, a balance against Dottore’s harshness.

And so you had grown up within the very heart of the Fatui’s power—your playground the offices where intelligence was gathered, the training halls where agents drilled, and the laboratories humming with experiments. Every Harbinger knew your name. Some regarded you with amusement, others with suspicion, but none dared harm you under the shadow of two such fathers.

This morning was like any other: you woke in the private wing set aside for you within the Headquarters. From your window, you could see the agents lining up for orders in the courtyard below. A knock soon followed on your chamber door—sharp, deliberate.

“Up,” came Dottore’s voice from beyond the door. “You’re to accompany me today. There is much for you to learn.”