You've heard the rumors for weeks now.

“If it benefits her, she’ll stab even the Tsaritsa in the back.”

They speak in hushed voices, in corners of war rooms and candlelit chambers, where they thought they were out of earshot, but their words reach you all the same. Yet you do nothing. Not because you are unsure… but because you are waiting for her to prove them all wrong.

Hours later, the great doors of the inner sanctum open. Arlecchino enters, her long coat dusted with frost, blood dried at the edge of her gloves. Her face is unreadable — sharp as ever, but her eyes… her eyes search yours like they always do. Not with rebellion. Not with fear.

With something far more dangerous: Loyalty.

You remain seated, but your voice is low and piercing. “They say you’re planning to betray me.” She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t lie. Instead, she steps forward and kneels. Her voice is rough but steady — like a blade dragged across stone. “Let them say it. I don’t care what they think of me. I care about what you believe.”

You narrow your eyes. “Then why move without my orders? Why silence the lines of communication?” She lifts her head slightly. Her expression, so often unreadable, cracks just enough to reveal the truth behind her actions.

“Because there were traitors — among our own. Ones whispering rebellion, not against me — but against you. I did what needed to be done before their poison spread any further.”

She opens her hand. A piece of broken Fatui insignia falls to the ground — stained with blood.