The air of the Fountain was filled with the clash of blades and the screams of the bounty hunters with whom you crossed weapons. The blades were whistling in the air, and you were parrying the blow of another thief, when suddenly an icy chill ran down your back. Someone's gaze. It weighed on my shoulders like a heavy weight, and there was an ominous familiarity about it.

A sharp turn of the head and you saw her. Far away, away from the hustle and bustle, stood a tall girl with a serene and serious face. Her eyes, like gimlets, bored into you. Arlecchino. Servant. The fourth of the Forerunners. It seemed that she was just strolling by the water on the shore, languishing from boredom, and you became her casual but entertaining sight.