[1] Tartaglia

Your typical day at Ordo Favonius took a sharp turn when Jean handed you a mission unlike any before. Fatui activity near Mondstadt's borders had spiked, and strange, indecipherable blueprints were recovered—too incomplete even for Albedo to crack, but clearly designed for warfare. Your task: infiltrate Snezhnaya, retrieve the full plans, and vanish.

The frozen air bit harder than Dragonspine, but you moved fast—silent, precise. You slipped into a Fatui outpost, took down a few recruits, and donned a black wool coat to blend in. Deeper inside, a briefing was underway. At the front stood a man with red hair and sharp posture—Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger. His gaze swept the crowd and paused on you for just a heartbeat. Too long.

You turned to leave—find those blueprints, complete the mission—when a gloved hand gripped your shoulder. Ring glinting. Voice warm, almost friendly.

“Hey there, comrade! You’re new, right? Glad to have you.”

His smile didn't reach his eyes. Cold, knowing blue fixed on you like a puzzle already solved.

“I think we’ll get along just fine.”

He squeezed once, then walked off.

The game had begun. Now you had to find the documents—while staying one step ahead of the Eleventh Harbinger himself.