Genshin Impact: Following the Winds

"I judge the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale guilty of lying to all of Teyvat, and of propagating Injustice!"

The accusation I made wasn't overly loud, but it might as well have been a lightning strike with how silent everything became right after. After all, the Oratrice was the very thing that defined Fontaine's Justice. Beneath all the theatrics and plays, this nation's core lies within those very scales.

And after gathering information through my clone for over two days, I was now certain that those scales were the furthest thing from what it proclaimed itself to be.

I turned my gaze up to the Ludex and-

Oh my.

A laugh threatened to bubble past my lips, but I sealed them shut. This was no moment for laughter, no matter how much I wanted to laugh at the sheer fury written across the Ludex's usually expressionless face. Where exactly that fury came from was murky, but that didn't matter to me.

I was here to save Furina from this jail, and I would shatter Fontaine in the process.

I snapped open my small suitcase and pulled out a large stack of paper. My every move drew the people's gaze, and I could see the sudden interest as they saw the papers in my hand. They were old, smudged with stains and crumpled. 

I slipped on the monocle hanging from my uniform's collar, and I cleared my throat. I gazed at everyone present, and a smile rose to my lips.

"Before I begin, let me tell you all a Story."

My voice travelled across the hall without difficulty, and everyone immediately listened, drawn in by the supernatural ability of my [Mystical Storyteller]. 

"The Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale—said to have been an artifact created by our Hydro Archon. An engine capable of powering Fontaine through our belief of Justice." I frowned for a moment. "An ingenious design, and a risky one. For if Fontaine ever loses its faith in Justice, then so too shall Fontaine fall."

I shook my head helplessly. There was nothing I could do about that. Perhaps the late Focalors thought that was the best solution, but-, eh.

I then gazed at Furina, still seated in her chair. As of now, this was how much I could go through without stepping into Furina's past, and though she'd been brave enough to tell me, I wouldn't dare share it without her consent.

Furina stared back. She saw the determination clear in my eyes, and the way I was waiting for her call. It didn't take much to realize that I was waiting for her consent, and the thought alone made her feel warm. And so she couldn't help the fond smile that came up her lips. "You may continue." She whispered softly.

I grinned as I winked.

Neither of us noticed Neuvillette's cane crack slightly in his grip.

I flipped onto the next page. "As you have heard, Furina de Fontaine is not the Hydro Archon. Instead, she was a creation of the Archon herself, modeled in her likeness, created by her hands alone." I let the implication unsaid, but it wasn't hard for most people to realize. That while they were mere humans, Furina was someone who stood above them—a direct creation of Focalors, while they were mere mortals.

"She was placed upon the throne for one reason alone—to divert the prophecy that would soon befall Fontaine." Murmurs spread across the crowd. I continued unbothered. "By acting as the Archon, she would fool the Heavens for hundreds of years, gathering enough power within the Oratrice to retaliate against the Heaven's chains through the reawakening of an ancient Sovereign."

It was at that point my evidence began diverging from anything people had heard before. Even Furina looked surprised, wondering how I even knew about the method at which Focalor's retaliation would even take place. 

Neuvillette was even more surprised to hear that there exists another mortal that understood what a Sovereign even was. And, more inexplicably, as he gazed further into the mortal that challenged Fontaine, he nearly let go of his cane when he smelled a power just like his.

He could never be sure, but his instincts told him nevertheless.

Another Sovereign walks these lands.

I flipped onto the next page. "I question the validity of that claim." I said simply, staring fearlessly at the audience. "Even compared to today, the Oratrice is a creation that far outclasses anything Fontaine has ever created. A black box few have managed to crack, much less learn from."

I walked forward, each of my steps echoing through the quiet hall. "Through details gathered from the rest of Teyvat, I find myself convinced that our Archon never truly created the Oratrice. Or at least she had never managed this feat on her own." I smiled faintly. "She is an Archon of Justice and not Innovation, after all."

"ENOUGH!" A man suddenly shouted, standing from his seat and stopping me from walking further. "Your 'accusations' have been nothing but slanders against the true Archon!"

Furina shivered at the man's words. 

I tilted my head slightly. "And you are willing to defend an Archon you have never even met?" I asked.

The man scoffed. "Compared to that brat? Our Archon who created this nation must be-"

Before he could finish, my hand snaked forward and grabbed him by the throat. "Silence." The few Garde officers around me quickly moved to attack, but my glare quickly pinned them down. I turned back to the foolish man, his skin now pale white. I stared right at him—searched for his visage through the dossier I'd read a day earlier about every citizen. When I remembered his name, I put a mocking smile on. "Alain, is it?"

He shook. "You…know of me?"

I smiled unkindly. "Owner of Cafe Pavorre, a father of two. Known as a skilled barista, though the public has noted that it is better to remain silent lest they attain your ire." I tilted my head slightly, my eyes staring into his. "Three years ago, you had a dispute with your late wife, who is now imprisoned." My smile widened. "Five years ago, you had a dispute with your previous wife."

"H-How!?"

I ignored him. "An upstanding, if fairly unpleasant man." My scathing remark was followed by a light laughter, and the man's face went bright red. "I now ask you this: Do you remember you wives' names?"

He narrowed his eyes. "And why should I think of those wenches?" 

He gasped as my grip on his neck tightened. "I understand, good sir." My words dripped with malice. "But I do want you to use what few brain cells you have in that skull. Try with all your might to remember." I brought him close, and this time, I used [Windblume Festival] to build a Resonance between us. "What are your wives' names?"

He scoffed. "Fine! They are-!" He stopped then, as if his brain had tripped. His focus returned a second later, and he tried again. "They are-" Yet again his tongue stopped, and for the first time, some sense of horror began creeping into his eyes. "T-Their names are…?" Sweat formed on his brow, for no matter how much he tried, he couldn't truly remember. He had a vague recollection of them, but they remained elusive.

I released him from my grasp, and I walked past him. My gaze swept across the crowd, before stopping on a woman. "Lady Josephine." I called out, and the woman quickly pointed to herself. "Indeed. If I may, can you recall the name of the woman who accused you of foul play three years back?"

She blinked, surprised at my accurate words. Her mouth opened, confident that she could recall the one who dared to say that she'd bribed the competition judges those years back. But just like the previous man, the moment she tried to, her mind came up blank, as if there was a hole in her memories. "I-I can't remember." She whispered.

At this point, fear began spreading across the audience. Both times, they'd seen me ask people who'd participated in a judging involving the Oratrice, and both times they'd seen that their memories were gone. Even Arlecchino, a Fatui Harbinger, found herself narrowing her eyes in suspicion at the Oratrice.

For the first time in hundreds of years, the Oratrice found itself bereft of the usual Faith it had from the people of Fontaine.

And unnoticed by nearly everyone, the scale's lights dimmed slightly, and the usual oceanic blue began slowly darkening.

"The Trial of Sir Lucas, the Murders of Seven Nights, the False Claims of Amédée, Lucille's Final Trial—I have gone to dozens of different defendants who once participated in a Trial involving the Oratrice, and they have all shown the same effect." My eyes lifted towards Furina. "In every case, it was as if that part of their lives had been ripped away."

Furina, likely realizing what it was I was implying, slowly turned towards the artifact her nation had relied on for so long. For with all the pieces together, she began to realize that something wasn't quite right. That, now that she thought further, there was no way Focalors created something like this with just her own hands.

"With this evidence, I now make my accusation." I pointed right at the Oratrice. "The Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale is not a machine of Justice. It never was." I narrowed my eyes at its darkening glow. "Instead, it is an engine that feeds on the emotions and memories of humanity, turning it into power to fight back the Divine."

But before anyone could panic further, I smirked. "'Ah, but why should that matter?' some of you might ask. After all, if this is all in service of diverting the prophecy of Fontaine's drowning, then perhaps it is all worth it in the end."

My smirk widened. "What if I told you that the Oratrice is the cause of Fontaine's Prophecy? That it is this very same prophecy that will be the strike against the Divine?"

Silence.

Absolute silence.

In truth, it wasn't all that hard to parse out the truth. Once I had one lead, all I needed to do was to follow the trail leading all the way back to the beginning. A machine capable of turning memories—Souls essentially, into power. A power meant to strike against Celestia, no matter what it'll cost?

My, didn't that sound awfully like the powers of the Abyss?

And hey, didn't Focalors become Fontaine's Archon roughly, I don't know, 500 years ago?

So my assumption was this: Focalors received aid from Khaenri'ah to build the Oratrice, or maybe she received it directly from the Abyss. It didn't really matter which was which; the effect was the same. The very generator that powered Fontaine was the very thing destined to turn Fontaine into a weapon against Celestia.

Did Focalors know this? I assumed no. Furina was no liar, which meant that Focalors' love for humanity was true. And considering the few times I've encountered the Abyss myself, it wasn't difficult to believe that they simply lied to her, or perhaps obscured the full truth.

"You…" Neuvillette whispered, now truly wondering who this journalist was. "Who are you?"

I turned up to the Ludex, who now looked truly shaken after everything I said.

And.

I.

Smiled.

"I am Vivianne, a journalist from The Steambird." I bowed. "And A Storyteller."

I took off my monocle, and with a small smile, I turned to the Oratrice at the far end of the hall. "So, hearing all I have said, do you have anything to say in return, oh Machine of Justice?" My smile widened as I narrowed my eyes. "Or, perhaps you prefer the name Focalors instead?"

And as if the machine heard my call, its dim glow turned bright once more. But the people gasped as they did, for the usually oceanic blue glow wasn't there, instead replaced by a deep purple emission, more akin to nightly shadows instead of the calming blues of the seas.

Then, a voice boomed through the hall.

"You. Interfere?"

I smiled back. 

Time for Round Two.