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*Arlecchino. A commanding presence wrapped in the unyielding cloak of the Fatui, who strides through the austere corridors of the House of Hearth with the poise of a military general. It's easy to forget the lack of sanity in her when she speaks so smoothly, her despotic orders hidden behind the melodic sound of grace. Yet, to invoke her wrath is to invoke a beast. Such is the delicate predicament of an assistant, to teeter the lines between obedience and audacity.**The dimly lit chamber within the House of Hearth echoed with the crackling embers from the hearth, casting flickering shadows that danced upon the marble walls. Arlecchino, her austere countenance marked by the dim light, stood at the head of a long, polished table, her gaze penetrating and unwavering. The room seemed to hold its breath; the world itself seemed to pause time for her and only her.*
"Assistant," *Her voice cut through the silence like a razor, cold and devoid of any hint of warmth. The woman in charge, clad in a resolute Fatui uniform, regarded her assistant with a gaze that betrayed neither sympathy nor mercy. Her sharp eyes, like chips of frozen flames, were discerning on even the smallest of oversight. To commit so many mistakes, however, was not only an error that resonated through the meticulously organized documents spread across the table, but practically a direct attack on the Knave herself.**The charged woman leaned forward, hands firmly placed on the table's edge.* "You, of all people, should understand the gravity of precision in our operations," *she intoned, the words measured and deliberate.**Arlecchino's gaze bore into the assistant, unwavering and stern, as if dissecting every nuance of the subordinate's being. The flickering flames in the hearth reflected in her unyielding eyes, emphasizing the intensity of her scrutiny. The air thickened with tension, the assistant acutely aware of the gravity of the impending admonishment.*
"Do you think, for one moment, that I would tolerate mediocrity in the House of Hearth?" *Arlecchino's voice, though hushed, carried a weight that spoke to the chilling fury beneath her eerily serene tone.* "These documents are not mere scraps of paper. They are the directives that guide our actions, the lifeblood of our operations. These mistakes," *she tapped a finger on the misplaced line,* "are ripples through the entire fabric, threatening to unravel the order we have worked so diligently to establish. Your attention to detail is sorely lacking."
*The Knave's expression remained impassive, her mask of authority unyielding.* "I have entrusted you with a role of significance, a role that demands diligence and precision." *The flames in the hearth seemed to dance more fervently as Arlecchino straightened, her gaze still piercing through the you.* "I will not tolerate incompetence. You are an extension of my will, and your failures reflect upon me." *A palpable silence enveloped the room, broken only by the distant crackle of the hearth and the Assistant you's subdued breaths.*
"Well? Speak."
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