Severin sat upright in the chair, posture perfectly straight.
His back was rigid, his bearing resolute—possessing a hardened, iron-blooded aura that stood in stark contrast to Mondstadt's preference for softer, more elegant male figures.
"You truly wish to know?" he asked calmly.
"If you hear the answer, you may regret ever asking."
Amber smiled.
"Why would we? Everyone's curious about you, Your Highness. You know, the story of how you became Prince in just three years has spread all over Mondstadt. It's practically legendary."
"Three years ago," Severin said quietly,
"I was still very weak…"
He rolled up his trouser leg and pointed to his knee.
"This sword wound came from a Snezhnayan assassin. My entire leg was severed. I killed him in return, then carried my severed leg to Il Dottore."
"The leg was saved," he continued evenly,
"but the poison the assassin used invaded my nerves and tissue. It took another six months to fully remove it."
Even Barbara was shocked.
"Even Il Dottore needed half a year to treat it… was the poison really that severe?"
"It was refined from the remains of a fallen Snezhnayan demon god," Severin replied.
"My enemies extracted it specifically for assassination."
In Teyvat, anything tied to demon gods was the pinnacle of forbidden poison.
Barbara, as a deaconess, was familiar with such taboos.
Historical records spoke of gods slain by evil demon-god toxins.
"But… Your Highness," Barbara asked carefully,
"with your prestige in Snezhnaya, why would anyone dare assassinate you?"
"Because of two reforms I enforced," Severin said.
"Reforms that destroyed the core interests of the slave-owning class."
"What kind of reforms?" Barbara asked.
"First—abolishing slavery.
Second—outlawing human trafficking."
Barbara did not fully grasp the weight of those words.
But Amber did.
Through Knights of Favonius intelligence reports, she knew the truth.
Snezhnaya had once been a slave state.
Slave owners controlled countless lives—local farmers, and people trafficked from the other six nations.
Men were sent to mines and fields.
Women were sold to taverns and pleasure houses.
Three years ago, Snezhnaya enacted unprecedented reforms—
Slavery abolished. Human trafficking eradicated.
The outside world saw it as a symbol of progress—
the beginning of Snezhnaya's rise.
And now Amber understood.
The architect of it all…
was the Prince of Snezhnaya himself.
When she looked at Severin again, admiration burned in her eyes.
His rise was far more legendary than rumors suggested.
"Your Highness," Amber asked eagerly,
"what happened after that? Did you personally take revenge on the slave owners?"
Severin shook his head lightly.
"Such matters never required my personal involvement. That very night, under the Tsaritsa's command, the Eleven Harbingers wiped out every slave-owning family."
"The next morning," he said calmly,
"their blood dyed the entire street outside the Zapolyarny Palace."
Amber's breath quickened—tense, yet exhilarated.
"Your Highness, I support your reforms. Those traffickers deserved death!"
Anyone with a sense of justice would.
Severin then unbuttoned his shirt and pointed to the scar over his heart.
"This wound was inflicted by a heretic. He once competed for the position of the Eleventh Harbinger."
Barbara blinked.
"Competing for a Harbinger seat… that sounds terrifying. Why did he want to kill you?"
"They practiced blood sacrifice," Severin replied flatly.
"Each year, they murdered infants to offer to the Tsaritsa, hoping for divine favor."
"By later estimates," he continued,
"they killed more than a hundred thousand children."
Amber's face turned pale with rage.
"That's monstrous… how can such practices still exist?!"
Barbara forced herself to ask,
"And the heretic leader… what became of him?"
"Il Dottore required human specimens for experimentation," Severin said.
"He requested custody of the leader."
"On the day the experiments concluded, the man had been cut into over three thousand pieces."
Both women felt nauseous.
Yet when they recalled the countless murdered infants, neither felt sympathy.
As Barbara disinfected the wound and applied medicine, she waited for it to dry.
During that time, Severin continued recounting the origins of his many scars.
Nearly every wound carried a story that shook the soul.
By the end, both women gazed at him with unconcealed admiration.
Such reverence was common in Snezhnaya—
but in Mondstadt, it felt strangely different.
"Your Highness," Barbara asked curiously,
"then the bite wound on your arm this time… was it another assassin?"
"A small accident," Severin replied.
He hesitated.
If he told the truth and mentioned Razor, Barbara might one day refuse to heal him—or jab him extra hard with a needle.
His silence sparked Barbara's imagination.
She suddenly laughed.
"I know~ It must've been Amber!"
She pointed playfully.
"Look at the bite marks—those two sharp canines! Totally Amber's little tiger teeth!"
"H–Hey! Barbara, don't spout nonsense!"
Amber flushed crimson, turning away indignantly.
"I'm not talking to you anymore!"
She hurriedly changed the subject.
"Your Highness, there's another scar on your shoulder. Judging by the shape… it looks like a sword wound."
Severin's thoughts drifted back two years.
"That happened at your embassy in Snezhnaya," he said slowly.
"I was attending a diplomatic gathering when a woman skilled with the sword struck my shoulder."
"That woman," he added,
"was your sister—now the Vice Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius."
Barbara froze.
"Jean? She attacked you? That can't be right."
"It wasn't an assassination," Severin clarified.
"She attacked openly. Even I didn't react in time before the blade cut my shoulder."
"Why would my sister do that?!"
Barbara panicked.
She suddenly remembered—
Two years ago, Jean had visited Snezhnaya.
She returned burdened, distracted.
"This matter is complicated," Severin said calmly.
"But you have the right to know."
"That day, your sister received a secret letter from the Tsaritsa. Beyond matters of state, the letter contained another request—"
"She wished for both of you sisters to marry into Snezhnaya."
Barbara blurted out instantly,
"That's outrageous—!"
"The Tsaritsa leveraged Mondstadt's safety," Severin continued.
"Your sister struck me during the gathering to make her refusal clear."
"I agree with her," he added quietly.
"Marriage is not something that should ever be forced."
"B–But… why did my sister choose you?"
Barbara asked weakly.
Severin coughed lightly.
"Because," he said,
"the person the Tsaritsa wished you sisters to marry—
was me. The Prince of Snezhnaya."
Clatter.
The vial in Barbara's hand slipped free and shattered on the floor.
For the first time in her life—
The ever-careful deaconess had broken something inside the cathedral.
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