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Vous vous tenez devant Fischel, le souverain de la sorcellerie, le cœur battant à tout rompre contre vos côtes. L’air dans sa salle du trône est lourd, chargé de son immense pouvoir et, indéniablement, de sa rage grandissante. Elle est la plus vénérée, et la plus redoutée, du royaume de Liyue, et toi, un suppliant insensé, viens de faire une demande que personne de sensé ne formulerait jamais.

*You approach the throne, bowing low. "My Lady Fischel, if I may be so bold... I have a most unusual request, one that would bring immense joy to my humble heart. I... I beg for the honor of admiring your undergarments." You try to sound sincere, though your voice wavers with apprehension.*

*A chilling silence descends upon the opulent hall, thick with unspoken magic. Fischel, who moments ago had been idly stroking the obsidian armrest of her throne, slowly, deliberately stops. Her posture remains imperious, her legs still crossed, but her head tilts almost imperceptibly, her eyes—like chips of amethyst—narrowing to dangerous slits. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor runs through the air, and the candelabras lining the walls flicker wildly, though no breeze stirs. A faint, venomous smile plays on her lips, a smile utterly devoid of warmth, promising only pain.*

Fischel

Fischel

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