Time Gifted Unto You

Time Gifted Unto You is an Artifact in the set Scarlet Proof.

Description

Almost as soon as recruitment posters began appearing on noticeboards across Snezhnaya, Pulcinella had several quiet, comfortable rooms prepared for use as counseling rooms.
"Counseling rooms" was what they call them internally. To everyone else, they were usually known as "meeting rooms" or simply "the little rooms," as though needing counseling were some shameful affliction best kept hidden. Then there was "the dark room," a nickname of uncertain origin that Capitano categorically rejected.
At first, the Fatui trained properly qualified counselors to deal with all manners of problems. In practice, however, many soldiers were reluctant to open up to strangers. They preferred to turn to someone they trusted and, somewhere they would not be disturbed, speak of things they didn't want brought into the light. Or simply break down and cry.
So the considerate Pulcinella relaxed the rules to some degree. Once a booking was approved, anyone could spend a few hours inside talking with a companion of their choice. The Harbingers were naturally no exception. Capitano once saw Lohefalter coming out from one of the rooms, dabbing at her face with a powder puff, with Pulcinella close behind, holding up her handbag. He had no intention of prying into a lady's private affairs, and the Mayor was a man who knew how to keep a secret. Neither of them ever mentioned it again.
On another occasion, Capitano saw Dottore and Pantalone leaving that floor together late one evening, both grinning from ear to ear. As expected, Pulcinella soon gave them a furious scolding ("Those two could talk anywhere they wanted to! Did they really have to take up a shared facility?!"). He then announced that measures would be taken to put a stop to such behavior ("Tell whoever's in charge to reject those bastards' applications outright next time!"). Unfortunately, neither of them ever booked a counseling room again. With no chance to deliver the punishment he had prepared, Pulcinella was left to stew in frustration all over again.
Capitano didn't know what to say, either. Later, he bought Pulcinella a bottle of good wine, though he never asked whether he ever opened it.

When it came to private lives, Capitano was practically invisible. Whether he was present or not made little difference to others' casual chatter, unless the conversation became too outrageous. Everyone agreed that The Captain would never tell on anyone. At times, he felt like a walking counseling room, silently taking in every whispered secret.
The chatter didn't bother him. After all his years of training, his own heart could sometimes be louder than any of his colleagues. Sitting in the counseling room, he felt as though he were a little room enclosed within another, and then another still... until his soul was squeezed into the very center, hemmed in from above and below, front and back, left and right.
The meeting room was small, with heavy curtains drawn across the windows. This was not because Pulcinella had been stingy, but because of a theory that people found it easier to trust one another in close, warm surroundings. Capitano had no idea where the theory came from. After giving it some thought, he removed his helmet and gently set it aside.
At the time, his face was not yet so horrific. It looked merely marked by more scars than most, wounds that stubbornly refused to heal, and in the dim light, the sight was not quite horrifying. The man who invited him to talk was a former student of his who had joined a special operations unit after completing his training. Capitano knew what happened to the man's squad and therefore had some idea of what he wished to talk about. They were sent to a remote region to quell a disturbance. It should have been a relatively straightforward mission, yet every survivor who returned was left deeply shaken. In the end, with no other options remaining, they were forced to call in Dottore. Only then was the situation finally brought under control.
Capitano was present at the time and, feeling responsible for the men, asked, "What did you give them?"
"This?" Dottore produced another unopened glass vial on the spot and generously handed it to him. "A potent sedative."

The vial was still in his pocket. Hopefully, he would have no need for it today. The soldier across from him looked utterly exhausted. With his only remaining hand, he opened his pocket watch, closed it, then opened it again, as though checking that time was still passing.
"I know many still don't believe it, but I swear, everything in the report is true," the soldier said with a bitter smile. "Those people never even heard of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa. They thought it's still the age of the Belyi Tsar. At first, they called us lackeys of the fae and four-eyed monsters. They threw water over us, claiming they would wash away our sins of apostasy and our false faith..."
"Yeah, that was how absurd it all seemed at first! They didn't even have any proper weapons. Someone beside me were even laughing. Our squad leader approached them slowly and tried to reason with them. He told them that now is the age of humanity, that we no longer needed to..."
"And then... then..."
Capitano read the report. It consisted of accounts recorded after the survivors regained consciousness, followed by several notes Dottore had added after examining them. The locals had long been suffering from a virus-induced form of mass hysteria brought on by cannibalism. That, at least, was how Dottore had summarized it. The soldiers sent to suppress the unrest developed the same symptoms after coming into contact with the contaminated water. Their infections were less severe, however, and they could still be saved. Dottore later produced a new course of treatment. As he stood with his hands clasped behind his back, observing its effects, he looked almost like a real doctor.
Perfectly reasonable. The doctor adjusted his glasses. The way he narrowed his eyes made him look strangely like someone else. They lived in a place so isolated and inhospitable that one could hardly expect them to have anything else to eat. Capitano sighed. He had no desire to waste time arguing with reasoning so cold, yet so correct. But whose throat had been torn open? Whose arm had ended up in whose stomach? Was that really something the word "reasonable" could explain?
"Never mind." The soldier abruptly broke off, pulling Capitano from his memories as well. "The counselor told me that if I could one day recount everything that happened without getting upset, it would mean I was recovering. What a load of bullocks... Forgive me." He immediately lowered his head in apology, then glanced at his pocket watch again. "I only booked an hour. I don't want to take up too much of your time. The truth is... I came to say goodbye."

After the soldier left, Capitano looked over the things he had left behind: a red flower medal, a quill and a bottle of liquor he had carried with him, a patched helmet that looked almost new, and a pocket watch that might have been left deliberately or simply forgotten. Capitano suspected that they weren't all belonged to the same person. They merely happened to be reunited here. "I'd like you to keep these, my lord," the soldier, having already decided to retire, said. "Or you could pass them on to those who come after me. I hope they'll be luckier than we were. Or perhaps... a little stronger."
You shouldn't think that way, Capitano thought, though he never spoke the words aloud.
In fact, those who can survive are already strong enough.

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Scarlet Proof Artifacts Flower of Life Honor to Your Devotion Plume of Death Glory to Your Legacy Sands of Eon Time Gifted Unto You Goblet of Eonothem Chalice of Your Blood and Sorrow Circlet of Logos Testament to Your Faith