In the northern frontier of the Human Empire,
Charles tilted his head upward, gazing at the Divine Realm that hung high in the heavens. For once, the habitual smirk on his face was gone, replaced by an uncharacteristically solemn expression.
"Daniel… I knew it. I knew you'd be just fine."
He muttered to himself, voice laced with both relief and a faint hint of nostalgia.
"When I gave up my own life back then, it was all for the agreement between you and my Lord."
"Fortunately, the task entrusted to me by Her Majesty the Luck Goddess has now been fulfilled without a single flaw."
Having said that, Charles exhaled, the tension in his shoulders loosening. He was about to turn and stroll toward the tavern in Winterhold Castle, planning to pour himself a strong drink and perhaps tease that voluptuous dancing girl who never failed to entertain him.
But he had barely taken two steps when something caught his foot.
