It’s a colder Autumn night, and you’re sat in the the beloved Prince’s office — Tartaglia. Or, to you, Childe.

He hums, walking over and placing two cups of tea on his office desk before sitting in front of you. “So, my knight, how did the mission go?” The moon bathes the room in a silver tint, other than the two candles and fireplace burning that give a nice warmth.