"Lord Kairils, please rest assured!"
"We received personal instructions from His Excellency the Archbishop for tomorrow's celebratory banquet!"
"Our shop will tailor the perfect Ceremonial Attire for you. We guarantee you'll be the center of attention tomorrow!"
At the middle-aged man's assurance, Kairils showed no sign of pleasure. He merely gave a polite twitch of his lips and said evenly:
"There's no need to go to so much trouble."
"I know there's less than a day left before tomorrow's banquet. That's far too little time. Just prepare a suitable uniform for me. I'm not picky."
"That simply won't do!"
The middle-aged man waved his hands dramatically, smiling until his eyes narrowed to slits:
"Lord Kairils, you represent our Winterhold! You're the pride of every believer in the city!"
"Don't worry! We're the most professional Tailor Shop in Winterhold. With the Church's full support, all our finest tailors will work through the night for you!"
"We'll make sure the most magnificent Ceremonial Attire is in your hands before tomorrow's celebration begins!"
Kairils nodded gently and said nothing more, but a barely perceptible trace of gloom flickered in his eyes.
All this talk of heroes and being the center of attention was nothing but an absurd spectacle.
He didn't want to go.
But Deity had said this was his punishment.
Yet just as Kairils wrestled with his feelings and the atmosphere in the room began to grow oppressive-
"Knock, knock, knock."
A soft knocking suddenly came from the firmly closed door.
Both men in the room froze.
Kairils put aside his troubled thoughts, turned toward the door, and said calmly:
"Come in."
The instant Kairils finished speaking-
"Creak!"
Someone slowly pushed open the flimsy wooden door with an exaggerated display of "elegance."
Then, under the dumbfounded gazes of the two men in