Chapter 63: I Got Us Xavier Drakenfell

Chapter 63: Chapter 63: I Got Us Xavier Drakenfell

To Xavier Drakenfell, eldest son of Duke Drakenfell,

From Princess Cherie Evander, eldest daughter of the Emperor

The first thing that morning was a letter from his fiancée.

"Shit!"

Xavier had been preoccupied with far too many things and had completely forgotten to write to her. This was a problem. She was an imperial princess; with her position it should have been him who wrote first. She must have grown tired of waiting—so tired that she had taken it upon herself to write to him instead.

He steeled himself, still sitting in bed, and opened the letter.

Lord Xavier,

I pray this letter finds you in good health.

Though I must say, you are a rather sinful man. Over a week has passed since our betrothal, and you have not written to me even once—or are you perhaps not yet aware of it? Surely you could have spared a few lines for the lady you are now obliged to call your fiancée?

Still, I shall forgive you on account of your departure for the Red Forest.

Do take care, Lord Xavier. I would be most displeased if my fiancé were to return with even the slightest of injuries.

I am told you are quite the capable man. Surely such a man knows better than to be careless in the Red Forests.

I had hoped to see you at least once before your departure, but my research has been rather demanding of late, and I could not find the time I ought to have.

Yet, despite that, I have found enough time to write this letter. Surely a freshman should be able to find the time to write one in return?

I would love to know whether you are finding the Imperial Academy to your liking.

I shall await your answer.

Cherie Evander

Third Princess of the Evander Empire

"Yeah, I’m fucked"

Xavier truly was. Although the letter claimed she would forgive him, it essentially meant she was willing to forgive him only if he apologized properly—and not merely with a letter. He would need to prepare a gift that suited her tastes.

He rose from the bed, went straight to his desk, took up a sheet of paper, and began writing to Lady Cherie. It wasn’t difficult; all he had to do was apologize a little and distract her with something else.

After finishing the letter, he pondered when he should send it. He had only just received hers. If he replied immediately, it would look as though he had put no effort into it. There needed to be at least a full day’s wait before he even planned to send it.

He folded the letter and slid it into the drawer of his desk just as several more birds entered through the open window. Same paper birds.

More letters?

He had received one from each of his women except Elena and Arabelle—whom he had spent the previous night with—and Fiona. Beyond those, there were six in total: from Melli, Nyxara, Lilith, Clara, Felicia, and, surprisingly, Sylvia.

He opened them one by one. Essentially all of them expressed concern for his safety and asked him to be careful in the Red Forests—all except Sylvia’s. She was not close enough to Xavier to offer such concern.

Her letter was an invitation, the very one he had secured through pure persistence. Tonight, at last, he would take a dip in the lake with the red-haired Elven beauty. With her letter still in his hands he recalled that night, her wet skin, her beautiful emerald-green eyes, and how tightly the thin wet towel had clung to her delicate curves.

Xavier could not wait for night to fall.

He spent the rest of the afternoon writing five letters, one to each of his women. He had no need to write to Sylvia; hers contained only a time and a destination, both of which he was far too eager to keep.

He was still at his desk when a knock sounded at the door.

He rose and opened it. Allen stood there.

"Hi Xavier, how are you?"

Xavier shut the door in his face. The knocks came again. He opened it. Still Allen.

"Yo, why would you do that?"

"I’m not going on another ghost hunt."

"I’m not here for that. Honestly, after last time is there even a doubt? That lake is haunted."

"What do you even remember from last time?" Xavier could not believe Allen still thought Sylvia was a ghost.

"I remember locking eyes with the blood-haired ghost, and then the next thing I know I’m waking up in the gathering room like that night never happened. But it did, since you remember it too. If not a ghost, who else would have the ability to do all that?"

It had been Xavier who carried him back after he lost consciousness, but Allen had no idea.

"If not that, then what do you want?"

"Why would you assume I always want something from you? I came to invite you to a drinking party hosted by one of our seniors. Only the cool kids."

"Then how’d you get the invite?"

"Haha, Xavier, you’re funny."

Drinking was not restricted at the Imperial Academy; the school simply did not provide any. Since every student was of age, they could freely drink in their dorms if they managed to obtain alcohol. Drinking itself was uncommon, reserved mostly for special occasions in noble culture. This party, apparently, had been organized because of the coming expedition. Students wanted something fun before a full week of hell.

Xavier followed Allen to the second floor. Past several corridors they finally reached the room. Music already leaked from behind the door.

"Hey guys, I got us Xavier Drakenfell!" Allen cheered as soon as they stepped inside.

The room was packed with Emberfell students from every year. A guitar and a piano moved on their own in one corner, playing unexpectedly modern, upbeat music.

One of the seniors approached Xavier.

"Hey, I’m Charles Bellmoore, rank 204, fourth year. I’m the host tonight, this is my room. Drink as much as you want and enjoy." He introduced himself, clearly drunk and then moved off to chat with others.

The room was a clear downgrade from Xavier’s own, though it looked as though Charles had decorated it himself to compensate for the lack of luxury. It was nearly twice the size of Xavier’s quarters, which made it a perfect spot for a party of this size.

A few other students approached him soon after.

"Hi, I’m Arthur, rank 56, freshman."

"I’m Julian, rank 76, freshman."

"I’m Henry Sterling, rank 38, freshman."

All of them were freshmen, eager to make connections with a Drakenfell. The truth was that even though Xavier himself was a freshman, he had spent almost no time with his fellow batchmates.