Fort Alpha.

The Cullen family's lounge.

Outside, the sunlight shines over the spacious balcony and onto the platinum-gold carpet, where the slender Karcos Golden Fleece glistens in the sunlight and adds to the enchanting glow.

Friedman Cullen stands in the midst of this color.

He stood at his desk, one hand in his coat pocket, the other on the back of his chair, looking at a sunflower painting hanging on the wall. It's like looking in a mirror.

On a normal day, when the sun outside the house falls on the canvas, the sunflowers in the painting will always scramble to stretch their necks and open their petals to enjoy the soothing of the daylight. But today, on the canvas, the usual brilliant petals are wilting and looking dejected, and the edges of those beautiful heart-shaped green leaves are beginning to wither and yellow.

Just like his state of mind.

Sir Friedman muttered as he stared at the sunflowers on the canvas.

On the desk behind him, a piece of dragonskin paper lay there quietly, and the luanwei pen floating in mid-air was twisting a beautiful arc with the sound of jazz, leaving strings of elegant flower characters on the dragonskin.

There were fewer and fewer spaces on the dragonskin, and Jazz's voice grew deeper and deeper until it was inaudible.

Long.

The ink dipped in the tip of the tail pen gradually dried up.

The cyan feathers swayed, sweeping a cloud of crystal light dust in the sunlight. Then the dry tip of the pen landed at the end of the dragon paper, and there were a few heavy pauses.

The light thump woke up the pensive figure at the table.

Sir Friedman turned, glanced at the impatient quill, walked back to his desk, and sat down peacefully. Then he reached out and grabbed the luanwei pen floating in mid-air, a little empty, and a little golden spark came out of the tip of the pen.

The luanwei pen was not used to being grabbed to write, and the beautiful cyan feathers were twisted, and the tip of the pen squeaked.

Jazz didn't bother with the restlessness.

He grabbed the quill and solemnly signed his name at the end of the vellum.

—Friedman Blake Cullen.

The sparks drifted with the tip of the pen, leaving a sinuous golden trail on the dragon paper, and it was not until Sir finished signing and put away the pen that the gold faded away, leaving a touch of burnt yellow.

It was as if someone had branded the name on the piece of paper with a soldering iron.

Sir Friedman threw it away, and the cyan quill slid like a bird in an arc through the air, over the pen holder, and into the wastepaper basket beside the table.

The dragon paper letterhead floated up automatically, folded it in half automatically, and burrowed into the envelope that had been prepared by the table.

Jazz's gaze was not on the letter and the envelope.

His fingertips were scurrying in the drawer. In the drawer was a black box lined with soft ice silk and several pieces of fire paint of different colors.

There is the fire paint mixed with dragon blood, the color is like magma, there is the fire paint bathed in the moonlight, and the deep blue hides a little starlight, and there are many congratulatory gifts from the Cullen family, perhaps those alien cubs do not know the difference between Alpha and Atlas, and think that all the distinguished guests like yellow, and all the fire paint is gold.

Friedman's fingertips lingered for a long time between pieces of fire paint of different colors and origins, and finally chose the most ordinary piece of blood-red fire paint.

It was a piece of fire paint made of pine resin, paraffin, and tar mixed with ordinary red pigments.

The young Bloodclan watched as the piece of fire paint quietly melted into a gentle liquid in mid-air, watched the liquid tumble and merge in mid-air, and watched tiny bubbles emerge from the fiery red.

Crackling.

He smiled suddenly, shook his head, and held out his finger to place the lump of liquid on the mouth of the envelope.

Then he took out his coat of arms from the drawer, dipped some silver powder in the compact, and covered it heavily on the fiery red liquid. The fire paint quickly solidifies and sets under the pressure of the fire paint print, and the thick envelope flows with the slight fragrance of pine resin.

"Give it to Seprano. ”

Sir Friedman commanded softly.

A short figure flashed, and the table was clean again.

In the wastepaper basket next to the table, the tip of the pen was burned, and the tail pen twitched weakly. After losing the nib, no matter how beautiful the feathers on its body are, they are worthless.

......

......

“...... Sir Friedman's letter brought an end to the battle for the successors of Alpha's two student leaders, and also created favorable conditions for the unity of the entire college, for the bridging of the rift in the college, and for the easing of relations between Seprano and Cullen. ”

"Prior to this, both Friedman and Seprano had been very cautious and refused to reach out to each other first in front of a large number of supporters— Serprano did not reach out because he had the upper hand in the race against Augustus, and his consistent stance was that he was reform-minded and had no reason to embrace the stubborn old-fashionists, and Sir Friedman's refusal to reach out because he was unwilling to show any weakness in the face of danger and threat, which would destroy his prestige and status among the supporters of the bloodline, especially in the triple-A community. ”

"But the development of the situation does not depend on the will of the individual. In the face of the aggressive momentum of Jiuyou Academy, in the face of the crisis revealed inside and outside First University, and in the face of chaos in Alpha Academy, both sides need to ease relations, and both want to ease relations. It's just that they don't want to take the initiative to show it. ”

"The result is a pas de deux minuet with confusing steps, where both parties can say that there is no skin-to-skin contact, neither of them has to be ashamed of the possibility of rejection, and it maintains a beautiful arc that allows both parties to maintain their positions without having to negotiate how to start from scratch......"

Reading this, Zheng Qing couldn't help but pat his thigh in agreement.

"It's brilliantly written," he said, undisguised his praise for the review, turning his head to look at the fat man sitting on the other side of the desk: "The author of this article, who is this Henry Alfred? He wrote it really well, especially the parable, which is simply accurate...... No, as beautiful as a poem. ”

Banner raised his eyelids, glanced at the newspaper in Zheng Qing's hand, and immediately knew which page and article he was reading, and replied:

"Henry, he's a contributing commentator for the Betatown Post and a senior advisor to the Wizarding Alliance. An old wizard who needs magic to walk and elves to eat...... We've always thought he's a little old and confused. But looking at this new review, he is as sharp as ever when he was younger. ”

"Senior advisor of the alliance?" Zheng Qing was a little interested: "Then how can he pay attention to the matter between two young people? ”

"The matter involving Augustus' inheritance of unity with Alpha is not small at all. Another voice interrupted Zheng Qing's chat with Fat Xin, and at the same time asked, "Excuse me, please hand me another frog, thank you." ”

Nicholas held his hands in front of him with silkworm leather gloves in his hands, his face full of sincerity: "I need to practice this chaos spell again...... I will definitely take the test when I take the exam. ”

On the table in front of him, the dust left behind by the used frogs was already half an inch thick.