Draven put down Sylvia's letter, feeling a mix of longing and admiration for the elven princess Sylvia—she was truly impressive.

  Besides the precious icehawk egg, the cloth bag was stuffed full of magical herb seeds unique to the Elven Kingdom. It was obvious she had stolen them from her family's resource vault.

  He opened the bag containing the magical seeds; inside, the seeds were neatly organized, each packet clearly labeled.

  Not only were the names of the herbs marked, but also brief notes on their growing environment and cultivation methods.

  "Sylvia really is meticulous," Draven smiled, pushing the bag toward Viola. Naturally, these seeds belonged under Viola's care.

  Then he examined the icehawk egg. The icy blue eggshell shimmered faintly, like stars reflected on water, its speckled pattern delicate and beautiful, resembling a piece of artwork.

  Draven closed the box, hesitated briefly, then still pushed it toward Viola's side.

  Viola was deeply focused on reading a letter; sensing the gaze shift, she looked up.

  When she saw the bird egg in the box, her expression immediately changed—filled with surprise and affection.

  The color and luster of the icehawk egg perfectly matched what girls found beautiful—irresistible.

  Although magical beast eggs can be hatched via a blood-dripping formation, unlike the beast-taming ring which requires the owner's strength to reach the leader level, raising this icehawk to combat maturity would still take some time.

  For Draven, while the egg was valuable, it wasn't very practical in the short term. But giving it to Viola was definitely the best choice.

  She managed almost everything in Black Flag Territory. If the icehawk could grow up and stay with her, its value would be far greater than if it ended up in his hands.

  His letter was the thickest but he was the first to finish reading. With nothing better to do, Draven leaned over to the three girls and quickly glanced through their letters.

  Sylvia's letter to Viola was even neater than his, mostly greetings and rune studies, with a few suggestions for improving some small-scale rune formations.

  The letter to Liliana felt like a chat between two young girls, lighthearted and full of interesting stories and life sharing.

  She also mentioned that she had started searching for literature on wood elves in the Elven Tower's library, reassuring Liliana not to worry.

  Martha's letter was relatively simple, polite in tone, mostly pleasantries and blessings, and reminding her to take good care of Draven. Since they hadn't known each other long, such content was already quite good.

  Even though it was only a few short sentences, Martha's expression softened quietly as she accepted the letter. Receiving mail from afar for the first time, she seemed quieter than usual, but it was clear she was happy inside.

  The carrier pigeon still lingered in the room, watching them. Draven ignored his hunger and took out several pieces of animal hide from his storage ring, spreading them on the table.

  The four of them sat around, starting to write a reply to Sylvia.

  They each took turns adding sentences to a single piece of parchment, writing all sorts of things—useful and useless, everything went down.

  Although it was messy, it was full of life and warmth. At the end, Draven secretly added a few dirty jokes while no one else was paying attention.

  Imagining Sylvia blushing when she read those lines, he couldn't help but grin.

  But before he could finish smiling, Liliana suddenly leaned over and caught him red-handed.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "Pervert!" she shouted, then surprisingly leaned in to help come up with even more explosive ideas for Draven to write.

  The letter was finally rolled up thickly, resembling a library task list.

  Draven pulled out two sealed jars of Violet Carpenter Bee honey from his ring and handed them over as gifts for the icehawk.

  He remembered Sylvia ate little and often relied on fruits as staples. The bee honey was sweet and rich; she would probably like it.

  Viola also took out a few pieces of specially made Black Flag Territory clothing, all designed by her own hand, with some unusual cuts and decorations—quite unique.

  Liliana pulled out her treasured little chest, selecting a few beautiful stones and some oddly flavored fruits.

  Only Martha stood awkwardly to the side, having nothing worthy to offer.

  Seeing this, Draven smiled and took out two jars of monkey liquor from his beast ring as a return gift for Martha.

  Martha nodded gently, eyes showing a hint of gratitude.

  With the gifts piled on the table, the icehawk gently flapped its wings.

  Then, the air began to twist and spiral, and a familiar vortex-like spatial portal slowly opened behind it.

  One by one, the items on the table were sucked into the portal and disappeared.

  Before leaving, the icehawk politely gave Draven a slight bow, its movement so graceful it looked like a formal salute.

  Then it turned its body, tracing a beautiful arc, and flew lightly out of the stone house, quickly soaring toward the southern night sky.

  The Ghost-faced Owl followed closely behind, beating its wings with effort, but it was clearly no match for the icehawk's speed.

  Its body was round and plump, its wings short; it soon watched the icehawk shrink into a distant speck of light on the horizon, while it could only pant heavily and land on a treetop.

  The deep forest was quiet at night. The Ghost-faced Owl perched on a branch, letting out a few mournful calls that sounded pitiful and lonely.

  Draven and the others looked silently toward the direction where the icehawk was flying away. They knew the letter was now on its way south, flying toward someone they all cared about deeply.

  Meanwhile, far away at the Elven High Tower, Sylvia stood on the terrace, gazing at the northern night sky, thinking the icehawk should be close to delivering the letter.

  Her hand gently rested on her lower belly, her touch soft, as if the little life within could hear her heart's whispers.

  Sylvia had not told Draven this secret. She knew he already had enough worries and didn't want to add to them.

  The letter was filled with good news, without a single word about her teacher's injury.

  She didn't want to distract him from afar. But reality never disappears just because you try to hide it.

  After the battle with the Blood Elf demigod, the Grand Prophet Garin was severely wounded. Since their brief meeting that day, the old man had been in seclusion, nursing his injuries and had yet to appear in public.

  Even her father frowned every day.

  She stood in the wind, looking into the distance with a somewhat empty gaze. Maybe pregnancy had made her emotions fragile? She comforted herself with this thought.

  But when she lowered her head, she found a tear had silently slipped down her cheek. She wiped it away quietly and took a deep breath.

  ...

  On the other side, thanks to Viola's arrangements, Draven finally had dinner.

  After eating, the four of them lay scattered across the bed. The bed was not soft, but at that moment it felt warm.

  Viola changed into a new set of clothes recently invented by Draven—light fabrics with bold, playful cuts.

  Viola wore lingerie, Martha had on a women's camisole, and Liliana was the most shameless, layering a camisole over her lingerie as if wanting it all.

  Viola had thoughtfully prepared a matching set of these special clothes for Sylvia as well, neatly packed and included among the tokens.

  Draven lay on his side, holding Viola with one arm and Martha with the other, while the exhausted Liliana lay across him.

  The three demi-human girls wore light, delicate clothes that clung to their figures, filling the room with a subtle, intimate atmosphere.

  But perhaps the earlier letter had calmed everyone's emotions; tonight's mood was less fiery than expected.

  They leaned on each other, exchanging warm words, like a family.

  Only Liliana was restless. Seeing Draven still inactive, her little eyes darted around nervously.

  Suddenly, she flickered and transformed directly into Sylvia's image, perfectly imitating her expression and tone.

  Draven was taken aback for a moment, his eyes flicking to the ill-fitting camisole and lingerie on her body, feeling a subtle awkwardness: magic was powerful, but not omnipotent.

  But since Liliana was being so forward, he couldn't be insensitive.

  He raised both hands, and Liliana, light as an elf, jumped onto his waist.

  Liliana shouted and laughed shamelessly, which made Viola and Martha laugh as well.

  And the illusion mask of Sylvia became a tool to ease Draven's longing at this moment.

  To help Draven relax, the three girls took turns playing different versions of the elf Sylvia's personality.

  Viola was the gentle and elegant type, Martha tried to mimic the cool, aloof lady, and Liliana was the most uninhibited, acting as a lively, noisy little elf, making everyone burst out laughing.

  Draven casually picked up Liliana and covered her over himself like a blanket. The three on the bed gradually quieted down, laughter and warmth still lingering in the air.

  Draven hugged Viola and Martha tightly again. He knew arrangements had to be made next.

  The Serpent Ancestor was in seclusion, attempting to recover to lord-level combat power.

  But Village No.1 currently lacked a true leader at lord-level power, which was a hidden danger.

  Draven thought to himself about who might break through first in the near future.