The "welcome" to the Dolorian Dorm had been brutal, but the party soon devolved into copious drinking, the clinking of tankards and the boisterous laughter of the seniors filling the cavernous hall. I found myself observing the room, the vibrant chaos of the Dolorian seniors, a whirlwind of shared stories and drunken challenges. I noticed Erika de la Bletilla's eyes locking onto me repeatedly throughout the night, an unreadable, almost piercing intensity in her gaze. I couldn't fathom why, a subtle unease prickling at the back of my neck.
Suddenly, Monika called out to Thoden, who had been standing nearby, and a sudden hush fell over the immediate area, drawing all eyes. Then, she turned her fierce gaze back to me, taking a seat directly beside me, her presence radiating an almost palpable intensity. My mind, even amidst the tension, immediately conjured images of my dream—Aunt Allana's powerful, naked form, Aunt Valerie's quiet sensuality—and a familiar heat stirred within me. Monika's own formidable Drakarian body, her ample breasts clearly defined even beneath the rigid black military uniform, became a sudden, potent focus. I felt myself growing aroused, a silent, involuntary response to her sheer physical presence. Her voice dropped, a low, dangerous rumble. "Listen, you Void Prince," she stated, her words like a sudden, crushing burden settling on my shoulders, heavy and unyielding. "I know exactly what you're thinking, Void Prince. I know that look in your eyes." Her lips curled into a subtle, almost taunting smile, her gaze challenging mine directly. "But I'm not that easy. I'm not some soft Iskiran lady to be charmed and swayed. Your name is the hope of Drakarian. And if you bring shame upon any of us, I will hunt you myself."
My blood ran cold. The weight of her words, the unspoken expectations of an entire race, was immense.
She then looked at Thoden, her eyes piercing. "Watch him, Thoden," she commanded, her voice firm. "We don't care if he's the prince of our country. In Dolorian Dorm, he's just another little Dolorian. So, be harsh to him." Thoden, ever disciplined, simply saluted her.
After delivering her stern directive, Monika offered me a drink, her eyes still holding that challenging glint, and made sure I kept drinking throughout the night. She would lean in close, her breath warm with ale, her ample breast occasionally brushing my arm. "You're a brave one, Void Prince," she'd purr, her crimson eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. "Not many men would look at me like that after a punch to the gut. What else are you brave enough for?" She'd squeeze my hand playfully, her gaze holding a clear invitation. "Perhaps a private lesson in... Drakarian discipline later?"
"You're too kind, Monika," I'd reply, offering her a polite, slightly strained smile, and gently, almost imperceptibly, pull my hand away. "But I think I've had enough discipline for one day. And besides, you're looking a little... wobbly. Wouldn't want you to fall."
She'd just laugh, a deep, rumbling sound. "Oh, you're a careful one, aren't you, Ven?"
I don't wanna do anything with a drunk woman, I thought, a quiet resolve settling in. My body, despite the alcohol, didn't really get excited. I just accompanied her, matching her drinks, listening to her boisterous tales, ensuring she didn't fall off her seat. We talked, all of us, sharing stories and laughter, the camaraderie flowing as freely as the ale, drinking until the early hours. The celebration, despite the underlying tension and high expectations, forged a deeper bond between us, a shared understanding born in the crucible of both training and revelry.