By Pure Luck

Later that same day, Dante had returned to the dining hall with a letter for Cloella. He didn't expect her to be there, so when he didn't run into her, there was no particular sense of disappointment. Instead, he left the note with the person in charge and then went outside to practice his archery.

He grabbed one of the training bows and a quiver full of training arrows that were only sharp enough to pierce the cloth target and the bale of hay behind it. He took his position at the shooting range and fired shot after shot into the practice target.

He hadn't been in the Nascent for long, but Dante was already getting better at shooting a bow. When he first arrived, he didn't even know how to hold the weapon, and already, he was able to get within the inner three rings more often than not. He was told that it would just be a short span of time before he'd be considered a master marksman in most other world, though that would but him at about average for the skills of the Nascent, specifically those like himself who had been lucky enough to receive a Chimera, a handheld device that allowed the owner to travel through worlds as effortlessly as walking into another room while also boosting their natural abilities.

While Dante landed shot after shot, he thought back on the contents of the letter he'd written.

His handwriting was awful, and he cringed at the thought of Cloella trying to decipher what he'd written. The subtle motion was enough to send his arrow flying wild off to one side so that the shaft of the arrow protruded from the hay bale itself without even touching the edge of the target. He frowned and hoped that would be his worst shot for the day.

It had been a simple letter, a request to meet in the library later that day, with the proposed meeting time late enough in the day for Dante to burn off some energy and for her to attempt to free herself from her chores.

There was the slight chance that Cloella couldn't read, just as Dante couldn't when he'd first arrived, and he hadn't exactly planned for that possibility. His only hope was that, if she couldn't read, she knew someone else who could. He realized then that he could have given a verbal message to pass on. He knew how gossip worked and that it was probably already spreading like wildfire among the servants that he, the silver-haired noble, had shown interest in in one of the serving girls. Having the contents of his letter become common knowledge would have been fuel on the fire, but it's not like that would have changed much.

For a brief moment, he wondered if it wasn't too late to go back and do exactly that, but he eventually decided against it as he realized that that would cut into his archery practice and also involved additional effort on his part.

After emptying his quiver, Dante strode across the tight-packed soil to retrieve the arrows he'd shot, examining each for possible damage before returning them to their quiver. He returned both weapon and ammo to where he'd gotten them and then took a quick jog around the perimeter of the training yard and then stretched his muscles before heading back inside. He debated if he had time for a bath or not.

In the end, he decided against it. There was something in his blood, the same trace of his heritage that had granted him his preemptively graying hair, that apparently gave him a unique sort of luck. It was as if the fates decided to play with him, leaving him with a sort of dramatic timing that sometimes worked out in his favor, but not always. His conveniently being up late enough to see the transformation and then Cloella conveniently serving him coffee that next morning was a prime example of this luck in action, and in the end, it hadn't gone well. In this case, he worried that choosing to take a bath after delivering the note would end with Cloelle being scheduled to clean his room and stumbling in on him naked. It wasn't the worst thing Dante could imagine happening on their first proper meeting, but he figured it might not be the best first impression he could leave.

Dante decided to head to the library early to make sure that it was empty of stray family members. He was relieved to see that the room was empty, the rest of his family out doing other things than rummage through dusty books.

He paced anxiously, running through various opening scenarios for how to introduce himself and explain why he had written to her in the first place. Nothing seemed quite right. He realized then that he should have thought more about this earlier, but it was too late for foresight now. Improvisation seemed like his only out.

Time passed, and there was still no sign of her. Dante settled into one of the plush chairs at the far side of the room and drummed his fingers on the table beside him. It was starting to look like he'd been stood up, but there was still a chance that she was still occupied with her work. That, or she'd never gotten the note in the first place.

There was still time left, however. A brilliant idea struck Dante just then, inspired by the gentle starts of a rumbling in his belly, and he called down to the kitchen to have a tray of pastries and tea sandwiches brought to him, along with a pot of coffee and some hot water for tea.

It was a simple enough process, using his Chimera to communicate his request psychically to one of the cooks down in the kitchen. He was tempted to ask about Cloella, but thought better of it in the end, instead placing his order and then waiting for his food to be delivered.

He then leaned over and grabbed a book from the nearest shelf, not really caring what it was about. He held it in his lap and flipped through the pages absently. He didn't really care about reading, but Shandrin had emphasized its importance, so he continued to at least make the occasional attempt to better himself. Today, he spent his time absently skimming for words that he recognized and then attempting to figure out the meanings of the sentences around them.

A while later, the door opened, and a servant entered.

Dante closed his book and looked up.

He felt that he shouldn't have been surprised at who stood there in the doorway with a tray of treats and beverages in her hands, especially after he'd just thought to himself about the level of coincidence his blood gave him. But still, his eyes widened, and no matter how he tried, he couldn't get his tongue to work.

The servant who had been sent to deliver his order was Cloella.