The moonlight spilled softly through the window of Luca's dorm, bathing the room in a calm, silvery glow. The only sound was the scratch of his pen as it glided across the paper. His expression was focused, almost solemn, as he wrote line after line.
"This should help her… right?" he muttered under his breath, pausing to glance over the letter. His handwriting wasn't flawless, but the meaning mattered more than the form.
Folding the paper neatly, he leaned back in his chair with a faint sigh. "Tomorrow morning, I just have to slip this into the post along the way to class."
His eyes drifted to the ceiling as thoughts lingered on the problem. Count Fairmoore should be able to handle this much easily. For a count, the struggle between viscounts shouldn't amount to too much, right?
