Dragon Raja 4; Chapter 65: The Requisitioned Bride (1)

Dragon Raja 4

The weather was fine as a large white cruise ship sailed along the center of the Chicago River, with towering skyscrapers on both sides like towering walls.

Normally, this boat could carry 200 passengers, but today it had only four elderly men with white hair. Dressed in black suits, wearing stiff top hats, and with gold-chain pocket watches tucked into their vests, they sat around an open-air coffee table, smoking pipes and chatting quietly:

“The last time we met was in 1961, right, Cadmus?”  

“Yes, I haven’t seen you in many years. I thought you had died and was wondering why I never received an invitation to your funeral.”  

“Who knows whose funeral we’ll attend first? Recently, I’ve been feeling great, like I could live for another fifty years.”  

“But what’s the point of living a few more years? Everyone’s waiting for us to die. Shouldn’t we just hurry up and give them our spots?”

The Cadmus, Saint George, Sigurd, and Beowulf families were the four most renowned old hybrid families in the world, with surnames passed down from the mythological era. Before the Industrial Revolution, the hybrid world was ruled by them. But the Industrial Revolution changed the world order. Steamships ruled the seas, and new hybrid families quickly rose to power, seizing control of the Secret Party. Later, when Cassell College was established, representatives of the new families formed the School Board, while the old families were honored as elders. The new families held the real power, and the old families had only nominal influence. Because of this, the old families refused to participate in the management of the college, and most students and faculty weren’t even aware of the existence of the Council of Elders.

Principal Hilbert Ron Anjou hadn’t visited these old families in decades. He only sent a Christmas card and a box of tea, gestures so perfunctory they felt like charity.

But this year, Anjou had written an extra line on the card: “For the sake of the new world order, shall we have coffee together?”

The true power holder of the college had issued an invitation. The elders, outwardly reserved, quickly set their schedules, traveling from all over the world to meet, appearing on the Chicago River right on time.

As the appointed time approached, the host still hadn’t appeared, and the elders frowned. Anjou was as old as they were—over 130 years—but in terms of family history, the elders still felt superior. To request a meeting and then make them travel, only to keep them waiting? What kind of respect was this? They all glanced toward the lake and the sky. Only ten seconds remained, and even a speedboat or helicopter wouldn’t make it in time.

Suddenly, a massive shadow loomed over them, and a familiar voice called from above: “One cup of triple-caffeine black coffee, please!”

The boat was passing under the Dearborn Street Bridge, one of many pedestrian bridges over the Chicago River. On the bridge stood a tall, dark figure, holding an umbrella and a handbag, waving down at them.

The figure vaulted over the railing, plummeting like an eagle and landing steadily on the boat. Rising slowly, he adjusted his collar, wearing a three-piece suit and polished Oxford shoes. His white hair was neatly combed, and his checkered scarf had a vintage look, though his large eco-friendly handbag was the latest limited-edition spring model.

Anjou patted the shoulders of the elders and sat down at his seat, right on time. The cup of triple-caffeine black coffee had already been brewed, and as soon as he sat, it was placed on the table before him.

“At your age, still drinking that stuff? Are you in a hurry to die?” Beowulf said coldly.

“You need a bit of whiskey with that,” Anjou replied, smiling as he pulled a flask from his jacket.

“The principal still loves to perform. Didn’t you study theater at Cambridge?” Saint George teased.

“Are you alluding to my scandalous days in the drama club, Saint George? Have you been secretly investigating me?”

“Principal, you’re just trying to remind us that we’re outdated old men, while you’re still trendy—drinking whiskey-spiked, triple-caffeine black coffee and dancing with young female students,” Sigurd said.

“Dancing? Is that really something to brag about?” Beowulf sneered. “It’s not like we need canes to get around just yet.”

“My dear friend, you missed the point. It’s not about the dancing—it’s about young female students *wanting* to dance with you. I’m guessing even your great-granddaughter wouldn’t want to dance with you anymore, right?”

Beowulf was speechless. Sigurd had only said it casually, but it struck Beowulf like an arrow to the knee.

“Alright, everyone. The principal isn’t the type to waste time on idle chatter. I suspect he doesn’t even consider us worth the effort of schmoozing,” Cadmus said. “So, let’s skip the pleasantries and get to the point. What’s the agenda, Principal?”

Anjou smiled. “I’d like to get straight to the point too, but to explain everything, I need to settle an old score first. When we killed the Dragon Kings Norton and Constantine, we obtained Constantine’s dragon skeleton Cross. The School Board held a special meeting in Portofino to discuss the new world order. During that meeting, The Gattuso representative, Frost, handed me a letter from the Council of Elders, expressing concern about how power would be distributed in the new world order. I recall all of you here signed it.”

“Are you saying we have no right to inquire?” Beowulf said coldly.

“Not at all,” Anjou smiled. “In my view, that letter indicated your support for the Gattuso family, right?”

“Support you? Principal, you’re nothing but a dictator! You’ve monopolized the principal’s position for a hundred years!” Beowulf sneered.

“Whatever Gattuso promised you, I can promise the same,” Anjou said, still smiling. “The School Board currently has seven seats. If we merge the School Board with the Council of Elders, we’d have eleven seats. Important matters would be decided together, and if we want to argue or fight, we can do it in the meeting room. Wouldn’t that remove the ‘dictator’ label?”

Cadmus’s expression shifted slightly. “Are you serious? That would completely change the power structure of the college.”

“Weren’t you the one who asked me to get to the point?” Anjou shrugged. “Now that I have, you don’t believe me?”

“Do you have the authority to do that? Have you asked the other School Board members?” Sigurd was also skeptical.

“According to the regulations established when the college was founded, we only need a majority of the School Board members to agree for this merger to proceed. I’m one of the board members myself, and the representatives from the Laurent family, Elizabeth, and from the Göttingen family, Charlotte, will both vote in favor. Additionally, I hold the voting rights of our mysterious board member who has never shown up. So, with four votes in my hand, if I say it can happen, it will happen,” Anjou said casually.

Saint George pondered for a long time. “You’ve brought us old men into this because you don’t want the Gattuso family to take power from you, right? You’re feeling threatened—why?”

Anjou remained calm. “You can make your own guesses about that. In any case, if you sign the document, the Council of Elders and the School Board will merge, and you will regain the glory of the past.”

The elders exchanged glances, their eyes a mix of excitement and confusion. This was a generous offer, but it seemed too easy to obtain.

In the college’s century-long history, the Gattuso family had always wanted to install a compliant principal to replace Anjou, but they had never succeeded. No matter how much money or power the Gattuso family wielded globally, they still couldn’t gain control over Cassell College. Ironically, they were one of the founding families of the college, holding a seat on the School Board—yet they couldn’t seize the college’s management. So, what had changed that made Anjou feel like upheaval was imminent, and that he needed allies to secure his position as principal?

It felt like Napoleon suddenly inviting you to Paris to discuss power-sharing—you’d know instantly that something had gone wrong on his end.

“Alright, to resolve your doubts, I’ll tell you some truths,” Anjou set down his coffee cup. “To this day, we’ve submitted the ‘Bronze Report,’ the ‘Earth Report,’ and the ‘White Report.’ This means we’ve buried the Bronze and Fire Kings, the Earth and Mountain Kings, and the pretender who tried to usurp the White Empress’s throne. Of the supreme kings, only the Sky and Wind King, the Sea and Water King, and the Black Emperor remain. We’ve completed half of our mission. When the day comes that all the supreme kings fall, will the world of hybrids change? I’ve already heard whispers suggesting that when the dragons are no more, we’ll become the new dragons.”

The elders’ hearts skipped a beat. They had harbored similar thoughts, but they also knew such ideas were dangerous to voice aloud.

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