Seen How the Sun Dips Over the Lionheart Kingdom

Anna paused mid-step, her hand frozen in the air, a furrow creasing her brow. Confusion flickered across her face as she blinked at Victor. "You mean… you don't know?"

Victor scratched the back of his neck, half-laughing, half-awkward, the unease curling in his stomach. "Uh… no, actually."

Her lips parted slightly, eyes widening. Anna's jaw tensed as the realization struck her—she had completely forgotten to explain why he had been invited. Her hand fell to her side, and a small sigh escaped her lips. "Victor… today, the Suncrest family is celebrating their family head's birthday. They insisted you attend the celebration—you were personally invited."

Victor's head tilted slightly, processing. "Ah… I see." He nodded once, briskly, trying to mask the sudden weight that settled over his chest.

Anna exhaled sharply, a small tension in her shoulders as if the moment required her to gather herself. "Now," she said, straightening, "go to your room and rest. I've sent a maid with your attire for today. Wear it properly."

Victor inclined his head, a soft murmur of acknowledgment. "Yes, Mom."

He turned and left her room, the quiet shuffle of his steps blending with the soft murmurs of the palace corridors. Behind him, Anna sank into a chair, her fingers clasping together, a faint crease of worry on her forehead. She reminded herself she needed to supervise their preparation—Victor and Ania's journey to the Suncrest estate could not be left to chance.

She waved a hand twice, summoning the maids who entered quietly, their expressions disciplined but respectful. "Prepare everything carefully. Arrange the gifts, the carriage, the attire. Make sure nothing is amiss," she instructed, her voice calm but edged with an unspoken urgency.

Outside, the sky began to shift. Hues of amber and gold bled across the horizon as the sun dipped, painting the Lionheart Kingdom in a warm, ethereal glow. The palace courtyard shimmered in the evening light—marble floors glinting softly, fountains casting dancing reflections across the stone, banners fluttering gently in the breeze.

The carriage waiting for Victor and Ania was nothing short of majestic. Gold filigree traced the edges of pure white panels, glinting as the final rays of sunlight caught them. Four pristine white horses pawed the ground, their reins finely braided and tipped with golden tassels. The air smelled faintly of polished leather and lavender oil from the horses' grooming.

Around the carriage, a formation of soldiers stood with immaculate precision. Metal breastplates gleamed, each etched with the Lionheart emblem—a roaring lion in full relief. The soldiers' movements were sharp, almost sculptural, their discipline emanating a silent warning of their loyalty and skill. Today, they were assigned to escort Victor and Ania to the Suncrest Clan, their post one of utmost importance.

One figure among them stood out—a veteran, tall and imposing, broad shoulders taut beneath a polished grey breastplate. His silver hair hinted at years of rigorous training and unwavering service. Walton, the King's personal bodyguard, gave concise instructions to the formation, his voice carrying authority and calm simultaneously.

The soldiers stiffened as footfalls echoed from the main palace gate. They all turned, eyes snapping to the source. Emerging from the shadows, a figure appeared at the threshold—a young prince. The moment he stepped forward, every soldier lowered their heads in unison.

"My prince," they intoned, voices perfectly synchronized.

Victor froze mid-step. Shock rippled through him. The gesture—the reverence—felt both alien and unsettling. He had been in this world long enough to understand respect, yet the formality of the bow, the weight of the collective submission, made his chest tighten. His brows drew together, a shadow of unease flickering across his otherwise calm face.

He lifted his head slowly, an almost imperceptible smirk curving his lips. "Rise," he said, voice steady but carrying the faintest edge of amusement.

The soldiers obeyed, heads lifting in careful unison. Walton's grey eyes met Victor's, slow and measured, before he gave a single, subtle nod of acknowledgment.

Victor's own presence was a striking contrast. His black hair, tied neatly at the nape, shimmered as the last light of the sun caught it. His violet eyes glimmered with depth, a blend of warmth and unspoken command. Today, he wore a robe of white and purple, the Lionheart emblem embroidered in gold on his chest. The fabric clung subtly, hinting at the contours of his lean, muscular frame, his shoulders squared and posture commanding yet elegant.

Victor allowed himself a moment to breathe in the courtyard's quiet grandeur. The air was cool, scented faintly with night-blooming flowers from the palace gardens. He let his gaze settle on Ania, who clutched his hand, eyes wide with awe and excitement. The soft glow of sunset lit her purple hair like molten amethyst, her cheeks flushed with anticipation.

He turned to Anna, who had arrived briefly to see them off. She gave him a small, approving nod. "Remember, tonight will set a tone for the Suncrests," she reminded him gently, her voice layered with pride and subtle warning.

Victor inclined his head slightly. "Understood, Mother. I won't disappoint."

He shifted his focus to the approaching carriage. The royal horses snorted, stamping against the marble, their breath visible in the cool evening air. The doors opened smoothly, golden light spilling out, reflecting against the polished white and gold panels. The Suncrest estate awaited them—grand, imposing, and alive with centuries of history.

A faint tap-tap echoed against the courtyard stones. Victor's ears caught it immediately—a measured rhythm, deliberate, almost teasing in its precision. He straightened, violet eyes narrowing slightly as the sound grew closer. Every muscle coiled subtly, the fine line between curiosity and caution sharpening his posture.

The evening stretched on, the sky now painted with deep oranges and purples, as the Lionheart Kingdom readied itself to witness the meeting of two noble legacies. Victor's pulse thrummed in sync with the fading sun, anticipation and strategy warring in his chest. Every glance, every subtle movement of the soldiers, every shimmer of gold in the carriage's ornate details—the world was alive, and he stood poised at its center.

The journey to the Suncrest Clan was about to begin.

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