Golden Horizon: The Road to Suncrest

she spoke, her tone soft but with an edge of authority, "I hope son, now you, eliminate all fear from your hearts. And go, eat the banquet that has been laid for you. Do not be late."

Victor and Ania nodded as one, a symmetrical movement of respect and love, bowing minimally. "Yes, Mother," they chimed as one, the concord of their voices holding a silent vow of concern and affection.

Anna stretched into the nearby chest, her hand running lightly over the tidily stacked packages, before bringing out one wrapped with careful delicacy. She offered it to Victor, her eyes soft but firm. "Take this. It is prepared for the Suncrest clan and your daughter-in-law. A gift… to exhibit respect and honor." Her voice held the force of tradition, gentle but unyieldingly commanding.

Victor took it with caution, pushing the little package into his coat pocket as though it contained not only a gift, but part of her trust. A brief, gentle smile curved his lips. "Thank you, Mother," he whispered, the warmth in his voice indistinct yet genuine.

Anna's hand went up, resting on his head in a gesture of tenderness and possessiveness. Her touch hovered for an instant, a silent reminder of the mother-child bond. "There is no need for thanks," she whispered, her voice low, almost intimate. "It is my duty… to guide you, protect you. Never forget that.

From the side, Ben watched with his habitual erect posture, but today a very rare approval relaxed his face. A slow, purposeful nod. "My son. you are leaving now. See that you come back with your fiancée. Everything must be like it's supposed to be."

Victor nodded his head in acceptance, the soft firmness of his voice equal to the gravity of his father's words. "I know, Father.

Ben's smile widened, just enough to show pride without losing his stern composure. "That's my son," he said, and the sound carried a subtle note of satisfaction.

Anna's eyes softened further as she added, almost whispering, "Go now. Take care of yourself."

In the meantime, Ania springily bounced on her toes, her cheeks inflated in that childlike, stubborn fashion which only served to make her more lovable. "Don't worry! I will protect myself… and my brother. I'm a big girl now!" she announced, her voice filled with both arrogance and pride.

Victor laughed, his throaty, unselfconscious sound echoing through the evening, and Anna laughed along with him, her soft laughter echoing into the night. Her fingers lightly touching Ania's dark hair, Anna whispered in teasing gentleness, "Huh… so cute.

Ania's eyes moved to her brother, hesitation giving way to a spark of determination. Victor took her hand, and she laid hers into his. The mere touch had an unspoken guarantee of safety, of mutual bravery. "Now, little sister… let's go," he said, his voice firm yet loving.

She nodded, allowing him to lead her with a protective, cautious hand. Each step seemed meaningful as they approached the waiting carriage, the quiet clatter of their footsteps against the stone courtyard resonating faintly in the evening. Victor's hold was firm, soothing, and she found herself inclining ever so slightly toward him, her heart racing with a blend of excitement and reassurance. The carriage waited like a jewel in the waning sunlight, its gold-and-white sides glinting, burnished to a mirror brilliance that picked up the warm tones of the sunset.

Victor stepped forward, guiding her into the carriage. Ania stepped in with ease, her little hand still clasped in his, a lifeline that neither of them was yet willing to let go. The guards fell into place outside with trained proficiency. Four great white horses paced the cobblestones, their breath misty in the chilly evening, as one guard held the reins in tight grasp, poised to command the monsters. Walton, always watchful, rode alongside Ben and Anna, a quiet guardian protecting the royal family's exit without flaw.

Sliding into the carriage, Victor settled beside Ania, their shoulders touching, his hand still grasping hers as if he didn't want to lose the moment. Her eyes darted to him for an instant, a gentle smile playing on the edge of her mouth, before she gazed out the window, entranced by the golden light pouring over the Lionheart Kingdom. Walton's voice broke softly through the silence. "My King… my Queen… permission to proceed with the Prince and Princess?

"

Ben and Anna exchanged a brief glance before inclining their heads together, their expression a mixture of pride and warmth. "Granted," they said in perfect unison, the firmness in their tone tempered by affection. With a subtle nod, Walton signaled to the driver. The carriage started to move, gliding smoothly over the stones, the horses' steps measured, rhythmic, near ceremonial. Victor sat back a little, his gaze wandering out along the horizon, savoring the way the sun set the kingdom afire with amber and gold. Ania's gentle laughter and subdued chatter filled the walled interior of the carriage, a pleasant contrast to the controlled clatter of hooves without.

Guards marched on either side of them, their burnished armor glowing in the fading light, each step deliberate, unshakeable, a quiet vow of defense as the royal couple departed.

The way in front of them took them towards the Suncrest compound, hope vibrating through the air. Victor's chest constricted with a beat that was half duty, half curiosity, and half something darker, something that tugged at the fringes of his mind with a slow, persistent tug. Each revolution of the carriage wheels seemed to resonate with the soft promise of what was to come—a blend of trials, meetings, and acquaintance that could alter all he believed he knew. The estate stretched out in front of them, its walls glowing like it had been carved from gold, and with each minute, Victor's tension increased, a luscious pain that couldn't be shaken. He gave a quick look at Ania, her eyes already on the far gates, and in that mutual silence, there flashed between them a spark of comprehension—a silent recognition that what was to come would be more than trappings and duty.

The perfume of flowers from the gardens of the estate wafted lightly towards the carriage, carried on the warm air, and in its essence, Victor sensed the low tingle of excitement—and hunger—winding through him. Each sense was made more acutely alive, each pulse attuned to the promise of the unknown, as if the estate itself had beckoned them onward, challenging them to come over its threshold.

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