The carriage wheels rumbled softly along the stone-paved road, each turn humming through the wooden frame like the rhythm of a gentle drum. Beyond the window, the world stretched wide and alive — green hills rolled lazily toward the horizon, dotted with windmills and grazing oxen, while streaks of sunlight spilled through drifting clouds like threads of gold.
Klein leaned halfway out of the window, letting the wind tousle his newly cut crimson hair. "Ah, freedom smells better when you're not inside the training yard," he said with a grin.
Lucien sat across from him, arms folded, the faintest sign of amusement flickering in his calm eyes. "Freedom also smells like horse sweat and dust, Klein. Sit properly before you fall out."
Klein plopped back into his seat with a huff. "You sound just like Lyra."
"That means she's rubbing off on you," Lucien replied smoothly.
Paros chuckled in his head. 'Or maybe you're rubbing off on her. Either way, one of you will end up with the other's bad habits.'
"Hey," Klein muttered under his breath, "whose side are you on again?"
'I don't do sides,' Paros replied. 'And a boy dangling out of a moving carriage is a fine way to test gravity.'
"SHUT IT!" Klein audibly said, reacting to Paros bickering.
Lucien arched a brow. "Talking to your invisible friend again?"
Klein coughed awkwardly. "It's called multitasking."
Lucien shook his head, though there was warmth behind the exasperation. "When I was your age, I didn't talk to spirits, only to my sword."
"Did your sword talk back?"
"No."
"Then that's just sad."
Lucien smiled faintly. "You're lucky that friend of yours tolerates your chatter."
"'Tolerates'? He loves it," Klein said, tapping his temple. "He'd be lonely without me."
'Correction,' Paros said dryly. 'I would experience a newfound peace.'
Klein snorted aloud, earning a curious glance from the passing driver up front.
....
Hours slipped by as the carriage followed the winding river road. Merchants trundled past with laden wagons, their bells jingling in uneven rhythm. Farmers waved as the insignia of the Azure Crest caught the sunlight. Occasionally, Lucien would lift the curtain to glance outside — the disciplined habit of a soldier who never truly relaxed.
Klein watched him for a moment. "You've been staring at the same hill for ten minutes. Expecting ambush?"
"Expecting life," Lucien answered simply. "The road teaches patience. Every bend hides something new — sometimes danger, sometimes beauty."
"That's deep," Klein said. "You sure you weren't a poet before becoming a knight?"
Lucien's lips curved slightly. "If I was, I've long since run out of rhymes."
'That was poetic,' Paros said approvingly. 'Perhaps your mentor has more heart in him than you do.'
"Don't start," Klein whispered.
Lucien glanced at him. "Don't start what?"
"Uh… nothing."
The older man chuckled quietly, leaning back. "You'll need that quick tongue when the priests question you tomorrow. They'll want to test not just your mana, but your composure."
Klein puffed out his chest. "I'm ready. Bring on the glowing stones and chanting old men."
Paros sighed. 'You have the subtlety of a goblin drummer.'
"At least I'm entertaining," Klein replied under his breath.
The road narrowed as they entered the forest pass — tall cedars flanking both sides, their canopies weaving together overhead like a cathedral of green glass. The afternoon light broke through in scattered beams, dappling Lucien's armor with shifting gold.
Klein whistled. "If the temple's half as pretty as this, I might actually start believing in gods."
"Careful," Lucien said lightly. "The priests take offense when travelers say things like that before arriving at their doorstep."
Klein chuckled. "Then I'll blame it on Paros."
'Absolutely not,' Paros objected. 'The last time someone blamed me, an entire monastery collapsed.'
Klein blinked. "Wait, what—"
Lucien raised an eyebrow. "Something you'd like to share?"
"That friend of yours said something interesting?"
Klein coughed. "Just… dragon history stuff. Complicated."
"Mm." Lucien let it pass, though a knowing glint lingered in his eyes. "You really are a mystery sometimes."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Depends on how tomorrow goes."
....
By evening, the forest gave way to open plains. Far ahead, rising like a crown of silver and marble, stood Ostina, capital of Avalor — its spires piercing the orange sky, banners fluttering lazily in the sunset. The city's silhouette shimmered against the dying light, and atop the highest terrace stood the High Temple, its white domes gleaming as if touched by the heavens themselves.
Klein leaned out again, his earlier fatigue forgotten. "Whoa… everytime I come here, my mind just keeps getting blown."
Lucien watched the city quietly. "The heart of the kingdom," he said. "And where your next journey begins."
Paros hummed low in Klein's mind, the tone almost reverent. 'Do you feel it? The air here hums with anticipation. It knows what's about to awaken inside you.'
"Yh, nice glaze."
Klein's chest tightened — excitement, fear, wonder all twisting together.
As the carriage rattled through the marble gates of Ostina, the last rays of sunlight painted the temple in gold. Bells rang softly in the distance, announcing evening prayer.
Lucien rested a hand on Klein's shoulder. "Tomorrow, your life changes."
Klein nodded, his crimson hair catching the fading light like a small, steady flame. "Then let's make it worth it."
The carriage rolled up the long ascent toward the High Temple.
And as the great doors came into view, carved with dragons and ancient runes, the world seemed to hold its breath.