The sun had barely risen when Angelo ran down the stairs, dragging a suitcase almost as big as himself. The zipper was crooked, half of his clothes spilling out, and his expression was a mix of tension, excitement, and pure youthful energy.
"Dad! Everything's ready!" he shouted, pushing the suitcase toward the door.
Esmond appeared right behind him, running a hand through his hair, that calm expression of someone who wakes up without hurry because they already know what's coming.
"You're way too excited for a royal invitation," he commented with a laugh.
"A summons from the Queen, Dad! This doesn't happen every day," Angelo replied, out of breath but grinning. "And we're taking the jet, right? Let's go before this excitement wears off!"
Esmond took a deep breath, about to say something, when a familiar voice came from outside.
"Um… Mr. Esmond! Young Angelo!"
Sofi — the messenger who had nearly fainted delivering the invitation yesterday — reappeared, this time much calmer… but clearly carrying some bad news.
"I'm very sorry… this is entirely my fault. I should have told you yesterday," he said, hands pressed together in apology. "We won't be going by car."
Angelo froze at the door.
"What?"
Sofi straightened up.
"The Queen insisted that the journey be made in a private jet."
There was a half-second pause of silence.
"A PRIVATE JET?!" Angelo yelled, eyes wide. "That's insane! I don't think I've ever been on a private jet in my life!"
Esmond patted his shoulder with a sly smile.
"Never? You were on one two months ago."
Angelo blinked, tried to remember for a moment… and gave up.
"Ah… reliving moments is part of life," he muttered, excitement returning full force.
The three of them made their way to the car that would take them to the private terminal. Along the way, Esmond threw a glance at his son's improvised suitcase.
"Do you have enough clothes in there? You can't show up in front of the Queen looking like you just woke up inside a volcano."
"Hey! There's nothing wrong with my style!"
Esmond chuckled mischievously.
"And besides… there might be some pretty ladies at the castle. You wouldn't want to look unpresentable."
Angelo almost tripped over his own feet.
"Ladies? Dad, please! I'm fourteen! I just want to beat you one day. After that… maybe I'll think about these things. Don't corrupt my innocence!"
Esmond burst out laughing.
Sofi, walking behind them, watched the scene completely absorbed. In his mind, confusion reigned: I've never seen anything like this. They're… strange. But… it works?
The drive to the private hangar lasted only a few minutes.
When they arrived, Angelo came to an abrupt stop. Esmond paused too — just to enjoy his son's reaction.
Before them stood the most elegant jet they had ever seen.
A sleek, white aircraft, smooth as porcelain, cut by bright yellow lines tracing the fuselage. The nose was sharp, almost predatory, and the wings housed reinforced engines — clearly capable of speeds far beyond ordinary.
"Wow…" Angelo whispered almost reverently.
"Not bad," admitted Esmond.
"This jet belongs to Frostrion AeroWorks," Sofi explained, pride in his voice. "They provide direct service to the Royal House. The Queen had it prepared exclusively for you."
Angelo didn't even try to hide his smile.
Esmond rested a hand on his son's head.
"Go. Enjoy it. Opportunities like this don't fall from the sky every day."
Angelo ran toward the folding stairs, climbing two steps at a time, unable to hide his excitement. Esmond followed more calmly, savoring the boy's joy.
Sofi entered last, closing the door behind him.
The jet roared to life on the runway…
…its engines thundered…
…and in less than a minute, they were airborne.
The landscape of Luna Lume disappeared like a folded map.
Less than twenty minutes later — thanks to supersonic technology — they could already see, in the distance, the gleaming white walls of the Supreme Royal City, surrounded by the gentle glow that always marked the presence of the House of Hope.
"Towards the House of Hope," Angelo murmured, still marveling at the jet when Sofi appeared again, now more hurried.
"Mr. Esmond! Young Angelo!" he called, gesturing left. "Please, follow me. On your left, you'll see the private landing area. That's where the Queen's attendants will meet you for the final approach."
Angelo's eyes sparkled with curiosity.
In the distance, the Supreme Royal City sprawled magnificently, white walls glinting in the sun, towers reaching skyward, and the unmistakable aura of history and authority emanating from every corner.
"Wow… the city is incredible," Angelo whispered, unable to tear his gaze away.
Esmond smiled.
"Yes. You've never really seen the Queen. I hope this time is different."
Angelo puffed out his chest.
"It will be! Even if I have to step into the royal hall and see her in person!"
Esmond quickly turned to him.
"Hold on, warrior! You can't just storm into the royal hall!"
Angelo laughed.
"I know, I'm joking. But I really do want to see her."
Esmond ruffled his hair affectionately.
Inside the jet, they soared above the city. Wide, luxurious leather seats, large windows framing the sprawling city below, sunlight dancing across the polished interior.
As they approached the landing zone, the jet descended smoothly, cutting the air like a knife. With a gentle glide, it touched down on the private runway, engines slowing, the fuselage vibrating softly with the impact.
The doors opened, and Angelo was the first to step out.
The warm air of the Royal City touched his face. He lifted his head… and the House of Hope filled his vision.
"Wow…" he murmured, almost in disbelief. "I've been here before… but it never gets old."
Esmond, stepping out behind him, smiled proudly at his son's reaction.
Before them, the House of Hope towered with an imposing presence that seemed to transcend eras. Ancient yet modern, harmonizing architectural styles that, in theory, should never have worked together — but here, they did.
The main structure evoked classic castles from ancient mythologies: high towers, white walls, banners fluttering in the wind. Yet at the center stood something no ordinary castle possessed: a colossal circular column, white as marble, inspired by the ancient Temple of Jerusalem. Its top was a perfect dome, gleaming in the sun.
This contrasted with the modern wing on the right: walls of specialized glass, elegant metal structures, straight and curved lines defying traditional engineering. The combination was bizarre yet breathtaking.
The surrounding gardens completed the view: meticulously pruned trees, crystal-clear fountains, flowers arranged in geometric patterns only visible from above. Angelo absorbed every detail, enchanted.
Meanwhile…
"Nnnngh…!"
Behind them, Sofi struggled desperately to drag Angelo's suitcase. It seemed as heavy as lead. He grabbed the handle, pulled, his body tilting dangerously backward… almost toppling… but managed one step.
A single step.
It seemed to consume his entire being.
"Okay… just… thirty more meters…" he said, utterly exhausted.
Another step. Then another. Each a journey of pain and effort.
Finally, he dropped the suitcase, panting, almost collapsing to his knees.
"This is impossible… it… it weighs at least four hundred kilos…"
Two castle guards rushed to help. Even with three people, moving the suitcase required immense effort — leaving Sofi baffled. What on earth is in this thing? Rocks? Armor? A meteorite?
Angelo barely noticed. He continued staring at the castle, eyes shining.
"Well… I hope I finally get to see the Queen this time," he said, excited.
Esmond chuckled.
"Yes. You've never truly seen her. I hope this time is different."
Angelo straightened his back.
"It will be! Even if I have to walk into the royal hall myself!"
Esmond laughed, ruffling his hair.
With Sofi trailing behind — practically dragged by the assistants — and the suitcase carried like a cursed artifact impossible to move, the three walked down the wide marble corridor leading to the castle.
The massive doors opened…
…and they stepped across the threshold, officially entering the House of Hope.
As soon as they passed through, Angelo felt the air change. It wasn't just the temperature — it was as if the very atmosphere carried centuries of history. The interior of the castle was even grander than its exterior.