Before the Norses could leave the estate, two ornate carriages—deep crimson, each emblazoned with Prince Alaric's golden crest—rolled through the wrought-iron gates, flanked by a small but heavily armed royal escort. The horses snorted and pawed at the gravel, their harnesses glinting in the sun.
Out stepped Prince Alaric, regal in a fitted navy cloak, his silver insignia catching the light. But it was the two figures behind him that made Gideon's eyes narrow in disbelief.
Gideon strode forward. "Your Highness," he greeted with a respectful bow, before turning to the unexpected guests. "Master Hephastus. Matthias. What brings you here?"
Hephastus had taken him as his apprentice.
"We heard about what happened in the court yesterday when you presented the bike model," Matthias said with concern. "We are worried."
"Don't worry. We will take care of it today." Gideon invited the guests inside and asked the servant to serve tea.
