The Butler of Suncrest
A voice echoed across the courtyard—rich, deep, and authoritative, but tempered by a hint of warmth.
"My prince and princess… welcome to the Suncrest estate."
Victor raised his head, attracted to the owner of that voice. At the head of the white marble steps was a man descending with slow elegance. Every step measured out talked of long years of noble service—of a man who'd learned the beat of duty till it was ingrained in his nature. His hair, silvered streaks among it, caught the light of the lantern as if kissed by the moon itself. His face was calm, his features creased not with age but with quiet assurance, born of loyalty and not pride. Underneath the stiffness of his demeanor was a quiet warmth, the kind that existed when one worked not because one had to, but because one believed.
