The castle gates opened wide, and nearly twenty knights stepped into the courtyard together, their armor clinking, banners fluttering, and boots echoing against the cobblestones. Laughter and voices rang across the open space as the group wove toward the main hall, a mix of tall, broad men and lean, wiry fighters. Evander Ashford moved with his closest friends— Garrick Thorne, Lionel Drax, and Halric Veyren—walking shoulder-to-shoulder among the commotion.
Garrick stopped abruptly, jaw dropping slightly. "Wait… you really weren't joking about this place?" he asked, eyes darting to the massive stone walls and towers Evander had described countless times back in high school.
Evander chuckled. "I told you I used to visit here as a kid. Played in these halls with the princes."
Lionel's eyebrows shot up. "No way… you weren't serious back then!"
Halric shook his head, staring around in awe. "And here I thought you were making it up to look cool."
Evander grinned. "See? Not lying. Now you can finally believe me."
The friends laughed, shaking their heads, marveling at the castle that had existed in Evander's stories but seemed larger and more imposing in person. Other knights glanced at the trio and the boy they were finally realizing had actually known royalty as a child, smirking or raising eyebrows at the revelation.
The group moved into the main hall, where King Hendrix Whitmore and Queen Isolde waited near the grand windows. King Hendrix's presence was immediately commanding—broad-shouldered, deep-voiced, and impossibly focused—but there was warmth in his eyes when they landed on Evander.
"Well, if it isn't Evander," the King said, his deep voice carrying across the hall. "It's good to see you back."
Evander bowed slightly. "Your Majesty. It is good to be home."
Queen Isolde stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Evander, you've grown into a fine young man. The castle has missed you."
Behind him, Garrick, Lionel, and Halric exchanged quiet jokes. Garrick nudged Evander. "Guess all your stories weren't tall tales after all."
Lionel leaned in. "I admit it… you really did know the princes. Color me impressed."
Halric chuckled. "Don't get cocky. We've got twenty knights here—plenty of competition."
Evander simply smiled, adjusting his armor. He didn't need to be the center of attention; the castle felt familiar, alive, and chaotic in exactly the way he remembered from childhood stories.
From the doorway, Victor appeared, practically bouncing with excitement. "Evander! Finally! You're here!"
Evander bent slightly to greet him. "Victor. Still full of energy, I see."
Victor grabbed his arm and tugged him toward a corridor. "Come on! I'll show you all the new things! The training yard's changed, the fountain's—oh, you'll see. Everything's different!"
As they passed, a quiet figure leaned against a wall—Princess Isabella, book in hand. She glanced at Evander briefly, expression flat, and returned to her reading.
"I don't see what all the fuss is about," she muttered softly, more to herself than anyone else.
Victor groaned in mock frustration. "Come on, Isa! Don't act like you're not even a little curious!"
"I'm not," Isabella replied flatly, eyes glued to her page.
Evander simply nodded politely. He had expected her indifference—after all, they had never really met.
The group of knights fanned out through the hall, joking and nudging one another. Some high-ranking knights moved with confidence, commanding glances from servants and younger knights alike, while Evander stayed with his friends, laughing quietly as Garrick teased him about his armor, Lionel mocked Halric's stance, and the others bickered in good humor.
Commander Sir Darius Veyron, tall and imposing, strode forward, his voice steady and commanding. "Knights of the crown, welcome to Whitmore Castle. Serve with honor, and the kingdom will remember your deeds."
Several of the higher-ranking knights bowed, nodding in acknowledgment, their reputations preceding them. Evander stayed with his group, feeling a quiet sense of camaraderie and relief at being surrounded by friends who genuinely knew him.
Victor continued dragging him through the hallways, pointing out changes. "Look, the library's bigger now! And they moved the training dummies to the east yard—you've got to see it. Oh, and the fountain Garrick nearly fell into last week!"
Evander smiled, walking patiently alongside him. "You never change, do you?"
Victor grinned, bouncing slightly on his feet. "Never! Someone's got to keep the castle lively."
Meanwhile, Isabella moved quietly through the hall, occasionally passing by, still reading her book. Evander noticed her indifference but paid no mind. She wasn't part of his world yet, and that was fine.
The knights continued exploring the castle together, testing swords, sharing stories, and joking among themselves. Evander's friends teased him endlessly, while Garrick, Lionel, and Halric showed off small tricks learned in their training, prompting laughter and playful mock challenges.
By afternoon, the knights had been introduced to various parts of the castle—the armory, training yard, stables, and the kitchens, where the cooks rolled their eyes at the noise. Evander watched as the castle came alive under the energy of twenty knights, Victor darting from one group to another, and Isabella silently moving through the background.
Evening came, and the knights gathered in their quarters, sprawled across benches and floor cushions, recounting their day with laughter and exaggeration. Evander leaned against a window frame, gazing out at the courtyard, the familiar stones and towers bathed in golden light.
For the first time in years, he felt truly back where he belonged—surrounded by friends, welcomed by family, and part of the lively, chaotic life of Whitmore Castle. Isabella, meanwhile, returned to her books, indifferent for now—but always watching.
And somewhere deep down, Evander knew that while the princess didn't care at the moment, the threads of connection were already quietly beginning to weave between them.