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Multicolored hair flew through the air as a teenage girl finished reaching for the final apple in one of the local trees.  Her hand reached up, and no matter how much she waved the appendage and tried to grasp it by reaching further and further, the branch simply swayed back and forth as if defying her capabilities, the apple dangling at the end of it.

[color=mediumvioletred][i]Fine.  This is going to have to go by the hard way.[/i][/color]

The girl started shimmying along the branch, which was now bending just slightly due to her bodyweight.  Closer and closer and - there!  The apple entered her hand as she yanked it from one of the capitol's orchards, a smile of brief victory crossing her face as she looked down at the person assisting her.

[i]SNAP[/i]

With a yelp, the princess was sent plummeting towards the earth, crashing into the ground with a solid [i]Thunk.[/i]  The assistant ran over, but breathed a sigh of relief as laughter filled the air rather than a wail of pain, the unharmed apple lifted upwards defiantly as the princess let off a smile despite the scrapes on her arm.  [color=mediumvioletred]"I got it, fear not!"[/color]

The person assisting her for the day simply facepalmed, and the world continued as it was with apples being picked throughout the morning.

[hr]

As she returned to the Palace, the princess was placed in a slightly more formal - and clean - dress, the green fabric flowing comfortably in the slight breeze running through the air.  Soon enough she was wondering the halls, whistling in happiness as she headed into the palaces Yadi, where most people went to spend some time in the fresh air.  A flute was in her hand, which she was ready to play hopefully to the delight of everyone within.  Out of all the roles of the nobility, maintaining a high morale was the most important of them all.

As she entered into the courtyard though, her smile quickly turned into a frown.  Groups that normally interacted openly were instead talking in hushed tones, as if reacting to bad news ...

[color=mediumvioletred][i]Oh please ... not again ...[/i][/color]  This was usually the reaction of her people after a raid of some sort - depressing, sad, and most of all divided in their resolve.  Some were angered, seeking revenge.  Others sought to appease.  The princess herself was unsure of exactly what was going on though, and violet eyes darted around the courtyard in search of someone well informed.

Her gaze fell onto one of the ambassadors for the crown - a young, cheerful, and gregarious man by the name of Virka who was always the life of the party.  He was well liked by most, including the second princess herself.  The noblewoman approached with a slight sense of nervousness, preparing herself for the worst.  [color=mediumvioletred]"Hey ... Virka.  What happened?  Everyone's ... you know ..."[/color]  Her eyes darted around the courtyard, making it obvious what she was referencing about.

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The sixty-odd year old man would have kicked himself for not having been there for the impromptu morning practice that had occurred, but with age comes rest, and he had personally led the guard on a five mile training run around the countryside the previous day, in full armor, while wearing backpacks full of bricks.  Such intense training is what made the country strong, and what made boys into men.

He had led them of course, the younger guards seeming to be unable to keep up.  However, he was getting prouder of them by the year, as they always seemed to be catching up to him, each generation of trainees getting nearer and nearer.

The old man stretched, old bones making various strange sounds as they almost seemed to snap into place.  A morning routine went by, practiced over the years.  The beard groomed, long green tunic thrown over, longsword at his hip - looking at his personal display case though, he debated bringing Sterklinge to breakfast.  It'd give him something to clean while he was there.

Soon enough, the champion entered the dining hall adjacent to the kitchen, sitting himself down at one of the highest ranked tables casually and cleaning his greatsword that seemed like obsidian as it remained still.  Based on the sounds from the kitchen, and the general negative demeanor of the cooks, food would be good this day.  And most importantly, on time.  That hellish servant of the second prince was likely ensuring that everything was cooked to perfection yelling various orders at the ladies working beneath her.