The air flew gently, carrying the glitters of sunlight through the radiant pink leaves. The hill rose gently above the valley below, crowned by an enchanting grove of oak trees whose blossoms cascaded like silken curtains around a clearing. Each breeze rustled the branches tenderly, scattering petals in graceful arcs that floated softly to the grass, where they rested like fallen stars.

At the center of this peaceful scene, energetic sounds filled the air. The landscape framed a lively gathering: dozens of figures dotted the hilltop, their clothing simple yet pristine, clearly marking them as servants and attendants of varying ages, from wide-eyed children watching with awe to elderly caretakers observing with amused dignity.

In their midst, vibrant as the core of a flame, stood a young man no older than sixteen. His white hair flowed long, catching the soft pink reflections of the blossoms, framing a face that, despite youth, carried the unmistakable weight of noble confidence. He wore simple clothes, loose trousers and a fitted tunic, both ivory-white, and in his hand he held a wooden sword polished smooth by countless bouts.

Surrounding him stood ten knights, each broad-shouldered, seasoned, bearing their own wooden blades. Their armor glinted dully under the filtered sunlight, marking their strength and experience. Their stances were cautious yet aggressive, respectful but determined to prove themselves against the agile prince.

"Are you gentlemen certain you don't need to rest first?" the youth asked, voice playful but edged with sly provocation. "Or perhaps you worry your wives might see me embarrass you again?"

Several knights chuckled softly, others grumbled beneath their helmets. "Careful, young prince," warned a grizzled veteran knight. "Your station only protects you so far."

The boy smiled. "Then show me precisely how far, Sir Adrick."

The knight surged forward, blade sweeping low with practiced power. Immediately, others joined, swords swinging from multiple angles: above, beside, behind…

Yet the prince moved as if guided by the wind itself. With elegant ease, he sidestepped Adrick's sweeping strike, his body twisting gracefully. A second knight lunged forward, sword descending sharply, but the young noble met this advance with a graceful parry, blade sliding fluidly along his opponent's weapon, redirecting its force away and into empty air.

Another knight swung from behind, aiming to exploit an opening. The prince ducked swiftly, the wooden sword whistling mere inches over his silken white hair, petals scattered dramatically by the breeze from the missed blow. Laughing with pure exhilaration, he spun lightly on the balls of his feet, his body flowing like water, smoothly evading each coordinated strike.

"Too slow, gentlemen! Are your arms tired from polishing your armor?" he teased, dancing lightly between two knights whose frustrated swords clattered together harmlessly.

Adrick surged back into the fray, adjusting tactics, attempting a feint before striking. Yet the youth saw through it effortlessly, feigning acceptance of the ruse only to gracefully slip past at the last moment, tapping Adrick's armored shoulder lightly with his blade.

"Your wife would expect better, Sir Adrick," he joked, eyes sparkling mischievously as laughter rippled through the servants gathered around.

Determination hardened among the knights; they coordinated silently, surrounding him again, adjusting spacing and timing. Their renewed assault was breathtakingly synchronized, ten blades moving like clockwork. Yet still, the young prince remained untouched.

His style was poetry in motion. He never attacked first, nor did he seek dominance through brute force. Instead, he guided, redirected, deflected, flowing seamlessly from defense to playful mockery. Each dodge seemed choreographed by fate itself, each parry appearing effortless, an elegant conversation between bodies and blades.

One knight swung horizontally, aiming to trip his opponent, but the prince simply vaulted into the air, spinning neatly as petals cascaded around him, landing with catlike elegance. Another knight jabbed straight forward, certain this would pin the agile youth, but again the prince deflected the thrust gently, leading it to intersect harmlessly with another knight's strike.

"Perhaps you'd have better luck dueling the petals," he teased, twirling lightly away from another strike.

Yet even amidst his effortless movements, there was a tangible respect. The prince's eyes never left his opponents, carefully observing each stance, each motion. He offered each knight an acknowledging nod or a playful comment, never allowing his obvious superiority to bleed into disrespect.

He spun again, drawing his wooden blade upward in a sweeping motion that delicately guided two knights' blades into each other with a wooden clack, drawing amused sighs from onlookers. "Do you see? You are your own fiercest opponents," he laughed softly, the sound blending harmoniously with the whispering leaves.

As the bout continued, the knights' frustration evolved into genuine admiration. Their blows grew heavier, their steps quicker, determination etched deep into their faces. Still, the prince remained untouched.

The oldest knight stepped back, breathing heavily, nodding respectfully. "Enough," he declared warmly, "We yield, Prince. Your defense remains peerless."

The prince halted gracefully, his blade lowered respectfully, eyes gentle yet lively with joy. "Well fought, my friends. Perhaps next time, bring your wives. They might fare better!"

Laughter burst openly from the knights, their earlier irritation melting entirely under the sunlit humor. Servants applauded gently, smiling knowingly at the spirited noble, whose kindness tempered his playful barbs.

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As the knights moved off, some shaking their heads in bemused disbelief, the prince turned thoughtfully toward the blossoming trees, the wind gently catching his hair and swirling petals around him. His gaze softened, tracing the delicate dance of petals drifting through the golden air.

Then, from behind one of the pink oak trees emerged a striking figure. Tall, slender yet powerful, with a graceful stride that spoke of effortless authority, the newcomer's appearance instantly commanded silence throughout the camp. His long, black hair cascaded down broad shoulders, contrasting starkly with his bright crimson eyes, piercingly intense yet warmly amused. He wore attire similar to the white-haired prince, simple yet impeccable, revealing a physique honed by years of training and battle.

In one hand, he casually held a small blade, and in the other, a ripe, vibrant tomato which he peeled with meticulous ease. The camp fell utterly silent as all eyes turned toward him. The women blushed furiously, the children stared wide-eyed, mouths agape as though witnessing a hero of legends, and even the seasoned knights visibly straightened with renewed respect and admiration. His aura effortlessly eclipsed the earlier spectacle of combat.

The white-haired prince's brows knitted slightly, irritation flickering across his youthful face. Ordinarily, such an intrusion would have earned swift reprimand, even combat, as this was his moment. But the sharp edge of annoyance quickly melted into a warm, reluctant amusement. This intruder was one of the few people in the world he would gladly surrender the spotlight to, his closest friend.

The older teen finished peeling the tomato with a final graceful movement, spinning the blade casually between his fingers in a fluid display of skill. The children gasped audibly, eyes filled with awe, their earlier admiration for the younger prince momentarily forgotten. He flashed a charming smile, then tossed the knife in a smooth arc, embedding it neatly into the nearest tree trunk. He winked mischievously at the female cooks, who turned away hastily, giggling softly, faces flushed crimson.

With a carefree confidence, he took a bite from the tomato, savoring it visibly, then directed his gaze toward the younger prince. He chewed thoughtfully, eyes sparkling with playful mischief before finally addressing him with affectionate warmth.

"Impressive display, young prince of Shabab—Sabel Stoorm!" he announced, his voice richly teasing, emphasizing the word 'young' deliberately.

Sabel's eye twitched slightly at the subtle jab, irritation surging briefly within him. Yet his lips curled into a sly, respectful smile as he bowed mockingly deep. "Your words are too kind, venerable prince of Nebrosa—Kaiser Dios," he replied smoothly, placing heavy, deliberate emphasis on 'venerable.'

Now it was Kaiser's turn to visibly bristle, eyes narrowing slightly at the playful insult. But annoyance quickly dissolved into fondness, laughter sparkling warmly in his eyes as he approached his friend. They closed the distance swiftly, ignoring noble etiquette entirely. Instead of formal bows or handshakes, they clasped hands tightly, each pulling the other into a hearty embrace.

Almost immediately, however, Sabel recoiled sharply, confusion flashing across his face. Kaiser burst into hearty laughter, holding up the ruined tomato, now crushed, juices seeping through his fingers and staining Sabel's pristine tunic.

"Sabel, my dear friend," Kaiser teased warmly, eyes gleaming with mischief, "I fear you'll need another tunic."

Sabel glanced at the crimson-stained fabric and shook his head ruefully, fighting back a reluctant smile. "Leave it to you, Kaiser, to find new ways of ruining my clothes."

Kaiser grinned broadly, unabashed. "You should thank me. Red suits you far better than white."

Chuckles rippled softly through the crowd, and even Sabel couldn't hold back his laughter. He gave Kaiser a playful shove. "Still as insufferable as ever. How do your knights tolerate you?"

Kaiser shrugged grandly, raising his chin with exaggerated dignity. "With great patience and even greater admiration, naturally. It's hardly their fault I'm charming enough to forgive."

"Or perhaps," Sabel retorted smoothly, eyes glinting, "They simply fear your endless sermons on duty and discipline. Truly, Kaiser, how do you manage to stay awake through your own lectures?"

Kaiser laughed freely, shaking his head in mock despair. "Your wit remains sharper than your blade, Sabel. Perhaps someday your swordsmanship will match your tongue."

"I fear such perfection would leave no hope for anyone else," Sabel replied lightly, eyes crinkling warmly.

Around them, the servants and knights watched the banter with amusement, quietly appreciating the rare, easy camaraderie between the two princes. It was clear to anyone watching that beneath their playful insults lay a deep reservoir of trust and affection, forged through years of shared experiences.

As their laughter faded gently into companionable silence, Kaiser's expression grew briefly serious, his voice softening. "It is good to see you, Sabel. Truly. Your visits have become far too rare."

Sabel smiled gently, nodding in quiet agreement. "Far too rare indeed. The kingdom grows busier by the day, and father's demands never ease." He paused briefly, a touch of melancholy clouding his gaze before quickly vanishing behind his confident mask. "Yet I wouldn't miss this for anything. Your knights grow more skilled each visit. They might even teach you something one day."

Kaiser rolled his eyes affectionately, cuffing Sabel lightly on the shoulder. "When that day comes, perhaps I'll retire and leave my crown to you. You've always coveted Nebrosa's peaceful fields and quiet valleys."

Sabel laughed quietly, his gaze warm. "And deprive Nebrosa of its brightest star? Never."

The two princes stood shoulder to shoulder, gazing out over the idyllic clearing, pink blossoms dancing gently around them like confetti celebrating their reunion. Servants resumed their tasks quietly, children continued playing with renewed enthusiasm, and the knights returned to their practice with heightened vigor, inspired by the bonds of loyalty and friendship they witnessed.

"Do you remember when we first met, Kaiser?" Sabel asked quietly, voice filled with nostalgia.

Kaiser smiled softly, eyes distant yet warm. "How could I forget? You fell out of a tree right onto me, ruining a perfectly good tunic."

Sabel chuckled softly. "Always the clothes. One would think you a tailor, not a prince."

"Even princes must have their hobbies," Kaiser replied easily, nudging Sabel lightly with his shoulder.

"True enough," Sabel conceded gently. "You know, sometimes I miss those simpler days, climbing trees and evading our tutors. We felt invincible then."

Kaiser glanced sideways, voice thoughtful. "Perhaps we still are, so long as we stand together."

Sabel's expression softened deeply, eyes glowing warmly with unspoken gratitude. "Indeed. So long as we stand together."

For a long moment, silence wrapped comfortably around them, two princes bound by friendship, shared memories, and unbreakable trust.

Then Kaiser straightened, clapping Sabel heartily on the back, his earlier mischief returning. "Now, enough sentimentality, old friend. Shall we spar? Or has your time away dulled your sword?"

Sabel's eyes sparked with challenge, a grin spreading slowly across his lips. "Oh, I assure you, Kaiser, my sword remains as sharp as ever. It seems a lesson is overdue."

Laughing freely, the two friends moved toward the clearing, calling for fresh wooden blades. The camp watched in quiet admiration, the air humming gently with anticipation and affection, understanding fully that what unfolded now would be more than mere practice, it would be a renewal of friendship, bound eternally by trust and respect.

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