Year 1653, Martial Era of the Arcaria Empire.
Clouds cleared the sky, letting the tint of blue grace those who walked on the earth. The sun shone brightly, but its soft rays only brought warmth to one's skin. It was the perfect weather for the first day of festivities in the empire: a game of hunt.
"Jackson!" Quentin, the crown prince of the empire, laughed as they galloped toward the hunting area. "How about we go further than the hunting area and around the foot of the mountain?"
Jackson, the Duke of the South, glanced at the carefree royalty emotionlessly. When he looked ahead, a glint flickered his eyes.
"Your Highness, watch out!"
Quentin turned ahead before he intuitively pulled the reins.
Neigh!
Shing!
With the abrupt pull, Quentin's steed stomped its feet up off the ground, causing the crown prince to lose his balance. Quentin subsequently fell off of his steed and rolled to the ground.
Thud!
