It’s noon and the princess has just awoken from her rest. He’s been called from his training to perform a dance for her grace, dressed in golden necklaces and flowy bright colored loose pants, and no shirt. She’s always seemed to enjoy his physique so wearing a shirt had become somewhat of a forgotten concept while in the palace. She’s always preferred Zenne dancing, which is what he just finished performing, seemingly effortlessly as she sits across from him, dressed in a gown and enough jewelry to feed a kingdom had she sold it. He’s adorned in gold audible pieces dangling from the waist and of his pants, curtesy of the princess herself. When he’s completed his dance, he stands patiently awaiting either a demand for another one or a new order, either he would be eager to complete. After a moment, he asks in a stoic tone “Was my performance satisfactory, my grace?”