"Why is it not simple?" Varuna pinched the little prince's thigh bringing him back from his reverie.

When her little brother looked dazed, she sighed and reminded, "The war! Why is it not simple?"

Vajradandaka shook his head, unwilling to go into detail. Instead, he said, "Fourth sister, I don't agree with you about what you said. You may travel the world in one day or even a few hours if the right conditions are met, but you cannot conquer the land you traveled, neither can you protect what you have conquered based on that principle." Shaking his head, he looked into her vibrant eyes, saying, "Varu, you should take me seriously. The world is very, very large! And sometimes when storms on the scale of even a quarter of the conquered world arise, little kingdoms like ours will vanish in the dust as if they had never been there in the first place."

Blinking her big eyes while cutely resting her chin on her knuckles, the nine-year old girl considered her little brother for a moment. She didn't know what makes him say these ominous words.

Something about the barbarians is bothering him, but he won't tell me. Is it because I'm a girl? Hmph! See how I dig it out of you very soon. Brat!

White teeth shining like pearls, the little princess smiled brightly, "Alright, tell me."

"Tell you?"

"Dumbo, tell me about the wide world. Tell me what all grandfather told you about."

"Alright!" the boy excitedly turned around and faced her, his small hands weaving big gestures as he excitedly told her lots of things.

"…And in the east, there is a culture where all men are intellectuals. Their entire days are spent in tea houses and restaurants. Grandfather had a painting. It depicts a scene in a restaurant where all the tables were filled with pasty looking men with droopy shoulders. It's like they find sitting straight too much of a chore. Grandfather said they look at it as unfashionable to sit straight or rigid. Even their warriors become lazy when they sit in these tea houses."

"Really? He he!" the little girl put her hand on her mouth producing tickling laughter.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Um-hm, it's true! However, this culture only looks sloppy on the outside. If any a time, an outsider were to cause trouble, these soft and refined men can become quite firm and unite against the outsider."

"Oh, is it?"

"Yeah…they have their own cliques and complex hierarchies. Even though the culture seems quite open to travelers, outside traders find it very difficult to make a profit there. People of this culture seem carefree and somewhat degenerate, but they are actually of highly alert minds and are intellectually united. They are very smart! Situated on high mountains, filled with fog, this place is easy to defend and difficult to attack. It is a flourishing culture in one of the major trade routes between the northern highlands and the rest of the mainland. So it is prosperous as well."

"How interesting…" the girl was genuinely drawn in.

"Oh, and sister, do you know who is the most beautiful race of all according to grandfather?"

"Who? Who? Do they have great heroes?!" the girl asked, stars shining in her eyes thinking of any potential beau.

"Of course, they have heroes. Even Adityas are wary of that race's bravery!"

"What?!" the little girl nearly brushed him off, thinking he was joking. "Please! Who can be more brave than an Aditya warrior?"

Little Cactus who had heard about the detailed descriptions of several warrior races and their origins from his grandfathers, knew that the Adityas didn't rank too high in the charts of bravery. After all, there were those rage-known and fear-known cultures that can trump all other types of cultures in the aspect of birthing heroes. However, he wouldn't be the one to dispel the delusions of his sister about bravery and heroism. If he did, it may as well that she would go outside the drylands to seek a husband. That would be disastrous!

"I'm not saying they are more brave than an Aditya," the child said cleverly, "Just that their valiance had been noted by the Adityas as well."

"Alright, don't keep me in suspense. Which is the race with most beautiful men who are also great heroes?"

His lips pursed naughtily, Vajradandaka replied lightly, "The desert nomads."

Momentarily, the little girl was disoriented. And then she shrieked, jumping to her feet. She kicked her brother for destroying her premature spring dreams. "You…pig! Yuck! Everybody knows the barbarians are uglier than hill buffaloes."

"Ha ha ha ha!" Vajradandaka dodged, carefully planting his feet so he would be able to catch his sister in case she slips. "Ha ha ha ha. But Varu, you didn't listen to the whole story. I said desert nomads. I didn't say barbarians…"

"Hmm!" the little girl paused and frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You see, not all tribes among the barbarians are warmongers. Among the barbarian invaders, there are seventeen to twenty separate tribes that are known to us already."

"Of course," Varunapriya put her hands on her waist, giving her brother dangerous looks.

"But there are dozens, even hundreds that we do not know about as far as the desert stretches in the west. Even grandfather was not about to scale the lengths of it to the end."

"What's your point?!"

"Grandfather said that we have only seen the people from the warmongering tribes, who because of their hardened practices like constant sun exposure and lack of hygiene look somewhat disgusting. But going further in, he came across tribes who are quite sweet and sociable. It was then that he realised that these fair faced nomads are actually quite beautiful. Their light eyes and glowing skin with soft brown hair, make them look like delicate creatures from heaven."

"Only the things that they do are nothing heavenly! Just the opposite!" the little girl harrumphed angrily in return for being fooled.

Fishing from his stash, the little prince produced a piece of white leather on which a barbarian hunter was portrayed sitting on his horse. Wearing clothes and shoes that were carefully embroidered by the women, showing off colorful feathers on his lapel, he looked quite dashing.