"I was going to give it to her," said Kieran, "but then..."

"Then what happened?"

A shadow fell over his face as Kieran scowled, when he remembered the events. "Pat happened."

Aaron was confused. "Pat? What pat?"

"That Pat," Kieran spat. "That Pat who seems to have been my replacement this past week. That Pat who's still going to be my replacement the next ten days while I sit here thinking about how amazing his hands are. That Patrick Caparo who she so delightfully addressed as Pat."

Aaron was trying to wrap his head around what he had just said. "I'm sorry, but I'm still lost."

"It doesn't make any sense," Kieran said, quickly rising from his chair and facing Aaron. "Let me ask you this, brother. Does it make sense for a woman to choose spending time with a friend instead of her betrothed?".

Aaron knitted his eyebrows. "Hm. Tough question," he said. "If the woman is Elena and her betrothed is you, then it makes perfect sense."

Kieran tilted his head to the side. "Whose side are you on?"

Aaron laughed lightly. "I don't even know the whole story!" he claimed. "Who exactly is Patrick Caparo?"

"No one, just some childhood painter friend of Elena's who popped up at just the right time, with his amazing hands, and made her forget about my absence." Kieran narrowed his eyes. "He is a weasel."

Aaron was thoroughly amused by the situation. "And how did he stop you from giving Elena the necklace?"

"What?"

"You said you'd have given it to her but for Pat. What did Patrick do?"

"He-!" Kieran pursed his lips and threw his hand up in an aggravated yet helpless gesture. "It's just his presence, Aaron. It annoys me. He annoys me. I thought that I would give her the necklace when it would be just her and me. When she'd been waiting for my return the same way I had been waiting to come back to her. When it'd be just us again."

He shook his head. "Pat, however, gives no opportunity for that. He has been hovering around her during my absence and is still hovering around her like a darn housefly. Buzz buzz."

Aaron bent his head, and laughed.

"What is so funny?" Kieran asked, failing to understand his brother's mirth.

Aaron held up a hand, signalling him to wait as he finished laughing.

"Okay, first of all, I'd think he's more like a bee than a housefly because of the subject matter," he pointed out. "And secondly...you are so jealous, Kieran." He grinned as he said this.

"J-Jay...what?"

"Jealous," Aaron repeated. "You're jealous of Patrick Caparo."

Kieran scoffed. "I am not jealous," he said. "I am simply annoyed by him."

"Because you are jealous."

"No," Kieran rejected the notion adamantly. "Jealousy implies that I want to be like him but I cannot, because I lack in some aspects. I do not want to be like Patrick Caparo, nor do I lack in any aspects."

Aaron nodded. "Jealousy also implies that you want something he has but cannot have it," he said. "I wonder what...or who that might be." He gave Kieran a knowing look.

"Yes, I do want Elena," Kieran bluntly said, "but only because it's what I'm entitled to. She is my betrothed so she should pick me."

"See, right there," Aaron pointed at him. "That aspect of possession is the root of your jealousy."

Kieran looked at Aaron for a while, a mixture of surprise and incredulousness on his face. "I...I am not possessive."

"Then stop sounding like it."

Kieran took a step back, and looked to be contemplating. He ran a hand down his face as he let Aaron's words sink in.

"I don't like this," he said. "I don't like this at all."

Aaron watched Kieran, whose eyes were glaring at the floor.

"I know it was the logical choice to let her be with him," Kieran said, "but I don't like how angry it makes me that she'll be with him instead of me. I don't like how bothered I am by it, and I don't like how selfish I sound, because that's not me. The worst part, is that I can't even help how I feel..."

He sighed. "I hate these feelings."

Aaron could pick up on Kieran's current state of turmoil. He was the rational type, especially when it came to women. He was experiencing these kinds of feelings for the first time, and they were blurring out his line of reasoning.

"Kieran, it's okay." He finally spoke up. "Not all emotions need explanations, so it's only natural for you to feel this way. You just need to cool down, and...try not to think about it."

Kieran rolled his eyes. "Easy for you to say," he mumbled and ran his fingers through his hair. "But you are right. I need to take my mind off of this."

Without warning, he started towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Aaron called after him.

"To find work!" He replied as he exited the bed-chamber.

Aaron placed a finger on his chin, thoughtfully.
Eventhough Kieran was experiencing a swarm of emotions, he didn't act on them. That meant he still had some sliver of reason left, and chose not to be irrational about the whole situation.

But the thing was, in order to make him realise why he had those feelings in the first place, and consequently win the bet, Aaron needed Kieran to act on his emotions.

And he knew just the scheming minds to help him do that.

***** ***** *****
Kieran found Joshua sitting at his desk in his private study-chamber, and had him report the current affairs within the Guard, from status of training, to missions, to disciplinary cases. He was more interested in the disciplinary cases.

"Then there's the issue with the Delta province," Joshua said, shuffling the papers in his hand, placing one behind the other.

Kieran, who was standing, placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward. "What about Delta?"

Provinces were settlements for the immigrants. They would live there for a while, until they were groomed and redistributed into the rest of society. Grooming involved being taught Rievelt culture and language as well as history. It was basically a stage one had to pass through in order to become a full-fledged person of the kingdom.

They had the right to choose where to stay when grooming process was complete. Some immigrants chose to leave the province while others chose to remain.

Provinces were under the Crown Prince's administration, and thus his Guard's territory. Soldiers were assigned there for their protection, and it was the governor of the province who had delegated powers over it. The soldiers, however, were strictly answerable to the General and his captains.

Joshua rubbed his eyes - a strain from reading, and said, "I received a report from Governor Neron that the soldiers are being undisciplined,"

He tapped his quill on the table. "A new batch of immigrants came in from Gislow, and the soldiers attempted to turn them away. Neron intervened and settled the newcomers, but contends that the soldiers don't want to guard their quarters at night, and often engage in fights with them."

"And the cause of this is what?"

Joshua's eyes met Kieran's. "The fact that they come from Gislow."

Kieran snorted, already disliking where this was going.

Gislow, by rumours, was a country notorious for its bad luck, courtesy of a curse. It was said that their ancestor cursed the people to have unnaturally pale white skin sensitive to the sun, red eyes, and every hair on their head to be white.

Many thought them a bad omen, so much that whenever on a rare occurrence, a child with the same features was born to someone outside of Gislow, they travelled miles just to abandon them at the borders of the country; a place that saw only winter.

Kieran did not believe in the curse's existence, or that the people were a bad omen. His family and the Prince had found it a hefty task to fight this prejudice within Rievelt - one so daunting it took a good three years to change the mindset of the people. And now the problem was resurfacing yet again. It angered him.

He moved his hands and stood upright as he asked, "Resolution?"

"Captain Aggrey, two other training officers and I are heading over there today to instill some discipline into the rebellious soldiers," Joshua said, clasping his hands onto the table. "According to Neron, they are rookies, so it shouldn't be too hard or take too long."

"I shall come with you." Kieran said, in a low tone.

Joshua leaned back in his seat. He could tell from the look in his eyes that something was seriously eating at him; making him irritated. And it wasn't just the prejudice of the soldiers.

"The disciplinary action process will be faster if I tag along." Kieran reached into the inside of his waist jacket and pulled out a pair of black leather finger less gloves.

A feeling of unease pooled in the pit of Joshua's stomach as he watched him put one glove on.

"I wish to face them as their General and see how long they will last against me." Kieran sounded calm, but it was the kind of calm Joshua interpreted as deathly calm. He wore his other glove. "Two days? One day? Or will one morning be all it takes?"

With the way he was speaking, it seemed he wasn't in the mood to educate by talking it out - which was bad.

Kieran looked up at Joshua, but his eyes were glassy, his focus not on him, but on what he was going to do later.

"Either way, when I am through with them," Kieran cracked his knuckles, the bone-popping sound causing Joshua's eye to twitch, and his tensions to rise. "They won't have anything left to say about Gislow."

And Joshua knew that it was going to be a long trip.

***
The moment Kieran left to pack up, Joshua made his way to Aaron's bed-chamber, where he found the latter standing and chatting happily with Aira.

"Alright, what's the deal with Kieran?" Joshua demanded, nodding towards Aaron.

It was Aira who replied, with a grin, "Dearest brother. You are so going to lose our bet."

From the condescending way in which she said it, Joshua felt a wave of foreboding hit him. Cautiously, he asked, "What the heck happened?"

Aira's grin turned sinister.

***** ***** ***** *****

The next day, Patrick Caparo was at his recently opened art shop. It was decorated with his own crafts and paintings hung on the wall, and clay sculptures and trinkets settled in the shelves on the lower part of the shop.

The upper part, ascended to by two steps, had his personal table and book shelf. A longer table was in the middle of the lower part, and he used this as his workspace. It held some of his art supplies, including his paint brushes and rolls of paper.

Currently, he was at his personal table, reading a book as he waited for the return of his assistant Enrique, who had gone to pick up some parchment.

A rattling sound signalled that someone had walked through his curtain of beads at the door. (There were numerous strings of colourful beads hanging down from the door frame, and formed a makeshift curtain after the door.)

"Enrique, you are back!" Patrick called out, his eyes not leaving the book. When he heard no reply, he looked up and was surprised to see a young girl, not older than fifteen, standing before him.

Her dark hair was in a messy plait, a few strands framing her chubby round face, and she was wearing a pair of breeches, ankle-height woolen boots and a jerkin vest labelled with the emblem of the Prince's Guard on its breast. She also had on brown leather vambraces, and a belt that secured her weapons.

"You are not Enrique." Patrick said.

She tilted her head to the side. "And you are Sir Patrick Caparo, am I right?"

He nodded. "Yes, that is my name. Do you require my artistic services?"

Her eyes twinkled as a small smirk crossed her lips. Keeping her eyes on him, she called out, "Shorty, it's him!"

A man climbed up the steps. He was wearing a rich velvety cloak, royal blue in colour, the hood hiding his face. He lacked the average height of most men, but the cloak did not hide his broad shoulders, and Patrick could tell he was not young like the girl, and was well-built.

The mysterious man lifted his hands and pushed back his hood, revealing a mass of messy blond hair that shone against the bright morning sun rays.

Patrick's eyes widened and he immediately stood and bowed, the chair nearly falling back in the process. "Your Royal highness! It is an honor!"

"Raise your head," Prince Luke commanded in his smooth voice, and Patrick did so, immediately noticing the smile of amusement on his face.

"So you are Patrick Caparo," Luke said, his eyes scanning his form. "Elena Rivera's long lost...buddy."

Patrick blinked. "Are you close to Elena Rivera, your highness?"

"Not really," he replied, "but her betrothed is the General of my Guard." He gestured to the girl. "And her eldest brother."

Realisation thus sank in.

"Ah, so you are a Hammedatha then," he said to Aira, who wiggled her fingers in a 'hello' gesture. He then bowed to her and said, with a genuine smile, "It is a pleasure."

"Patrick, I am here because I need a favour," Luke said, causing Patrick's head to whip up immediately.

"It would be an honor to serve you in any way I can," was his quick reply. "Rievelt is my home, and my allegiance is to the Crown."

Luke grinned and snapped his fingers once towards him. "A man who knows where his loyalties lie. I like you already!"

Patrick smiled, quite flattered by the Prince's praise. "What is the favour, your highness?"

Luke and Aira exchanged glances, and both of them grinned mischievously at the artist.

***** ***** *****
Three days later, General Kieran was back in the North, and was able to attend the scheduled Guard's meeting. He was currently listening to resolutions to the problems on Provinces, concerning attaining education, standards of living, and discipline among soldiers. He would accept some and reject others, and present the accepted ones in a later meeting with The Prince and the province governors.

With his elbow propped on the table, his thumb absent-mindedly stroked the faint bruise on his bottom lip as he listened to suggestions.

Two days prior, one of the rebellious soldiers had dared throw a punch at him, and left him with a busted bottom lip.

He had retaliated with a headbutt that had knocked the consciousness right out of the rookie - and broken his nose.

"We have a few people who signed up to offer teaching services to the children in Zeta province," said Captain Graham, "Two for creative arts and-"

"Art?" Kieran echoed, and Joshua looked up, apprehension settling in when he noticed that tone.

"Yes..." Graham said gingerly, also taking the hint of harshness. "One is good with drawing and painting, and the other in crafts and sculpting. He is rather talented and he's provided hand-made..."

Kieran stopped listening, his mind drifting off to Patrick Caparo, whom Elena called Pat. A pet name for a friend who'd taken his place. A pet name for the artist with the talented hands. Pat.

His name made his entire body itch, and his hands balled into fists. What kind of abbreviation was it, anyway? One could easily mistake it to mean the pitter-patter of rainfall. It sounded ridiculous!

Pat. Pat. Pat.

"Pat!"

Every man sitting in the room flinched at the sudden bang of the table accompanied with the vocal outburst. They looked at their General in shock, and Joshua shut his eyes painfully, bringing his fingers under his bangs to awkwardly massage his forehead.

He knew what Pat stood for. And he was certain it had been the cause of his irritability in the West.

Realising he'd just thought out loud, Kieran sighed in aggravation, and waved his hand dismissively.

"I'm sorry. Next resolution, please."

The captains all exchanged nervous glances, and Graham cleared his throat. He gathered his scroll and tried not to think about the darkness oozing out of his General, his eyes flicking anxiously at him.

They were all cautious. Because a moody General was an even more ruthless General.

Joshua, Aggrey and his party had all been walking on eggshells around him for the entire time in Delta province. He had been quite snappy, to the point that Joshua (because he would listen to no one else) had had to restrain him from crippling Aggrey. This was when Kieran had been drawing a map of Delta, and Aggrey had told him, jokingly, that he could not draw.

Aggrey was currently unable to write or draw, because of the way Kieran had twisted his wrist.

"For the soldiers' discipline, suggestions are that captains visit the provinces atleast once each week to check up on them," Graham read out, "General, you may visit once each month, impromptu."

Kieran nodded. "I like it. Accepted."

"That is all," Graham said, placing down his scroll.

"Alright. Anything else to report beside the province matters?"

All the captains did not reply, and Harvey shifted uncomfortably in his seat. This did not go unnoticed by Kieran.

"Yes, Captain Harvey," he urged.

The captain of the Long Distance Battle regiment gulped, knowing the witching hour was upon him. He mentally cursed at his luck to catch the General in an irritable mood. Clearing his throat and drawing a shaky breath, he prepared to deliver the bad news.

"Before Crown Prince Lukas left for his most recent quest with you, he left me a mission, together with a small party of soldiers from within the Guard," he recounted. "It was to deliver a peace offering to the Crown Princess of Baltha - one of the paintings of Marvel."

"Yes I remember him ordering it in from overseas," said Kieran. "Very costly thing, that artwork. I suppose you are reporting to me that it arrived safely to Baltha, yes?"

When silence replied him, all the other captains turned warily to Harvey, who refused to meet any of their gazes. Tensions slowly rose within the captains, until they merged into a pressure so thick, it was cacooning the entire room.

Kieran's eyes flicked to Harvey, who wetted his lips on finding them made extremely dry under the General's piercing gaze.

"I believe I was loud enough when I asked that, Captain Harvey."

Beads of sweat formed on Harvey's brow. But however much he tried to choose his next set of words carefully, there was no escaping what had happened.

So he chose to be straightforward as he said,
"The painting of Marvel was stolen in transit."

Joshua cursed under his breath and fought the urge to rip his guts out, with how hard his stomach clenched.

Everyone else in the room held their breath, and Kieran's eyes slowly started to change colour as they bore into Harvey's. He leaned back, the slight creaking of his chair being the only sound heard in the room.

He cocked his head and kept his eyes on Harvey, daring him to go on.

Except Harvey had no choice but to go on.

"We have been unable to locate the thief or the painting," he said. His eyes were looking at Kieran's forehead, because if he met his gaze directly, he would need a change of pants.

Famous artist Jean-Claude only made three paintings of Marvel, which had been auctioned months ago, and Luke had bought and owned the last one. The Crown Princess of Baltha, an art lover, would have made amends with Luke through the peace offering and forgotten him standing her up on their date.

"So you were the officer-in-charge of the transit?" Eventhough Kieran's voice was low and unimpressed, it cut through the silence like a flaming sword.

"Er, no. I entrusted co-captain Fidel with the transit as I had to stay back for the rookies' training." Harvey replied.

"Then Fidel shall be called in for disciplinary action," Kieran decided, his face devoid of emotion, "along with you, Captain Harvey."

Harvey's heart dropped to his arse. The quick decision meant the General had already decided his punishment.

"The rest of you, resolutions. Now."

They all turned to Kieran, their blood pressure hiking.

"But General, we cannot think up resolutions on the spot!" Graham argued. "We need some time to gather our ideas and present proper-"

The malice in Kieran's eyes as he flicked his gaze to Graham effectively silenced him.
And his deathly calm, turned into a raging storm.

"You lost a painting of Marvel! One of the dearest pieces of art I have ever laid eyes on. You have not found it in the last three weeks, and you ask me for more time for resolutions!" Kieran shouted, his fury directed to one captain, but felt by all. "By the time Captain Graham is asking me for more time, it means that you, captain Harvey did not care to inform the other captains nor my second-in-command about your predicament. Let me guess, you hoped to look for the painting and solve the problem on your own?"

Harvey bit his bottom lip, his gaze lowering to the table.

"Did it not occur to you that you could have found it sooner had you asked for assistance?" Kieran admonished, "My second-in-command -" he gestured to Joshua, "was here. The other captains- " he gestured to everyone else, "were here. And so were many other soldiers! One week should have been enough to let you know you couldn't handle it on your own!"

He lowered his voice as he added, "And because of your poor choices, the rest of the captains have to work their brains overdrive." He let go of a breath and tapped his fingers on the table.

His face was impassive once more, but his eyes a reflection of the pits of the abyss. "I want resolutions. Now."

Harvey hung his head in dismay, and Graham looked helplessly at Joshua. Aggrey did too, and slightly raised his bandaged wrist - an indication that he was still recovering from the last unexpected outburst. With the way Kieran was now, they all knew any 'foolish' suggestions could set him off. And the look they gave Joshua read, "Talk to your brother."

Joshua understood their positions. Working with a moody Kieran was like being blindfolded and made to stand behind a horse. You never knew when that kick to the spine would come.

Joshua sighed. "General," he called, and dark cyan eyes met bright leafy green. "Everyone is in disarray right now. I propose we all take a moment to calm down," He gazed pointedly at Kieran as he said this, "and approach this with fresh minds tomorrow morning."

Kieran glared at his brother, but Joshua stood his ground.

The General closed his eyes and focused on calming his breathing.

"Fine," he said at last. "But the disciplinary hearing will be three days from now." His gaze fell upon Harvey. "Prepare your defences well, Captain Harvey. And hope to the heavens they make sense to me."

Standing up, he dismissed the meeting and stormed out. And only then were they all able to breathe.

"You just had to catch the General in his moods, didn't you, Harvey?" Graham chided.

***** ***** ***** ******

Joshua rushed into Ray's bed-chamber, his hands furiously running through his hair.

"What's wrong, brother?" Ray closed his wardrobe and walked over to Joshua, who was now pacing.

"Patrick Caparo," Joshua spat, "That's what's wrong."

Ray rolled his eyes. "Not you too. That man is not a threat."

Joshua laughed humourlessly. "You say that because you haven't been on the receiving end of Kieran's frustrations," he said. "He is most definitely jealous, brother. I can testify to that."

Ray's face fell. "Oh. It's that serious, huh?"

"I can't do this anymore, Ray. I can't stand seeing him like this." Joshua said, shaking his head. "Any mention of the words hands, art, or clay and he dives into mood mode. I can feel the dark aura around him and I don't like it. I don't like that he's so upset, and it's all-" anger flashed in his eyes and his jaw clenched as he added, "It's all his fault. Caparo. We need to do something, Ray."

"Something like what?"

"Anything!" Joshua yelled. "Anything that will put a stop to these feelings he's having because they are not healthy. We need to do something about that Patrick Caparo. He is the cause of all of this. If Kieran is jealous of Caparo, then he won't be if we cut him out of the picture, right?"

Ray smiled sneakily. "I think you mean out of the painting, since Caparo is a-

"Shut up, Ray." Joshua growled.

Ray nodded, folding his lips in. "But I do second that notion. About getting him out of the-" he lowered his voice to a whisper so his brother couldn't hear him, "painting."

After a while, Joshua placed his hands on his pelvis and looked at Ray. "We need to get rid of him."

Slowly, Ray slid up his dagger from the holster in his baldric.

Joshua rolled his eyes. "In a civil manner, Ray." He clarified. "We're not brutes."

Ray shrugged. "We kind of are."

"Evenso, this kind of problem doesn't need that kind of solution."

Frowning in disappointment, Ray tucked his dagger back and gave Josh an upwards nod. "So what's the plan?"

Author's chatter

Alright! So Aira and Luke are planning something, just like Joshua and Ray! It could either be helpful, or a disaster. All I can say is - Poor Patrick.

Also, it's about time I brought back Elena. I miss her, lol. ( I think you can imagine where I'm going with this.☻)

I posted early cuz I am a bit busy and wanted to get this over with first.

See y'all on Friday😄 and click ⭐ !