The youngster drifted to the centre of the Square, dressed in clothes of a nondescript faded blue that could not quite be referred to as tattered, but was not too far away from that dubious honour. At first glance, nothing about him seemed striking - not even his hair, which was an odd shade of golden-bronze - but his eyes, if you could catch a glimpse of them, were a vivacious shade of green, quite at odds with his appearance.

People stared curiously as the youth slung the padded instrument case on his back and stripped the lute from its casing with expert fingers. A few walked off as he spent the first few minutes tuning the instrument, thinking that the boy couldn't be any good to judge by the condition he and his lute were in. But those remaining only had those few minutes to breathe properly before the musician took control of their minds. His skill took them by storm, bled them white and held them together as effortlessly as the breeze drifting through the crowds. His was a talent not seen in palace-trained bards, much less street buskers, for centuries. When he ended his song, the crowd remained in their position of locked stasis for a few more seconds, and then they erupted into motion. Cat-calls rang out together with requests and the dampened sounds of coins hitting the inside of the lute's case.

Malachite smiled to himself as he, too, shook himself out of the daze that he was caught in. He wondered if he should talk to the boy, but decided that the last thing he needed was another kid on his hands. Not when his latest fledging had left the nest, leaving him with free time on his hands for the first time in more than two decades. He turned to go before the youth started on his next song, and before his peculiar, haunting brand of music could captivate him again. The list of paperwork back at his study would only grow higher as time went on. Besides, with talent like his, somebody else would be sure to pick up the boy for training. It was only a matter of time, he needn't get involved.

When blinking did not get the bangs out of his eyes, the youth tossed his head and stared in delight at the coins collected in his instrument case - the bottom of the case couldn't be seen at all. Not bad for one self-taught and fresh out of the countryside. His acquaintances back home would know better than to mock him now. The coins he scooped out of the bag and poured it into a bag that he fished out of his pockets, and slung that onto his belt. Finally, he could go to a decent inn and wash all the dirt and grit of the road off him. Whistling jauntily, he cased his lute, slung it over one shoulder and walked off in search of a respectable looking inn.

This did not look right. The young musician looked dubiously at the row of neglected houses and realised that he must have wandered into the slums of the city by mistake. Quickly retracing his steps, he was busy counting the number of left turns he made when a shadow fell over him. Things did not look right indeed. He had no wish to pick a fight now, not when he was tired, irritable and filthy. :Best get things over and done with,: he thought, and turned around to look at the six foot tall hulk towering above him.

"Hello," he greeted with a sunny smile. "Pardon me, but do you know how to get to the Square?" he asked politely. Once he got back to the Square, he would be able to navigate around properly.

The hulk stared down at him through beady black eyes. "You that warbler just now at the square, no? Got lots of money with you, no?"

The thick accent not withstanding, the young musician got the gist of the message, but he simply smiled again. "You haven't answered my question, sir."

"Huh?"

:Brains of a pea. Why do all of them have to be so stereotypical?: the musician asked himself with a sigh. :You'd think there's be more variety in this world.:

"I really wouldn't want to bet involved in a brawl, not when this is my first time here. So lease give way."

One bulky hand reached out to grab the blond by his tunic front. "Shut up little'un and give me your money."

The musician sighed. "I was hoping to avoid this." He brought one knee up and kicked the would-be robber where it hurt most, and when he was released, dropped to the ground lightly. And then he did the most practical thing - he ran. Unfortunately, he'd miscalculated the man's ability to tolerate pain plus the length of his hair, and before he went a few steps, he was yanked back.

"Yeouch! You didn't have to do that!" he yelled, clutching the base of his hair with one hand, and preventing the lute on his back from slipping off with the other. Things were definitely not proceeding in his favor when people started emerging from the dilapidated buildings.

"Damn you to hell. This is not what I need!" :And I think I'm in desperate need of help. "Guards! Help! Anybody!"

Malachite cursed when he realised that he'd taken the wrong turn. Yet again. :Ten years spent here and I still can't remember that it's four lefts and not three. Pathetic." He was just about to turn around when he thought he heard something. An alto voice. And a few other less refined voices.

"What the hell?" he asked himself, and cursed again when he discovered that his body had moved off by itself without waiting for its brain. Following instincts, no doubt. :Why do I always have to be the busybody?: he asked himself despairingly.

"Watch what you're aiming for! Don't touch my lute! Hey, watch it I said!"

Malachite watched in disbelief at the scene in front of him, a look of astonishment on his face. Wasn't that the blond musician he'd left behind at the Square? Who'd have thought that short skinny youth could take on so many people and still look like he was winning. Incredible! And he was forced to duck when a flying kick by the blonde on one of his assailants demonstrated why the move was known as the 'flying' kick.

"Stop this fighting now!" Malachite shouted, his eyes narrowing and going steely. Everybody froze, and then the thugs turned tail and ran, whispering among each other. The young musician's angle was such that he could only see his 'rescuer's' side profile, and even then, the man was standing in the shadows.

"Thank you for your help, sir," he called out tentatively, and was rewarded by the man turning around. All he saw was a man with chiseled features and a pair of twinkling cerulean eyes, topped with silky-looking silver hair. :I've seen him before,: the youth thought. :Of course! He was at the Square. What a coincidence!:

"You're welcome. Where did you learn to fight so well?" Malachite asked, wincing inwardly when he realized what his question was. Great, his training had to kick in at all times.

"Fight?" The youth laughed lightly. "I wouldn't call that fighting, more like flinging elbows and knees all around the place. I'm rather protective of my lute too, I suppose that explains a lot. You were one of those at the Square just now, right?"

Malachite was amazed for the second time. He hadn't considered the fact that musicians could play and look around them at the same time. "Um, you're right. What's a talented youngster like you wandering around here?"

The youth blushed. "I got lost. It's my first time here."

"No, that's not what I meant. Why aren't you in a music school?"

The already big green eyes grew wider as he stared at Malachite. "Music school? I'm just from a tiny village. There aren't any music schools there."

Malachite sighed. He could see his free time literally flying away. "Why don't you come with me then? It's not fit for you to wander around here busking all day long. It's time your potential's trained to it's fullest."

"Really?"

Malachite gave him an amused smile. "Yes, really. I'm Malachite. What's your name?"

The youth grinned suddenly. "This is really too much of a coincidence. I'm named after a gem too. I'm called Zoisite. Thank you so much, sir."

The tall silver-haired man waved his hand. "Just call me Malachite and dispense with the 'sir' business." :This doesn't seem so bad. At least he has manners, unlike somebody else back in the palace. I just hope he doesn't freak out when he discovers where I'm taking him to.:

Zoisite trotted beside his new found companion, taking two to three steps for every one that the silver haired man took, but keeping up easily. His sharp eyes missed nothing now that he had a chance to examine this man very closely. He was quite tall, probably topping six feet, with a proportionately wide frame and a tanned complexion. The clothes he wore were plain but of an expensive weave, and he carried himself with an air of unmistakable authority. This was a man born to command, and judging from the thugs' response to him, this aura was noticeable even to the common people. Exactly who was he? Zoisite loitered at a roadside fruit stall and bought an apple.

"Want some?" he asked when he caught up with his silent companion. Malachite shook his head in bemusement.

"You go ahead and eat. You look like you need every bit of it."

Zoisite smiled shyly. "Well, I was born this thin. No matter how much I eat, it seems this is the most I can grow, even though I'm only sevente-" he stopped everything he was doing suddenly, and Malachite, who wasn't paying attention to the road in front of him regarded Zoisite with another quizzical expression.

"Is anything wrong?"

"Yes!" Zoisite squeaked. "Are you sure you're going the right way. If I'm not mistaken, that looks like the palace!"

Malachite chuckled to himself. "It is. Just follow me."

"We're going to the palace? Waitaminute. Whoareyouandwhyareyoutakingmetothepalace?" Zoisite asked in a rush, his apple forgotten in his hand.

"Zoisite, relax! Nothing's going to happen to you. Why don't you just follow me and I'll tell you everything once we're inside, alright?"

Zoisite looked at Malachite dubiously. He liked having his questions answered, and this man seemed intent on changing the subject. But since he was here, he might as well do what Malachite told him to do. They passed the opulent main gate, and Zoisite grew immensely self-conscious when the guards on duty gave him strange looks. He must look like something the cat dragged out of the dustbin.

The young blond tried not to stare at anything for too long lest his gaze betrayed his simple origins. It was difficult to keep his eyes on Malachite's back when everything around him screamed out for sheer grandeur and wealth. And it was even harder not to ask any questions when the servants walking past stopped and bowed to Malachite, and the guards saluted crisply.

"Malachite! You're finally back? Do you know *just* how much paper work there is waiting for you?" a voice pealed out in front of them, and in a moment, a man ran up to them, or rather to Malachite. He looked no older than twenty-five, with short, pale yellow hair and gentle blue eyes. Zoisite hung back, unsure of what to do.

Malachite slapped his forehead. "Just what I needed, a reminder from you Jadeite! I'd like to remind you that, as my aide, the paper work's your problem as well."

:Aide? *Who* is this Malachite person?: Zoisite asked himself, not for the first time.Jadeite and Malachite continued to argue with each other for a few minutes before the blonde took notice of the figure hiding in Malachite's shadow.

"Malachite, don't tell me you did it *again*! You've lost your bet with Nephrite! Who is he?"

Malachite stepped to the side and pulled Zoisite to the fore. "This is Zoisite, a very talented musician. Zoisite, this is Jadeite, my aide, and last protégé."

Jadeite grinned, hoping to put the openly nervous young man at ease. "Hello! You must be quite some musician since Lord-General Malachite here swore up and down that he wasn't going to take in any more protégés."

:LORD-GENERAL? I was in the company of the second most powerful man in this kingdom?:

Jadeite blinked in shock as Zoisite's eyes rolled up and he collapsed. Malachite reached out with one hand and caught him easily.

"Was it something I said?" the blond asked in a slightly worried tone. "Or did your reputation precede you yet again?"

Malachite gave his young aide a sardonic smile. "It was something you said. Go and tell the bards they're going to have another colleague, hell with whether they want one or not. I'll meet you in the bardic quarters. Make it snappy!"

Jadeite saluted his commanding officer and ran off.

The bardic Master scrutinized the limp figure that Malachite held in his arms and his bushy eyebrows drew downwards ominously. "Have you got no brains at all? We have enough girls as it is!" he rumbled. "More than three-quarters of the bards out there are females! I don't need another one!"

Malachite rolled his eyes heavenwards and prayed for patience in dealing with this grumpy bear, whom everybody knew had a grudge against females. "Zoisite is not a female, I can assure you, and he is extremely talented."

"What do you know? Generals! Think they can order anybody around as they like!" the Bardic Master mumbled, but there was a glint in his eyes. "Wake him up and let's hear him play. I want to hear just how talented he is. But I'm 100% sure that you're talking rot. Nobody's except a Bard has a real ear for GOOD music. And for heavens sakes! That's not the way you carry a lute? What do you think it is? A lump of wood?" While Malachite shook Zoisite firmly, the elderly man was busy disentangling the lute straps from Malachite's shoulders.

"Huh? Where's my lute? Eek! Lord Malachite!" Zoisite squeaked, leaping away from Malachite's touch and about to go down on his knees if not for the general's hand supporting him.

"I thought I told you to dispense with the 'sir' and 'lord' business. This is the bardic Master, Delano. He wants to hear you play."

The Bardic Master nodded approvingly. "You've definitely got the makings of a bard, lad. Your first thought was for your instrument. Now let's see you and your old lady play, eh?" He led the way to a window alcove and pressed Zoisite down onto the cushioned seat.Zoisite took his time tuning his lute, intent on continuing the good impression that he'd fostered already. Once everything was in order, he cocked a hesitant head at the bardic Master. "Is there any song that you'd like to request for me to play?"

Delano shook his head. "Just play what you're best at."

With a thoughtful look, Zoisite positioned his fingers above the strings, snapped off a running scale just to test his tuning and launched immediately into the opening with an intricate theme that threaded major to minor in haunting sweeps across keys. The Bard Master listened, his old, experienced mind more than simply impressed. No matter that there were rough patches in his fingering and fretting, or that his voice lacked experience and tampering, all that could smoothed over with experience. Whatever the boy's reason for wandering in the streets, he was a natural genius. He forgot the creak and aches of old bones, and together with the General, was transported away from a plain drafty castle to where a tale of two lovers unfolded itself before them.

But the song ended all too soon, and the spell was broken unequivocally when Zoisite stilled the strings. "You play extraordinarily well, lad. You have not had any formal training?"

Zoisite shook his head shyly. "No sir. I taught myself along the way."

Malachite on the other hand was thinking more of the song. Now that he heard the entire piece, he could've sworn it was a song he heard from his childhood, a very old folksong that originated in the tiny town where he was born. Zoisite must be more observant than he thought if he could pick out his long buried accent. But his thoughtful expression grew strained as he tried to suppress a smirk at the Bardic Master. He was 100% sure?

A very red-in-the-face Delano grabbed hold of the blonde's hand and dragged him off, leaving a bemused Malachite behind. "Well, once you get proper training, you'll be the greatest bard in history!"

Jadeite smirked when he saw Malachite striding his way, and the tall general groaned when he saw who his aide had tugged along.

"Malachite! I heard from Jadeite that you brought another fledgling home?" Nephrite hollered over the distance that separated them.

"All I did was escort him here!" Malachite protested. "I'm not training him for a post in the army, he's a bard!"

"Oh?" Nephrite mock-pouted. "Don't be such a sore loser! I promise I'll share the wine with you."

"Sore loser?" Malachite spluttered, and Jadeite patted him on the back, giving him a sly wink.

"Have no fear Malachite, he'll be hanging around you in a few days, just wait and see. And then Nephrite can claim his three bottles of wine fair and square."

"I don't believe you two! To think that I trained both of you!"

Nephrite nodded sagely. "Oh yes. I remember having the privilege of being your very first protégé. Don't worry, Jadeite me lad, being the last protégé doesn't sound very nice. It must be such a relief getting the title off your back."

"Now, wait a minute. This is getting redicul-"

"Lord-General! The Prince requires your presence at the tactics room now! General Nephrite, General Jadeite, both of you are required too." The guardsman who'd pounded up to their sides tried gulping down air for his starved lungs.

"Thank you guardsman. And you two quit your antics! I'll decide about the wine later."

Prince Endymion paced the entire room three times over, his eye trained on the hologram map suspended in the middle of the room. Behind him, he heard the door creak open and three men enter the room. Without turning around, he could guess the order they were standing in. Malachite would be right at the fore, at proper attention. Nephrite would be just behind him on his right, standing at attention too, but in a more relaxed position. Jadeite would be at Malachite's left, slouched like a sack of potatoes. Endymion grinned to himself despite the gravity of the situation. As the youngest member of the 'family', he was closest in age to Endymion, and they were in fact childhood friends.

"What's up now, Endy? Ol' Beryl knocking at our gates again?" Jadeite asked impishly, leaning against the locked door.

"Hey, this isn't a laughing matter! Beryl is one of the most, if not the most, powerful enemy we've faced all these years, including my father's years!" Endymion protested lightly, glad that Jadeite had made an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

"So what's she done this time?" Nephrite cut in, a slight frown on his features.

"From what the Information Network has gathered, Beryl's crafted new youmas, and they are rumored to be ten times exponentially more powerful than what we've faced so far."Malachite whistled. "That bad? The Network won't feed the information to us if it wasn't reliable. And the army hasn't recovered fully from the battle a month ago. At best, we're at three-quarter strength."

Endymion worried at the hangnail on his thumb and frowned. "Well, the good news is that Beryl isn't ready to march out again. I think we have a grace period of perhaps another month or two before she launches an all out attack. Think we can get ready by then?"

Jadeite raised one eyebrow. "Are you kidding? Of course we can! With us in charge, how can the army not whip Beryl's army back to the Dark Kingdom with their tails between their legs?"

Nephrite chuckled mirthlessly. "You're the one who's kidding. Didn't you hear Endymion? The youma are much more powerful than before. It's going to be a very tough battle. Hell, I'd rather we go on the offensive instead of the defensive. We haven't done that before, and I don't think Beryl anticipates us doing that. Direct storming of her castle is out of the question, but if we can infiltrate the Dark Kingdom, we may be able to take out her most powerful Generals, and perhaps even kill her."

"Not a bad idea," Malachite agreed, a thoughtful look on his face. "But I'd rather none of you risk your lives on such a mission. Wait till the Network unearths more information, then we'll decide on a plan and move."

"My vote goes with Malachite," Endymion decided, casting an apologetic glance in Nephrite and Jadeite's direction. The smile was still plastered on Jadeite's lips.

"Hey, Malachite *is* the most experienced of us. We'll defer to his judgment of course.""Now *this* is surprising," Endymion mused, a silly grin on his face. "Since when did you guys start according Malachite respect?"

Zoisite refused to look down and concentrated on the next finger hold in front of him. His mind told him resolutely that he wouldn't fall if he didn't peer down to see how far the ground was away from him. The catcalls, cheers and jeers from the bardic apprentices below wasn't doing much to help him - it made him all the more nervous.

:Stupid idiot! Think first before you open your mouth next time! Aren't introverts supposed to think before they speak? I must be the exception. Sigh! But then again, I'm not exactly an introvert,: Zoisite thought to himself, anything to get his mind off the height factor.

Malachite frowned at the noise that could be heard in the distance through his thick oak door. :What kind of a din are they trying to make? Damn it! Where's Jadeite when I want him?: Galvanized into action by the beginnings of a migraine caused by the noise, Malachite slammed his door open and winced at the *actual* loudness of the noise. The apprentices were shrieking their heads off, engrossed in whatever conversation that grabbed them, and only those in the outer fringes realised who it was beside them. They fell silent, and their more observant peers followed suit too, elbowing those who did not, until the whole crowd as quiet more or less. Malachite frowned and was about to bark out a question when one of them pointed upwards timidly. A wave of foreboding swept over Malachite before he looked up.

Zoisite was beginning to feel very dizzy, and his palms were starting to sweat, making purchase on the wall even more difficult than it already was. He looked up. Only a little bit more to go before he got to the roof. A little bit more. The blonde stretched out the fingers of his left hand and tried to reach for a dent in the wall, but his hands were really too slippery. With a tiny shriek, he slipped, fingers scrambling for any little crevice, but none was available. All he succeeded in doing was scrape his entire palm. Zoisite squeezed his eyes tightly shut waiting for the final impact. It came but....

:It doesn't hurt. Why doesn't it hurt?: Feeling brave enough to crack one eye open, the first thing he saw were two very stern looking cerulean eyes. :Cerulean eyes? None of my peers have cerulean eyes,: he thought, still in a daze, and then the bit of information registered.

"Ah! Malachite-sir!" he yelled, jumping out of the general's arms.

"What were you doing up there?" Malachite asked sternly, ignoring the suffix for a moment.

"Eh? I was...I was...somebody dared me to climb all the way to the top of the palace."

"That was the stupidest thing you can do!" Malachite shouted angrily, grabbing hold of Zoisite's hands. "Look at your hands! You've fairly torn all your skin off! How are you supposed to play your lute?"

His hands hadn't hurt initially, but they were starting to hurt really badly now. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't think," Zoisite whispered, looking down at the floor. The other apprentices had melted clear by this time so that only the two of them were left. Malachite's anger drained away, and he tugged the tiny blonde with him. Zoisite looked up with a teary, quizzical expression.

"You ought to get your hands treated before the dirt settles in," Malachite explained, voice back to its normal smooth bass.

Zoisite smiled pertly through his tears. "Thank you."

Behind a wall, Jadeite sniggered together with Nephrite. "We'll see if the father hen can deny having another fledgling under his wings now."

"Malachite! Where were you? How many times have I told you that you have to finish all the paper work?" Jadeite chided, the merry twinkle in his eyes at odds with the tone of his voice.

"Hell, why did you think I promoted you for? What are you waiting for? Get to work!" Malachite replied, staring out of the window.

Jadeite took a closer look at the expression on his superior's face and raised an eyebrow. "Malachite?" he called softly.

The general jumped at the sound of his name and out of the daze that he was in. "You called, Jadeite?"

"You're not acting properly at all. What's the matter now? Where were you? It's not like you at all to wander all over the place," the blonde added.

Malachite sighed. "Zoisite got himself into a fix by trying to scale the palace walls. I'm amazed none of the guards took him for target practice."

"I'm sure that the guards' inaptitude isn't what's troubling you, right? So it has to be Zoisite. We've known from the past few weeks what Zoisite's like. Pardon me if I'm making a sweeping statement, but he doesn't really seem to think before he acts right? So what happened that you had to appear personally?"

Malachite managed a wry smile. "I think that's a sweeping statement. You're right, something else is bothering me, something about him. He fell off the wall and I caught him. But the strange thing was that the impact I expected wasn't there. It was more like he floated into my arms like a feather, which is impossible, no matter how light he is. But I didn't feel the slightest bit of force."

Jadeite worried at his lower lip. "That's strange by the laws of physics," he agreed. "Must have been magic then."

"I thought of that too. But I didn't use any magic, there were no mages or anybody with the slightest touch of magic around, and Zoisite's potential is locked so far inside him I doubt the Grim Reaper wielding his scythe could pry it out of him."

"That's indeed strange," Jadeite mused, his mischievous expression erased from his face for the moment. But the next second, it bounced back on.

"Thinking about that is not going to make your paper work disappear!" he reminded with a grin. "Though I don't know where it all originated from. Here you go. The latest reports from the armoury." With an extra huge grin, Jadeite scooped a stack of papers off the desk and dumped it into Malachite's arms. "Once you've finished with that, you can start on the rest." The blond waved his hand vaguely to the right where mountains and mountains of papers were stacked up, most of them covered with dust. Malachite's eyes bulged comically at the sight.

"Where did all of that come from? Where is Nephrite? I'm willing to bet that at least half of this pile is his!"

Jadeite ducked out of Malachite's roar radius. "Well, he's probably indulging in one of two things. Wine or battle tactics. Or maybe even both. He's still swooning over the assassination idea, you know."

After a few days of being ensconced in the same chair, in the same room, in the same DUSTY room with Jadeite and only brief food and toilet breaks, Malachite was beginning to feel his temper fraying. His eyes ached, his butt hurt, and his nose was sorely irritated. Jadeite was hunched to the side scanning through yet another infantry report.

"Say, Jadeite, don't you think we should get away from this for a while?"

Jadeite looked up in surprise, stretched and yawned, taking a look at the calendar. "Gee, you mean we've been here for a few days already? You're so damned focused. Look, the mountains have eroded into tiny hills. Great! What can we do?"

Malachite stretched his arms and tilted his head back to stare at the frescos painted on the ceiling. "Make a routine surveillance of the countryside," he suggested.

Jadeite's eyes lit up. "Good idea. But I have an even better idea! Why don't we invite Zoisite along? I'm sure he'll want to get out of the city too, and the Bards, while lovely to listen to, can be as ponderous as this palace. I want Zoisite to stick to his nice, unthinking self and not turn into a zombie at the end of his course."

Malachite nodded and wondered why he didn't think of it. Besides, he hadn't seen that young man for a few days already, and he didn't want him thinking that the General was still angry with him. Not that he had been in the first place, just concerned for his safety."I'll drop by Zoisite's room, you go and call Nephrite. I know he's been training hard with his officers, but he ought to take a break too."

"Yes, sir!"

Malachite walked down the corridors, not in his usual brisk way, but in a dreamy state. His eyes betrayed nothing except the fact that they were unusually glassy. The subordinates who passed him in the hall got a lazy wave instead of a return salute.Zoisite stared into space, his lute cradled in his lap, but strangely enough, he didn't feel like practicing. Which was surprising, since music was the only love in his life. After a few months of feeling deliriously happy and contented, this was the first time he felt dissatisfied. With what? He didn't exactly know himself. And after that incident with the wall and Malachite.... The young man sighed and placed his instrument aside, rolling onto his stomach on the bed. He hadn't seen the Lord-General for a few days already, and he was wondering if Malachite was still angry with him. The silver-haired man didn't act as if he was the last time Zoisite saw him, and he had been very kind, performing a minor healing spell on the abused palms when the healers were all busy. But if Malachite was really angry with him, Zoisite felt as if he would never be happy for the rest of his life.A soft knock sounded, derailing the train running in Zoisite's mind, and he picked up his lute and walked to the door. It was probably either his teacher or one of his peers. If it was Delano, then he'd be in for hell. The bardic Master had selected him for extra training, and though Zoisite knew he was a nice man, his grumpiness wasn't exactly what Zoisite needed.

"I was just taking a break of five minutes," he said as he opened the door, and stopped short when he saw who his visitor was exactly.

Malachite smiled, the cerulean eyes twinkling slightly. "Think you can extend that break to an hour or so?"

Zoisite nodded dumbly, still caught in shock over this unexpected visit. Then he snapped back to his senses and looked up at Malachite with a faintly worried expression. "You're not angry, are you?"

Malachite chuckled softly. "Hardly. I'm extending an invitation to a tour of the countryside."

Jadeite poked his head in at this moment. "Tour of the countryside? How grand! That wasn't how Malachite phrased it when he broached it to me," the blonde said with a huge grin.

"Hello Jadeite!"

"Greetings, Zoi-kun. I heard you had aspirations to turn into a spider?"

Zoisite blushed. "Don't remind me of that," he groaned aloud, ignored the suffix attached to the short form version of his name, and walked to a corner of the room to rack his lute. "Is there any special attire that I have to wear on the trip?"

Malachite shook his head, but Jadeite looked at Zoisite dubiously. "You want to go out in that garish red thing?"

Zoisite stuck out his chin defiantly. "It's not garish, neither is it red. The proper term is crimson."

Jadeite waved his hand about. "Crimson, red, they're ALL shades of RED. Either way, you're going to be a walking target when we go out."

Zoisite frowned at that phrase. Walking target? He was beginning to doubt if they were really going on a 'tour of the countryside'. "Hey, this is my uniform. You've got a problem with that?" he asked belligerently.

Malachite waved his hands. "Both of you, can you quite acting like children?" he stated in a voice that declared them childish. "We don't have much of the day left if you're going to continue quibbling."

Both Jadeite and Zoisite rounded on Malachite. "Shut up you!" they chorused, and Jadeite picked up where they left off, Zoisite blanching pure white when he realized what he just told the Lord-General. But of course, Jadeite didn't have such restrictions.

"You white-haired, blue-eyed walking mountain. What gives you the right to tell us off? What with you running off all the time, you act like a child more than I do, so don't give me that crap!"

A dry cough stopped Jadeite from continuing after replenishing his breath. "Jadeite, you're teaching the child horrendous manners. We don't want everybody turning out like you."Jadeite turned around and glared at Nephrite. "You ought to be on my side, you vile betrayer! Wasn't that the agreement we made?" As Jadeite ranted on, Malachite steered Zoisite over to the door.

"Is he always this outspoken?" Zoisite asked in a whisper, afraid that Jadeite would turn on him next if he heard him.

The corner of Malachite's mouth twitched. "I'm afraid so. It's partly my fault and partly his personality. His brilliance and dedication more than make up for his occasional outbursts. But even so, it's quite interesting listening to him, don't you think so?"

Zoisite tilted his head to one side and focused on whatever he was screaming at Nephrite about, and saw the auburn haired general reach out one hand to clamp Jadeite's mouth shut. But Jadeite reached out with his leg and hooked Nephrite's leg from under him. In the end, they both landed on the floor with Jadeite on top. The blonde was smiling very sweetly and smugly at Nephrite.

"Gedoff me, you clumsy oaf!" Nephrite grumbled. Jadeite stood up, brushed his uniform and chased after Malachite and Zoisite.

"Hey! Wait up for me!" he hollered, and settled into a comfortable pace beside Zoisite."How's our young genius doing?" the blonde general asked.

Zoisite smiled half shyly, half proudly. "Not bad. I'm top in my class-"

"And top of the level too." Nephrite strode up to flank Malachite's other side. "I met one my friends along the way, and he told me that. Looks like we may have to rethink our theory, ne, Jadeite?"

Jadeite slammed one fist into his other hand. "Aw, damned! I'm going to lose my reputation! Zoisite, I demand you join the army right now!"

Zoisite turned to stare at Jadeite, eyes wide with shock. "Huh?" was all he could think of t the moment.

Malachite turned to glare at Jadeite. "Did I say anything wrong?" he asked innocently.

"Yes, you nut," Nephrite snapped from Malachite's side. "Other than the fact that Zoisite's the most gifted bardic apprentice Delano's seen in his century, he's extremely unsuited for the rough and tumble. One look and him and everybody knows the wind will blow him away in one gust."

Zoisite was tempted to kick Nephrite. How dare he underestimate him?! He was tougher than he looked. Somehow, Malachite sensed his hackles rising and laid a large warm hand on his shoulder. "Don't mind Nephrite. He's always been very frank."

"Oh, so now that I know the quirks of two of the Generals, what about yourself? Got any strange quirk to surprise me with?" Zoisite asked wryly.

Malachite chuckled. "None that I can think of."

The stable.

Zoisite stared at all the horses and wondered which one Malachite expected him to ride. A few soldiers were milling around, some brushing down horses, others slouched against the stable walls talking to their friends.

Jadeite led out two chestnuts, and gave the reins of one to Nephrite, while a soldier held out the reins of a magnificent black stallion for Malachite. "You're riding with me, by the way," Malachite said casually, checking the saddle and everything. Zoisite was tempted to goggle. How on earth was he supposed to get on the horse in the first place? Besides, all he wanted was a nice little pony to ride on. Without warning, though, Malachite turned, caught him by the waist and lifted him in one fluid motion, placing him on the horse easily.

"Eep!" Zoisite squeaked, clutching onto the stallion's mane for all he was worth. Jadeite urged his horse closer to Zoisite and gave the younger blonde a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry about anything. Malachite's not going to let you fall off!"

Zoisite blushed, but he really was too concerned about staying on the horse to care about anything else.

"Relax," Malachite soothed, climbing onto the horse himself. Nothing's going to happen, so just enjoy yourself, alright?"

The three Generals traveled to the gates together and once out of the town, they split into three different directions. Jadeite took the left, Nephrite took the right, and that left the centre to Malachite.

"I thought we were going to go for our tour together," Zoisite queried, relaxing slightly since nothing had happened so far.

"I'm taking you on a tour. They are carrying out their duties," Malachite replied smoothly.

"Is it alright for you to do this? I mean, am I disturbing you in your work?"

Malachite muffled a chuckle at Zoisite's pertly worried face. "Don't worry about it. Nothing's going to happen. Besides, how are you supposed to enjoy this trip then? Don't make this a wasted trip, hmm?" And cursed himself in the next breath. This wasn't working out. As in, Zoisite wasn't relaxing, and he didn't know how to say what he wanted to say. The poor young blonde was looking more crestfallen by the minute.

"Um, Zoisite, I brought you ought to cheer you up. Is something bothering you?" Malachite asked softly. Zoisite sighed and leaned back without thinking, as if he was back in his room reclining on the bed.

"Not really. I don't know. Things are starting to get all routine. When I was out in the streets it was different. I never knew what was going to happen the next day, and it was fun! I'm not complaining about life here, but I want a little more excitement.... I think."

Malachite raised one eyebrow. "Zoisite, you want a little...excitement? What do you mean by excitement?"

Zoisite wiggled a little and wondered how he was going to explain it. "Well, for one, I-"

*BOOM*

"What the hell was that?" Zoisite screamed as Malachite fought to get the stallion back under control.

Jadeite burst into view, and there were dark green stains flecking his clothes and horse. Behind him, a whole horde of creatures that Zoisite had never seen before appeared in sight, and suddenly, Zoisite was very aware that his clothes were easily the most striking thing in sight at the moment. And it wasn't a very good feeling.

"Youma, about the size of a tiny army!" Jadeite gasped out, light pouring from his hand and without turning around, he flung it in the form of a tiny ball. Zoisite waited for something to happen, and he wondered if it was going to turn out to be an anti-climax, but was rewarded by the sight of two youmas disintegrating on the spot.

"Jadeite's hopeless when it comes to physical battle, considering how little arm strength he has, so he relies mainly on magic," Malachite explained while dismounting. "Stay here and don't move. I can't guarantee your safety if you do." Zoisite clamped his hands on the stallion's mane, half expecting the horse to throw him off, but the animal was surprisingly quiet, considering the number of weird creatures surrounding him.

Jadeite reined in next to Zoisite, loping off another two youmas on his way. "I'm your back up, if that's what you want to ask. It's too dangerous leaving you alone, even if Malachite did place a shield on you."

Zoisite eyed Jadeite with a wry smile. "Or are you just here to enjoy the benefits of the shield as well."

Jadeite spluttered in disbelief before grinning hugely. "Better watch who you are talking to before I take the shield off. Then we'll see who's talking."

But Zoisite wasn't paying attention. He was more interested in Malachite polishing off the remaining youmas. There wasn't much style or theatrics, just plain blasting. But it was efficient, and Zoisite decided that efficiency was more useful in a battle.

"Well, now that they're taken care of, the only problem is who's going to tell Endymion about this latest attack." Jadeite looked expectantly at Malachite, who scowled.

"That isn't the problem. Telling Endymion is easy. Explaining how they got this far past our borders is another. If these youmas are the new models, Beryl's got more research and development to carry out. They don't seem different from their previous counterparts."

Zoisite shook his head. "That isn't true. From what you've said, this is the first time these youmas have gotten this close to the capital, right? Which shows that they're better than the youmas you faced the last time round."

Nephrite cantered into the glade and stared at the carcasses that littered the field. "You too?"

Jadeite folded his arms. "Whadaya mean by that?"

"More youmas, no doubt," Malachite answered for Nephrite. "So shoot, how many did you destroy?"

"About a score of them," Nephrite replied crisply. "Endymion's not going to be happy when he hears this. An army of youma on their way to the capital? If the city dwellers here this, hell's going to break loose."

Jadeite looked mournfully at Zoisite. "It's like this all the time. I'm the one who kills the least youmas among us Generals. Even Endymion kills more than me when he strides into the battle ground."

"Now, now Jadeite. Every time you command the army, half the youmas' fall dead laughing at your antics. You have no idea how much you lighten your soldiers' job," Nephrite interjected with an evil grin. Before Jadeite could come up with a rejoinder, the auburn haired General was facing Malachite again with all the seriousness of the war veteran that he was.

"...yes, I agree these youmas don't seem much, especially not after the horror stories Information fed us with. Perhaps we should bring one back with us, let the scientists dissect it and let them tell us what's so different this time."

Zoisite got to his feet and gingerly walked over to one dead youma. It wasn't that ugly up front, certainly a far cry from one of those monsters from cheap horror plays that people staged regularly at night. It didn't have any sophisticated weapons, just swords like the ones the Kingdom soldiers were issued. Armor was of average quality, and Zoisite wrinkled his nose at the stench of burning flesh, no thanks to Malachite's raw blasting. Seeing nothing more of interest in the first youma, he moved on.

Jadeite yawned, bored with all the rhetoric that Malachite and Nephrite were conducting. He was almost positive that they were doing it just to spite him, knowing that he couldn't sit still under such conditions for very long. At least Zoisite was better. Perhaps it was only cos' they were closer in age to each other, just like him and Endymion. That reminded him, Zoisite hadn't met Endymion yet. And that reminded him of yet another thing. Where was Zoisite anyway? That little kid was wondering around with dead youma? Incredible! Wasn't he scared?

"Zoisite! Where are you?" Jadeite called out, feeling a little irritable. And his two commanding officers were still busy debating over itsy bitsy details.

Zoisite frowned a little when he heard his name being called faintly. Probably Jadeite. The youngest General had the highest voice, though still lower than his own alto. With a shrug, Zoisite continued up his macabre examination of dead youmas. Jadeite could come and look for him if he had anything to say, and besides, Malachite would never leave him behind.

Malachite raised his head and looked around. Jadeite and Zoisite were nowhere to be seen. "Damn. They had to go and run about."

Nephrite shook his head. "Don't you dare ask me to look for them. I'm not the official babysitter of this lot," he snapped before Malachite could do anything more than look at him expectantly. But a startled-sounding yelp canceled out any argument Nephrite might have, and as one, the two Generals ran towards the source of the sound.

Zoisite looked up at the sound, expecting Jadeite to trot into view bemoaning his own clumsiness for tripping over his own bootlace. But nothing came, and the glade was deadly silent, even the birds were quiet. The young apprentice bard got to his feet and ran to where he thought he heard the sound coming from.

Jadeite cursed mentally and decided to make it a point to train his lung capacity. Now, at the most crucial moment, he was going to faint from the lack of air, and whatever sound he tried to make came out as embarrassing tiny gasps. The youma that was trying to crush in his windpipe was about to succeed...where were the others? And the smell of half charred youma wasn't at all conducive to his current state. He felt like throwing up, but that would only make the youma's job easier, since he'd choke and die himself. All he saw now was black and red spots...

"Hey, pick on somebody your own size!" Zoisite yelled, choosing one of the most cliched and overused phrases. So much for the reputed creativity of the bards. A split second later, the youma fell backwards, releasing Jadeite from its grip as Zoisite's boot connected heavily with its right temple. Zoisite strode over and glared down at the creature, wondering what else he could do. This was amazing. The youma could still move even after three quarters of itself was covered with burns so severe the bone beneath was charred as well. His conscience stung him as he hardened his heart against pity and stomped down hard on the youma's throat, effectively ending any hope of its prolonged survival.

Malachite was first to burst on the scene, and the first thing he did was to run to Zoisite and grab him up in a tight hug.

"Ugh. Ma-la-chite. You're crushing me," Zoisite choked out, a little surprised at Malachite's actions, but pleased for no particular reason he could think of.

Nephrite eyed the both of them with a wry twist to his mouth. "Malachite, this isn't dignified at all."

"Do you know how much you worried me? Don't go running around after strange things!" Malachite chided gently, ignoring Nephrite completely. The auburn haired General rolled his eyes and nudged Jadeite with the tip of his boot.

"Hey, you alright?" he asked gruffly. No answer from the unconscious General, and Malachite was still spouting stuff to Zoisite. Amazing. His superior wasn't usually this eloquent. Apart from military conferences, his everyday conversations were punctuated with 'ums' and 'ers'.

"Let's get back," Nephrite shouted out and kicked Malachite hard. The silver haired General shot out a hand without looking and knocked Nephrite on the head.

Later, as Nephrite carried Jadeite back and Malachite carried Zoisite back, the young blonde realised he forgotten to take his boot back, and the two together made a very incongruous picture. The guards who passed them in the hallway were hard pressed to keep a straight face when they greeted their commanding officers.

Later in Zoisite's room, when they were both ensconced in the hard wooden chairs that furnished the room, Malachite turned to Zoisite. "Were you scared just now?"

Zoisite considered the question, and debated on whether to indulge in bravado or just tell the truth. He thought of Malachite's personality and decided that the General wouldn't appreciate any falsehoods at the moment.

"Well, a little when they just rushed out like that without any warning. But when they were dead I didn't feel particularly scared or anything. A carcass is a carcass."

Malachite smiled a little ruefully. "That's true. But Zoisite. I promise you that I'll always protect you. Always."

"Oh, Malachite," Zoisite mumbled, blushing slightly at the General's earnestness. "Thank you. Could you come closer?"

"Hmm?"

"Closer, just a bit more."

Zoisite reached up and kissed him lightly. "Thanks for today," he said shyly, blushing very red. He jumped up, pushed Malachite out of the door and slammed in the General's face. But Malachite wasn't offended in the least. His hand ghosted up to touch his lips, and for the rest of the night, he went around with a silly smile that had everybody wondering if their General had finally gone over the edge from the pressure.

Endymion slouched by Jadeite's bed, waiting for the rest of the Generals to file in. At last everybody was present, and Malachite closed the door.

"Okay, so spill. What happened just now? How the hell did youmas get this far into our country? There was nothing from Information about that. And I don't believe so many youmas can just waltz in whenever they feel like."

Malachite frowned and rubbed his head, his smile disappearing for the moment. "If these are the new youmas that Information told us about, I would believe that Beryl has invested more magic in them than she did the last time we fought against them."

Endymion sighed. "And how is our army? I want the guard around the borders doubled quietly. Rumors flying around now aren't what we need. And Jadeite, how on earth did you get yourself into such a state?" the Prince asked, gingerly touching one dark bruise on the blonde's neck.

Jadeite swatted his fingers away. "Guess I wasn't paying attention."

"Or rather, you underestimated your opponent," Nephrite interjected wryly.

Jadeite glared at him. "You would have done the same too if you were in my place. How on earth was I suppose to know that the damned youma couldn't die, not even after eating one of Malachite's blasts!"

"And who was it who got you out of this mess? Really, Malachite, you pamper him too much. Perhaps he has more sense now?"

Jadeite looked hurt while Malachite looked embarrassed. "Actually, neither Nephrite nor I were on the scene fast enough. It was Zoisite who saved Jadeite. Knocked the youma out with his boot and ...disposed of it."

Endymion shot to his feet. "You mean you brought that kid along on your rounds? That's madness! Jadeite, I know you like him, but to bring him along?"

*BISH*

"Stop jumping to conclusions! Malachite was the one who suggested it," Jadeite snapped, raising his fist to knock Endymion on the head again, but the Prince ducked it, and spun to look at his senior most General.

"You know, the guards have been saying that you've gone mad. Have you?"

Malachite rolled his eyes. "That's not important. I think that this may be the time to put Nephrite's idea into action. Youmas that are strong enough to breach our borders can't be discounted, plus, they don't have the decency to die. I had to blast the entire field twice over to ensure that none of them had a 1% chance of survival, and now that place is going to be barren forever. If youmas end up in major cities, we can't just blast everything over. We have to stop the problem before it gets too serious, and we have to tell Beryl to get her nose out of our business too. Going on the offensive might just do the trick."

"Long speech," Nephrite commented sardonically. "When do you want us to move?""'We'?" Jadeite groaned from the bed.

Endymion shook his head and sat back down on Jadeite's bed. "No. If anyone goes, it'll be Malachite, and Malachite alone. He's the most experienced, and aside from rumors that he's going mad, is the most rational of the lot. Nephrite's catching up though," Endymion said with a smile. Nephrite snorted.

"Malachite isn't going mad. He's just getting sentimental," the auburn haired General muttered half to himself.

Endymion's ears pricked forward. "Getting sentimental? Meaning?"

Malachite shot Nephrite a warning glare, but his former student merely shot back an evil grin. "Meaning, Malachite's fallen in love."

Endymion and Jadeite fell out of the bed, Jadeite on top. "F-f-fallen in L-LOVE?" Then Jadeite's eyes widened in sudden realization, but before he could get anything out, Nephrite had his hand clamped over his mouth.

"Endymion can find this out by himself. I'm going to take a walk. Strange that at this time of the year, the stars don't look very clear tonight." Nephrite announced, and exited the room, throwing another one of his enigmatic smiles at Malachite.

"Malachite," Endymion began, trying to look plaintive but ending up with pathetic. Malachite shook his head.

"Nephrite's talking nonsense."

"Zoisite."

Malachite turned abruptly, eyes wide and face very pale.

"Perhaps we should offer Zoisite a job in the army, or at least Jadeite should come up with a 'thank-you' present."

"Um," Jadeite said thoughtfully. "I'll stop calling him Zoi-kun then," he said cheerfully.

Malachite rolled his eyes and remembered to start breathing again.

"So, when should I leave? The army should be secure under your combined command. Nephrite's almost as good as me, while you and Jadeite aren't that far off."

Endymion rubbed his chin. "Beryl ought to have known that we decimated her youmas by now. So she'll either send out another troop, stay in her fortress and plot some more or launch an attack. But that would be a little ridiculous since we're prepared for her now."Malachite shook his head. "Not true. I didn't think of taking a youma prisoner to find out more about it, or let the scientists have a go at it, so we don't know what other special abilities it has-"

"Other than scaring half the army to death with their ugliness," Jadeite piped.

Endymion glared at his friend and motioned for Malachite to continue. "So far, we know that we have to expand more energy to exterminate them. They can still be killed by non-magical means, since Zoisite killed his by stomping on it, but other than that? It's a surprise to hear you say that we take the offensive though. You've always been the most cautious of us all."

"I was merely being wise," Malachite corrected. "In that case, I think I'll retire too. It's been a long day."

Endymion nodded, and got up to go as well. "Get better soon, Jadeite. We may need everybody at full strength sooner than we expect."

Jadeite covered his eyes with one hand. "Don't have to tell me that. Now shoo! I need to rest!"