“Hi, Jason,” Jemma said, her voice musical and delicate. She nodded to John with a respectful smile.

“Hope you haven’t been slacking off again, Jason,” she said, punching him lightly on the arm.

“Slacking off?” Jason replied. “John here is abusing his authority.”

“Is he?” Jemma said. Her smile made the day seem brighter.

“You know how he is, Jemma—he needs a firm hand,” John laughed. Wait, John laughed. This wasn’t a version of his brother Jason saw often.

“And I will give him that hand,” John added, his voice suddenly acquiring an immense amount of bass.

Jason eyed his brother, but John didn’t even spare him a glance.

“Oh, I know all too well, John,” Jemma said, poking Jason on the shoulder. She did love to poke and hit him—probably because she knew he wouldn’t hit back.

“If Bernard could, I’d have him teach me instead,” Jason said. “Mr. I’m-too-serious-to-smile over here is the worst teacher you can imagine.”

Jemma chuckled softly. John’s cheeks flushed red.

“Not to mention,” Jason continued, “the way he—”

“Hey!” John shouted. “It’s worse for me, brother. I have to put—”

Jason cut him off with a loud, melodramatic gasp. Both of them stared at him. Jason glanced at Jemma, who giggled at the dramatic outburst.

“Would you look at that, Jemma? He called me brother. He must be in a really good mood.”

John shook his head.

Jemma smiled. “John is always in a good mood—unlike you,” she said with another poke.

“Me?” Jason exclaimed. “I am the definition of good mood.”

“Being a clown doesn’t count,” John replied.

Jemma laughed. John smiled now, clearly pleased with himself. Jason wanted to fire back, but the sight of his brother laughing—though at his expense—was priceless. It had been too long. Just like Mother, Jason thought. Jemma brightened John’s world. In fact, she seemed to illuminate them both.

Jason glanced at Jemma still laughing, then at John, who was smiling at her. John caught his gaze, and Jason nodded knowingly with a slight smirk. John stiffened. He cleared his throat, trying to regain a regal air. Jason smiled and looked at Jemma.

John slapped the ruler against the desk as the chuckles died down.

“Now then, Lady Jemma, you are welcome to stay, but I have to teach this… brother of mine before the General returns.”

With some effort, Jemma settled down.

“The General is out?” she asked. “Where?”

“He’s with Bernard in Velroy,” John said hesitantly. “They have…” He glanced at Jason before continuing, “some errands to run.”

Jemma pursed her lips, staring at John.

“What is it?” he asked her.

“Some errands? Really?” Jemma said. “I know they conquered Velroy, John. My father was there, unfortunately,” she added. “No need to be tight-lipped with me, Johnathon.”

“Conquered?” John repeated. “The city requested their aid—and it was given.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Jemma replied. She never did like what they did, but the world was what it was. Wars were fought over land daily, with skirmishes at every border. Warlords, tyrants, and dictators all trying to make a name for themselves. Yet none dared venture beyond the Great Divide. No—they wanted land here, in the West.

“We sleep quite soundly, thank you very much,” Jason added. “If you ask me, Father should actually conquer the poor fools instead of waiting for their invitation.”

Jemma raised an eyebrow at him, and John sighed, shaking his head. He knew it would eventually come to this. Jemma and Jason in the same space without this coming up? Like expecting water not to be wet.

“What?” Jason said. “It’s a logical argument. If he did, the wars would be over in a year—two at most. Aven has the military might, and if we use Bio-Mech—”

John cleared his throat sharply, and Jemma stared at them, wide-eyed.

“Bio-Mechs as weapons?” she asked. “I can’t believe—”

“No such thing, Lady Jemma,” John cut in. “That’s not the Aven way, and the General has made his position clear on that.” He shot Jason a hard look.

“We are not assassins or warlords. We are protectors.”

“By the time most lands make a request, there’s barely anything left to protect,” Jason said, returning John’s hard glare. Despite the others’ disapproving stares, he continued.

“We have the might and the foresight to make them see reason. They would thank us in the future.”

Jemma opened her mouth to speak, but Jason went on, as if he hadn’t noticed.

“But it is what it is. These tyrants should be pleased I won’t be the one to inherit this House.”

But they will see reason. One way or another, they will.

Jason eyed them both—John’s condescending stare and Jemma’s dissatisfied scowl. But neither expression did anything to alter his resolve. He was right, and fact is fact, however ugly it may seem. Even the General would have to admit that someday.

But for their sake, he softened his face into a smile and very politely tried to change the topic.

Before he could speak, the distant throbbing of propellers beating the air caught their attention. Jason squinted toward the sound. A lone copter emerged from behind the Aven peaks.

“That’s the General,” Jemma said.

“It is,” John confirmed.

The brothers exchanged a worried look. There was no way they had made it to Velroy and back so soon.

“Something’s wrong,” Jason added.

They cleared the landing pad as the copter approached.

The General landed before the copter. On second glance, Jason noticed the aircraft was barely touching the ground—they didn’t plan to stay long.

Jason and John moved toward the platform, but the General stormed past them. Then he paused, his back to his sons. They shared a glance, then studied their father.

“John!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Get ready—we’re going to Velroy,” the General said, continuing without another word.

“Father!” Jason called out. “Where is Bernard?”

The General kept walking. No response.

“Not now, Jason,” John said softly.

Jason ignored him and ran after the General. Jemma shouted something about listening to his brother, but Jason was out of earshot before she could finish—or at least pretended he was.

“Father.”

He reached out and touched the General’s shoulder. The man stopped abruptly, still not turning to look at him.

“Where… is Bernard?” Jason asked, voice lowered.

The General remained silent.

John jogged up beside them and grabbed Jason by the arm.

“I told you—not now!” John snapped. “Why must you—”

“I thought I told you to get ready, John!”

The brothers froze, eyes fixed on their father. His tone was harsh, his voice unsteady.

The General lifted a hand to his eyes.

“General,” John said gently, stepping closer, “what… happened in—”

“Go, John.”

The General’s voice was calmer now. He cleared his throat, regaining his composure. A few servants approached cautiously but stopped short. He waved them on.

“Go get ready. The people of Velroy have requested our assistance.”

John nodded and jogged off toward the armory.

“I’m coming too,” Jason said.

Jemma, just now catching up, grabbed his arm.

“I’m going,” he said, tearing free of her grip.

“No,” the General said softly.

“Why not!?” Jason shouted.

The servants stopped and stared at him like he’d committed blasphemy.

“You are not a soldier,” the General said.

Those words hit like a blow to the chest.

“What?” Jason whispered. It was the only thing he could say without stuttering. He had always known his father saw limits in him—but to hear it spoken so plainly…

“Next time, son.”

The General turned and placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder. Pools of unshed tears shimmered in his eyes, glistening in the noonday sun. Though the sky was bright, everything suddenly felt dark.

“You’re not ready, Jason. And with Bernard…” He sighed. “With Bernard out, we need you here. Someone must secure the estate.”

Jason slapped his father’s hand away and stormed past the armory.

Jemma ran after him, calling his name, but he didn’t respond.

John, having witnessed the exchange, opened his mouth to reprimand his brother, but the General called out—

“Come on, John!”

“But General, he—”

“Now!”