AN: Edited as part of the 2017 improvement project. v2 (13/04/17).

As the helicopter's rotors came to a halt, Wellington helped Darjeeling, Assam and Orange Pekoe down the landing platform. "Welcome back to HMS Implacable, ladies," he said. "How was your flight?"

"Bearable, but I couldn't wait to land," Darjeeling answered. She looked around for a moment, as if taking in the scenery, before giving the boy a smile as greeting. "Tell me, Sir Wellington, will you try to convince me of the superiority of cruiser tanks again?"

"Oh, heavens no!" Wellington exclaimed before a chuckle. "I know a futile endeavour when I see one. Why carry coals to Newcastle?"

"Beg your pardon?" Darjeeling threw him an inquisitive glance.

"Oh, my apologies, it is an idiom of British origin describing a foolhardy or pointless action."

"Fascinating! I must write it down."

"Castus is waiting for us at the garden pavilion," explained Wellington. "Richard… should pop up any moment…" It was unusual for his friend to be late, especially when ladies were involved. He always wanted to keep up perfect appearances. Chances were he was up to no good, planning to make some sort of surprise entrance. Wellington sighed at the thought. "Right this way."

The boy led his guests though the park next to the helipads – a surprisingly vast public garden with numerous flowerbeds dotting a sea of grass. Many narrow footpaths spanned the place to form a sort of labyrinth. To the left, a few small hills bordered the park, and to the right, a thicket of trees formed a green wall. The target of their walk was visible ahead, in the distance – the pavilion.

Just as the group reached the middle of the park, a faint neigh sound echoed from the direction of the hills. "What the…" Wellington mumbled, just as a white stallion appeared on top of the largest hill and started galloping towards them. "By God," the boy muttered, utter disbelief on his face. "That's his plan?" The sight of the horse in the distance made Darjeeling's eyes grow wide with anticipation. As the animal came closer, it became apparent that Richard was riding it. Wellington glared at his friend as he approached the group, but was simply ignored. "Unbelievable…"

"Whoa, down boy!" The horse nickered as Richard reined it in. "Sorry I'm late, ladies. I took Pegasus for a ride and time just flew," Richard explained, as he caressed the animal's milk-white mane. "I came here as soon as I could."

"Of course…" Wellington grumbled.

"You also ride?" Darjeeling asked, her expression radiating enthusiasm. She approached the horse without a trace of fear and patted its head. "We positively must ride together sometime!" Richard raised his hand to stop her, but before he could, the girl was already petting the animal. To his pleasant surprise, however, the horse was calm. It liked her.

"Pegasus never got attached to anyone this fast," the boy said. Wide-eyed, he watched dumbfounded as his mount accepted the girl's every advance. The more he looked, the more his eyes started sparkling, the more his pulse quickened. Unable to avert his gaze, he gaped as if hypnotised as Darjeeling caressed the animal's fur. It took him a few moments to snap out of the reverie, but eventually, his smile slowly returned. "Why not ride today?" Richard finally spoke. "We have plenty of horses to spare!"

Darjeeling's smile grew for a moment, before she realised something. "Oh, I couldn't leave the girls alone…"

"Go on, Darjeeling," Assam said.

"We'll be just fine, Darjeeling-sama," Pekoe added.

"Adrian will take good care of them," said Richard.

"Wellington!"

Richard offered Darjeeling his hand. "Milady?" The girl took it and he pulled her onto the horse, right behind him. "Today, we ride!" the boy declared. Pegasus nickered. "Hold tight." Darjeeling grabbed on Richard's body firmly as the horse started its gallop.

"I'm glad that's out of the way… Where were we?" asked Wellington. "Ah, yes. On to the garden pavilion!"

"Are you OK?" asked Richard.

"Fine, thank you," Darjeeling answered. The bumpy ride made her voice tremble. The horse was almost running at full speed.

"I apologize. Pegasus is quite… enthusiastic," Richard shouted over the neighs of his mount. "He seems to have taken a liking to you. Do you want me to slow down?"

Darjeeling was silent for a moment, as if considering the offer. "No, it's OK," she said. "I am a rider myself. I can handle it." Just as Darjeeling finished her sentence, Pegasus jumped over a rock. The girl let out a short cry and tightened her grasp. Her body pressed hard against Richard's back. The boy couldn't help but wonder whether she was doing it on purpose, a small blush on his face…

"You sure?"

"Yes... Perish... the thought!" She was already adopting expressions she heard at Eton. Richard smiled. He liked her more by the minute.

"We're here," Richard said. After the horse slowed down, Darjeeling weakened her grip on the boy's torso and looked around. Before them was a large white building, the whinnies of horses filling the air around it. "Let's see which one you like." Darjeeling let go of Richard and stared in awe at the stables – a multitude of horses of many colours to choose from.

"Oh, black! Black!" the girl declared.

"I overheard from your conversation with Wellington that your favourite tank is the Centurion," Richard said as they entered the stables.

"I've been meaning to ask. I understand you have one!" Darjeeling clapped.

"So it's true." Richard turned around and smiled brightly. "We know our next destination. Want to drive in it?"

Darjeeling almost jumped up with joy. "Is the Pope Catholic? Of course I do!"

"Good thing I'm a driver, right? But first, let's find you a horse," Richard said.

"I can't wait. This is proving to be a very enjoyable visit. You are a great host!"

"I try my best," Richard said. He liked sincere flattery in general, but it felt even better when coming from Darjeeling. "Noblesse oblige."

"A man goes to see the doctor.

'Doc, everything hurts when I touch it.'

'Let me see. Touch your arm, does that hurt?'

'Yes, doc.'

'Now, when you touch your knee, does that hurt as well?'

'Ouch, yes, that hurts too!'

'Now if you touch your chest, how's that?'

'It hurts just as much, doc.'

'Just as I thought: your finger is broken.'"

Wellington erupted in laughter, rendered unable to do anything but hold onto his stomach. Castus and Pekoe, meanwhile, grimaced at each other in pain.

"I love how you do the voices," said Wellington between gasps for air. "You really have a talent for dry jokes!"

"So… can you load shells with your left hand as fast as with your right?" Pekoe found Assam's joke so unappealing that she decided to put her anxiety aside and get out. She grabbed Castus by the arm and dragged him outside the pavilion. "Could you show me the garden, please?"

"Done!" said Castus when he finally understood the girl's plan.

"I went to buy some camouflage trousers the other day but I couldn't find any," Asam resumed her comedy act.

Wellington merely chuckled at that one. Was he running out of endorphins? He used the brief pause between Assam's humorous assaults to catch his breath. "Reminds me of a camouflage training joke."

"Do tell!" Assam asked.

Wellington wiped the tears from his eyes and said, "Well, it went something like this: 'a sergeant tells a private:

'Private, I haven't seen you at the camouflage training course today!'

'Sir, thank you, sir!'"

The two started laughing together. Wellington realized he was enjoying himself even more with Assam than when he was arguing over tanks with Darjeeling. Maybe Richard wasn't so wrong about having girls at Eton. The absolute glee in her look, rosy cheeks and brilliant smile kept catching Wellington off guard whenever he looked at her. She was radiant. Something as trivial as someone laughing at her jokes had made her so cheerful. Wellington found it strange, but he couldn't stop gazing at her. Assam noticed the boy's stare. Blood rushing to her cheeks, she looked away. Wellington shook his head, as if to shake off some invisible dust clouding his senses.

The sound of instruments flew over the air from the distance. The Music Club was practicing nearby. They were rehearsing Tchaikovsky's opus 66, The Sleeping Beauty. The waltz was played without discord, a perfect performance, as expected of Eton's musicians. Wellington considered inviting Assam to a dance, but he hesitated. Richard's influence was getting to him. It was too early, he thought, and he wasn't even sure he was interested. He wasn't sure she was interested either. They stood in awkward silence for a while, silently enjoying the music until it stopped, but even with their excuse gone, they still weren't sure what to talk about. The boy prayed for something to happen… anything.

"Sahib Wellington!" A young Indian boy ran towards the pavilion from where the music had played.

"Gandhi! How are you, chap?"

The boy frowned a little at Wellington's salute – another victim of his nicknaming. "Fine, thank you. And you?" He spoke in a thick Indian accent, a sharp contrast to Wellington's posh British.

"Entertaining our guests… although most of them seem to have evaporated…" Wellington said, finally noticing Castus and Pekoe's absence. "But where are my manners? Assam, I present to you Gandhi. He is a member of the music club, a violin player, to be precise."

"Pleased to meet you." Assam took a bow.

She was still beautifully well disposed. Gandhi gaped at her, but she didn't seem to notice. "Ahem. Gandhi, this is Assam, Saint Gloriana's best gunner."

"It is a pleasure to meet you," the boy said, still staring.

"So! Have you reconsidered my offer? Will you join the Senshado club?"

Wellington's loud proposal finally snapped Gandhi out of his trance. "I would love to…" he said, "more than ever, but the Music Club has many upcoming concerts and contests. I need to practice."

"Yes… I didn't get the chance to pull strings and have your draconic teacher cut you some slack. I'll get around to it someday," Wellington said.

A bitter smile grew on the Indian boy's face. "Good luck with that. I wouldn't dare ask anything of her."

With a snort, Wellington waved his hand dismissively. "She can't be that bad… and if she is, Richard will handle it."

"Another interesting nickname? Might I ask how you got it, Gandhi-san?" Assam asked.

"Most nicknames on campus are my doing," Wellington admitted. "Except for the Historical Costumes Club. They picked their own."

Assam gave a nod of understanding. "Gandhi-san must be a very peaceful person."

Wellington chuckled. "Quite the opposite, he is surprisingly aggressive. We occasionally play grand strategy games together. He beats me most of the time. He'll be a welcome addition to the club."

The sudden start of weird music from his pocket caused Gandhi to rapidly grab his mobile and look at the screen. "I have to go. Talk to you later!" he said and started running back towards where he came.

"His teacher, I bet…" said Wellington. His gaze lost into the horizon, he shook his head and let out a sigh. "Ah well… I wonder where Castus vanished..."

"Darjeeling-sama!" Orange Pekoe ran from Castus' side to her schoolmate the moment she saw her walk with Richard towards them. "How was the ride?"

"We didn't just ride! We also played tennis! It was very fun!" Darjeeling said.

"Did you win, Darjeeling-sama?" Pekoe asked, intended as a rhetorical question.

"It was very tight, but it ended up in a draw," Darjeeling explained to her junior, before turning towards Richard. "We positively need to play again." She didn't seem too upset at her failure to win.

"Eh?" Pekoe looked at her baffled, then at Richard. She didn't believe it possible. Nobody could beat Darjeeling at anything. Had she finally found her match?

"We need to buy more horses for the Ark Royal! And a tennis court!" Darjeeling said. "But where is Assam?"

Richard watched how Pekoe's mood improved second by second after her senior returned. Stoic Castus probably wasn't the best company. He'd have to do something about that, Richard thought. "Oh, Castus-san was kind enough to show me around the gardens here…" Pekoe said. "Assam and Wellington-san are probably still telling jokes at the pavilion."

The thought sent shivers down everyone except Darjeeling's spine. "Oh, why didn't you tell me? I love her jokes!"

"Err, why don't we all visit my place? It's nearby, I'll make some of my delicious French Omelette!" Richard suggested in a hurry.

"You cook as well?" asked Darjeeling.

Happy to have successfully changed the subject, any nervousness from behind Richard's smile vanished. "Yes, you'd be amazed what else I got to learn when I was a kid," he said. "I learned this recipe from the Stanfield Chef, who in turn learned it from a famous Frenchman. The trick is in the spices, a culinary secret known only to a few select Spaniards." While Casus had his usual straight face, the girls looked at Richard with obvious interest, hanging on his every word. He'd almost forgotten how it felt after so much time at Eton. "When I was a child, this noble from Madrid came to a party and brought his own cook for whatever reason. The man took pity on the lonely kid he met there and cheered him up the only way he could: talking about cooking. It didn't really work, but I appreciated the intention, and learned a few things."

"This is great! I also enjoy making food. Maybe I can help!" Darjeeling declared.

Pekoe turned white upon hearing it. "Darjeeling-sama, maybe we'll cook for them when they visit the Ark Royal…"

The meaning behind the young girl's words was obvious enough for Richard to pick up on instantly. "Yes! I can't have my guests cook! I'll handle it, no worries!" He said, much to Pekoe's relief. "Castus, go get Adrian and Assam!"

"Wellington!" said Castus, with a slightly louder tone than usual. "That's what he'd say." Richard guessed that was his attempt at a joke, but ignored it.

"Tonight. We dine!" Richard said, his voice rising in a great crescendo, before ending with an anticlimactic, "At my place."

"My God, she's perfect!" said Richard. He sighed, staring into the horizon towards which Saint Gloriana's helicopter flew. The sight of the sun setting behind it only made him feel the more passionate.

"Beg your pardon?" Wellington asked.

Richard's face was tinted a dark shade of orange, but the flicker in his eyes was obvious. "Darjeeling. My God, that miniskirt…" He bit his lower lip. Wellington looked at him dumbfounded, mouth partially open. Richard's behaviour was… unexpected. It was the first time Wellington saw him like that. Normally, it was the girls who had that reaction to him. "She looked great in that tennis outfit."

"She… brought a tennis outfit?" Wellington asked, even more baffled than before.

"I swear, if I didn't know I'd say she was doing it on purpose."

"She brought a tennis outfit?!" Wellington asked again, this time mildly irritated.

Richard didn't mind the reaction at all. Instead, he continued his emotionally charged monologue. "I would have sensed her intention had she tried to seduce me, but no... it was all natural…"

"I'm sorry, do you not find it the least bit strange that she brought a tennis outfit to what was supposed to be a quiet afternoon tea party?" Wellington's tone was well past confusion and into annoyance.

Richard shrugged. "She said it was just in case… so, no."

"By God, talk about crazy prepared…" Wellington mumbled to himself. "Who in the name of God brings a tennis outfit to… never mind…" After finishing thinking out loud, the boy turned his attention back to Richard. "You must have gone easy on her. A draw? And neither of you looked that exerted."

"No. I went all out. She's good," Richard said. "Although I was distracted…" Wellington's eyes grew wide. He couldn't believe it. "As for the sweat, we showered afterwards."

"What?"

"God, not together! What are you thinking, man?!"

"I… didn't… specify…"

"But you were thinking it!"

"No I wasn't!" Richard glared at Wellington. "OK, maybe I was," Wellington admitted. "So… did you peek?" he continued, unwilling to pass up the opportunity for a good jest. After all, it wasn't often that Richard showed any form of emotional vulnerability.

"Adrian, you hurt me!" Richard cried, before letting out a chuckle.

"Wellington!"

A few moments of silence returned seriousness to the atmosphere. Richard continued his original monologue. "She's the closest thing to a proper Englishwoman I met in Japan, far superior to anything I hoped to find. She's elegant, beautiful… And we have so much in common. I think I'm in love…" Richard spoke in a voice Wellington hadn't heard before, like an infatuated teenager, and they'd known each other since they were children. The lion of Eton had finally met his match...

"By God... You're going to keep inviting them over, aren't you?"

"You bet I will!" The boy seemed to have returned to his usual disposition, but Wellington could not easily forget the way his friend had spoken.

"I have a bad feeling about this."

"You always have a bad feeling! Learn to love, mate!"