Author's Note: So hi. CHECK OUT MY NEW DEVIANTART ACCOUNT. I have all this stuff up there anyway, but I got a few pics of ponies (most with bases used) and yeah. Ummm... arrr and arrr?

New Mistral was just as the name implied: new. Ever since Jock Fireblast, the infamous pyromaniac pirate, had burned down the city, many people had frowned upon the falsely-accused Skylord Lysander. But, once Israphel had been slain, Lysander's name had been officially cleared (the heroes' word was really more than enough for most people at any rate). In fact, there were many new changes done to Minecraftia's mainland.

Skyhold had been extended (slightly), and there were new Skylord cadets and recruits coming in every two or three months. This meant that, for the newest head Skylord, they were bombarded with paperwork almost every week.

This lucky person was Skylord Lysander himself.

The blue-clad Skylord sighed to himself as he signed the final cadet transport form with a flourish. Placing it on the very top of the considerate pile of paperwork, files and forms, Lysander collapsed on to his chair and yawned hugely.

He hadn't been getting much sleep lately, insisting on staying at work to finish the mountains of paperwork always waiting for him. Skylord Jasper, his greatest annoyance and greatest love, kept trying to drag (occasionally literally) the head Skylord from his desk, but Lysander was not easily swayed.

He also had a very strong grip on things like desks.

There came a knock on his door. "Umm... Lysander?"

A head popped into the small, plain office. It was Skylord Evans, a white-blonde, blue-eyed young man, in charge of Skyhold's food. He was very shy, and dressed in sunflower-yellow.

"Umm... a note came for you," he said, in his small, quiet voice.

The sleep-deprived Lysander managed a strained smile. "Bring it in, then."

Evans stepped into the office and handed the head Skylord a note. It wasn't printed on paper; rather, it was on yellow parchment that had the air of being stashed somewhere and forgotten. Lysander could have sworn he could smell jaffa cakes.

As Evans stepped quietly out of the office, unnoticed, Lysander read the messily-scrawled note with interest:

Dear Lysander,

Hi, it's Xephos here. If it's alright with you, me and Honeydew are bringing over a few friends from Tekkitopia. They're in real need of a holiday, because half of them are CEOs of companies. If you could manage to get there, it'd be much appreciated.

We're scheduled to reach Mistral City tomorrow, at dawn. KP mentioned something about a knight from Icaria, so if you could meet up with him, we'll find you guys and go from there.

Xephos

Lysander stepped gratefully out of his office into the dying rays of sun. He had had one of those rare days when paperwork seemed to be all that existed. Thankfully, he had finally gotten it all done, and began making eagerly towards his little dormitory-like cottage in Skyhold.

Each Skylord shared a dormitory-cottage with another, sometimes two others. Lysander was no exception. He shared his with Jasper's, though really it wasn't all that out of routine.

Knocking on the door, he waited two heartbeats before pushing it open and letting himself in. The evening chill was beginning to set in (Skyhold was naturally cold), and he moved gratefully into the warmth.

Jasper was cooking. He always cooked. Lysander had tried his hand at cooking once or twice, and the pan had melted to a drinkable substance.

"Hello, dear!" sang the ruby-clad Skylord, as Lysander entered the kitchen. It was the envy of Skyhold, their kitchen. No-one else had a kitchen.

"What're we having?" asked Lysander tiredly, sitting down.

"Food," replied Jasper smugly, placing said food down in the middle of the table. It was actually some steak, beautifully prepared with spices and vegetables and a tub of gravy and all that delicious foodstuff.

"Swell," sighed Lysander, cutting himself a portion and tucking in.

There wasn't much talking after a while. Lysander was eating ravenously (paperwork makes you hungry), and Jasper was busy humming rather than eating the spectacular meal. When the mute-blue Skylord was finished, Jasper was the first to speak.

"How was your day?" he asked.

Lysander raised an eyebrow. "Do you really care?"

Jasper simply shrugged. "I'm supposed to, aren't I? And, in my experience, the closest thing you can get to really caring WITHOUT caring is to PRETEND you care. So I'll ask again... how was your day?"

A pair of hazel eyes glared at a pair of grey ones. After a time, however, Lysander sighed and answered, "Fine."

"Maybe I should rephrase," replied Jasper smoothly. "What did you do today?"

"One word: paperwork," muttered Lysander, taking a swig of water.

"Deary me," sighed Jasper, patting his lover. "Again?"

"Mmhmm."

"I'm guessing being head Skylord isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"Mmhmm."

"Did Evans give you that letter?"

"Mmhmm."

"Who was it from?"

"Xephos."

"Oh, really?"

"Mmhmm."

"How was he?"

"Really, Jasper!" exclaimed Lysander suddenly, losing patience. "How in the name of Notch was I supposed to know of his wellbeing? Did you expect that he would have written to me simply to tell me that he was okay? Really? I am not psychic, I cannot know of his wellbeing in any way, or at least until he visits Mistral. So, please Jasper, stop asking me petty questions!"

There was silence. Lysander was breathing hard, as if he had run a marathon. Then, stiffly, Jasper responded, "All right then, Lysander."

The head Skylord let out a breath that seemed to sap all of his anger. "Sorry, Jasper. Stress. I... um, I had no right to snap at you. It was my fault. Sorry."

Skylord Jasper stared at Lysander for a long time. In the silence that followed, Lysander felt awkward, eventually thinking that Jasper wouldn't forgive him, when...

"Don't be ridiculous, dear!"

Lysander threw his plate at him.