Yu-Gi-Oh is the property of Konami and Kazuki Takahashi, and this work is only a very appreciative celebration, from which we hope to derive no profit of any kind.

"A glass of brandy, Colonel?" With the younger Jardines gone, the Countess had left the room too, and it was just Pegasus and the Earl left in the parlor. "Perhaps you'd care to try some of our local whiskey?"

Pegasus smiled. "Whiskey's traditional here in Scotland, isn't it, Your Lordship?" he said. "It would be rude of a visitor to refuse it."

He took the glass the Earl handed to him, a rather well-filled glass, and raised it in polite toast before taking a drink.

"Call me James." The Earl sat again, this time at the end of the sofa where Pegasus was sitting. "A close friend of my son's such as yourself; there's no need standing on ceremony. You know you've made the holiday for my family," he continued. "You and Donald, I mean: My wife and I both sent letters this summer, asking Donald if he'd be able to get here for his birthday. We didn't hear back." -

"He said he sent a letter in August," Pegasus interjected. "But our colonial mail systems aren't always reliable."

"At any rate," James said, "when the 30th came and he wasn't here yet, I'll confess I began to lose hope. Not that I'd say anything to my wife. Margaret is sensitive."

"And of course I didn't talk about it around Yuugi." His mouth wrinkled a little, showing something like displeasure.

Of course? "Yuugi seems a good boy to me," Pegasus put in. "A little young for his age perhaps - He's not eighteen yet, isn't that what you said?"

"Eighteen come March," said James. "Donald was a man already at that age, but Margaret shelters Yuugi so."

He stood, a little abruptly, as though the subject was unwelcome - Or more likely, Pegasus thought, as though he'd just realized how much family tittle-tattle he was telling to a relative stranger. - and turned toward the door. "The portrait gallery is rather interesting," he offered. "That is, if you'd care to know more about what you've got into, befriending a member of the Jardine family."

"I am a student of history," Pegasus said, standing. "I would be happy for a look at it."

They took their glasses with them into the portrait gallery, located at the far end of the same floor as the parlor. Unlike the conventional image of such galleries as being hallways, this one was merely a normal room, a little larger than usual. Family portraits were arranged in chronological order, starting to the righthand side of the doorway, and going all the way around, Pegasus noticed, and almost to the lefthand side. The Jardines, he thought with a little amusement, were going to have to start layering paintings on top of each other, if their family lasted much longer.

"Here we are." James paused in front of the oldest of the paintings.

Pegasus' family was old, but not compared to the Jardine family, he thought, a little in awe, at the sight of the portrait the Earl was showing him. It was one of those medieval-looking pictures, that told so little about what the subject actually looked like, but from the costuming, it had been painted in the mid-Fifteenth Century. And there, gleaming against the ruffle at this long-ago Jardine's throat, he noted the Lochmaben Emerald, which was apparently as old as the family.

"A stunning piece," he said admiringly. "This was painted during the Wars of the Roses, wasn't it, Your Lordship?"

"Oh, before," the Earl said, sounding very well pleased at Pegasus' admiration. "This was painted during the reign of James II," he said. "That would be James II of Scotland," he added explanatorily, "not the fool who lost his throne to William of Orange in 1688. And it's not the earliest our family had done," he added. "Clan MacDonald set fire to the castle in 1453, and everything from before then was destroyed."

"You're noticing the Emerald, I see," he added. "Perhaps Donald's mentioned to you it's to be his now he's 25? My great-great-great grandfather took it off Black Douglas at the Battle of Arkinholme in 1455, and the King presented it to the family afterward. Spoils of war, you know," he said. "And besides, there were none of the Lochmabens left by then."

"Scots' history is always so confusing," Pegasus murmured, trying not to be too obvious about how he was staring at the Emerald. "It's too much for us poor Englishmen to keep straight."

The Emerald, he noted, was prominent in each of the successive Jardine portraits. Here, it took pride of place at the waist on a young dandy from Queen Elizabeth's time, and here, a portrait or two later, it secured a ruffle of lace at the throat of a gentleman of of the late Seventeenth Century. They continued around, and there began to be portraits where it fastened plaids onto Jardine shoulders, and finally they came to the portrait of the current Earl, who was in full traditional Scots costume, with the Emerald gleaming on his shoulder.

The Earl stood with Pegasus, admiring the portrait. "My wife wants to have it re-set for ladies to wear," he said, nodding toward the Emerald. He laughed. "She says I only wore it for the portrait, and it might as well get some use. Margaret's got no sense of history," he said. "The Lochmaben Emerald's been worn by the Head of the Jardine family, for four hundred years. I'm not the one who's going break with tradition."

Pegasus looked at the Emerald with new eyes. It wasn't just a jewel, he thought, it was the symbol of four hundred years of family history. For a moment, he deplored the Countess's idea of getting it re-set. Then it occurred to him that he and Yami were going to do worse than that, to this cherished piece of Jardine tradition. He swallowed once, then again, thinking of all that history lost. Then, with an act of will, he turned away. He and Yami had to eat too, didn't they?

"What must she be thinking, James?" he said, his voice purposely light. "Does she have any excuse at all for such a blasphemy?"

"She says it clashes with the family tartan." James's voice was equally light. "Can you imagine?"

Actually, Pegasus could. The Emerald stood out rather jarringly, against the red-and-black colors of the Jardine family. It didn't look too good with the violet-colored eyes that ran in the family either. Yami would positively be doing the Emerald a favor, he told himself, by giving it into the hands of someone who could display it more attractively.

"Pfft, and she puts coordinated colors above family tradition?" Qualms or no qualms, Pegasus' manner was as casually humorous as ever. "How like a woman," he said.

"Indeed." James finished his whiskey, and set the glass on a side table. He turned back toward the wall, looking not at the portraits, but at the empty space to the right of the last one. "I'll have Donald's done while he's here," he said. "You can't think what it feels like, knowing that another portrait will follow mine."

Pegasus felt something very like guilt, crawl in the pit of his stomach, as he thought that the portrait would remain, but Donald – or "Donald" – would soon be gone for good. The family had two sons though, he told himself. It wasn't like he and Yami were taking the only possible heir. "Have you had Yuugi painted?" he asked.

James looked at him, his face just a little wry. "I know you think I'm partial," he said. "Everyone does. Yuugi is a good, kind, generous boy, but there's such a thing as being too good to succeed in this world. I'm glad he's got Donald to watch out for him."

Pegasus swallowed again. The younger Jardine had his brother, for now, or he thought he did. He'd have him through the New Year, and then what would happen? It was tiresome, having so many qualms, about what was, after all, such a simple con; he almost wished he and agreed to spend Christmas in Paris, as Yami had wanted.

"It's getting late," he said finally. "We'd better be getting dressed for dinner. If you'll excuse me, James?" He left the room, leaving the father alone, and still looking up at the place where his "son's" portrait would hang.