Archive of Our Own ^beta

In the early Entry Hour, Phainon finds himself on an empty Kremnoan training ground.

None of the Kremnoans are up yet, seeing as it’s still too early, but he does see Krateros on his way to the training ground. The Kremnoan veteran, Mydei’s trusted mentor, only gives him a slight nod as an acknowledgement, and Phainon returns it with a smile.

After all, he’s pretty sure that him being on Kremnoan grounds is a natural sight to the Kremnoans, given how frequently he steps his foot here, either seeking Mydei out or sparring with him.

But on this day… Phainon looks around the empty training ground with a long sigh. Mydei has left for a mission, and Phainon has to admit that he has been secretly feeling agitated himself. He's gotten so used to sparring with the king at this time of day, every day, that it feels jarring when the routine suddenly stops.

He's got all this energy thrumming inside him, and only the king himself can help him release it in the form of a spar.

He’s tried sparring with the Okheman guards, but… honestly, only Mydei can match him blows for blows, but that’s not to say that Okheman guards are weak. 

He just wants someone that can challenge him.

“Oh, isn’t it Phainon?” A voice greets him from the entrance, and Phainon looks up to see Leonnius walking towards him with a grin. 

“Leonnius!” Phainon’s face lights up at the sight of him. “Are you here to train?”

“I was on my way to the outskirts, but Lord Krateros told me we have a guest on the training ground.”

Phainon tilts his head. What’s there on the outskirts? If there were any troubles, then surely Aglaea would contact him. Leonnius seems to have guessed what’s going through in his mind, and he quickly assures him. “Nothing happened on the outskirts. I often do my training there.”

That got Phainon perking up in an instant. “You have your own special training?”

Seeing Phainon looking interested, Leonnius tilts his head in invitation. “Why don’t you join me and find out?”

Phainon follows him to the outskirts, and as they chat together, he can’t help wondering what kind of training Leonnius does on his own. He would have thought that he would train together alongside the Kremnoan warriors, but it seems that this special training is something specific that’s more suited to Leonnius’ ability.

Once they reach their destination, Leonnius finally turns to Phainon, beaming. “Alright, how fast are you?”

Phainon scratches his head, unsure how to answer. “I can keep up with Mydei, if that helps?”

Leonnius' eyes seem to glint at his answer. “Good enough. I’ve also heard you often make bets with him, so how about we add some stakes for this training?”

The mention of stakes got Phainon blazing with excitement and determination. He’s nothing if not enthusiastic, and he welcomes challenges like Mydei’s special honeycakes. “Loser treats lunch? Fair warning, I have quite a big appetite.”

Leonnius barks out a laugh, also fired up. “That makes both of us, so you’d better prepare your coins.” Then, he points to the grassless path ahead of them. “See this path over here? It goes all the way around Okhema. Since this is your first time, how does three laps sound?”

Phainon has already started stretching. So Leonnius’ special training is running laps? It’s no matter—he fought Mydei for ten days and ten nights before, he knows his stamina can handle just three laps. Still, he can’t hide the excited smile on his face. “How about we go all out instead? You know I can keep up with anything.”

“Seven laps, then.”

“Seven laps it is.”

Leonnius draws a starting line on the ground with his foot. “The first person to reach here after seven laps wins.”

“I’m ready when you are.” Phainon, who has finished his stretches, gets into a starting position when he sees Leonnius doing the same. 

“On the count of three. One, two, three—”

They both sprint forward—except, all Phainon can feel after he takes a step forward is a rush of wind zooming past him. He stumbles a little, but the second he regains his footing again, a blurry figure is already way ahead of him, getting further and further away from him.

A smirk makes its way on his face. Heh, this will be interesting. As expected of a Kremnoan.

He picks up his pace, making sure that Leonnius is constantly in his line of sight. The trees and bushes zoom past him as he sprints forward, gradually catching up with the Kremnoan. 

“Are you really going to leave me behind all alone?” Phainon teases when he’s merely a few steps behind Leonnius.

“Mydeimos told me about how competitive you are.” Leonnius throws a smirk at him from over his shoulder. “I have to see it myself.”

“Not too bad, right?”

“Let’s see who’s the last one standing, hero.”

They are neck and neck in the first two rounds, but come the third round, Phainon can already feel his thighs burning. Leonnius is far ahead of him, though his pace has also slowed down to a jog. But just when Phainon thinks he’s catching up to him, Leonnius picks up his speed again, leaving him in the dust.

Before he knows it, Leonnius is already one full round ahead of him, and the next thing he knows, Leonnius is grinning at him at the line where they started. Knowing that Leonnius has won their challenge, Phainon immediately collapses on the ground, laying spread eagle as he catches his breath. “How… how do you…”

Leonnius appears upside down in his vision, still with that cheeky grin. “Have you forgotten my role in the Kremnoan detachment?”

Leonius’ role… Phainon thumps his head back against the ground in realization, then sighs. “Of course, the messenger. Swift and fleet-footed.”

“Keep your chin up, hero.” Leonnius sits down next to him, leaning back on his hands as he stretches his legs in front of him. “If it makes you feel any better, Mydeimos has yet to best me.”

“Is that why you asked how fast I am?”

“Gotta know your competition well before anything.” Leonnius pats his shoulder, like a sage imparting his wisdom to his naive apprentice. “Besides, doesn’t it feel good to let out some steam?” 

Phainon turns his head to look at him, and Leonnius just sighs, a smile playing on his lips. “I know you’re restless because Mydeimos isn’t here.”

Guess he’s not as subtle as he thought, Phainon thinks as he lets out a soft huff of laughter. “Habits are hard to break, I guess.” Then, he turns to the sky, watching fluffy clouds gently drifting by. “Sparring with him or fighting enemies helps to take the excess energy off. But since Mydei is on a mission and Aglaea doesn’t have any for me…”

His sentence trails off into a comfortable silence. Good thing Leonnius saw him and invited him for a run. It does help, and he feels more relaxed compared to before. But still… “What’s your secret?”

Leonnius puffs out his chest in pride. “It’s all in your posture and breathing.” Then, he points to his torso. “Having a strong core helps too. Sometimes I switch up between running uphill and running long distances to build stamina.”

“Not to mention you’ve been training for more than a decade.” 

“Never underestimate your opponent and their appearance.” Leonnius reminds him with a laugh before adding in jest, “Especially Hephaestion and his scrawny figure. He once took down six men in one fell swoop, all on his own.”

Then, he pauses, shuddering as if he remembers an unpleasant memory. “Actually, disregard that. Don't tell him that I called him scrawny. The last time he found out, he somehow persuaded Perdikkas to make my tonic the most disgusting thing I’ve ever drank.”

Phainon's eyebrows shoot up his hairline, half in surprise and half in amazement. He's spent quite a lot of time with Mydei’s friends before, and Hephaestion has been nothing but warm and kind, even playful. 

Who would expect that he has such a hidden side.

“Anyway, come on.” Leonnius stands up with a groan before extending his hand towards Phainon. “Let’s grab breakfast, and we can spar afterwards if you’re still up for it. And then, you can buy me that lunch.”

With a gleeful look, Phainon grabs his hand and gets on his feet. “Hope you’re ready to lose in our spar.”

“What did I say?” Leonnius shoots him a quick grin before sprinting towards the gate of Okhema. “Don’t underestimate your opponent!”

Phainon runs after him, feeling much better than when he woke up alone in his kline for the fifth day in a row.

-

Phainon is aware that he has been restless for the past week.

Aglaea has sent Mydei on a rescue mission and he’s expected to come back two days ago, but there has been no word from him. Though he has requested Aglaea to let him find Mydei and aid him, his request was kindly but firmly rejected.

Phainon knows he himself has just returned from a rough mission and is still healing from his injuries, but he can still take on another mission. If Aglaea is worried about him in his condition, then he doesn’t mind going with another person or two to find Mydei.

Mydei's silence and disappearance bother him a lot more than he thought. So when Aglaea told him that she hasn’t heard from him but has dispatched a few soldiers to find him, Phainon has no choice but to concede. 

Aglaea won’t budge on her decision, and Phainon can’t force her to either.

So he mindlessly walks in the city, trying to find a quiet place to calm his mind before he does anything stupid. He goes to Mydei’s usual spot but can’t relax because of the hustle and bustle down below. In the end, after wandering around for some time, he finds a hiding place behind a pillar in the plaza.

There aren’t that many people in the plaza; just some civilians quietly chatting with one another, and the sound of the waterfall is both calming and helping to drown out the chatters. He sits down on the floor and leans back against the pillar, watching water fall from the floor above to the fountain below, water droplets splattering in the air as it falls, cooling down the plaza.

His eyelids begin to grow heavy, drooping every now and then, and he almost falls asleep if it weren't for his own body sensing a presence nearby. When he opens his eyes and looks up, he sees a figure sitting on the edge of the fountain, quietly strumming his lyre. 

Peucesta—one of Mydei’s comrade-in-arms and closest friends. Phainon remembers him as the quiet one, who enjoys just being in the company of his friends and good music. When Peucesta looks at him, Phainon nods in greeting, smiling.

Peucesta gives him a nod in return, then goes back to his lyre. With the combination of the sound of water falling and the lyre, Phainon feels his eyelids grow heavy again. But then his mind starts thinking about Mydei, and the previous trace of sleepiness gradually dissipates. 

The anxious feeling settles back in his chest like it never left, but there’s nothing he can do but to wait around. He just wishes there’s a way he can contact Mydei, or sneak out of Okhema without the guards or Aglaea noticing.

He needs to know that Mydei is alright.

“Mydeimos will return.”

Phainon glances up in question at Peucesta, who is looking down at the lyre in his hands. One hand is casually plucking at the strings as he continues, “Have faith in him.”

Phainon's shoulders drop. “Am I that obvious?”

Peucesta is silent for a moment, and then softly replies, “You seem different than usual recently. The only plausible reason I can think of is Mydeimos’ absence.”

Phainon lets out a long sigh, then tilts his head back against the pillar. The light that reflected on the mural wall is bright, almost blinding if he tilts his head at a certain angle. “You’re not wrong. It's unusual for Mydei to take this long to finish a mission. He often comes back earlier, or on the scheduled day itself.”

Then, his gaze falls on Peucesta. “I’m not wrong to be worried, am I?”

“You’re not wrong to be worried.” Peucesta nods before adding, “All of us are, but Mydeimos will pull through.”

“Yeah, he always does,” Phainon replies softly, and as his and Peucesta’s words finally manage to convince his mind to calm down, he curiously looks at the other. “Do you play other instruments?”

Peucesta slowly shakes his head. “This is the only one I’ve ever learned.”

Phainon tilts his head back against the pillar and reminisces about an old memory, a small smile playing on his face. “When I was little, my friends and I would pick a blade of grass and whistle with it. It was really fun, though off-key.” 

Then, a new melody is played. It’s light and soft. Calming. Pleasant to the ears. “That sounds nice. Did you compose it yourself?”

“A popular Kremnoan lullaby.” Peucesta answers, his fingers steadily plucking the strings, filling the air with the soothing melody. “It’s usually played for children and warriors who are restless at night. I just figured… it might help you too.”

Phainon looks at him—though the Kremnoan’s face is impassive, if he looks a little closer, he can almost see a pink hue on the tips of his ears. Touched by Peucesta’s gesture, Phainon quietly thanks him before closing his eyes, letting the melody lull him to sleep. 

As he drifts off to sleep, he wonders… he wonders if Mydei also had to be played this lullaby when he had restless nights himself. 

Maybe he should ask Peucesta to teach him the lullaby one day, just in case.

When Phainon wakes up, the light in the plaza has dimmed a little, replaced with an orange hue. It must have been nearing the Parting Hour.

Peucesta is still at his previous spot, lyre in his lap and a slate in his hands. The chatter in the plaza has quieted down, and there aren’t that many people in the area either.

And then, he finally registers a weight on his right shoulder.

He turns and sees a familiar mop of blond hair with red tints at the end. Mydei is breathing slowly, steadily, next to him, eyes closed and arms crossed. There are bruises on skin, and his torso and arm are bandaged. And yet, for the first time in weeks, Phainon feels like everything is alright again as he lets out a relieved sigh and kisses the crown of Mydei’s head.

“He was looking for you when he arrived,” Peucesta tells him, his voice quiet as if he doesn't want to break the gentle atmosphere. His eyes never leave the slate. “He’s been by your side ever since.”

Humming, Phainon brushes off the hair from Mydei’s eyes before placing his hand on Mydei’s hip, then rests his head on top of Mydei’s.

He falls asleep again to the sounds of the waterfall and Mydei’s breathing.

-

Aglaea assigned both Phainon and Mydeimos to assist Ptolemy to retrieve some scrolls from a long-abandoned town, now a monster’s nest, on someone’s request. 

The journey is relatively peaceful, for Ptolemy, at least. 

With Mydeimos and Phainon fighting to see who can get the most kills, all Ptolemy has to do is just sit back and relax, which is a nice change. Though he misses fighting, he misses not fighting even more.

“What’s the count?” asks Mydeimos. As soon as they stepped into the town entrance, they were ambushed by a swarm of titankins. Like a wise man that he is, Ptolemy knew not to come between two men who were busy battling. So, he stayed back and kept count while observing the layout of the town in case there were hidden traps or enemies.

Ptolemy hums as the last of the titankin falls near his feet. He takes two steps to the side, distancing himself from the dead titankin. “Twenty Mydeimos, nineteen Phainon.”

Two sounds are heard simultaneously—Mydeimos’ triumphant grunt and Phainon’s annoyed tut.

“Alright, fine. You win.” Phainon sighs in defeat before looking around in the deserted town. “So, where are we heading?”

This time, Ptolemy walks in the front and leads them. “The old library should be on the east side of the town.”

As Phainon falls in step next to Ptolemy, Mydei stays behind. “Both of you go. I’ll do a quick sweep, and we’ll meet here.”

Phainon frowns. “Alone?”

Mydei raises an eyebrow. “What? Don’t think I can handle it?”

Ptolemy slows down his pace but doesn’t look behind him. He’s already used to them bickering that it has become almost a white noise to him. 

“Will you be reckless again?”

“Have I ever been reckless?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

The library should be near a monastery, but… Ptolemy looks around before sighing. All the buildings here are so rundown that there are no markings to signify which building is what. There are no signboards here either. It seems like they’re just going to have to enter each building one by one.

“Don’t die before we finish this mission.”

“Don’t trip on your way to the library.”

Ptolemy is already way up ahead, checking a building when Phainon finally joins him. “Is this it?”

“Only one way to find out.”

It turns out the building used to be a restaurant, judging from the numbers of knocked-over tables and chairs and the strewn pots at the back. They continue walking again, going into each building, and it’s only on their seventh attempt that they finally found the library.

Phainon looks around the empty library. Shelves are tumbled over, scrolls and slates scattered haphazardly on the dusty floor. Phainon picks up one scroll and opens it, only to sneeze when dust puffs into the air.

“Careful.” Ptolemy advises from somewhere between the upright shelves. 

Phainon waves the floating dust away and puts the scroll back where he found it, then walks to the wall where he finds several vases lining up. They're all still in good shape, though the pattern and the painting on the vases have started to fade. The vases don’t look too ancient, but they do seem valuable to his amateur eyes. 

He debates on whether he should bring one vase back so Theodoros can appraise it. If it’s valuable, then he can come back and bring them all back to Okheman. If it’s not, well, he’s sure it would look pretty in his room.

Still, despite his plan, he doesn’t take any of the vases. He turns around and ventures in the building until he finds Ptolemy, who is currently sifting through each scroll before putting them into his bag. 

An Okheman citizen, who used to grow up in this once-prosperous town before it was attacked and ravaged by wandering monsters, had requested for the Heirs’ help to procure some reading materials from this library. The reading materials were said to contain information like the history of the town and the step-by-step procedures on how their vases and other potteries were moulded, as well as the formula and recipe for the mix and the paints.

Maybe he should bring back two vases, just in case. One for the person who hired them, and one for Theodoros.

But then again… isn’t this practically theft?

He quickly abandons the idea and shoves it out of his head as he grabs a random scroll from the shelf, slowly unrolling it. It contains some local recipes—one that he knows contains ingredients unique to this region because he has never heard of them—and he’s sure that Mydei would be happy if he gets to see this.

Speaking of Mydei… he wonders if he’s being reckless again out there.

A quiet sigh escapes him before he can help himself, and Ptolemy, without even looking at him, asks, “Are you thinking about him? Mydeimos will be fine. He's probably having the time of his life if he finds a lurking enemy.”

“I know.” Phainon sighs again as he closes the scroll in his hands and quietly slips it inside his coat. Then, he crosses his arms and mumbles, “But he could have been a little nicer before we left.”

Ptolemy shoves another two scrolls inside his bag. “We both know he meant to be careful and not to hurt yourself.” 

“Still… I wish he’d just be more honest. Something like ‘be careful’ is fine. More direct.”

Ptolemy chuckles as he picks up several scrolls on the shelf before opening them and scrutinizing the contents. “Mydeimos is a full-blooded Kremnoan, after all. Rather than paying attention to his words, you should pay attention to his actions. It's in our blood to show our affections through actions rather than words.” 

He puts one scroll back in its place while the other is put inside his bag. There’s only one more title he has to find. “He may grumble at us for teasing him, but at the end of the day, he still cooks for us. He may be awkward with children, but he often plays with them. Think about it. Has he ever said one thing to you but did the complete opposite?”

There are a lot, actually. Mydei sometimes scolds him for eating too much and too fast, yet he always pushes more plates of dishes towards him. Mydei complains about their childish challenges, yet he always accepts them and goes all out to win.

Still… it doesn’t hurt to say something nicely or give a compliment once in a while, Phainon thinks with a small pout.

“Alright, I'm done.” Ptolemy dusts off his hands and turns around to look at him, nodding. “Let's meet Mydeimos at the entrance.”

Phainon trips at the doorway on their way out, and he lets out a quiet groan of despair. “Please don’t tell Mydei I tripped.”

Mydei is just going to end up giving him a look that screams “I told you so” , followed by a snort of “I told you so .”

Phainon’s pride can only handle one “I told you so” from Mydei at a time.

“Well, he did say don’t trip on your way to the library.” Ptolemy rubs his chin in amusement. “He didn’t say anything about returning from the library.”

“Thank you for being on my side.” Phainon tells him, gratefulness in his eyes and sincerity in his heart. They continue to make their way to the entrance, and Phainon listens attentively to Ptolemy who’s talking about the history of this town, based on what he skimmed through when he searched for the scroll.

When they finally arrive at the town entrance, Mydei is standing with his arms crossed, his posture relaxed. He only pushes himself off the pillar that he’s leaning against when he sees them coming.

From the corner of his eyes, Ptolemy sees the way Phainon’s shoulders sag in relief despite the playful jab in his voice.

“I see you’re still alive and in one piece.”

“It seems you didn’t suffer any fall either.”

With a smile, Ptolemy trails after them back to Okhema with a bag full of reading materials and a journey full of conversations and witty banters.

-

Both Phainon and Mydei have returned from another successful mission. Despite that, Phainon has suffered from injuries that left him being carried by Mydei all the way to the Twilight Courtyard. Mydei has gone on to meet Aglaea for a debrief after leaving him at the courtyard, and now here Phainon is, coat and undershirt neatly folded to the side as Perdikkas looks him over for injuries.

“I know you’re a capable warrior, but—” Perdikkas lets out a low hum, his forehead creasing, “—this is serious.”

Phainon quietly hisses when Perdikkas examines his broken ribs with light fingers. “It’s— it is a little unexpected, yes.”

When Perdikkas looks up again, Phainon’s face has turned pale, his breathing laboured as beads of sweat form on his forehead, and the man himself is grimacing as if holding back his pain.

He immediately straightens up, eyes roving over Phainon in case he misses a vital wound during his earlier examination. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt elsewhere?”

“I just… feel really cold and dizzy.” Phainon bites the inside of his cheek when he starts to feel the telltale signs that he’s about to throw up. He closes his eyes, then swallows the excessive saliva in his mouth. “Can I lie down?”

Without wasting another second, Perdikkas helps him lie down as he mentally goes through a list of possible poisons that could have caused this. “What enemies did you fight? Do you remember where, or if there were any plants nearby?”

“We were ambushed on our way back to Okhema, but—” Phainon curls on his side, knees slightly pulled up. “—but Mydei said they’re Bulsan savages. He helped to get some of the poison out.”

“We’ve fought them before. They're notorious for lacing their weapons with poison.” Some of their comrades had fallen to their poison prior to coming to Okhema. Perdikkas had spent countless nights and done countless experiments whenever he could to try to find an antidote, and it took him three moons to finally figure out the right formula.

Looking at how much in pain Phainon is, Perdikkas gives him a comforting pat before unfolding a blanket and draping it over his shivering form. “Just breathe slowly. I'll get the antidote.” 

He makes a beeline to the shelf where they keep their antidotes. Some of them take a long time to prepare, so he and Lady Clementine make sure to keep stock of their antidotes so they don’t run out when they need them. He pours a small amount of the antidote into a drinking bowl before bringing it to Phainon.

“Here, drink this.” He supports Phainon as Phainon props himself up on his forearm, and then slowly drinks the antidote before laying back down on his side. 

Perdikkas sets down the bowl on the small table next to him, then pulls a tray that contains wound-cleaning supplies. He begins to clean the large gash on Phainon’s front; it was previously cleaned and bandaged before he got to the Twilight Courtyard, to which he assumes that Mydeimos must have been the one to give an emergency treatment, just enough until they could reach Okhema where Phainon could get proper treatment.

It's a little messy, but it’s effective and does its job, given their limited medical supplies.

He’s moved on to the next wound when Phainon suddenly whispers. “Can I ask something?”

Perdikkas hums, hands not ceasing in cleaning Phainon’s injuries with careful hands. “What is it?”

“Have you ever watched Mydei fall?”

Perdikkas falls silent next to him. Phainon figures that maybe the other didn’t hear him, but when he tilts his head to look at him, the look in Perdikkas’ eyes briefly dulls before it returns to its usual calm. “...a few times.” 

“Was it difficult to watch?”

“Mydeimos may fall, but he always gets up each time.” Perdikkas answers once he finishes wrapping the second wound. Then, he gestures to Phainon to unfold his arm so he can treat the injuries. “Truthfully, I’m glad he brought us here. Because in this way, I won’t have to see him fall ever again. I can rest knowing that when I wake up every day, I know Mydeimos will be fine.”

Then, in a quieter voice, “I also don’t have to worry about when he will fall next time.” He turns around to grab another clean cloth and wets it with a cleaning solution. “What about you?”

Phainon laughs, a little hollow, a little incensed. Perdikkas is surprised to hear such a sound coming from the normally cheerful guy. Then, Phainon rests his forearm over his eyes, and when he speaks next, his voice sounds wet and hoarse. “I hate it. I hate it so much…”

“Did it happen again on this mission?” 

Instead of answering, Phainon gives a nod. Perdikkas glances up at him, trying to take a look at his face only to find his throat bobbing. He glances back down as if giving him the privacy he needs. Then, he puts away the cloth and grabs a roll of gauze to wrap it around the wound.

“I don’t think I'll ever get used to it.” Phainon finally speaks again after the fourth wound has been treated. This time, his voice returns back to normal, though there’s still a hint of hoarseness if he listens closely. “Do you?”

“I’ve known him for over a decade. Stood with him, been with him through the worst battle.” Perdikkas pauses. He remembers their battle against Aidonia—they had lost a lot of their own, especially when Mydeimos himself fell while protecting their wounded warriors. That was the first and the last time he’s ever seen Mydeimos shed a tear for failing to protect his own people. 

His eyes soften at the memory. Mydeimos may not say it out loud, but Perdikkas knows Mydeimos secretly still blames himself for dying that day. “Nothing will ever make me get used to it. He's my brother.”

As he finishes the sentence, Perdikkas stands up straight and gives Phainon a once over. “Alright. All your wounds have been cleaned up, and the antidote should be doing its work and you’ll feel drowsy soon. Are there any other injuries?”

“I don’t think so, no.” Phainon rubs his ribs, feeling the skin tender. He has no doubt that it’s already forming a bruise. Then, he looks up at the other. “Perdikkas, thank you.”

Perdikkas, who is putting the cleaning liquid and the roll of gauze back on the tray, pauses. When he looks into Phainon’s eyes, he knows that Phainon doesn’t just mean patching him up. He smiles and nods. “It’s no problem. Just come to me if there’s anything else.”

Mydei arrives just after Perdikkas has finished clearing up the station. Other than minor bruises and scratches, he himself looks fine—faring much better than Phainon, but that’s expected given his ability to self-heal.

“So?” Mydei asks, his sharp eyes looking over the bandages wrapped around Phainon, but Perdikkas can see his shoulders relaxing.

“I’ve given him the antidote for the Bulsan’s poison, so there will be some side effects.” Perdikkas explains, and Mydei nods in understanding.

“I know. Like what happened to Leonnius.”

Perdikkas can’t help the small twitch of his lips at the memory. After taking the antidote, Leonnius slept for almost a full day; not even the sounds of thunder booming could wake him. He ended up getting tossed into a cart as they continued their journey. “Yes, but please don’t toss him into a cart. His ribs are broken.”

Mydei nods again. “Got it. I'll gently put him in a cart then.”

“Hey, I heard that.” Phainon chimes in with a half-hearted glare directed at Mydei. 

Perdikkas then clears his throat, slipping back into professionalism. “As I’ve said, broken ribs, so that means no workouts and sparring. Bed rest, if possible.” He's sure Phainon is going to sneak away for a spar come tomorrow’s Entry Hour, so it’s good that Mydei is here to keep an eye on him. “All wounds have been cleaned and patched up, but still, do be careful to not move so much. It may bleed again.”

“Hah, did you hear that, Mydei?” Phainon wiggles his eyebrows, a sly grin stretching on his face. “Don’t move much and bed rest. Looks like you’ll have to be my maid after all.”

Mydei flicks his forehead. “Looks like you’re fine enough to joke around.” Then, the look in his eyes soften as his voice turns gentle. “I told you to leave them to me. Why did you turn back?”

“Are you seriously asking me that, Mydei?” Phainon attempts to sit up, wincing as he does so. Perdikkas puts an arm around him to help him up. He also utters a quiet “be careful ” but is ignored by the man. In fact, gone is Phainon’s previously playful expression. There's a deep furrow between his eyebrows, and the tone of his voice becomes sharp. “You were bleeding to death and you expected me to leave you behind?”

Mydei scowls, his expression somewhat petulant. “It’s not like I wouldn’t come back to life again. My body can heal itself no matter how heavy the injuries are.” 

“And you think that makes it okay? You think I'd be okay with leaving you alone to die?”

Perdikkas, sensing that the atmosphere is rapidly escalating, quietly straightens up and pats both of them on the shoulder—Phainon with a silent take care and Mydei with a sympathetic good luck.

And then, he leaves the couple alone. There are more patients that need attention anyway, and there are only him and Lady Clementine working at the courtyard. Though, as he is tending to another patient, he can still hear the couple’s voices from where he is, hushed yet loud enough for his trained ears to hear without meaning to.

“...are you angry?”

“Let’s just go back. We’re not doing this here.”

On the inside, though, he can’t be grateful enough for Phainon’s presence in Mydeimos’ life. Out of their friend group, only Phainon is able to knock some sense into his stubborn king. Perhaps, in this way, Mydeimos will finally treasure his life and won’t sacrifice it unnecessarily like he always does.

-

It has been three days since he came back from his mission with Mydei and from being treated in the Twilight Courtyard, where Perdikkas recommended three weeks' rest before doing anything strenuous. And apparently, Perdikkas’ “recommendation” is something that one must follow, according to other Kremnoans. 

He was already feeling restless on his second day of resting, so he snuck out to the Kremnoan’s training grounds, hoping that maybe he could get some workout done—maybe not a full spar with Mydei, but perhaps something light like joining their training.

But who would have thought that Mydei would actually ban him from entering the training grounds until he receives explicit permission from Perdikkas that Phainon is well enough to work out.

One Kremnoan warrior had quietly shuddered when Phainon asked him what would happen if someone went against Perdikkas, but it got the message across.

So, today, he lets his legs take him around Okhema until eventually, he wanders into the library. There aren’t that many people at this time of day, but he can still see some sitting on the floor reading, perching on the ladder to arrange the scrolls back in their place, and even sleeping between shelves.

As he rounds the corner to the open area where Misia can be seen performing her water harp, he sees a familiar figure sitting alone on the right balcony, looking absorbed by the text on the scroll in their hands.

“Hephaestion?” Phainon waves with a smile when the man looks up after hearing his name be called. “You’re here early.”

“So are you.” Hephaestion returns the smile and puts down the scroll before nodding at the empty stool across him. “If you’re not doing anything else today, why not join me?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Phainon is glad that he doesn’t have to spend the Lucid Hour alone, so he makes his way to where Hephaestion is sitting before stopping at the shelf to check the scrolls neatly arranged on it. “What are you reading?”

“A romantic tale of a knight and his prince,” Hephaestion replies as he picks the scroll back up. “Lady Castorice recommended this tale to me. She said it was a thrilling read.”

“Huh… She does indeed enjoy romantic tales.” Phainon comments as he finally picks one scroll off the shelf before sitting down opposite Hephaestion. “She herself writes, too. Though, she still hesitates to publish her writing.”

Hephaestion raises his brows in curiosity. “Oh? It seems we both have friends who write. I would love to read Lady Castorice’s works one day.”

Phainon laughs under his breath, nervous. He doesn’t know how Mydei would take it if he knew his friends read explicit romantic tales with the main characters suspiciously similar to them both. He quickly clears his throat and changes the topic. “Have you read this tale? It’s about a young dragon trying to find its way home after wandering too far.”

“Just last week. It was as heartwarming as it was heartwrenching. I was unable to put it down until I finished it,” Hephaestion says with a sheepish smile, then adds, “It reminded me of our childhood in the detachment.”

Phainon inches forward, a mixture of interest and curiosity crossing his face. “If you don’t mind me asking, what was it like?”

“It wasn’t peaceful, but it was nice.” Hephaestion’s eyes flicker with nostalgia as the corner of his mouth quirks up in a soft smile. “Peucesta taught Mydeimos how to speak, and Ptolemy taught him how to read and write. And then there were me and Leonnius, playing with him when he got tired of lessons.”

They both chuckle at that; Phainon can almost imagine a tiny Mydei quietly sneaking out of his lesson so he could play instead, but then got caught by the scruff like a kitten by Krateros. Then, Hephaestion continues, “Perdikkas was like our big brother, still is. He took care of us while the adults were busy.”

“No wonder you guys are tight-knit.” Phainon turns his head and looks at the blue sky, his expression softening. Mydei’s childhood was far from normal, but he’s glad that he has his friends to give him a good experience. His own childhood was nothing like Mydei’s, but he definitely remembers sneaking out of classes and playing with his friends until the sun went down.

It was one of his best childhood memories.

Although… with how close they are and how much time they’ve spent together… Phainon’s gaze drops to the opened scroll in his lap, his head lowered. He’s not deaf; back when he was just friends with Mydei and attempting to court him, he heard other Kremnoans whisper to one another about how he was only setting himself up for a heartbreak because, according to them, their king had already had his heart taken by one of his dearest comrades.

Even so, Phainon had never given up on pursuing Mydei. As long as Mydei didn’t tell him to stop or that there’s already someone else in his heart, he would keep courting him. And after seven months of persistent courting, in the Month of Gate, Mydei finally gave his heart to him under the stars.

Occasionally, when he finds his mind drifting without meaning to, he can’t help but wonder… which one of Mydei’s dearest comrades did those Kremnoans refer to?

Then again… isn’t it obvious?

His fingers twitch, and his mouth is pressed into a thin line. “Can I ask a question?”

Hephaestion hums in question, eyes fixed on the scroll he’s reading. “Of course. What is it?”

“This is silly, but…” Phainon softly clears his throat, hands gripping the edges of the scroll. “Were you and Mydei…” He quietly trails off, considering to abandon his question altogether, but Hephaestion completes his question before he can take it back.

“In love with each other?”

“I’m sorry, that was foolish of me.” Phainon ducks his head in shame, feeling angry at himself for even asking the question. “Please disregard what I asked earlier.”

“You’re not foolish.” 

When he looks up, Hephaestion is looking out the balcony with a melancholic smile as he puts down the scroll, his gaze faraway as if reminiscing the past. “Maybe we were, or maybe it was one-sided all along. But either way, we wouldn’t have lasted.”

Phainon opens his mouth, then closes it again. Then, hesitantly, he opens his mouth again despite himself. “Can I ask why?”

The gentle melody from water harp drifts through the air. Other people in the area softly chatter to one another as they come and go. After a moment, Hephaestion gives a pensive sigh. “Mydeimos is my king, first and foremost. We will never be equal, no matter what he says. Even when he denounced the Kremnoan dynasty, I will always see him as my king.”

Phainon watches, listens with full attention and patience as Hephaestion continues in a soft voice, “We were also constantly on the battlefield. We couldn't afford to think about anything else except everyone’s survival.”

He has heard all about their wins and losses as the Kremnoan detachment made their way to Kremnos, where Mydei eventually, successfully, defeated his father in a duel before he led them to Okhema. After a decade of wandering and fighting, Phainon can’t even begin to imagine just how much they had to go through to get to where they are now.

“What do you think of Mydeimos when you see him?”

Phainon looks up when Hephaestion’s voice breaks the silence, blinking as he processes the question. What he thinks of Mydei… 

“A strong and capable warrior.” Phainon answers as he rubs his chin, thinking back to their first meeting. Only through a duel would Mydei listen to him about Aglaea’s preposition. “A wise and rational leader, too. Why?”

A breath of laughter escapes Hephaestion, and the man leans back on his hand, his gaze still faraway and full of melancholy—a rather unusual look from someone who’s rather playful. “That’s where you and I differ. You see and know him as Mydei the warrior. But whenever I look at him, I can’t help but see Mydeimos the king. As a Kremnoan, I can only obey my king. As a friend, I can only advise him.” 

Hephaestion taps his finger on the scroll he’s holding. “Tell me, Phainon. If you knew Mydeimos was making a wrong decision, would you stand by him and his decision, or would you challenge his decision?”

Leaves rustle in the breeze, filling the silence between them. After three heartbeats, Hephaestion finally tilts his head and smiles at him with a knowing glint in his eyes. It’s as if Hephaestion already knew his answer before he even asked the question.

“I would…” Phainon swallows, suddenly feeling his mouth dry. “I would challenge him.”

Hephaestion nods, seeming pleased with his answer. “What Mydeimos needs is his equal, someone who can stand on equal footing and challenge him where needed, and that’s you, Phainon.”

For some reason, his eyes sting when Hephaestion looks at him. Hephaestion looks to the front again, where birds are sitting perched on the big tree, happily singing, and his shoulders fall with a wistful sigh.

“He may seem stubborn, but he has a gentle heart.” He murmurs to the wind that passes between them, like a secret meant only for him to hear and keep. “I long knew that he was reluctant to bring us back to our homeland. He did not want any more blood to be shed, Kremnoan or not.”

“He’s not a typical Kremnoan,” Phainon says, his voice coming out hoarse, but Hephaestion doesn’t seem to notice.

“He’s not.” Hephaestion agrees, chuckling a little. “For us, dying on the battlefield is the most honorable way to die. While everyone rejoiced and celebrated the death of our comrades on the battlefield, Mydeimos was the only one who mourned.”

Hephaestion tucks his long hair behind his ear, and the way he smiles at him makes his chest curl with a strange feeling of loss. “I know you already take good care of him, and for that, I won’t ask for anything else from you. Thank you for making Mydeimos happy, Phainon.”

Phainon's throat bobs. He breaks his gaze and looks at the scroll in his hands instead. He almost wants to laugh at how his day has turned out. He intended to spend the day reading with Hephaestion, but it ended up with him grieving for Hephaestion’s past with Mydei together.

The conversation also made him feel like he has just received Hephaestion's blessing to pursue Mydei, which he knows is ridiculous since he is already together with Mydei and Mydei’s friends are happy for them both.

“Are you crying?” Hephaestion's amused voice teases him.

“Why would I cry?” Phainon sniffles as he rubs his nose, and then his eyes. And then, quietly, with pleading eyes, “Please don't tell Mydei I cried.”

With a laugh, Hephaestion fully turns to him and lifts one finger. “Under one condition.”

“What is it?”

Hephaestion props his elbow up on the armrest, chin resting in his open palm. The smile on Hephaestion's face, now for some reason, sends a shiver down his spine. “I heard you spent a whole day with Leonnius a few weeks ago. He didn't happen to talk about my scrawny figure again, did he?”

Phainon stares at him, then tugs at his choker, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. Inwardly, he thinks, he should have heeded Perdikkas’ advice and just stayed in his chamber until his injuries healed.

—

“We’re meeting the guys soon.”

“Mm hmm.” Phainon hums nonchalantly as he hovers over Mydei, his lips never leaving the warm skin on Mydei’s neck. 

Fingers tangled up in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. Not pulling, yet not pushing either. 

“Phainon…” Mydei half sighs, half moans as he tilts his head back, giving Phainon more access to his neck. “I’m serious. We need to get up soon.”

An amused smile makes its way on Phainon’s face, though hidden in the crook of Mydei’s neck. It’s cute how Mydei tries to stop him from going further but doesn’t actually do anything about it other than an empty scolding. “I think we can squeeze in one more round before—”

Knock knock.

Two sighs are heard echoing in the chamber. Phainon reluctantly pulls himself back and sits up before putting on his pants that have been strewn on the floor since the second quint of Curtain-Fall Hour. Now that it’s already Lucid Hour, with the sunlight peeking through the curtains, Mydei lets out a quiet groan when he sees the purple pants, and then drapes his arm over his eyes. “You’d better hope it’s not Lady Aglaea on the other side of the door.”

Phainon turns to him, one finger raised like he’s about to impart wisdom. “One should always dress comfortably to sleep.”

“And did we sleep?”

Phainon doesn’t deign himself to answer Mydei. Instead, he turns back around to unlock the door to greet their unexpected guest. As the lock mechanism whirls, Phainon stretches his arms above his head and lets out a big yawn—

—only to immediately freeze when he sees not Aglaea, though he has indeed prayed she wasn’t on the other side of the door, because the door opens to reveal not one, but all five of Mydei’s friends, smiling and waving at him.

He closes his mouth and brings his arms back to his side with a sheepish grin. “Um, we aren’t late, are we?”

“No, you’re not.” Ptolemy assures him before adding, “It’s a slow day today, and none of us feel like doing anything. That’s why we came here.”

“We’re not interrupting, are we?” Hephaestion asks in a playful lilt, and Phainon can only hope that the flush rising to his face isn’t obvious to everyone.

“Ah, no, please come in.” As soon as Phainon turns around, Leonnius lets out a wolf whistle. Confused, Phainon turns back to the group only to see Ptolemy coughing into his fist, hiding his laughter, Hephaestion and Perdikkas smiling a little too wide at him, and Peucesta who averts his gaze to the ceiling with a red face.

“What…?”

“HKS!” There’s a heavy thudding of footsteps rushing towards him before he finds himself engulfed in a blanket. “Have you no shame?”

Phainon splutters at the question. “Me? What did I do?” Then, he throws off the blanket to cover Mydei instead. This time, he knows his face is even more flushed, redder than it was a few seconds ago. “You’re the one who’s shameless! Why are you walking around with only a thin sheet!”

With Mydei's face turning crimson in anger and embarrassment, Leonnius sidles up next to Phainon and throws his arm on his shoulder. “Good thing we knocked first, huh?”

And then, there’s a finger tracing a line on his back. Perdikkas lets out a hum. “These scratch marks look deep. Why don’t you come by to the courtyard later and I’ll give you a salve so they’ll heal faster?”

Phainon tries to look over his shoulder and Leonnius’ draped arm. “Ah…”

Truthfully, he doesn’t want those marks to heal faster, but he still has enough shame in him to keep that thought to himself.

Leonnius then squeezes his shoulder, grinning. “You look like you’re healthier too. How about you and I work out again tomorrow? Two laps?”

“As his healer,” Perdikkas turns slightly to glare at Leonnius, “how about no? His ribs are still healing. He needs two more weeks of rest before he can do anything strenuous.”

Leonnius innocently gestures to Mydei. “I mean…”

“Oh Kephale, please save me…” Phainon mumbles under his breath, feeling his face burning. This isn't how he wanted his day to start… If he had his way, he would have had a quick tumble with Mydei before they had to clean up and meet up with his friends at the Marmoreal Bath.

“Mydeimos.” Hephaestion playfully chides him with a shake of the head. “You know Phainon is still healing from his injuries. Why did you make him exert himself when he should be resting?”

Mydei’s mouth hangs open at Hephaestion’s question, looking both affronted and like he was genuinely wronged, which Phainon has no doubt is amusing to Hephaestion. “It wasn't my idea,” he defends himself, though it comes out weak.

“Alright, Peucesta, they’re both decent now,” Ptolemy calls with a teasing smile. “You can take your eyes off the ceiling.”

The faint blush never leaves Peucesta’s face even when his gaze finally falls on his friends, but then his eyes catch the small discomfort on Mydei’s face, and without meaning to, he looks down at the floor.

Where he sees suspicious fluid steadily trickling down Mydeimos’ legs.

The faint blush returns in full force, and Mydei seems to know that he noticed, and now Mydei himself is blushing just as red as the pomegranate juice he’s always drinking. “Alright, everyone, get out! Just… give us a few minutes to clean up.”

The group of five, minus Peucesta, erupts into small chuckles before Perdikkas turns around and pushes the others to leave, like a mother hen herding its little fluffy and giggly balls of fluff. “Okay, okay. Enough teasing the lovebirds, everyone. Let’s go.” 

Ptolemy waves at them without looking back. “Take your time. We'll be at our usual place.”

Their chamber becomes silent once the door closes. Phainon turns to Mydei, who is still red in the face—either from shame or anger, Phainon doesn’t know, but he does know that it’s adorable—and is making his way to the small private bath to clean up.

“Would you like me to help?” Phainon follows him, his eyes darkening with desire when the blanket and the sheet that covered Mydei’s body slide down the smooth expanse of the skin before pooling at Mydei’s feet. He swallows, feeling his pants tighten. Perhaps they can sneak in one, just one…

“No.” Mydei flatly refuses as he sits down in the bath and cleans himself. “I know you'll just use your…” Mydei clears his throat, pink blossoming on his already reddened cheeks before continuing, “...fingers. And then we'll be late. My friends have seen and known enough.”

Phainon tilts his head, the epitome of innocence. “Would you rather I use my tongue instead?”

“Stay. There.” Mydei glares up at him. Phainon obediently stays still where he is, just two steps away from the edge of the bath. If anything, it only makes Phainon more excited. How can he not, when Mydei is wet and naked right in front of him? “Don’t you even dare take a step in this direction.”

“I can help scrub your back.”

“Don’t make me turn you around.”

After cleaning up, they finally arrive at the Marmoreal Bath, where their friends are already sitting in the bath and chatting together. They slide into the space saved for them, Phainon next to Hephaestion and Mydei next to Ptolemy.

Perdikkas, sitting on Ptolemy’s other side, nudges a tray of fruits and snacks in their direction. Next to Perdikkas is Leonnius, who’s regaling everyone with a colourful tale of how he took down ten bandits at once in his last rescue mission. Peucesta, sitting between Leonnius and Hephaestion, looks content with the company and listening to his friend’s tale.

“My sincerest congratulations.” Hephaestion claps lightly once Leonnius finishes his story. “With your strong build, I’m sure it was a breeze to take them all down.”

“Heh.” Leonnius puffs out his chest and rubs his nose. Then, as if realizing something, his chest deflates as he shoots Hephaestion a suspicious look. “Why do I feel like that isn’t sincere at all?”

Hephaestion splays his hand across his chest, his forehead creasing. “You wound me, Leonnius. Have I ever been insincere towards one of my dearest comrades?”

Leonnius doesn’t let his guard down just yet; instead, he squints his eyes at the other. “The last time I had this feeling was…” He jabs his finger in Hephaestion’s chest—Peucesta presses himself against the wall to avoid getting in the middle of them—with a sharp cry of realization. “The last time this happened, Perdikkas changed my usual tonic formula. I told you, I didn’t do anything!”

Hephaestion only looks at him. “So you didn’t talk about my scrawny figure to Phainon?”

Leonnius whips his head to look at Phainon, his eyes wide. “You told him?”

“I didn’t!” He really didn’t! When Hephaestion asked him that question the other day, instead of answering him, he had embarrassingly made some pathetic excuse to leave. He even stumbled into a low table, and the bruise that resulted from that crash is still on his shin.

“He didn’t have to.” Hephaestion leans back against the wall of the bath, his head raised in triumph. “You just did.”

“So?” Leonnius crosses his arms, the tips of his ears turning red when he realized he fell into Hephaestion’s trap. “Are you going to overreact again? Make Perdikkas give me another disgusting tonic?”

Quietly, Perdikkas mumbles, “It’s not disgusting, it’s nutritious,” though no one seems to pay attention. Ptolemy pats his back in comfort.

“I have never overreacted in the first place.”

“Shall we ask our comrades then?”

“Not it.”

“Not it.”

“Not it.”

Three different voices call out simultaneously—Mydei, Ptolemy, and Perdikkas. They don’t even look up as they share a cluster of grapes together. They look unfazed, even. Like they’re used to this scene that they don’t even bother de-escalating the situation.

Phainon stiffens when Leonnius turns to him with an expectant look. “Well, Phainon? You agree with me, right, hero?”

“I think I reacted normally for someone who’s accused of being insincere by someone who I thought I could trust.” Hephaestion looks at him, face crestfallen. “Don’t you think so too, Phainon?”

Gulping, Phainon turns to the other three, who very pointedly don’t look at him. Instead, they choose to pay attention to the grapes in Ptolemy’s hands, scrutinizing them as if they were a rare fruit. He almost wants to cry—not even Mydei is willing to help him get out of this situation. He turns to Peucesta next, eyes wide. Thankfully, the saint of the group, the quiet Peucesta, gives a helping hand by chiming in with a soft voice. “Please don’t involve others in your marital affairs.”

“We’re not—”

“I’m not—”

“Okay, enough, both of you.” Mydei finally speaks as he offers a whole pomegranate to Phainon. In Mydei’s language, this is probably his way to apologize to him. The other two finally quiets down, settling back in their seats and apologizing to him as well, and a new conversation starts among them.

Phainon nudges Mydei’s shoulder, whispering, “Peel it for me. I’m injured.” After all, it’s the least Mydei should do for refusing to help him just now.

As his fingers gracefully peel the fruit, Mydei grumbles something at him in Kremnoan language, and Phainon playfully flicks water in his direction.

“HKS! Don't splash water in my face.”

Phainon flicks the surface of the water again, a splash of water landing directly on the red tattoo on Mydei’s face like a bullseye. “Not until you tell me what you just said.”

In retaliation, Mydei splashes water on him, drenching his face and saying something in his native language again. Refusing to back down, Phainon splashes him back and wracks his brain for something to say in Elysian. It's been a long time since he last spoke his mother tongue, but that doesn't mean he's completely forgotten about it.

"You look like a wet chimera.” Well. It's not exactly an insult, but Mydei doesn't know that, which is the point!

And most importantly, no one here knows the Elysian language except for him, so no one can call him out if it’s a weak comeback.

But then, laughter comes from beside Mydei. “That's— is that what you guys say? Really?”

Phainon flushes, then leans forward to look at Ptolemy. “Wait, you know the Elysian language?”

Ptolemy brings his thumb and index finger close together. “Just a little. I acquired some reading materials from Aedes Elysiaea before. One of our own had travelled there when she was young, and she taught me a little, only because I was curious about languages.”

“Oh?” Phainon’s face lights up. Someone from Kremnos had visited his quaint little village before? The thought that someone else had also walked on his village’s ground other than him makes him giddy. “Is she still here? I would love to meet her.”

Ptolemy shakes his head with a small smile. “She fell long before we arrived here, unfortunately.”

Although he has never met her, Phainon can’t help but mourn her. Anyone who’s ever stepped foot into his village is considered one of the villagers too. Shaking his head, he directs their conversation back to the original topic. “So you understood what I said earlier?”

Ptolemy shoots him a cheeky smile. “You look like a wet chimera. Did I say it right? It's really cute.”

“Yeah, not bad…” Phainon's face turns warm upon being caught, but then he smiles back at Ptolemy. “It actually feels nice to be able to speak Elysian again with someone. I think I want to brush up on the language again.”

Ptolemy’s eyes light up as the man nods in excitement. “Then, we can practice together. I would love to write a book on the differences between our two languages.”

“Don’t worry.” Phainon pats his chest twice with a proud smile. “Just ask me anything!”

“Why? What did he say?” Mydei turns to Ptolemy, his eyes narrowing into slits as he stares accusingly at Phainon, though he still hands over the peeled pomegranate to him. “Did he make fun of me?”

Phainon gratefully takes the pomegranate before splashing water in Mydei’s face again. “Hey, now, that's not fair. If you can speak Kremnoan to me, then I can speak Elysian to you too.” Then, he taps his chin, pretending to be in thought. “You know what? I think I can speak a full sentence in Kremnoan better than you can speak Elysian in just a week.”

“Heh.” Mydei throws his shoulders back and lifts his chin, one eyebrow raised. “Is that a challenge, hero?”

“Only if you dare to rise to it.”

Phainon doesn’t have to look to know that Mydei’s friends are already making bets, with Perdikkas noting down how much each one of them is betting. All of them are invested in the challenge before Mydei even accepts it.

But like him, everyone also knows Mydei is easy to bait.

Mydei crosses his arms in front of his chest, then tilts his head in Ptolemy’s direction. “Fine. One week. Full conversation in Elysian language. Ptolemy will teach me.” And then, his lips curl into a smirk that Phainon often sees when they spar together. That devilish smirk that never fails to get his own blood and body burn with adrenaline and desire at the same time. “And because I’m feeling generous, you can have four teachers to teach you the Kremnoan language. Titan knows you need all the help you can get.”

“How kind of you, Mydeimos.” Phainon laughs and leans back, elbows resting on the edge of the bath as a similar smirk plays on his face. He tosses the pomegranate in the air before catching it in his hand. “But you can take back the three. I only need one to win our challenge.”

Mydei makes a sweeping gesture towards his friends. “Take your pick.”

Phainon slings his arm around Hephaestion’s shoulders. “Hephaestion, will you join me in my journey to teach your proud king a lesson?”

Next to him, Hephaestion nods, a glint of determination in his eyes. “It will be my honour. Let's take Mydeimos and Ptolemy down together.”

“Hah! Let's!”

“Then, Ptolemy, how about we add another win to our roster?” Mydei leans against Ptolemy, lifting one hand, palm up.

Ptolemy drapes his arm on Mydei’s shoulder, the other hand grasping Mydei’s offered hand in a handshake before they both do a fistbump. “We’ve never lost on the battlefield, and we won’t lose in this either.”

Challenge made, bets accepted. Everyone leans back and shares snacks as Perdikkas talks about a rare poison and how he is eager to study it. Phainon brings the pomegranate closer when Mydei reaches for it, until eventually, he just holds it out for him like a plate, happy with watching Mydei eat the seeds while engaging in a conversation with his friends.

As the group erupts into laughter, Phainon smiles to himself. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be than here—with Mydei, good friends, and a good time.