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"What an ridiculous idea," Mydei scoffs.
"That's a little rude." Phainon holds Vigethos in one arm. "Lady Tribbie and Hyacine came up with it."
Mydei makes a face, like he swallowed a slice of lemon. Never one to badmouth the other ladies in the Chrysos Heirs, he decides to take a step back. "Shouldn't the competition be between the chimaeras themselves? Why would we be involved?"
The glow of the sun shines down on the courtyard, making it a perfect spot for sunbathing in the Action Hour. Mydei and Fig Stew are sprawled on the grass, dozing before a certain white-haired nuisance came bounding over.
"Motivation, dear prince! We have our own chimaeras we've trained, do we not? A bit of friendly competition makes the bond stronger!"
Fig Stew looks up at Phainon and yawns. Mydei echoes the same sentiment—he would rather take a nap than join in some chimaera tournament.
"We're not interested. Go deliver your invite to the others." Mydei tucks his arm beneath his head, ready to go back to his sleep. Fig Stew whines, scooting closer and curling up beside Mydei's torso.
Phainon kicks him in the thigh, scowling down at him. Vigethos wriggles and flails, swiping its paws in the direction of Fig Stew. "That's not even funny. What is it this time—are you afraid of losing to me?"
With the Black Tide no longer a looming threat, their competitions have dwindled into more ridiculous ideas. From cooking competitions and races from reconstructing kingdoms and back, Phainon knows exactly how to convince Mydei to join his whims, with just the right amount of playfulness and provocation in his words.
And unfortunately for him, he's never really learnt to ignore the teasing. Mydei cracks an eye open to glare at him. "I don't need a tournament to know that Fig Stew will be declared the winner."
An awoo resounds from Fig Stew, which makes Vigethos yell and squirm in Phainon's arm. Phainon yelps and drops his chimaera, Vigethos landing on all fours before it leaps towards Fig Stew. There's a scuffle of claws and teeth and horns right beside Mydei, clearing his previous lethargy with a wave of fresh annoyance.
"I can't see your chimaera winning if you can't even tame it well," he grumbles, sitting up and lifting both creatures by the scruff. "Don't start a battle you aren't going to win."
"Fig Stew was the one that started cursing at Vigethos! Look at the pair of you with your foul mouths!"
Vigethos climbs onto Mydei's shoulder, sticking its head up and letting out a roar. Not intimidating in the slightest, but certainly a threat to Mydei's eardrums. Fig Stew glares at Vigethos and lets out another profanity—the same one, really, Mydei thinks it only bothered to pick up a single word from him.
"Stop throwing that word around so carelessly." Mydei picks Vigethos up and hands it to Phainon, getting to his feet with a grunt. "See yourself off, Deliverer."
"Mydei," Phainon whines, draping his arm around Mydei's shoulders. "At least come and watch! I heard Lady Aglaea and Teacher Tribbie are duking it out right now!"
Mydei rolls his eyes, ready to decline. But Fig Stew lets out another howl and hops to its feet, indicating its interest clear as day.
Phainon and Vigethos grin at him, the pair of scheming scoundrels. Mydei sighs.
"Fine. Just to watch."
"Yep," Phainon agrees, "just to watch."
"This isn't watching," Fig Stew awoos contemplatively.
Mydei scowls. "Look at the ridiculousness that is unfolding. The Imperator's chimaera is scaring the others off the field and the scholar brought a dromas. We're beating these cheaters."
Fig Stew awoos again. "Didn't you say the competition is for chimaeras, not humans? This would be cheating."
"There's no word for cheating in the Kremnoan language."
"Yes sir!" Fig Stew bounces up and down. Too cute, Mydei sighs to himself, he needs to teach it how to look more menacing.
The two chimaeras that are standing on the booth howls at him. "Will you be joining the match, Lord Mydei?"
"Yes. Fig Stew will be my companion." Mydei glances at the rest of the chimaeras, scattered across the garden and practising their moves. They're supposed to have five chimaeras in a team—but why do some chimaeras just have the ability to summon other chimaeras? Who made the rules of the tournament?
Of course, Mydei is a battle-worn prince with prowess in both combat and tactics. He'll turn anything into his own advantage, even the questionable logistics of what is supposed to be a fair tournament.
"Your first opponent will be Lord Phainon!" The "tournament host" chirps. "He requested to be your first opponent when you are to join!"
Mydei's eye twitches. Scoundrel.
And speak of the devil.
"Well, are you ready to go for it?" Phainon appears from behind him, a hand landing on the small of his back. "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist a good battle."
Mydei huffs, crossing his arms and looking to the side. "I had no interest in going against you specifically."
"I think this is what the Trailblazer calls a 'tsundere'," he hears Phainon mutter nonsense to himself. Fig Stew bounces up and down, running circles around Mydei's feet as it growls at Vigethos.
"Uh, don't you want Mydei to introduce the skills of his chimaeras first—"
Phainon pats the pink chimaera on the head. "Let's go for it! Cipher and Hyacine are already done!"
Mydei's no cheater. But an advantage is an advantage. "Of course. May the best trainer win."
Organising their team goes about as well as expected. Mydei vows to train Fig Stew in the more social aspects as he watches a circle of chimaeras howl at each other incomprehensibly. He thinks he can make out the mentions of "sacrifices" and "reproduction"—and he should stop this madness now.
"We have a battle to win. Keep your disputes aside for now." Mydei crouches down to examine each chimaera, deciding on his formation before the match starts.
With Fig Stew as his main companion, Mydei knows he'll have to capitalise on its abilities with teammates that pair well with it. Which means…
"Quantity over quality!" Fig Stew awoos.
"Don't be rude." If Mydei can help it, he will go for both quality and quantity. It is the way of war. "I believe that every one of you will bring your best performance today."
The green chimaera from the hosting table hops to Mydei. "Have you decided on your team?"
"Yes," Mydei says, turning to the grinning Deliverer from across the garden. "Let us begin."
The chimaeras he has handpicked for his team compliments his tactics perfectly. Ruthless Demon, Small Group and Not-So-Honest have their abilities to field more chimaeras in the battle—Mydei has no clue why it's allowed, but as long as it isn't against the rules, he won't complain—while Career Standout assists in keeping the team up.
As for his personal chimaera…
"Remember," Mydei says sagely, "you will always get back on your feet, no matter your opponent. It is the way of a Kremnoan warrior."
Fig Stew howls. "Yes, boss! I won't disappoint you!" And it disappears. Ready for battle.
Phainon approaches him with Vigethos at his side. "Are you ready for our long-awaited duel?"
"Who was waiting for it?" Mydei snorts. "Let us go—I'll feed you the taste of defeat one more time."
Phainon stares at the chimaeras between them, engaging in a fierce battle. "This is getting ridiculous. Do you keeping extra chimaeras in your pockets or something?"
"There's no word for pockets in the Kremnoan language."
"Seriously? With how naked you guys are, you'd think pockets would be a life-changing addition." Phainon squints at the fielded chimaeras. "For all your talk about Fig Stew being the strongest chimaera, I thought you would have it here."
Mydei grins. "Of course it is the strongest. Don't you think that witnessing your comrades' struggles would strengthen your resolve?"
"Uhm. That's not the most ethical way to go about it," Phainon says.
"There is no word for ethics in the Kremnoan dictionary."
"I don't think that's not something to be proud of?"
Small Group goes down—but not before bringing a horde of Suffermaxxers to the front of the pack. Phainon sighs. Mydei can only nod in his pleasure.
"Are you drawing this battle out so you're able to face me longer? I'm honoured to be in your presence, but surely there are better ways to catch my attention."
"Your ego is too inflated for a man who trained a chimaera into harming itself." Mydei has seen too many chimaeras that have the ability to attack itself or its teammate. What in the world is that possibly about? How do you expect to win when your attacks are targeted towards your own?
Phainon shrugs. "Every superpower needs its drawbacks. That's what the storybooks say, I think."
"We're not in a storybook."
"…"
"…"
Vigethos eliminates Career Standout, who's in the backline. It lets out an excited roar, stamping its foot on the grassy field.
"I'm not going to continue this argument for your sake," Phainon decides to say.
"Shut up. Your scheming chimaera is messing around."
Suffermaxxer Number Two swats at Vigethos with a paw, claws sheathed for some reason. Vigethos basically cackles and hurls unrepeatable insults while it dances around. Great.
"Perhaps your squad should try defeating it. Vigethos is a valiant warrior."
"But not an honourable one," Mydei huffs. "Too similar to you."
"Ouch." Another wave of what seems to be meteors rains down on Mydei's squad. "As long as it's as strong as I am, I'll take it! Vigethos will defeat the rest of your team!"
Vigethos hops onto its hind feet. "Of course! Fig Stew is no match for me!"
"Fig Stew isn't there, Vigethos," Phainon points out.
Phainon is delightfully foolish sometimes. Not an additional thought will go through his brain besides the singularity of defeating Mydei. If Mydei has to use such underhanded ideas to catch Phainon by surprise… he can only say that Phainon will deserve what's coming in his direction.
Old Honest finally goes down for the third time, clearing Mydei's entire field of chimaeras. Phainon grins, wide and obnoxious.
"Looks like I won, Mydei. Still standing proud?"
The tournament host yips. "Not yet, Lord Phainon! The match is just getting started!"
"What do you mean—"
Fig Stew appears on the field. More importantly, Mydei has transformed into Fig Stew.
Phainon stares at him. Vigethos roars, stomping its foot as it shoots another meteor. Fig Stew counters with a headbutt, claws swiping at the grey chimaera.
"Time out. What the fuck is going on here?!" Phainon turns the tournament host. "Mydei just— He just—"
"Fig Stew joins the battle after its teammates are all down! What astounding power!"
"No. No, that's not the point." Phainon points at the empty space where Mydei used to stand. "I understand the chimaera part. I don't understand the Mydei part."
"Lord Mydei is a formidable chimaera trainer!" The managing chimaera squeaks.
Phainon points at Fig Stew, who headbutts Vigethos into a knockout. "No, he's a chimaera. He's not supposed to be a chimaera."
"Fig Stew goes down—but wait! The undying warrior is back to its feet! Fig Stew takes down Complainer!"
"Do you guys not know what a time out is?" Phainon complains. "Wait, why is the match speeding up?"
"Lord Mydei has hit the 2x speed button."
Phainon stares at Mydei's lack of presence. "Literally what are you talking about. He's not even here."
"Awoo," Fig Stew says.
It's complete domination by Fig Stew, taking out three chimaeras on its own. Vigethos crawls to Phainon's feet and whines, complaining about a headache and the cute orange chimaera being mean to it.
"As expected, the win is ours. Do not sulk over it. It is beneath you."
Phainon's head whips up, eyes bulging as he scowls at Mydei. "That's not—" He looks down at Fig Stew, with its chest puffed out, and back to Mydei. "No. This isn't right."
"It's in the rules, Deliverer," Mydei says smugly. "I give the host the ability of my companion chimaera, and it is implemented in the combat."
"That's the least of my concerns! Why did you turn into Fig Stew?! What was the logistics of that?!" Phainon points at the two of them. "How are you both here at once now and not during the fight?!"
"Every superpower needs its drawbacks, as you said. Fig Stew's power involves my departure." Mydei tosses Fig Stew a treat from his not-pocket. It was a genius idea, if he says so himself.
Vigethos growls and kicks at the soil. Sore loser.
"That wasn't a departure. You transformed into a chimaera. Your chimaera. How does that even work?"
Mydei waves, turning to the exit of the garden. "Don't think too hard about it. It's nap time—I'll be going back home."
Fig Stew awoos. "HKS!"
"Don't curse at me—Mydei, wait up! You're not leaving without giving me a proper explanation!"
Vigethos is left on the ground, battered and groaning. "Fig Stew… I'll get my revenge next time…"