Chapter Text
1
The scent of silk danced with the scent of rusty papers on the wooden desk. Pieces of blue and amber ruby were kept on the desk alongside the papers left abandoned. The room was a mess, a contrast to the usual demeanor of the room. The person in the room never left in such a hurry. No, not unless…
“HKS,” Mydei spouted in anger. The other man laid there, clumsily scratching his head. “Utter blasphemour, may I have the liberty to know, what exactly were you doing near the outskirts of the ruined palace of Janusopolis?” Phainon cackled loudly, “Why? Is the wretched man finally curious about my theories and experiments, or perhaps you have finally grown a bone of care in that body of yours?” Phainon smirked, as he brushed the locks of hair, cockily, watching Mydei rage in fury.
“Do not take my presence here as a sign of curiosity or care, you damned blasphemour. I am simply making sure you are alive. I wouldn’t want to deal with those frenzied council members if, titans forbid, something happened to you.” Phainon snickered, before switching to a more pathetic form of speech. “How amusing,” his voice was mocking as he spoke, “and I really thought the Demigod of Romance would have some more empathy towards his fellow acquaintances.” He wiped a non-existent tear from his eye as he saw a nerve pop in Mydei’s head.
“I’d care more about a dromas than your impertinent and eloquent tongue, HKS.” Mydei scowled as he scolded Phainon, who sat there on the medical bed with bandages over his body. “How unfortunate,” Phainon sighed— at least pretended to— “The grand leader of Okhema, the famous Dressmaster and a renowned Kremnoan warrior is so cruel to a man who merely ponders about the secrets of the world.” A wide grin spread across his face.
“Correction: A blasphemous man, with no sense of differentiation between misconduct and morality.” Phainon laughed, “You people really have no appreciation of the knowledge I provide with my advocated lectures and theorems.” He huffed out. Mydei pinched the bridge of his nose. It had still been the second quint of the Lucid hour, yet he had to throw away his duties the moment he was informed that white haired man was being taken to the Twilight garden. It was too early to deal with his nuisance. If he hadn’t been the chrysos heir to inherit the coreflame of reason, Mydei would have long disposed of him in some corner of Castrum Kremnos, making sure no one ever found him.
“HKS, has sticking to your title become such a burden? Can you not maintain simple decorum?” Mydei grunted out as Phainon just sat there. “Maintain decorum?” He snorted, “You ask me to maintain decorum when you—the Demigod of Romance–have no gentleness to his words? I think I fare better playing by my rules.” Mydei’s fists clenched. He really, really wanted to punch Phainon in the face. Too bad, it was a pretty face to be bruised and it would be dearly questioned why a philosopher and teacher of the nousporists school returned with a black eye.
Before his anger could break through the confines, Hyacine entered the room, entirely oblivious to Mydei’s presence. When she locked the door and turned back, she stood still in an awkward manner, eyes wide. Her eyes scanned between Mydei and Phainon, awkwardly holding the examination tablet. “Lord Mydei and Lord Phainon,” she said, her voice cracking. “What– did something happen?” She asked, adjusting the tablet in her hand. Mydei sighed, his muscles relaxing, while Phainon adjusted himself well to lie down again. “Nothing, I was just checking in.” Mydei stated in a bland voice. “He really meant to say, he wanted to see if I was dead or alive.” Phainon mentioned, casually rolling his eyes, swinging his leg over to the bed with a big smirk.
Mydei glared at the white haired man. “You–” He started, but the words died on his tongue. He coughed, adjusting the jewelry on his neck. Hyacine could do nothing but stand and watch the dispute between her friend and the Demigod of Romance. It had been their thing, falling into the rhythm of arguments that barely held any meaning. “Please make sure this blasphemour lives, I can’t have him dead before he inherits that damn coreflame.” He gruffed out in anger. Hyacine nodded at Mydei’s request. “I’ll be taking my leave.” Mydei said before leaving the room.
Hyacine and Phainon saw Mydei leaving, watching his himation flow with the breeze of the morning wind. There was a pause, a silence that hung in the air after the dressmaster had exited. “Sooo–” Hyacine turned to Phainon, who sat on the bed with some fractures–minor but there—and some other visible injuries. “What did you get yourself into this time, Lord Phainon?” She asked, chipping at the corner of her tablet. Phainon dragged a hand through his hair. “Ah, well..that’s a relatively sophisticated and dire matter.”
Hyacine gave him a sheepish stare, narrowing her eyes at him, not believing a word that came out of his mouth. “Right,” she said in a sardonic voice. She pressed her lips in a thin line–a look Phainon knew meant he was going to receive an earful–her eyebrows creasing. “You did absolutely nothing that Lord Mydei needed to sweep in at the Lucid hour from Okhema to the Twilight Garden.” Her hands were swirling in the air as she talked about Mydei swooping in. “Absolutely believable.” She raised both her hands in the air.
“Okay, okay, you can stop with the insults you know, Hyacine,” Phainon stated as he laid back on the bed. “Well no, you seem to be in need of receiving more. Because, seriously Lord Phainon, what are those injuries?” She said as she gestured to the bandaged ankle and forehead. “This is just the result of the rive—”
“I’m the last person who’s going to buy that excuse, you know, Lord Phainon.” Phainon paused, pressing his lips in a thin line as he sank into the plush of the pillow. “Seriously, why are you so interested in messing with Lord Mydei’s creations?” She said, exhausted, as she sat back on the stool nearby Phainon’s bed. “I’m surprised how Lord Mydei didn’t even realize what you were doing.” She relaxed onto the stool as she pointed out her friend’s idiotic activity.
Phainon snorted. “He won’t.” He said with the confidence of a man as if he hadn’t been lying down on an infirmary bed after his attempts to prove how the garment maker could…well. Hyacine smacked him on the head, snapping him out of the daze. “Hey!” He yelped out as he rubbed the place he had been smacked at. “You deserve that. Take the medicine by the table and do not think of going back to one of your classes right now. I’ll tell professor Anaxa regarding your absence, hm?” Phainon nodded, knowing he’d defy it sooner or later. “IF I hear you taking any of your spiritual philosophy lectures, BEWARE, I will drag you out of the grove in front of all of your students, holding your ear and making sure you’re not leaving this place till you recover! Got it?” Hyacine asked as she clicked her pen.
Phainon groaned— the heavy, long one, where you’re helpless. “Fine.” He muttered under his breath, obstinately. Hyacine smiled at his submission, walking out of the room in small strides. He watched her depart as he lay on the bed. He stared at the ceiling, his head spinning at every passing second. He closed his eyes for a while, opening it again, hoping time would pass soon. Only ten minutes had passed. He groaned, whining. The day was going to be excruciatingly long for the man.
________
Action hour.
Mydei sat on the chair in his room, glasses perched on his nose. His breathing was slow as his eyes ran through each document. He maintained the momentum of a relaxing lion who scanned their eyes through the forest as the grass moved with the wind, looking for prey, except he was reading through the mountain of documents on his table.
The silence was long, even the ticking of the clock would shy at how loud it resounded in the room. The document read of the new changes the council wished to make. Cut budget here and there, make the army less standing in the west, move things from here and there, useless endeavours of nothingness. He kept the document back on the desk, stretching his back. He had sat for too much, too long. Sitting for five quints at once? He needed a break.
His hands wandered over the cold wood towards the pomegranate juice on the desk. He brought the liquid closer to him, sipping it. The tangy taste, sweet aroma and thickness because of the milk made him smile. He settled the glass on the table with the delicacy and precision of a weaver weaving the threads together, making sure not a single drop spilled.
He made up his mind to take a break and clear his head.
The moment he stood up, he tripped, being unable to balance. His other leg had gone stiff. “Ouch.” He moaned as his toe hit against the table. He really needed to see some daylight. He gripped the edge of the table dragging his body towards the window. The only reason his body was able to move had been because of the events that transpired at the Lucid hour.
He stretched out his hands behind his head, his bare chest exposed to anyone who might pass by, and looked up to the weaver’s window. The gold jewelry adorning his neck and chest glistened from the dawn’s light. He looked like a yawning cat with dark eye circles. He looked half-dead, having to work in the tailor shop with Aglaea, while also being a leader and a guide to Okhema had its own knackering on him.
He settled his hand on the sill of the window. The breeze was light. Not heavy, not cold, just warm. The wind blew against his exposed chest, begetting a slight shiver to pass through his body. Even with the sensation of warmth, his hands faltered. The dark circles on his eyes made him look weary. He should rest, really, but he couldn’t. Didn’t get the opportunity to. The times had been busy with the council of elders trying to overthrow the flame chase journey. He took a long breath. He came from Castrum Kremnos, the land of warriors, even if he wasn’t one any more, he could hold on longer. His body was a gift from the land of strife. He could endure the fatigue for a few more quints.
He slouched near the window as the day burned brighter and brighter. His eyes were threatening to shut close. They were going to close; maybe he could nap for a while. Just as he was closing his eyes, there was a loud knock on the door. Mydei was startled, his body jolted upright. This led to his foot slipping causing his body to collide with the bookshelf, knocking a few books over. Mydei lay there, his robe forming a mess on his lap. A book fell over his head. His eyes were wide as he stared at the mess, startled. He cursed himself under his breath. How could he be so fickle?
The knocking was louder this time, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“Dei! Can we come in?!” The voice screamed at the top of their lungs. Lady Tribbie? He re-adjusted himself to sit up properly. “Yes, please come in,” he said. He moved the books from his head and fixed his himation as the door creaked open slowly, revealing the tiny red haired figure. “Dei!” Tribbie shouted, once more. “Morning, Lady Tribbie.” He said, his voice soft and calm. “It’s way past morning, Dei!” She said, pointing to the clock, “Oh come on, don’t tell us, you have been working on those documents for a long time, again!” She scolded the man. Mydei scratched the back of his head, sighing. “Someone has to oversee the council’s administrative input reports.”
Tribbie frowned at Mydei’s statement. “But that doesn’t mean you gotta overwork yourself!” She mentioned as she moved closer to Mydei. She held his hand, wrapping her small fingers against Mydei’s palm. Her eyes were filled with concern, “Dei, we know you have been tired as of late….please rest.” Her pleading eyes made Mydei’s chest coil in guilt. “I promise Lady Tribbie, I’ll rest once this is over.”
“You promise us, De?”
“I promise.”
He smiled. The Demigod of passage smiled back. “Well, Lady Tribbie,” Mydei started. “Did you need something?” He asked, inquiring about Tribbie’s unanticipated visit. Tribbie straightened herself, having remembered the purpose of her visit. “Oh, yes!” She said, musing. “Agy had something to discuss with you, De!” Mydei looked at her, amused. Why had Aglaea needed him in the middle of the day without prior notice? “Will you visit Agy, De?” The young-looking Demigod asked him with her innocent voice. Mydei mused, he had nothing better to do throughout the day either way. “Sure, Lady Tribbie.” He stood up, arranging his messed up robes.
“Just give me a while and I will be out.”
“Alright,” Tribbie said before exiting the room. Watching her leave, Mydei hunched his shoulders. He flopped onto the chair nearby. His himation’s folds had wrinkled, the belt on his waist had come loose. He threw his head back, sitting there with no thoughts. He took a deep breath. Standing up, he rearranged the folds of his himation. He re-did the belt and arranged his jewellery on chest. He looked at the mirror once more, before leaving his work quarters. The room was back to its original state like in the Lucid hour. The papers were once left abandoned, but this time, the person hadn’t been in a hurry and had taken their time.
.
The Marmoreal palace was bustling with people. Even when the action hour was to end, the people had swarmed the market. Every shop had a number of customers waiting in line to buy something. Yet, the tailor shop in the corner of the marmoreal palace stood in its tranquillity. Everyone knew it was best not to bother the old weaver when action hour was to descend, unless you had been invited to the vicinity by the weaver herself.
Mydei walked across the busy market in long strides. The breeze flowing this time had been slower yet cool. It made Mydei feel slightly better than his time cooped up between the papers in his quarters. People passing by greeted him politely. He greeted them back with a small smile and a few words. The walk to the shop was long, considering Mydei lived in the southern part of Okhema, opposite to the Marmoreal market.
After a few more steps, he finally spotted the Garmentmaker’s shop. Her shop had a sign of ‘closed’ in front of it. Mydei was skeptical if he should knock or not. He stood there for a few beats before a voice brought him back to reality. “Mydeimos,” the woman spoke politely in a calm and low tone. He turned to the direction of her voice and found Aglaea standing behind him. She wore a long chiton, a contrast to her usual attire of fine garments. Her eyes looked tired, her hair was tussled, having lost her golden hair pins. She stood wearing flat sandals rather than her usual heels. She looked worn out in every manner. “Aglaea,” Mydei said, his voice filled with concern, “are you alright?” His eyes widened as he looked at her.
Aglaea gave a weak laugh, something very unusual. “Ah, I’m fine. Just a little unwell.” Mydei looked at her in disbelief, “A little?” He said, incredulous. Aglaea smiled weakly, her brows furrowing, “Nothing I can not handle.” She said, trying to reassure the man. “Plus, I visited Hyacine this morning. She said I should feel better soon if I rest for a while.” Mydei sighed, convinced that she was alright. Aglaea walked past him, taking out a key from her bag, going to unlock the lock on the door. Mydei realised he hadn’t even noticed the lock, his mind occupied by the closed sign. Aglaea tapped his shoulder, “Mydei, come inside.” He looked at the door, wide open. He stared at it for a while before entering the shop alongside Aglaea.
Aglaea’s shop was nothing less than a royal palace. The shop was adorned in gold decorations, the most prominent being the glass chandelier. Her shop was extremely lighted, both from tubelights and the light reflected from the surface of the gold patterns. If someone were to enter the shop after coming from a dimly lit area, it could cause their eyes to strain— it even happened to Mydei on several occasions, although he was now used to it— but alas, the heavy lighting was needed. A tailor needs to look at their garments closely to put together the intricate patterns.
Aglaea kept her bag at the counter, taking off the himation she had been wearing. Mydei stood near the counter, not moving any further inside the shop. “Make yourself at home, Mydei.” Her voice was shrill, yet the statement was made in elegance, “I’m coming in a while.” He nodded, sitting on a stool near a mirror. He watched Aglaea disappear behind the secluded part of her shop, the one that connected the shop to her home. A few seconds passed; he could hear the noise from outside dissipate. A loud gong went off in Aglaea’s shop, indicating the start of the first quint of the parting hour. The sky outside had darkened, the bright blue turning into a mix of purple, red and pink.
The shop was floating with serene silence, enough to make a tired man doze off to deep sleep. Once again, Mydei’s eyes threatened to close. It had been the fifth or sixth time in the day for this to occur. He tried his best to not sleep again, trying to sit upright. Alas, the body falls for what it needs. He had dozed off, his eyes shut. His body had unconsciously leaned against the shelf behind him.
The nap lasted merely for a few more minutes before he was awakened by the thud of someone’s footsteps approaching. His body jolted upright as the door creaked open. Aglaea emerged from the door, entering the shop. She was dressed in a nightgown, which may look indecent, but made her feel at ease. Her hair was left loose, flowing on her shoulders with a bounce. “Tiring day?” She asked, offering him a chalice of juice. She settled at another stool nearby. Mydei stirred awake, trying to sit in a proper manner. Aglaea chuckled at the younger man’s efforts at attempts to hide his fatigued body.
“It’s alright, Mydei. You don’t need to hide your exhaustion from us.” Mydei was flustered; of course, she would see right through his act. “Council of elders giving you a hard time?” she asked, taking a sip from the cup she was holding. “They,” he paused, taking a deep breath, “are a lot.” The blond woman wiped the juice from her face. “They always have been, they really love to get on our nerves.” Mydei nodded. The council always provoked the chrysos heirs in public, trying to get a heated reaction, but most of them remained calm and did not act in haste, causing their endeavours to end in failure.
A silence hung in the air. Mydei stared at the liquid in the chalice, before finally gulping it down in one go. Aglaea looked at him wide-eyed, astonished at his action. Mydei was embarrassed, was he really that thirsty? “I– I was really thirsty.” He said, trying to justify his actions before shying away. “It’s alright, you can be yourself around us, Mydeimos.” Aglaea said, chuckling lightly. She leaned against the wall, her shoulders relaxing. They both had finished their part of the drink. “Here, give me the chalice, I’ll bring you a little more since ‘you’re thirsty’.” Mydei lowered his head at the teasing comment, receiving a snicker from the blond haired woman. Aglaea stood up, but lost her composure. Her legs lost momentum as she held onto a mannequin. “Aglaea—” Mydei stood up from the stool and held her, helping her stand, again.
“Are you alright?” He asked, his tone filled with worry. “I am fine, Mydeimos.” She tried to reassure, but Mydei didn’t buy a single word. “You say you’re fine, but you still falter in small steps.” He said in a stern voice. Aglaea huffed, “Hah…I admit, I’ve been sick…as of late.” Mydei’s brow furrowed at her admittance. “But be assured, it’s truly nothing of great concern.”
“Then what is it?” He wished for an answer, hoping to help his teacher. “It’s because my powers are fading…that is causing the fatigue.” Mydei looked at her with pity, even if that was the last thing Aglaea may have wanted.
“What did Hyacine say?” He asked, remembering that Aglaea had stated that she had visited Hyacine. “She said that it was alright and I should be fine as long as I am at rest for the next few days.” Mydei hummed, putting together a picture in his mind: the loose clothes, tussled hair, no fancy accessories—everything made sense now. How had he been so stupid to not see it through? “Aglaea,” his voice was soft but it still carried a hint of care for his fellow chrysos heir, “is that why you called me to the shop?” Aglaea snickered, “You’ve grown smart, Mydeimos.”
“Aglaea…” The corner of his eyes softened, no longer holding the stern gaze. “Since Hyacine has asked me to rest, I thought maybe you could take over the shop for a while.” Mydei’s head lit up. He gulped. Could he really? “Unless you’re preoccupied with other matters.” Mydei sat for a while. The concern hadn’t been the overloading papers; he could have them done sooner or later. It was rather the nervousness of a student taking over their teacher’s shop. Should he? He would not mess up right? After a while of long thoughts, he spoke again “I’ll take care of the shop.” Aglaea was relieved. “Thank you, Mydeimos.”
“No need to thank me Aglaea, this is the least I can do for you.” His voice held the maturity of a man, something different than what the older heirs treated him as. “Is there anything else I could do for you?” Aglaea looked over to the counter and then at Mydei. “Not really. I’ll formally tend to the clothes, myself. Just look after the place and tend to the small tailoring requirements. Anything significantly big, I’ll do after my recovery.” Mydei nodded, even though he wanted to help with the making of uniforms and other garments, he knew it was best left to Aglaea to tend to her own work, lest something unfortunate goes down and the entire piece becomes ruined.
“Alright, I’ll make sure to do it.” He said, standing up from the stool.
Aglaea moved to the counter, picking up her bag that contained the keys. She grabbed them, took them out of the bag and handed them to Mydei. “There you go. Don’t forget to open the shop tomorrow at Lucid hour’s third quint.” Mydei took the keys, holding them dearly. “I will not forget.” He paused, preparing to take his leave from the woman’s shop. “I must take my leave now. Hope you have a good day, Aglaea.”
“I hope the same for you too.”
He walked out of the store, the blinding light fading as he walked closer and closer to the door. Pushing the door, he stepped out of the store. The door locked behind him, bringing him out to the market. He stood there in the glow of the evening. The sky was now a shade of deep blue and light pink. His eyes took time to adjust to the evening light as he had been standing in the saturated light for long. He felt like a man stepping out of an archive, deprived of any light, after multiple weeks.
The market was quiet, a contrast to the bustling crowd a few quints ago. There were still a few people lingering around stalls, but most were gone. A light breeze blew past the blonde Demigod’s face. His feet didn’t move, for he was still standing in front of the older weaver’s shop, but his eyes moved. They moved with a hint of gleam, trying to grasp the environment. It took a little time for him to get used to the view, before he finally walked. Step by step, he moved forward, his feet taking him to the market.
He walked past the stalls—some open, some closing and some closed. Everyone was wrapping up for the day as the sky darkened with each passing minute. His eyes moved with the passing people, his nose caught a whiff of something similar. A sweet scent of honey lingering heavily.
“Mydeimos,” a soft voice called upon him. He turned his head to the direction of the voice. “Lady Adonis,” he remarked, his expression and body relaxing around the familiar old woman. Her withered white hair was tied in a bun, her chiton covered in stains of honey, yet she was composed, not irritated by her appearance. She stood there proud, not ashamed of her messy look.
“Oh, how fortunate I’m,” she patted Mydei’s shoulder, his himation slipping slightly at the act, “to have seen you after so long.” Mydei’s face turned a shade of pink, a bit embarrassed from her casual statement. “It’s been rather busy for the past couple of weeks.” The older woman snorted, “Busy enough that you couldn’t pay a visit to this old lady’s restaurant?”
She kept a hand on her chest, her face looking hurt. “How woeful.” She stated, acting hurt. Mydei slouched at her words, catching the sardonic tone fast. “That isn’t the case…it’s been just…hectic.” He paused. “Truly.” He added. The other woman laughed at his aloofness. “Oh dear, I understand, I understand. Your duties are now far more than they were before.”
Mydei took a long breath of relief. He looked at the half closed restaurant. It was closing time after all. “Are you closing right now?” He asked, the question sounded stupid to his ears, but he didn’t have any other point of conversation he could make.
The woman nodded, “Ah, yes.” She moved forward, switching off the rest of the lights. “I have closed for today.” She frowned, making her statement, knowing well the man’s love for honeycakes. Mydei wasn’t upset; he nodded lightly, his expression still soft. “How unfortunate, I’d love to serve you some honeycakes.”
“That is fine, I can come back tomorrow at Lucid hour if you’re open.”
“Oh, I definitely would be. Come alongside that young man. You know, the pretty one.”
Mydei was slightly baffled. A pretty young man? Is she talking about Hep—
The woman chuckled at his baffled look, “You should go back home, dear, it’s getting late.” She hurled him towards the path to his home as Mydei was still considering who she was talking about. Addled by his own thoughts, he hadn’t realized when his own feet had brought him back home. The wind was now cold, likely marking the beginning of the Curtain fall hour. He stood in front of his house, his himation clinging to his skin as he opened the door to his abode.
.
Inside his home, everything was still the same. His desk was still a mess with papers all over it, his pomegranate juice had stagnated, having lost its fragrance, turning into something sour and unpleasant. But the man had still been in the same mind: confused, worried and nervous. He stood there, watching his reflection in the mirror. His golden hair— red at tips, sticking to his neck. The jewellery on his neck and one earring still holding its lustre in the midst of night. His red himation was drawn back to the kline. Yet his mind didn’t bear any thoughts of his looks, they held the events of the day.
After a while, even this man with thousands of pestering thoughts succumbed to the comfort of the kline, drifting to rest, giving into the looming night.
___
“Day after tomorrow,” the young man spoke, his voice low and amused. “I’ll be able to go, right?” The woman sighed; the question had been repetitive, but it was her job to reassure people under her care. “Yes, your injuries are fine. You’ll be able to go the day after tomorrow.” The young man slept soundly, having been assured of his discharge in the upcoming days.
________
He lay on the bed, limp. He didn’t move, not even as the light rays pierced through the window like a lance radiating Kephale’s light through its widespread glory. His white hair looked dull, not because he was glum, but because could feel the dread of rotting away the longer he stayed on the hospital bed.
Phainon groaned, staring at the clock as the clock ticked, tick tock tick.
Yet, the action was so languid, he had believed that the end of his torment was never going to come. He was almost sure Hyacine was forcing him here, punishing him for any past mistake he may have committed. He looked out the window, watching the same dawn rise over the twilight garden’s horizon. It was oddly peaceful to look at it, a feeling of nostalgia and fragrance of the rising sun blooming within him. He had to admit, the Entry hour of the day was one of the views not worth missing out on. The sky turned into cool hues of blue, forgoing the veil of the night. He took a deep breath, looking towards the sky, mesmerized from the blend of natural colours from the rays of sun. The view was the only thing keeping him sane from his prolonged rest he did not wish for.
“It’s really beautiful, right?” Phainon was stunned from the voice; he had not expected anyone to be present so early during the Entry hour. “Hyacine.” He mumbled out, watching his old classmate and current acquaintance-cum-friend walk up to him. “Morning, Snowy, how are you feeling?” She asked in a gentle voice, different than yesterday, where she was apt at scolding him for every moment he moved rather than rest as she had advised. “I feel a bit better,” he paused, feeling pathetic to be under care because of his carelessness. “Have you not gone back home?” Hyacine huffed. “Phainon, my patients need attention. I can rest later. For now,” she moved, adjusting Phainon’s bed to have him sit comfortably against the mattress without moving, “I have some very notorious and ignorant patients to look after.”
“Hyacine, I can move. I didn’t get wounded that badly.” She didn’t respond to his statement, she simply worked on setting up everything, checking his vitals. After a while of stretched silence, Hyacine responded back, “I know, but it is still my duty to look over each patient under my care. That includes you too, Phainon. Just because you’re a teacher at the grove doesn’t change the fact that I’m still gonna look after you, no matter how much you press that you’re fine," she adjusted the table over his bed, putting down the plate, “because, I know, you’re better at pretending than accepting.”
Phainon hunched his shoulders at the statement. It was true, he was better at pretending than accepting the whole truth of what transpires. His smile faded, eyebrows creasing as he pouted at the statement. “Look at you, acting like a child,” Hyacine mentioned, giggling as she poked his cheeks. Phainon’s face bloomed a tinge of red at her actions. “Oh, how did you even manage to become a philosopher at the grove?”
“Do you need to torment me in such a way, Hyacine?”
“I’m not tormenting you, I’m just stating a fact.” She put the food in front of Phainon, having set up he table at last. “Now, eat.” Phainon looked at the porridge laid on his plate. It was still a little early for—
The sound of a growling stomach erupted in the room.
Okay, perhaps he was going to eat afterall. Before he started eating, he was reminded of something he had almost forgotten. “Hey.” Hyacine hummed at his statement. “Yes, Phainon?”
“Uh, my clothes, could you have them tailored? I’m pretty sure they had holes in them and perhaps some burned edges as well.”
“Oh, sure. I’ll take them to Okhema, I have some work there.” She said, nodding. Phainon took the spoon, eating the food. He was glad he had someone to help him. “Well, Phainon, you continue eating. I am going, alright?”
“Alright. Have a good day.”
“Same to you.”
They bid their farewells as Hyacine departed from the room, leaving Phainon alone. He continued eating, pondering about how he would have to catch up with his classes once he goes back the next day.
When the day ended and he had resorted to slumber, his mind raced with thoughts of going to the grove and going back to Okhema for a stroll as well.
____
Dawn came.
The birds chirped at the rise of the sun. The man on the kline stirred awake. His hair was tangled and messed up, his robe on his waist was loose, threatening to fall off at any moment. His bare chest was exposed to the cold breezes of early morning coming from the open window. His jewellery lay n the dressing table, unmoved and still. His cherry-blonde hair bounced messily as the man stood up from the comfort of his kline. He stretched out, standing in front of the mirror. His figure reflected off the surface of the mirror, reminding him of his half asleep state, not exactly presentable anywhere.
The reminder of looking decent gave Mydei the resolve to pick up the comb from the table and comb his hair thoroughly. His tangled hair gave him a hard time to comb, forcing him to stay in his chambers longer. After ten minutes of combing his hair, he had finally gotten rid of any tangled locks.
He made his way to the baths, intending to freshen up before the beginning of the Lucid hour. He felt himself loosen up, the warmth of the baths enveloping him into a short lived relief. Once he exited, he picked up the clothes he had set aside for himself the earlier night. A white chiton, with a cut that exposed his chest. The chiton fell until his legs. It had hints of red and maroon all over it. He wore the two necklaces— the ones he wore everyday and on every occasion—on his chest. The gold and blue glowed, reflecting off any light. After having put his earring on one ear, he moved to style the himation on his shoulder, wrapping the red and gold fabric around his body.
He looked at his reflection in the mirror once more before departing from his home.
.
It had already been the Lucid hour by the time he reached the Marmoreal market. He was lucky to have had some time before coming to open up the shop. He was able to use the time to sign off and complete some ridiculous paperwork from the council.
Mydei opened the shop, the garmentmaker greeting him as he entered. He switched the lights on, the strong lighting still feeling surreal to him, being not used to it. Yesterday was very light. Very few people had visited the shop, one of them being Hyacine. She had come over with torn and burnt garments—belonging to the blasphemour, for him to fix.
“Phainon asked me to stop by and hand you these garments.” He looked at the pieces of burnt cotton and silk. The chiton barely looked like clothes anymore. “I know they look horrible…but is there still something you can do?” Hyacine had asked with pleading eyes. Mydei had pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. He held out the burnt pieces, trying to think what he could fix or make out of these rags. “Hyacine…” He said, feeling pathetic because of how less was left— no, how nothing was left for him to put together. “Tell the blasphemour this can’t be fixed. I’ll have to remake this….entirely.”
Hyacine sighed as if she had expected the reply. “Alright, I’ll inform Phainon about it.” She had said before leaving.
He remembered the entire conversation. He felt sorry for the ‘once impeccable’ piece of garment he had tailored for the white haired man. The day he had worn it, the man looked like a saint stepping out of their meditation. He sighed for a long time. There was truly nothing he could do to go back to the moment and stop the fool from destroying his creation. Now that he thought about it, he never got to know what Phainon was truly doing on the outskirts of the ruined palace that had caused such an outburst, getting him injured. “I suppose it’s a futile matter now.”
He picked up the folded garment and carefully kept it under the counter. Picking up the pure white cotton cloth, he arranged it on a table, neatly. He took out a sketchbook— one he used to draw the fanatical ideas of garments he could make in his free time—going through rough drafts to find a one that would look good on the blue eyed man. He flipped through pages of designs before stumbling upon one that would look serene on that blasphemous man. “This will look great.” He mumbled to himself, before ordering Kokopo the III— his own garmentmaker, bestowed by Aglaea—to bring out some materials he may need for the tailoring.
He kept the book flat on the table, the design spread on the table. A white chiton, flowing below the knees with a slit from the waist to the end of the cloth. A v-neck shaped cut with a black strap over it. The sleeve had floral patterns carved with a light grey, enough to mark its presence but be subtle as well. The lower part had the same idea of subtle designs along the border with a light grey stitching. The waist would have a belt—he couldn’t make up his mind between gold or black—and the chest would have some designs with gold and grey, with hints of blue. A himation flew across one shoulder, being strapped at the waist with the belt. It had intricate gold patterns, giving it a wavy look. It would look good with black pants, only needing a few changes to suit a teacher for everyday occasions.
It was perfect in every manner. The last thing he needed before he created another garment was peace. He wasn’t expecting a lot of people to show up—the season of people needing clothes had been gone for a while—meaning he could work throughout the day and finish the piece by the end of the week.
He kept the cloth aside, the soft cotton feeling strange for a while, before submerging to the back to look for the materials alongside Kokopo the III.
—
Phainon yawned loudly, stretching his limbs out. He had finally been out of that damned bed—one that made him ensnare in the epistemology of rest—that had him embroiled with his own mind. His animosity towards the rough mattress had finally ended. Hyacine had sent him off with a note for medications and a call to Anaxa that he still needed rest. His professor had agreed and reduced the classes Phainon would be taking. The expression had upset him, but he had no other option but to abide with their decision.
He had another couple of days off before he had to return to the grove. The closest place he could visit was Okhema. He had not visited Okhema since last year when the yearly harvest festival was celebrated. Perhaps he could stroll and doll away in the holy city before returning.
The city shined in the broad daylight. Even if his last visit was not too long ago, the outskirts of the city looked different. The temple of Mnestia’s broken crevices had been fixed, the garden of Athens’ trees had grown longer. They looked more green than ever. It was relatively peaceful. Being on the outskirts of Okhema meant less people would be crowding the area, giving him a light and tranquil place to move and rest.
With his head throbbing with pain—this had been exactly what he needed. He entered the temple, sitting down on the pavement. The cold white marble of the temple soothed his body. From here, he could watch the merchants go in and out of the city. The light breeze was just enough to make him feel better. He sat there, unmoved, watching people come and go. He made no effort to move or no interest to wander far inside the temple.
When his eyes got bored from watching the people, his gaze swifted to the temple. The strong pillars still stood tall. Its gold patterns faded but still prominent and majestic. His attire that consisted of a long chiton and green himation made him look like a beggar sitting in front of the temple pavement, begging for money compared to the wealthy, prosperous and luxurious interior of the mighty temple that had not lost its glory even with the faded colours. It may have been true, it was not majestic as it had been in the past, but it was still as serene as ever, ravishing every visitor who came across the temple.
Even as a scholar, Phainon was enticed by the Romance. The view had him lost in thoughts. Even as the marble floor got colder, he wasn’t snapped out of his thoughts. Truly, was this the influence of Mnestia? Or was it something else? He couldn’t tell.
When the sun had risen over his head, Phainon stood up, preparing to take his leave from the outskirts. His stomach growled, meaning it was undoubtedly a good time to move to the inside of the city. His legs had gone stiff from sitting for a long time, making him feel wobbly. He stood near a wall, taking his time to fix his posture before leaving.
As he stepped out of the temple, he came across a familiar face. “Theodores!” He spoke with zeal, having found someone to talk to. “Oh, my lord! How have you been?”
“I have been fine. What about you? What are you doing on the outskirts of Okhema?” The man clicked his tongue, holding up the antiques he had been loading on to a dromas. “Oh!” Phainon’s eyes widened looking at the antiques the man had been holding. “New vases and boxes? Where did you get the supply from?”
Theodores smiled, “They came from Kremnos and Aidonia. I am yet to check which are real, but the supply looks good.”
“Well, I was heading to Okhema as well! How about I help you check through the ones which are real and which ones are fake?”
“That would be such help, Lord Phainon. Please be my guest.” Phainon nodded, helping the man load the other antiques onto the dromas. After a while, they both climbed onto the back of the dromas, going inside the city.
.
It was the second quint of the Action hour when both Phianon and Theodores reached the city. They had passed by the stable, loading the old fragile pieces into a cart, dragging it to the older man’s shop. Phainon insisted on arranging the things inside the shop before they could appraise which one was real and which one was fake. The antiques had necklaces, vases, pots, treasure chests, shoes, earrings, diaries and a bunch of other things. Phainon was fascinated by each item, but to be pleased by a simple look wasn’t how you identified old antiques.
Phainon picked up a vase. It had the design of warriors painted on the surface. Anyone could tell the vase was from Kremnos. Although it was a country of warriors, many too, emerged as artisans crafting their history through words and art. “So, what do you think of this?” Theodores asked the man who had been intently watching the vase.
“The paint…it’s rusty. It has the feeling of acrylic. It looks as if it was crafted from resin and concrete, which is strange.” Phainon took out a pair of glasses, perching them on his nose. “Hm, the patterns are similar to old kremnos artist’s techniques but the brush strokes feel uneven, as if the painter had been baffled by something. It could have been a younger artist but the brush strokes look too choppy.” Theodores looked at Phainon, staring at the antique carefully. A ray of light reflected on the vase, flashing a hue of magenta on the vase. Phainon turned it hastily, almost dropping it. “Did you see something strange?”
Phainon nodded. “Yes, the vase uses a hue of magenta, which is very different from what I have heard kremnoan artists use. Seeing the warriors, it looks like it was painted with Queen Gorgo in mind. If I’m correct, this should be the royal vase painted in the memory of the late queen Gorgo by the rtist Aegis, who was fascinated by her bravery throughout life after she rescued him during the first war between Aidonia and Kremnos. But he had used crimson red and pale yellow to paint the vase. This vase has almost ten to twelve strokes less than the original.”
Theodores frowned, “A fake, how unfortuna—”
“But, what a lot of people do not know is that he recreated the vase when he first visited Okhema, where he had used acrylics for the first time, recreating his art with magenta and blues. Meaning this is the second one, the use of resin and concrete further confirm it.”
Phainon slowly lowered the vase, setting it on the floor. Theodores was stunned, his mouth agape at Phainon’s accurate analysis. “He was also very old at that time, hence the choppy brushstrokes.”
Theodores lowered his head,moving his head in surprise, “For a second I thought it was fake. You had me on a chokehold, My Lord.” Phainon snickered, scratching the back of his head. “It was a difficult conclusion to come to. There are many fakes of this piece, afterall.”
Theodores nodded, laughing in a low voice, amused. “Well, why don’t we look through the other pieces?”
“Sure, why not.”
The two men busied themselves, indulging heavily in going through each item carefully. Some, unfortunately, had been fake. The old man had sighed at that information, woeful of having lost his money at something that had no value, yet Phainon cheered him,offering to buy the ones that were counterfeit, forgery of the fine items of the past creations. In between their long discussion of the antiques, Phainon’s poor stomach had been forgotten, discarded to fend off nothing.
People had passed by the shop, passing curious looks to the two men, sitting and going though each item. But they had paid no heed to the people’s addled looks. Afterall, they were only two curious treasure appraisers, inspecting items to see if they were imitations, counterfeits or real.
.
“—very well done, if I must say. But an imitation is an imitation at the end of the day. Kudos to whoever paid close heed to the details, though.” Phainon said, setting the necklace on the box nearby. He stretched his limbs that had gone stiff from sitting so long. His neck had some strain from looking down for so long—also because he had not yet recovered from his wounds—making it uncomfortable to sit down any longer.
He stood up, while Theodores had started to put away the items. “Today was a good day. I can’t believe I fell for some of these.” The old man shrugged at the loss. “As I stated earlier, I’m willing to take the ones that are counterfeits.”
Theodores huffed, “I can not make you pay for these, my lord. They are fakes, they do not hold any value.”
“It does not matter. I’m still willing to take some of these home.”
“I guess I can not convince you otherwise, but let me give them to you for free.”
Phainon’s eyes went wide, his head moving denying the course of action. “Absolutely not. You paid for this, I can not take them away for no cost.”
“But my lord—”
“No, I will pay. I will not take them without handing you the amount of balance coins you paid for the antiques.”
Their argument went on for half a quint before they came to conclusion for Phainon to give half of what the antiques were worth. He had denied even that but after Theodores had insisted, he had agreed. He deemed it unfair, but didn’t embroil any further.
It was now the first quint of parting hour. Phainon had departed from the shop, having been promised a delivery to his home. Phainon walked in the busy market, feeling faint. He held his grumbling stomach, remembering he had forgotten to eat. “Ugh..” He groaned as he clenched his growling stomach that had started to hurt. He couldn’t walk into a restaurant, knowing he had a very small amount of coins left in his pouch. The only place he could find something to eat would be fruit vendors, but he knew even that would be futile because it had been far too late and the only fruits the vendors had during parting hour were leftovers which were often rotten or not ripe.
He walked cluelessly in the marmoreal market, his head throbbing with pain. He had missed his medication, the one he had to eat after the lunch he never ate. “I am such an idiot…” He mumbled to himself.
“The blasphemour accepts his idiocy, how amusing!” Phainon was startled by the exclamation. He turned to the direction of the voice to be met by amber eyes looking directly at him. In front of him stood the golden blond Demigod of Romance, Mydei. “Mydei— what–” He stammered in his own words, unable to form a cohesive sentence. “Ho– how did you find me?” His brows narrowed at those amber eyes looking back at him. “Haikas.” Mydei grumbled, “Have you hit your head somewhere recently, Phainon? Asking such a foolish question. My threads located you the moment you were at the outskirts of Okhema.”
“Ah, right.” How could he have forgotten about the golden thread that loomed over the entirety of the holy city. Had he been so tedious to forget such a detail?
Mydei laughed,musing to himself, “A man with such profound wisdom and philosophical sagacity is so absentminded? Is this really you, blasphemour?” A nerve popped in Phainon, “Pfft, you say that when you,” he pointed to Mydei’s bare chest, “-as the infamous weaver of the holy city wears so few clothes.” He could see Mydei glaring at him with that note, “What I wear comes to me as comfort. I do not dress up everyday to look dazzling for people.” His voice was low, daunting, a clear sign that Phainon had hit a nerve somewhere. Phainon grinned, having achieved his goal.
“Sure,” Phainon said, sardonically, nodding alongside Mydei’s statement.
They stood there, bantering in the middle of the market. Thrown insults, random comments. They argued and passerbys watched the commotion but did not bother to step between them, knowing well enough that it was common and nothing serious. They continued till Phainon felt a pang in his head, he held a hand to his head, grasping the wall nearby. Mydei’s expression changed in a trice, “Blasphemour, are you alright?” He asked, gently walking forward to the man. “Y-yes, I’m fin– fine.” He fumbled on his own words of lies.
Mydei gave him a suspicious look, not buying the statement. “Your petty lies will not get you far with me, blasphemour.” Phainon sighed. Truly, who was he trying to fool? He tsked at himself, “It’s alright. I just didn’t eat.”
There was brief silence, Phainon didn’t know what the other man was thinking, but he knew, whatever it was, it was going to come alongside lines of scolding him. “Haikas, how are you so irresponsible?” Mydei asked. He was in clear disbelief of Phainon’s ridiculousness. “You just came out of the hospital and this is how you take care of yourself?” He rumbled on Phainon’s irresponsible activity, scolding him.
“I get it. I get it!” He whined, feeling pathetic. “Can you stop now, Mydei?” He pleaded, unsure if he would get excused, but he tried his luck either way. Mydei crossed his arms across his chest. “I will stop, even though I do not wish to scold you. But you ought to take care of yourself. How can you recover well, if you do not look after yourself? You’re not a child whom someone is going to look after.”
Phainon took a long breath, he knew he messed up badly when he had to hear such words coming from Mydei. “I know. I just got busy with Theodores and forgot! It’s not a big deal. I sometimes miss my meals at the grove too, it has never been grave.” He blurted out in defence.
Mydei’s eyes were blank. Phainon could not discern the reason behind the blank look but he knew he babbled out the wrong information. It was too bad he couldn’t go back and stop him from confessing to his carelessness. “That,” Mydei’s voice was deep, causing a chill to run down Phainon’s spine, “is not something to brag about, you Phainon.” Phainon buried his head in his hands, he had nothing to say for once. Somehow, hearing his name from the blonde man made his stomach tingle. “Well, there is nothing I can do about it, anymore.” He said, shrugging in front of the golden amber eyed man.
Phainon could feel the other man’s gaze on him,for some reason, it made him feel shy. “What.” He asked, his voice was sharp, but embarrassed. “Come with me.” He gruffed out, dragging the other man from his bicep. Phainon winced at the action, “H— Huh, where are we going?” He asked, musing at Mydei’s action. “To get you something to eat, since you have proved you’re incapable of doing something so basic.”
There was a tinge of red on his ears. He was being dragged in the market by the Demigod like an incriminated child. He could feel the addled looks of others in the market, but the only thing— person —he could focus on was the man dragging him out of the market.
Phainon grunted in protest, trying to get out of the man’s grip, but it felt too strong— as if his stomach was punishing him for not giving it any food. “Mydei—” He called out, “Can you hold me less tightly?” Mydeimos, having remembered his course of action, removed his grip on the blue eyed man’s bicep. Phainon grunted, once the man let go. “I apologise. I did not mean to grab you that harshly.”
“Quite a late apology. You have already dragged me out of the market till your home.” Mydei noticed that they had only been one block away from his home. At the end of the day, in anger, he had brought a grown man with a smug attitude— who was hungry because he had not eaten —to his home. “I am aware of that matter, this wouldn’t have occurred if you’d have just eaten.”
Phainon dramatically put both his hands over his ear, “You already lectured me enough for it. I do not need to hear anymore of it.” He said it fast that Mydei would stop mentioning it. He watched Mydei unlock his door. He was really going to go to the man’s house for dinner afterall. “Come inside.” Mydei said in his usual stern voice, inviting Phainon into his home. Phainon obliged, entering his home.
Mydei’s house was warmly lit. The burgundy interior gives it a dangerous but comforting feeling. The edges of walls were painted in gold and amber. The floors were white marble—an expensive one at that—that reflected every other light, creating a bouncing white reflection on the lower part of the walls. There was a small chandelier that was hung in the living room. Phainon had been here before, yet this fancy decorum made him feel almost broke. Because his house had been filled with antiques, books and multiple letters of his friend, who was now at Janusopolis. To be fair, he wouldn’t expect any less considering Mydei came from a royal lineage— that too of the royal family of Castrum Kremnos, one of the wealthiest and well known royal families. He could never believe that Mydei gave up the throne to guide Okhema, but perhaps it did make sense as well. It was too complicated to understand at once.
“Stunned?” Mydei asked, his voice filled with a teasing tone. Phainon rolled his eyes, “As if I’d ever be.” He mentioned cockily. Mydei huffed, “Is there any specific food Hyacine mentioned you eat?” Phainon thought for a while. From what he remembered, there were no dietary restrictions but she did advise Phainon to eat more protein and fibre for a faster recovery. “She mentioned eating more protein and fibre. Nothing specific.”
Mydei nodded his head. He licked his dry lips, thinking of what he could feed the man. “Alright. Make yourself comfortable, I am going to make something.” Mydei briefly mentioned before leaving Phainon alone in the living room. Phainon was curious as to what Mydei would emerge with the kitchen from,— he hoped that he would not hand him any burnt and inedible dish that he served him often in the chrysos heir gatherings —glancing at the corridor from time to time. He sat on the couch. It was soft, making him feel like he could doze off at it before he ate anything.
Time passed and Phainon wondered when Mydei would come back. He waited for a while, before his nose caught a whiff of something incredible. The scent of wolfpeppers and milkberries in the air. He followed his nose, wandering off to the kitchen. He was taken aback by what he saw. It wasn’t the food that startled him but the man. He stood near the table, his himation folded neatly on a chair, his bare muscles exposed to anyone who would walk in. Mydei glanced at the man in the doorway, “What’s wrong?” His voice was gentle and soft. “No– Nothing. Just surprised you actually cooked something decent for me.” He said, walking closer to the table.
The food served was the festive soup and fig stew. The combination of the two dishes was questionable but his hungry stomach did not need to hear those things anymore. His mouth was drooling, excited to dig in and eat it right there.
Mydei chuckled lightly, watching the man drool over the food. He smacked his head, making him yelp in pain. “Sit down to eat atleast, Haikas.”
“Oh, that I’m going to. It is not everyday you cook something decent for me!” He pulled the chair, picking up the fork and spoon to eat. “Hmph, enjoy the food while you can. This was only because you are sick.” Phainon whined at the announcement but busied himself in gulping down the food.
Mydei watched him, amused. Just how hungry was he? He thought to himself as he kept an eye on the man.
Phainon was eating so fast that food got stuck in his throat. He coughed as Mydei grabbed a glass of water, “You hyena—” he scolded, “the food is not going anywhere.” Phainon drank the water, his coughing lightning. “Hah— I was just hungry.”
Mydei let Phainon off the hook, deciding not to bother him with the matter anymore. “Eat properly, you hyena. We can’t have you dead over choking from food. What would the council say if that were to happen?” Phainon narrowed his eyes but did not say anything. He was far too indulged in eating to be bothered about sarcasm right now.
Soon, both men were done with their feast. Mydei had picked up both of their plates, putting them in the sink to soak. Phainon ogled the man from behind as he washed the dishes. He couldn’t understand how the man’s muscles looked so defined. “Would you stop staring daggers at my back, HKS?” Mydei growled, surprising Phainon. Phainon smiled smugly.
“You have got a well-muscled back to admire.” He couldn’t tell if Mydei was grossed out or not by his statement, but he did hear him mumble out something he couldn’t decipher, probably cursing him out in kremnoan.
Phainon felt almost apologetic for having destroyed Mydei’s garmentmaker situated at Janusopolis’ destroyed outskirts. His goal had been to see if he could punch some sentience into the garmentmaker through alchemical magic. How unfortunate he had been that the course of action had failed as some wild animals and creatures lurking around had attacked him, disturbing the process and causing the garmentmaker to burst.
Bothered with his thoughts, he had not heard the approaching footsteps of the man, who had stopped washing the dishes. “You did what?” His voice was deep, dangerous and daunting, causing Phainon to freak out. “Huh–” he murmured in confusion before Mydei continued. “You were the reason I was not receiving any signals from Kopopo the II?” His eyes were dark with fury. Phainon gulped, how did he forget about the damn threads again?!
There was only one thing left for him to do. Run, before the furious Demigod would catch up to him and hang him upside down with his threads.
When has fate been kind to Phainon? Even if he tried to run fast, he couldn’t outrun the agitated Demigod. He was caught before he could even run a single block away from the street. He was left hanging upside down in the street—a humiliating memory that he would never forget—only receiving mercy because of his injured state.