Chapter Text
Living in a small town, Phainon’s daily life was a repetitive routine.
He’d wake up at an early hour to the crowing of his roosters, when the sky was still dark and the rest of Aedes Elysiae was still asleep. His boots would be dampened by the morning dew as he tended to the livestock: milking cows, gathering eggs, filling the feeders. By the time he’d finish, the sun would have risen, and his sister would have prepared breakfast for the both of them. They’d chat over the kitchen table until the clock struck 9, and the ranch opened for the day.
For all his complaining, Phainon loved life in the country. His mornings may be tedious, but they beat a boring office job in the city. Castorice had once asked him if he’d ever thought about leaving the valley, and he’d only snorted in response. He’d never dream of leaving this life behind; he loved it, mud-stained clothes and all.
Even if some mornings tested his patience.
“Phainon!” Cyrene called, cheery voice muffled through his bedroom walls. “The festival begins at 9!”
He groaned. It was only 30 minutes before his normal alarm, but it felt so much earlier.
He heard Cyrene’s signature exaggerated sigh. “Aren’t you going to defend your title as the Egg Festival champion?”
”It’s not like there’s any competition,” he muttered, although he forced himself to get out of bed. For all his talk, he knew that Castorice wouldn’t hesitate to swipe his champion status right out from under him. She’d almost done it last year.
”Either way, I’ll be leaving at 8:30, with or without you.”
A series of chores and a shower later, Phainon walked alongside his sister to the Town Square. It was the same path he took most days: to run to the general goods store, to hang out at the saloon, to sit on the ocean dock. He’d give a friendly wave to the few people he saw along the way, smiling to himself as they went their separate ways.
Festival days, though, were entirely different. He attended all of the Valley’s communal events, but he’d still never grown accustomed to the crowds. Regardless, he took it upon himself to scan the sea of people; if he forgot to say hi to Hyacine again, Cyrene would give him an earful that rivaled last year’s.
He listed off names in his head: Aglaea, Anaxa, Castorice…until he saw someone he didn’t recognize.
”Cyrene?” He asked. “When did tourists start visiting the Egg Festival?”
“Tourists?” Cyrene sounded equally as confused. “Where?”
“You see him? At the strawberries stand?” Phainon started. “Blond, kinda tall-“
”You mean Mydeimos?” Cyrene asked, amusement creeping into her voice. “Oh, he’s no tourist. He moved in a couple weeks ago from Okhema. I’m surprised you haven't met him yet.”
“Okhema?” Phainon repeated. He watched as the apparently-not-tourist slid some coins across the counter. “Wonder what possessed a city slicker to come to our small town.”
“City slicker?” Cyrene said with a small frown. “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”
”What? It’s not an insult.”
Cyrene opened her mouth to respond-probably a scolding, if Phainon had to guess-but before she could, Mayor Krateros announced that the Annual Egg Hunt was about to start. ”Good luck,” she landed on, and Phainon gave a smile before racing to the center of the town.
“Cas,” he greeted when he reached his destination. “Just us two this year, huh? Just like last year.”
”Three.”
Phainon whipped his head around to find the source of the unfamiliar voice, only to see the new city kid- Mydeimos -joining the Valley’s annual tradition. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said. “Name’s Mydeimos. And you are?”
He could feel Mydeimos’ golden eyes bearing into him. “Phainon,” he said. “I run the ranch with my sister, Cyrene.”
“Ah,” Mydeimos said. “We were bound to be acquainted sooner or later then. I only moved in a couple weeks ago, you see.”
“So I’ve heard. I hope you don’t feel too attached to the idea of winning the Egg Hunt. You have no idea just how many years of practice Cas and I have.”
“I’ll make sure to work my hardest to surprise you then.”
Phainon wanted to say something, but Krateros made his way into the center of the three contestants. He went through the same rules Phainon had heard year after year-no roughhousing with each other, no sabotaging other contestants, and to have fun. He wasn’t listening; instead, he was scouting out his surroundings, planning the best path to take while he waited for the Mayor’s whistle to sound.
When he heard the shrill noise, he broke into a run. He passed the saloon, collecting the colorful eggs scattered around the shrubbery and slipping them into the woven basket on his arm. The seconds slipped by; he counted down in his head, determination to keep his title fueling him.
The Mayor’s whistle blew when his inner countdown hit zero. Perfect.
He walked confidently back to the town center, basket dangling by his side. “So? How’d you do?”
“I don’t think I beat you, if that’s what you’re asking,” Castorice said. “Both you and Mydeimos were running around like maniacs. I stood no chance.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Cas,” Phainon insisted. He looked around quickly before adding, “you can beat a city slicker any day.”
Castorice raised an eyebrow. “Is there something I don’t know about? There seems to be some…tension between the two of you.”
“We only met today. Does it really seem like we have a feud going on?”
“Mostly on your end,” she answered honestly. “He doesn’t seem to hold any hostility.”
Phainon wanted to retort-tell her that he did not hold hostility toward Mydeimos, that it was just common sense that he and Castorice would be better at the Valley’s annual competitions-but he saw Mydeimos nearing them, and the risk of him being within earshot was too great. “It’s nothing,” he settled for instead.
Castorice gave him a look that said we will be discussing this later , before greeting Mydeimos as he stepped in next to Phainon. “Welcome back.”
“Thank you.”
Now that the contest wasn’t looming over his head, Phainon could really get a look at him. Mydeimos’ blond hair was dyed red at the tips, his bangs currently clinging to his skin from sweat. The bright tattoos that ran up his arms and neck ended by one of his searing yellow eyes…and if his own weren’t deceiving him, he spotted eyeliner adorning his face.
He didn’t fit Phainon’s definition of a typical, snotty, city boy.
“Castorice, Mydeimos, and Phainon,” the Mayor began. “Please place your baskets ahead so we can begin the judging process.”
Phainon swore he heard Mydeimos mutter a sarcastic so formal under his breath, and frowned. Even if he didn’t look the part, he sported some of that signature Holy City snarkiness. Looks could be deceiving , he thought to himself as he handed his collection over to Krateros.
A few minutes passed as the older man counted the contestants’ eggs. Phainon stood idly, hearing murmuring from the audience. He wasn’t sure what for; the Egg Hunt had ended the same way for over half a decade, and they knew what to expect.
”And the winner of this year’s Annual Egg Hunt…”
Phainon took his first step forward, ready to claim his prize.
“…is our new farmer in town, Mydeimos!”
He stopped dead in his tracks. What?
For a moment Phainon thought that he may have heard incorrectly, but the clapping from the small crowd as Mydeimos took his award snapped him out of it. He’d been beaten. By an Okheman .
“Seems like the overconfident one wasn’t me, but you.”
Phainon scowled. Mydeimos was gloating ; his upbringing was clear as day now. And to think Castorice, his best friend, said that he was the one being hostile!
”Whatever,” he grumbled, unable to think of a snide remark. He didn’t look, but he knew the man had to be wearing the most insufferable smile. Befitting for a city kid like him.
***
“Cyrene, are you sure you didn’t see him cheating?”
Cyrene rolled her eyes as she set Phainon’s plate in front of him. “Yes, I’m sure. You lost, Phainon. It’s okay.”
”He took way longer than Castorice and I to get back to the start,” Phainon insisted. “You can’t tell me that’s not suspicious.”
”Phainon, I know I used the Egg Hunt as an excuse for you to get up this morning, but it’s just a game.”
”That’s exactly what Cas told me.” Phainon mumbled, low enough so his sister wouldn’t hear.
After the festival had ended, he’d gone over to Castorice’s house to do what they did every year-play Legend of the Prairie King in her bedroom. After over a decade, it felt as much of a custom as the official festival activities; although, without his Egg Champion Status, it felt different than usual.
“What else did she tell you?” Cyrene pulled her chair out and sat down at the table. It turned out that Phainon wasn’t as quiet as he thought.
”She gave me a lecture about ‘judging a book by its cover’ or whatever.” He put down the fork he was holding. “Over this Mydeimos person. Really? I never even said anything bad about the guy!”
“Even if that were true,” Cyrene said, “you don’t have to voice your opinion for us to know when you dislike someone. It’s written all over your face.”
Phainon grimaced. He’d asked Castorice if he was bad at controlling his facial expressions, and had been mortified when she’d said “yes” without hesitation; he didn’t appreciate his sister’s reaffirmation.
“Either way, I hope you manage to pull yourself together. Scowling at customers is bad for business.”
“Customers?” Phainon echoed.
“Yes, customers.” Cyrene spoke through a fork full of food, and Phainon grimaced. “He’s lived here as a farmer for a couple of weeks now. It’s only a matter of time until he grows interested in livestock.”
“Whatever you say, sis.” Phainon picked up his utensils again. “If he’s as much of a city boy as I think he is, he won’t last two weeks raising chickens.”
“If telling yourself that makes you feel better, then by all means, go ahead,” she said. “Just don’t forget what I said.”
Phainon thought back to the Festival; Mydeimos’ too clean clothes, his snarky words under his breath, those methods that managed to fool both Cas and Cyrene. “I don’t think I’ll have to worry about it for long,” he said. “Guys like him aren’t built lives like ours. It won’t be long until he’s scurrying back to his old, cushy ways.”
Cyrene rose from her chair, her plate already empty. “I’ll be heading to bed soon,” she said, ignoring what he said.
“Is it really that late already?” Phainon turned his head to look at the clock, which read 7:30pm.
"No, but I’m exhausted.” She’d taken her ceramic dish to the sink, rinsing it as she spoke. “The combination of a town-wide festival and dealing with an obnoxious younger brother takes a toll on a girl.”
"Okay, I-hey, what do you mean obnoxious younger brother?”
“Sleep well, lil bro!” Cyrene retreated down the hallway, bedroom door closing behind her.
Obnoxious younger brother , Phainon thought to himself with a scowl. He’d show her.