Work Text:
“Hm? That smells good. Is it already time for dinner?”
The lock of Janus rattled as it turned. Hearing the sound, Mydei looked up. A head of white hair peeked through the gap of the door.
Today was the day of rest when Oronyx closed his eyes. Because of that, the duties of the Chrysos Heirs were suspended as well, unless an urgent matter arose.
Mydei recalled something. Yesterday, Phainon had said he planned to spend this day of rest searching for antiques, one of his hobbies.
“Hey,” the man said as he stepped into the room, raising one hand in greeting.
Seeing him, Mydei frowned slightly. If it were something urgent, Phainon would have contacted him through a tablet. That meant this visit was probably nothing pressing. Still, it would have been polite to send word beforehand.
Mydei had assumed Phainon would not come until dinner time. That was why he had already begun cooking.
“You could at least knock before entering.”
“I did knock. You just didn’t hear it.”
“…So. What do you want?”
Well, since he had already been seen, it could not be helped. Mydei had not been doing anything worth hiding anyway. He stopped kneading the dough and let out a quiet breath. The dough needed time to rest, so he folded it neatly and moved it to a darker corner.
“Oh, right. I actually have a tablet I’d like you to decipher.”
Phainon said this while holding out a stone tablet.
Characters carved into its surface were written in ancient Kremnoan. According to Phainon, it had been brought in during the purchase of some antiques.
Mydei scanned the text engraved on the tablet and his eyes widened slightly.
The people of Kremnos rarely left written records. Many of them mocked the act of keeping diaries as something weak. Letters were treated the same way. In Kremnos, both men and women were taught the same thing: if you had time to write, you should spend it swinging a sword and training your body instead.
Furthermore, literacy had been even lower in ancient Kremnos. Carving text into a stone tablet was also laborious work. Because of that, tablets discovered from that era often contained important information.
“…Was it really that strange? Or maybe it’s something a little too… scandalous?”
“No… that’s not it. I was simply… surprised.”
“Surprised, huh? The person who brought it in said their grandmother received it while working at the royal castle.”
“…The contents themselves are nothing special. It’s simply a recipe for a traditional dish from Kremnos.”
The recipe read as follows: add salt to red wheat flour. Add the prepared yeast. Then add olive oil and nectar of Nikador. Mix everything thoroughly. Knead the dough well, then work nuts and herbs into it. Finally, allow it to ferment.
The tablet contained the recipe for a traditional bread from Kremnos called “The Shield of Nikador’s Victory.”
Part of the tablet was chipped, but most of the recipe remained readable. Compared to the version Mydei remembered, this one included slightly more steps. For example, after shaping the dough into the form of a shield, the baker was instructed to carve patterns into it using rope or skewers. Perhaps it had been meant for ritual use—or perhaps the author had simply added their own variation.
A recipe worthy of being carved into stone. Perhaps it was even the origin of the version that later spread among the common people.
Mydei continued reading the tablet.
Below the original recipe, additional variations had been added.
“Add cheese so that children can eat it more easily.”
“Do not be stingy with the cheese.”
“Adding a little sheep’s milk will make it richer and easier to mix the dough.”
The handwriting of these notes was different from the earlier text. In other words, someone else must have written them later. There were more additions in different hands as well: a method of layering the bread with pomegranate, suggestions to add more herbs and salt—various adjustments recorded over time.
“Mydei?”
Mydei had remained silent while reading. Watching him, Phainon grew restless and rested his cheek on his hand as he spoke.
When Mydei finally looked up, a pair of sky-colored eyes filled his entire field of vision.
“You’re too close.”
“Oh—sorry. I didn’t realize I’d leaned in that much.”
Phainon laughed and leaned back slightly.
“So?” he prompted.
Mydei shrugged faintly.
“Five hundred grams of red wheat flour. Fifteen grams of yeast. Ten grams of salt.”
“Wait, wait! What are you talking about!?”
“The contents of the tablet. You wanted to know, didn’t you?”
Phainon let out a long sigh.
“Honestly… sometimes you’re surprisingly bold.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
After all, Phainon was the one who had handed him the tablet—and the one who had urged him to read it quickly. Mydei shot him a glare. Phainon immediately raised both hands.
“Alright, sorry.”
Then he asked again.
“So… what exactly surprised you?”
Phainon ran his fingers lightly across the tablet, clearly aware that Mydei had been avoiding the topic.
Mydei thought for a moment before speaking.
“…Most likely, this tablet belonged to my mother.”
“…Your mother?”
“To be more precise, it’s a traditional recipe passed down through my mother’s family.”
Mydei pointed to the text on the tablet.
“From here onward, the handwriting is different. Even you should be able to tell.”
“Yeah. I don’t know much ancient Kremnoan script, but I can at least see when the handwriting changes.”
The further down the tablet one read, the more variations of the recipe appeared, and the more elaborate they became. Traditional dishes change over time, adapting to the tastes of the people who make them. Still, the number of variations recorded here was remarkable. The basic recipe alone would have been more than sufficient.
At some point, small notes began appearing beside the variations.
They almost looked like diary entries.
Reading the notes made it clear what kind of feelings had been left behind by the people who preserved this recipe.
“Is… Queen Gorgo’s handwriting somewhere among these?”
“Most likely. The final entries match the handwriting I remember from my mother.”
At the very bottom of the tablet, another line had been carved.
So that the beloved child who will soon be born may eat this as early as possible.
Below that line was another recipe—one meant for infants. It explained how the bread could be prepared so that even a baby could eat it.
For example, adding extra sheep’s milk to turn it into a kind of bread porridge. Apparently, babies liked it that way.
There were also notes describing how the writer had asked women with infants to help with testing.
There was love in those words—love for a child not yet born. And there were traces of countless attempts and experiments.
That woman must have been thinking of the life that would soon come into the world, and of the family tradition she hoped to pass on into the future.
Entrusting the tablet to an attendant who worked in the royal castle also felt very much like something Mydei’s mother would do. She must have known that her house might one day fall into decline. Even so, she must have hoped that at least this traditional recipe would remain for future generations.
“Have you already bought this tablet?”
“Yes. But… I feel like it belongs with you.”
“The tablet itself has little value.”
“But it has value to you, doesn’t it?”
Phainon said it with a gentle narrowing of his eyes.
“If it’s something your mother left behind, you should keep it.”
Being treated with that kind of consideration felt strangely uncomfortable to Mydei. He was not used to it. Still… it did not feel unpleasant.
“…Then I’ll take it. How much?”
“No need for money. You already told me such an interesting story.”
Phainon paused, then added,
“Although… if you insist, could you help me decipher the tablet?”
“I don’t mind. But it’s only a recipe.”
Even if the tablet were deciphered, it wouldn’t really help Phainon’s daily life. Recipes for the Shield of Nikador’s Victory could easily be found on the World Wound Web, and there were probably far simpler ones too. There was no real reason to go out of one’s way to study such an old description.
“Maybe,” Phainon said. “But it’s a tradition your people carried forward.”
“…You were never good with history.”
“That’s different.”
Phainon smiled, and said,
“Proof that someone lived always has value. That’s what makes antiques interesting.”
Hearing that, Mydei found himself thinking that perhaps—just a little—this man had managed to sway him.
“…Very well. Next time, I’ll make the Shield of Nikador’s Victory using this recipe and serve it to you.”
“Oh? I’m looking forward to that.”
Phainon grinned.
“But make sure it’s actually edible this time. Sometimes your cooking feels like it’s meant to train my jaw.”
“You should chew more. At least then you would stay quiet during meals.”
“So that’s the reason—”
Before Phainon could finish protesting, Mydei tossed a cookie straight into his mouth.
It was still a prototype, but it would do well enough for tasting. Originally, Mydei had planned to finish several trial batches before calling Phainon to try them. Still, reversing the order made little difference.
Phainon froze for a moment, clearly confused.
Then he began chewing.
Munch.
Munch.
This batch wasn’t particularly hard, so even Phainon would manage.
“W-wait… Mydei, this is—”
“Hyacine complained since you kept eating the chimera feed. I borrowed some of the wheat she grows and tried making these.”
That must have been the smell Phainon noticed when he entered the room. Mydei said this while biting into one of the cookies himself. The cookies were baked with whole wheat. Rough, crunchy, and simple in flavor, though filling. They lacked a bit of sweetness, but that was probably perfect for Phainon. Chimera feed hardly used sugar in the first place.
Phainon finished the cookie he’d been force-fed and immediately began glancing back and forth between Mydei and the remaining cookies. Even when his mouth was closed, his eyes were restless.
“They’ve only just cooled. But eat as many as you like.”
“Really? …Thanks.”
When Mydei brought over the cookies that had been cooling in the shade, Phainon’s face brightened instantly.
“These are good.”
He began eating them one after another, looking almost like an animal being fed.
Mydei watched him from the corner of his eye while checking on the dough resting nearby. They had been talking longer than he realized. The dough should be ready by now.
“…So, Mydei. What’s for dinner tonight?”
“What I’m making isn’t dinner.”
“Huh?”
“These are cookies for the chimeras. If I told you, you’d steal some. So I made them on a day when you weren’t supposed to show up.”
“Haha… yeah, sorry about that.”
If he knew it was a bad habit, he should fix it. Still, Mydei suspected that wasn’t the only reason Phainon kept eating that feed.
He lowered his eyes quietly.
By the time the chimera cookies finished baking, everything Mydei had prepared for Phainon had already been eaten. Even the chimera cookies themselves were reduced by nearly half. In the end, Hyacine received only about half the amount Mydei had originally planned to give her.
And yet, Phainon looked so genuinely happy that Mydei couldn’t bring himself to scold him.
Soft breathing drifted from behind the folding screen that blocked the morning light.
For some reason, Phainon had ended up staying in Mydei’s room—and eventually falling asleep in Mydei’s bed.
In sleep, his expression looked younger somehow. He looked like a simple, earnest young man.
If his homeland had never been caught in the flames of war… if Phainon had never become one of the Chrysos Heirs… then perhaps this man would have lived surrounded by wheat fields and farming tools.
Working beneath gentle sunlight. Taking small breaks between chores. Eating a simple snack.
It was the kind of life that suited him.
At that moment, Mydei noticed something.
A single tear sliding down Phainon’s cheek.
Seeing it, Mydei’s expression softened slightly.
Phainon must have understood what it meant—the wheat Mydei had received from Hyacine. Perhaps the smell of baking wheat had drawn him here.
Even so, he said nothing.
For Phainon, the idea of “home” was probably something he could not allow others to step into.
Mydei understood that feeling.
He looked at Phainon’s face. Faint dark circles lingered beneath his eyes. Mydei traced them gently with his finger and brushed away that lone tear.
“Mm…”
Phainon murmured softly.
He must have been stretched thin lately, hardly getting any proper rest.
Then Phainon’s hand closed loosely around Mydei’s finger.
Mydei’s brows softened.
Phainon rubbed his nose lightly against his hand… like a small animal.
“I can bake cookies for you anytime. So for now… accept this peace and rest, Deliverer.”
The rest of the words remained only in Mydei’s thoughts. Soon enough, the day would come when none of them could afford to think about personal matters anymore.
The quiet words slipped from him like a whisper and vanished into the air unheard.
Mydei leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Phainon’s closed eyelids. Then he lay down beside him.
Much later, when the Shield of Nikador’s Victory was baked exactly according to the tablet’s recipe—
The bread turned out to be extremely hard.
So hard, in fact, that Phainon cried out.
But that… is another story.