He tilted his head slightly, his gaze shifting toward the lively, laughter-filled center of the banquet. "Listen, they're all calling for me."
Phaethon stood up gracefully, his upright back moving directly toward Phainon, who was surrounded by friends.
Aglaea's gaze followed him, finally settling back on the plates of fish that remained untouched. A sigh she herself hadn't noticed softly escaped her lips.
At the center of the banquet, the atmosphere was at its peak.
"Ah! Look who's here! Our two protagonists of the day have finally joined forces! ♪" Cyrene, holding the small Trianne while sitting next to Castorice, raised the berry dessert she had just fed a small bite of to Trianne, a look of undisguised, gratified joy on her face upon seeing the two brothers walking side by side.
"The clothes look really good, Phaethon~" She looked Phaethon up and down, her eyes sparkling. "Tsk, wearing this really changes your aura, you actually look a bit like a steady, reliable adult now! Handsome!"
"Indeed," Castorice set down her small fork, her gaze drifting between Phainon and Phaethon. Her usually somewhat subdued eyes now shone slightly. "Lord Phaethon, the tailoring and color scheme of this new garment suit your temperament very well. And both of you look exceptionally radiant today." Castorice's gaze lingered for a moment on Phaethon's black-base, white-and-blue-accented outfit and Phainon's white-base, black-and-blue-accented one. Her fingers curled unconsciously, as if habitually wanting to grasp some long, slender object.
"Phaethon," Hyacine, while skillfully feeding the squatting Ica with a special small spoon, looked up with a smile, her tone teasing. "Did Lady Aglaea call you over just now to confirm you'd finally wear her 'weighty' token of affection? Lady Aglaea has mentioned to us more than once that she was worried her aesthetic sense wouldn't meet your approval." She gave a mischievous blink. Little Ica also chimed in timely with a "Doot-door—!", as if in agreement.
Faced with everyone's enthusiastic praise, Phaethon showed a rare trace of bashfulness; even the tips of his ears seemed to take on a faint, barely perceptible blush. He smiled and waved his hand. "If everyone keeps praising me like this, I'll really have to find a crack in the ground to crawl into."
Phaethon walked to Phainon's side and naturally placed his hand on his brother's shoulder, the movement carrying an intimate casualness. "Phainon, what are you all conspiring about here?"
Phainon turned his head, his face showing pure happiness. Seeing Phaethon's face up close and his new clothes, he grinned. "Mydei said he'd teach me the unique war dance of Castrum Kremnos!" He then gave Phaethon a good look as well. "The clothes are pretty handsome, Lady Aglaea's craftsmanship is unquestionable… but… I remember she finished weaving them a year ago, didn't she? Why did you only think to wear them now? Did your conscience finally wake up because your birthday arrived?"
"None of your business," Phaethon snorted lightly, the hand on Phainon's shoulder exerting a bit of force, turning him toward himself. He looked directly at his brother, with a touch of interest and a barely noticeable, almost provocative confident glint in his eyes. "Dancing? The Kremnoan war dance? Sounds interesting. But, Phainon, do you even know how to dance? Want me to teach you?"
"Huh? This…" Phainon was taken aback by his sudden closeness and proposal, instinctively looking toward Mydei with an inquiring gaze.
Mydei understood perfectly, let out a hearty laugh, stepped back, and made an impeccably standard "After you" gesture. "Deliverer! Today, you brothers are the stars of the show! A rare opportunity, please!"
At that moment, Castorice silently placed the delicate piece of cake in her hand back onto the edge of the plate.
Her body leaned forward slightly, her hands folded on her knees, fingertips whitening from the pressure.
Her eyes were now shining brilliantly, locked intently on the two brothers. She even held her breath, afraid of missing any subtle expression or movement.
(Castorice: Gwa! So intense! The younger brother takes the initiative! Invitation! Guidance! Dancing together! That look! That aura! Declaring dominance?! This is exactly what I want to see! Worth it! Totally worth the price of admission!!!)
In the center of the dance floor. A soothing, melodious tune began to flow at just the right moment, replacing the previous lively rhythm, like a clear spring flowing into the clamor.
Phaethon extended his right hand—not the elegant gesture of inviting a lady, but one carrying an undeniable, warrior-like steadiness and strength—firmly and precisely grasping Phainon's right wrist.
Simultaneously, his left hand naturally rose, guiding Phainon's left hand to rest on his own shoulder blade.
Phainon clearly hadn't expected his brother to be serious, and with such direct force. His body noticeably stiffened. His wrist, accustomed to gripping a sword, seemed somewhat flustered under Phaethon's palm, his face filled with astonishment and a trace of barely perceptible embarrassment. "Hey! Phaethon! You… you're serious? This… with so many people watching…"
"No more chatter," Phaethon's voice wasn't loud, yet it carried a peculiar, soothing power like a steadfast rock. He focused on his brother's slightly panicked eyes, his fingertips applying subtle pressure, conveying clear directional guidance. "Follow me. Trust me."
His left foot glided back half a step with lightness, while his wrist pulled Phainon's right hand forward, guiding him to step out with his right foot in sync.
"Yes, just like that." Phaethon's voice was low and clear, each movement concise and powerful.
Phainon's initial movements were clumsy and stiff, like a steel golem forcibly activated—his steps heavy, almost stepping on Phaethon's feet. His tall stature, under the guidance of the slimmer yet powerfully charismatic Phaethon, showed a rare, awkward kind of endearment.
"Relax," Phaethon's voice held a trace of imperceptible, amused helplessness. The hand holding his brother's wrist slightly adjusted its grip, changing from control to a gentler support. He was like guiding a great ship into a calm harbor. "Shoulders down… shift your weight to me… right foot, slide sideways… good."
One step, two steps… Phaethon's guidance was unexpectedly precise and patient.
His movements carried an elegance, completely different from the ruggedness of the Kremnoan war dance, yet forming its own unique style, full of flowing, smooth and elegant dance.
At times he would lead Phainon in a turn, his arm steady as a rock; at times he would step back, giving space to his brother, yet always remaining the guiding anchor.
The astonishment and embarrassment in Phainon's eyes gradually gave way to a novel kind of focus.
He was no longer the clumsy beginner. Within the guiding aura of Phaethon's presence, he found his own rhythm.
His steps gradually became fluid. His tall frame, under his brother's control, began to show a strange harmony.