When Harkon walked into the workshop, Callifon frowned slightly.
She put down the hand that was supporting her cheek, stood up from the small wooden chair Andos made for her, caressed the hem of her skirt casually, and said hello to her eldest brother.
Harkon narrowed his eyes and gave the princess a smile full of artificial kindness. This caused discordant wrinkles to appear on his face, as if his skin was smiling while the muscles within were contracting with disdain.
The hypocrisy of the eldest prince is like a colorful snake. Callifon didn't like it, never had.
"Andos is working," she said softly. "It's almost game time."
Harkon stared at his sister for a few seconds, trying his best to force a little fear out of her frozen mask-like smile.
When he had to accept his failure, Harkon turned his head nonchalantly, waved to Andos, and then strode towards an erected stone statue in the workshop.
"I came to see you, Andos." Harkon said with a smile, "That boy lives in the city, so why do you want to live in the wilderness? Your father's palace can no longer satisfy you?"
The edge of his silk robe proudly scraped across the workshop countertop and caught the porcelain statue of the God of War; then, the ornament fluttered toward the ground.
With quick eyes and quick hands, Kali Feng caught the fallen device and when placing it back on the table, she deliberately controlled her strength and knocked the table with its hard chassis.
Harkon was frightened by the sudden "thud" and stumbled forward.
Callifon smiled, touched the helmet of the small ornament with his fingers, and said to the ornament as if comforting a child: "Our God of War is angry."
Harkon pretended not to hear. He walked near the nearly completed stone statue and clapped his hands. "Andos, how are you preparing? Is the carving finished?"
Behind the stone statue's fluttering silk robe hanging to the floor, a figure appeared unhurriedly.
The shape of the stone statue is still reflected in Andos's eyes and the sweat on his forehead. Part of his spirit and soul has always been immersed in the long carving process, while the other part has been withdrawn from the vortex of art. It drives the body of reality to fulfill the additional obligations imposed by ethics and etiquette on an independent individual.
"The statue will never be finished," Andos said. "Every touch-up brings more flaws...but I'm almost ready."
He couldn't help but correct Harkon's words, and then the natural respect for his brother welled up in his heart, causing him to quickly retract his unfinished words guiltily and answer Harkon's question.
"Very good." Harkon clapped his hands, "You have always brought glory to my father. It is a real honor to have you as my brother."
Andos thanked him silently and opened his mouth, not knowing what to say more.
"Thanks……"
"You will prevail, my brother." Harkon took Andros' free hand eagerly. His expectations and the anxiety hidden beneath them made Andos, who had been sitting by the stove for a long time, feel unbearably hot.
Callifon held the statue of the God of War in the palm of her hand, concealing her thoughts with her observation of the fine color differences in the work of art.
She was so used to Harkon's unwarranted anxiety.
Whether it was forced by the pressure of being the eldest son or driven by natural ambition, what she saw was a man who, after decades of experience, was covered with all the smooth silks, gorgeous crowns and enhanced majesty. The eldest son of a tyrant who surpassed his inherent talents.
The first time she witnessed how power and honor could destroy a person with good nature was with her eldest brother.
Calliphon's thumb brushed against the spear hand of the statue of Mars.
She wouldn't mind assisting Harkon one day, but that would only be out of attachment to Lokos.
Andos's nose wrinkled with nervousness, and his eyes moved up from his grasped hand to Harkon's face.
He stated honestly: "I don't know, Harkon... I don't know until I see Perturabo's work."
"That holy boy made your contest known to the whole city."
The subtle trembling of Harkon's muscles silently betrayed his peculiar uneasiness.
"This month, he searched every stonemason in the capital. Those craftsmen had been eagerly looking forward to his visit before his arrival. The child walked into the workshop, empty-handed, taking the tools given by the craftsmen for free, and working with the people who were going to The praise that spread throughout the city left. It is a fact known throughout the country that the son of God from the mountains and the prince of the tyrant are going to have a duel of skills."
"So... I can't lose?" Andos asked, quietly taking his hand away from his eldest brother.
His hands were made to hold the instruments of creation.
"I didn't mean that," Harkon said immediately. He turned to the side of the stone sculpture, very close to the statue.
Andos hesitated for a moment, but still did not follow the first thought that popped up in his mind and persuade his brother to stay away from the things he cherished.
Harkon spoke earnestly, as if he were several generations older than his younger brother and sister: "When people come to this world, they will definitely face failure, just like stones will always fall to the ground, and springs will always gather into the river. Lake, you must learn to accept losing and winning, just like accepting any existing truth in this world. What's more, what you are about to confront is the descendant of the gods descended from the snow-capped mountains to the ground. We accept it under the glory of the gods. To lead, even if you lose to those who are favored by the gods, it is still allowed by heaven and earth."
"But," he changed the topic, lowered his head with affected patience, and looked at Callifon: "In addition to our identity as Olympians serving the gods, we are also the children of Lokos, and we will serve the Lokos people and lead us. The people are responsible for moving towards greater prosperity in this vortex of endless war. If we often expose our failures before gaining the trust of our people, then what face do we have to be the masters of a country? Woolen cloth?"
Callifon put down the statue of the God of War and played her role nonchalantly: "Then I wish Andos can win, I sincerely think so."
However, her mind was filled with the countless amazing works of art in Morse and Perturabo's workshop, as well as Morse's playful advice.
In recent days, she had actually exchanged some letters with Morse.
She was the first to boldly send greetings, and the response she received was an unexpected surprise.
She couldn't figure out the true character of the man in black through a few pieces of paper, but it didn't matter that she was indeed attracted by his few words.
She knew that if she had the chance to meet those two people alone next time, she would definitely try to call Lord Perturabo first, and then Lord Morse.
Harkon received a satisfactory answer and couldn't wait to show his sincerity to Andos. "My words have not offended you, have I, my brother?"
Andos's eyes no longer linger on his works. His sculptures are smiling compassionately and happily, while Andos has completely returned to reality. His sad heart no longer allows him to indulge in creation.
"It is you, brother, who will become the master of a country," Andos said. "How will my losing or winning harm your face? What's more, as you said... people will definitely face failure when they come to this world."
Harkon shook his head.
"Three days later, both the skilled craftsmen of Lokos, the distinguished guests from foreign countries, and even some of the citizens of Lokos will watch your duel with Perturabo. Andos, you are my cherished brother. , our glory is deeply connected by our blood."
"Did they come uninvited?" Callifon suddenly asked.
Harkon's pride was shattered by the questioning, his smile turned into pain due to gloom, and an angry shadow enveloped him, making the man look sharp and cold.
"I invited them," he declared stiffly, "and I bless you, my brother, and my sister."
After Harcon left, Andos did not return to work. He sat down on the ground and looked at his statue in silence.
Callifon asked softly: "Is this the goddess Hephoni?"
Andos nodded.
Hephonia, the goddess of life, is the chief god of the Olympians' renaming ceremony when they come of age.
She names the child of Olympia, embraces the soul that has just arrived in this world, and blesses the child's welcome new life in this vast world.
"I actually want Perturabo to win," Andos said.
Callifon stared at the mask of the statue. Just being stared at by the stone statue, she felt a sourceless emotion in her heart.
"Can he win?"
"If he's not improved from where he was a month ago ... he can't."
Callifon knew her brother was never arrogant. He is humble, gentle, few words, and always honest.
So she smiled and sat down again.
"I bless you both," she said.
