Dinner was served an hour later in the grand hall. Two guards stood outside the doors in glimmering golden armour, letting everyone pass but the five who were to leave the next morning. No, as per elven custom, they were guests of honour, and would only enter when all of them had arrived. The guards had even said something about ‘announcing’ them, but Decian was too bitter to pay full attention to their words.

Prince Isgellian arrived shortly after Decian, having changed into clothes that were even more unnecessarily fancy. His emerald green tunic matched his eyes and was stitched with golden threads, a swirling design running down the middle. The wide collar, and the holes that revealed the prince’s slender, freckled shoulders, were lined with gold lace. His long, wavy red hair fell to the small of his back, just as it had before, and he wore a golden band around his neck. He eyed Decian, frowning. “Do you even own any other shirts?” he scoffed. It seemed the manners he had remembered earlier had been lost, and Decian had to hold back a growl.

“It’s called a uniform,” Decian said matter-of-factly, before glancing over to him, “Do you ever cover your shoulders?”

Isgellian tilted his chin up. Defiance shone in his green eyes, even brighter than the glamours cloaking his face and shoulder. Decian remembered the bruise. Why did he bother covering it, if it was just from training? “Do you ever show yours?” The elf scoffed.

“When I’m not on duty, sometimes.” Decian shrugged.

“It’s a dinner party, you’re not on duty.” The prince rolled his eyes.

Neither man felt like saying anything else, after that.

Soon after, they heard hooves clacking against the marble floors, and turned to see the small satyr man, Avaeon. He had changed, too, into an orange vest tucked into loose brown pants. His hair was a pale brown mess of curls, up from which stuck his ears. Decian hadn’t noticed the horse-like ears until just then, and he found them fascinating. They twitched when the satyr's eyes lifted to Decian’s. He may have started a conversation with the satyr, too, if he hadn’t flinched back when the nocten looked at him, reminding Decian of his sour mood. Instead, he just stared forward again. Avaeon was too intimidated by the two to strike up a conversation with either. He just fiddled with the string tied around his waist, from which his ocarina hung in a pouch.

After what felt like ages of uncomfortable silence, awkward, clunky footsteps heralded the arrival of Jedd. He had spiked his hair up again, and gulped nervously before grinning up, way up, at Decian and Isgellian. “H-Hello!” Prince Isgellian just pressed his lips together and looked away, tapping his foot impatiently. Decian forced a slight smile and nodded to acknowledge him.

Avaeon was the only one who spoke, extending a hand for him to shake. “Hello, my name’s Avaeon, and you are?”

“Y—Jedd!” The man smiled widely, shaking the poor satyr’s hand so hard he winced and pulled away. “Ah! Did I hurt ya? ’m so sorry!” He gasped.

“Mm, n-no,” Avaeon whimpered, holding his hand, “It’s uh… It’s f-fine…”

Jedd nodded awkwardly and scratched the back of his broad neck. He glanced around at the three others. “So… we’re waitin for the human, right? I’m starvin…”

Avaeon nodded. “Yes! W-When he comes, we’ll go in with the others and eat. I think. Right, Isgellian?” Avaeon looked up to the prince, who scowled.

“That’s Prince Isgellian to you, and yes. What else would we do at a banquet?” He scoffed. 

“Be nice to him, Isgellian,” Decian narrowed his eyes at the elf, “You’re speaking to a man favoured by the gods.”

“I’m speaking with an imbecile…” Prince Isgellian muttered, looking away with a roll of his eyes. Avaeon shrank back at that.

“Don’t mind him,” Decian sighed, looking down to Avaeon, “He carries the false belief that he’s better than everyone. Which, ironically, makes his opinion worth no one’s time.”

“And what do you know of me, nocten?” The elf took a moment to glare at him before continuing, “I am a prince of elves. You are just a soldier of the race of cowards.” Isgellian bit back bitterly. Decian plainly ignored him, which only angered the prince further. “Hah. Just like your race…” He scoffed, “To ignore when you are being spoken to by a superior.”

Jedd and Avaeon stood to the side and watched with wide eyes as Decian squared his shoulders. He turned to the prince, narrowing his reddish eyes. “You are not my superior. The only superiors I have are my king and the gods. You may believe yourself to be on the same level as the latter, but you elves are nothing but fowl with their wings clipped.” He seethed, his stance wide. If the others hadn’t noticed before, the size difference between the elf and the nocten became very suddenly apparent. Decian was taller, and broader, but Isgellian didn’t shrink back.

“And you nocten are nothing but barbarians skulking in the shadows, hiding from everyone else.” The two guards looked on edge as they watched the stand-off. “I cannot wait to be rid of you when we leave here tomorrow.”

“I think you’ve missed something, elf. I’ll be going with you.” Decian took half a step closer. He tried to tell himself to stand down, that it wasn't worth arguing… but there was something about the elf that was so infuriating...

“Will you? I thought you would skulk back home, too afraid for what lies ahead. Run back home to mummy.” Isgellian smirked, not seeing Decian’s fists clench. The nocten took a deep breath and loosened them again. He would not lose his cool… Not to that extent.

“Says the man who wouldn’t even last a day in the Deep Wood.” Isgellian’s nostrils flared, though Decian kept his tone cool. “How could I possibly leave when you’ll be needing someone to protect your pathetic, spoiled—”

Jedd and Avaeon gasped as the prince swung a fist at Decian, who, completely unfazed, caught it and twisted the elf’s arm back. Isgellian let out a pained yelp as he was forced around. The two guards immediately stepped forward, ripping Decian away from him.

“How dare you lay a hand on the prince!” One exclaimed.

“He’s tha one who tried ta punch Decian!” Jedd shouted, glaring up at the two guards. They froze, letting Decian slip from their grasp when they turned to look at him. Decian growled as he fixed his sleeve, narrowing his eyes over at the prince. Isgellian just held his chin high, his fists clenched at his sides. He didn’t look at anyone.

“Excuse you?” One guard asked, stepping over to Jedd to make his generous height advantage clearer. But the dwarf stood his ground, putting his hands on his hips.

“Tha Prince’s tha one who tried ta punch Decian, he should be tha one ya get pissy with! Ya watched tha whole thing unfold jus’ like me, Isgellian’s tha one who started it!” He insisted.

“He is Prince Isgellian or ‘your highness’ to you, dwarf. And I saw no such thing.”

“He’s whatever I wanna call him! Cow pie, for example, ‘s another title that fits. Now step aside.” His voice came out deep and insistent, and when the guard laughed, he pushed him aside, stomping past him.

The other guard snickered as Jedd stepped up to Isgellian and looked between him and Decian. “Now, ya two will be nice ta each other, or I will have ta take measures ta make sure ya get along! Ya may be a prince, Cow Pie, but all ‘f us in this party ‘ve gotta travel together. Ya’ll only get tha worst kind ‘f special treatment if ya don’t accept that, until Bellorn is dealt with, we’re equals.”

Decian looked to Isgellian. The elf had been the one to start the argument, after all. He was thoroughly impressed by the dwarf’s guts, though. Part of him was glad Jedd would be part of the party. He was half their height, but stared them down as if he was the one in charge.

“Equals? With you?” Isgellian laughed, “You would have to grow quite a bit taller for me to care enough to even remember your name.”

“It’s Jedd. And maybe instead I should take ya down a size or two.” He threatened.

“What exactly is going on here?” A man’s voice sliced through the tension in the air, laced with amusement. Ridley sauntered up toward them slowly, an entertained smile playing on his lips. He had changed into clean clothes and shaved for the banquet, and his eyes scanned the other four quickly. There was a light behind him that spelled nothing but mischief, and it seemed to unsettle the satyr more than he had been before.

“I was just letting Cow Pie here know that if he don’t co-operate I’ll have ta make ‘im.” Jedd announced, stepping forward. “I’m Jedd, what’s yer name?” He asked, ignoring the prince’s protests toward his new nickname.

“It’s Ridley.” He shook the dwarf’s hand, wincing when he squeezed too hard.

“Oh no!” Jedd released immediately, “I’m sorry. I gotta work on that…”

“It’s alright… These hands have seen much worse, believe me… Now, are we all calm enough to go in?” Ridley looked to Prince Isgellian and Decian, cocking an eyebrow at them.

“I am.” Decian shrugged, all trace of irritation gone. Isgellian just rolled his eyes and stepped toward the doors.

“Prince Isgellian will be entering first.” One of the guards said, reaching for the handle to the door.

“Actually,” Jedd stepped forward, in front of Isgellian, “His name’s Cow Pie and I’m goin’ first.”

“Bu—” The guard didn’t even get one word out.

“His name’s Cow pie, and I’m gonna go first.” Jedd glared at the guard, who just looked to Isgellian with wide eyes. When Isgellian was too busy fuming to say anything, the guard nodded.

“O-Okay…” He mumbled, before he and his colleague heaved open the colossal white doors.