Back at camp, Isgellian was sitting by the fire with Ridley next to him. It was… A strange sight, to say the least. Ridley had his hands over Isgellian's wound, and Decian could see the glow of healing magic shining under them. Isgellian was staring at Ridley with wide eyes, but he didn't speak. Or rather, he couldn't speak. It seemed that Ridley had cast some sort of spell that bound his lips together… Decian could see the magical threads as if they were sewn shut.

Isgellian looked up when Decian came into the light and growled. It was all he could do.

“Shut up.” Ridley said in a threatening tone.

“How do you have magic?” Decian asked, approaching the two cautiously.

Ridley shrugged. “Fell out of a tree when I was a kid. Haven’t been the same, since.”

“Humans don’t have magic.” Decian frowned, sitting next to them.

“Tell that to my magic.” Ridley smirked, not looking up from Isgellian’s arm. “You really did a number here, though, wow. I kind of figured you’d hurt him, but I didn’t think it’d be this deep.”

Isgellian mumbled angrily at Decian until Ridley stomped on his foot, making him yelp. He didn’t stop glaring at them, though.

Jedd elbowed Decian in the side, earning him a glare from the nocten. But Decian sighed. Jedd was right. “Isgellian, I… I wanted to apologise,” Decian started softly, sincerely, “Back home, we have different rules. We train differently. We don’t… We never show each other mercy, we hardly ever pull our blows… The things we have to face when we’re out of training are too fearsome for us to coddle each other… I didn’t realise that that wasn’t the case out here. So… I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

Isgellian didn’t stop glaring at Decian throughout the entire apology, but Decian held back his bitter frown. Maybe they could resolve one of their conflicts, for once. Maybe, the prince would surprise him.

He didn’t.

Ridley undid the spell that had muted the Prince, and as soon as he opened his mouth, everyone knew it wouldn’t be good. “Your race’s barbaric ways don’t excuse what you did,” Isgellian seethed, “It only proves me right. You’re all just a bunch of—mmf! Mmmfff!” He growled, and glared at Ridley, who had replaced the spell. So much for that…

Decian’s scowl won out. “You know, you keep calling me things like that, saying my ways are brutish. But as far as our training goes, our ways are necessary. If they hadn’t trained me as hard as they did, I would be dead by now. And you know… One of the things they taught me is to never trust someone who wears a glamour.”

Isgellian’s eyes widened at that. Decian reached forward and grabbed the edge of the shimmery magic that masked the elf’s face. Ridley’s brows furrowed, the act must have looked strange to people who couldn’t see magic like Decian could. Isgellian pulled away, but only after Decian had gotten a hold of the glamour. It slipped off the prince’s face, fizzling into thin air, revealing dark circles and even paler skin. He had a bruise on his jaw, large and dark and painful-looking.

Decian scoffed. “And you mocked my dark circles.”

Ridley’s eyes widened. “Wow. You look like shit, dude. Do you even know what sleep is?”

Isgellian turned his murderous glare toward Ridley, a mumbled growl sounding from his throat. The elf’s eyes were fierce with indignation, but Decian could see something else. He saw the way the elf’s eyes glistened. Prince Isgellian huffed, shook Ridley off of him, and stood. As he turned to walk away from the camp, Ridley undid the muting spell. The Prince turned around when he did and glared at the others at the camp. “I’ll return in a while. Don’t come after me.”

And then he was gone.

“Sh-Should we go after him?” Avaeon stammered after a few moments of silence. “H-He looked like he was about to…” The satyr trailed off when everyone else shook their heads.

“Jus’ let ‘im be alone.” Jedd sighed, and went over to where he’d set up his bed roll. “I’m gonna sleep.”

Decian just frowned and stared into the fire as the others around him prepared to follow Jedd’s example. He’d gone too far. He knew that. He thought the others’ way of pulling back in spars was cowardly, sure, but he should have asked before the fight. Brabil would be so disappointed, if he could see him now. It was with that realisation that Decian curled up around the knees he’d pulled to his chest. His king was like… Like a father, to him. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint him. When did Decian get so… So emotional? So unprofessional? What was it about the elven prince that tore past his years of training, of learning how to keep a level head? Even around Endric, the man who had always endeavored to make Decian’s life a living hell, Decian could keep his cool. He needed to do the same here, from now on. No matter what was thrown his way. They were on a mission. The mission had to come first. It had to be taken seriously. They were going to be facing a monster that hadn’t been defeated for hundreds of years the next day, after all.

He had to be better.