The prince's laugh was a phenomenon that put cessation to the entire banquet hall. Conversations paused; servants stilled. But in the blink of an eye, the spell was released.

Heiko leaned forward at Vincente, face alight and seemingly ignorant to his own enchantment. "Why not?"

There was more. Quite obviously, there was more. But he didn't speak of it.

"I've heard many stories about your wrestling spectacles." Heiko began again eventually, changing the conversation so abruptly that, surely, the subject of his eldest brother was tender for him. Cele tucked that information away for potential future use. It would undoubtedly come in handy somehow.

Despite his stony expression, the king gathered the same conclusion, and as gracefully as he could, allowed the prince to lead away from it.

"Indeed. They are a large part of Ilysian culture."

Heiko took a long drink of wine before placing the goblet back on the wooden table elegantly.

"Is the wine to your liking?"

It was like dealing with gnat, Cele thought. This princeling had no attention span. Jumping from one thing to the next with no clear purpose. Short-fused enough to belittle Adele but even-keeled enough to converse with Alessandra. Though, if his moods swung so drastically, could it really have been considered even keeled?

"No wine is to my liking."

The comment almost made Cele laugh. Was he a drunk, too?

"I wish to attend a wrestling spectacle. It will delay my return to Simo, but I'm sure it's not skin off of the back of a beloved and rich king like yourself, Vincente." He licked his lips as he said it, searching for remnants of the wine.

"How bold," Alessandra laughed. "I have never heard of a Simonese custom that involves inviting oneself to stay longer than one is welcomed."

Again, the princeling displayed the facade of surprise.

"Am I not welcomed here?"

"You wish to attend a wrestling match," King Vincente sighed, though he was clearly entertained. "I shall have one prepared for tomorrow afternoon. Would this be acceptable for the prince of Simo?"

Heiko lifted his eyes to the king. They were cold and vexed. If nothing else could be said about him, he was at least adept at sniffing out the subtleties of conversations.

Without notice, Baptist looked over at Heiko pedantically.

"I have never seen a wrestling match."

It wasn't exactly what Cele was expecting as his comment, though upon further examination, the general understood. The almost juvenile statement melted any intensity that was building in Heiko's eyes.

"Of course, you haven't," Heiko said in a dismissive manner. "You've never been to Ilyos."

"Oh yes," Baptist nodded, as if it were a fact he had forgotten. Cele smirked. What a clever boy, playing the prince. And kind-hearted. Why else come to the aid of a foreign king? Even if such aid wasn't entirely necessary.

Though, it was more likely that he had an ulterior motive. Perhaps he was a spy. Or perhaps simply self-preserving.

"Why don't you try the pork?" Alessandra asked the boy gently. "A growing boy such as yourself would develop well with the help of meat."

Baptist looked up at her before looking over to Heiko.

"He doesn't eat meat." Heiko informed, biting into a piece himself.

"Is it the taste?" Cele asked, eyes on Baptist. He didn't seem to fear Prince Heiko, and yet he was so compliant. It was an intriguing dynamic, if not a bit suspicious.

But it was Heiko who answered for him.

"He has no need for it."

No need for nutrients? Cele thought with a bit of disgust. He knew bed slaves were common in Simo – they were common enough in Ilyos too, but at a much disparate capacity. In his kingdom, those chosen to serve in that way were mostly willing and certainly of age. Not to mention treated well.

But this boy beside the Simonese prince was still a child. His voice was not yet broken, forget being of age.

"Bread and vegetables sate him." Heiko continued, before casting a gaze around the table, as if trying to ascertain something. After a moment, he grabbed Baptist's goblet, peering into it.

"Water," He murmured with a sigh, as if inadequate. He dumped the contents out onto the floor behind him and reached for a clay pitcher of wine, filling the now empty vessel.

"That's wine," Cele said stupidly.

Heiko looked up, cocking a brow.

"It is," He nodded, his voice lilted as if praising a child for a correct response.

Cele clenched his fists.

"That-"

"Wine for a child?" Vincente cut his general off. "Isn't that a bit..."

Heiko waited for Vincente to finish the statement he was clearly trying to leave open-ended.

"Excessive." The king decided.

Heiko exhaled.

"I suppose it would look that way." He agreed. "But he's in so much pain. Haven't you taken note of the bruises? Poor thing."

Cele's eyes flashed angrily at Heiko, who grinned wickedly at him in return.

"Alcohol dulls pain, you know." The princeling continued, steady gaze on Cele, poking at him, testing his patience. "I very much would prefer a restful night without the pitiful moans of my...companion."

A single angry heartbeat, and Cele stood abruptly, storming from the room.