The ornate double door to Percival's mansion was attended by a single disinterested griffon who appeared capable of guarding it in a pinch, but really enjoyed having nothing happen as his job. He glanced up as Valey, Maple and Starlight approached, looking like he wished they'd take the back way in. "This is Percival's mansion," he grumbled, lounging against the shaded side of a pillar.
"And we're tourists," Valey belched, striding forward with a grin. "Snazzy place you got here. Mind if we take a look around?"
"Don't hear that every day," the guard sighed. "See yourselves around. Rooms aren't off-limits unless specifically marked, and the staff's word is law, so don't make pests of yourselves or get in anyone's way."
The door swung open, and Valey blinked. "Huh. That was easy. Well, I'm not complaining. Come on, let's go see if we can make friends with the kitchen staff!"
With a roll of his eyes, the guard closed the door behind him, and the three friends were inside. Percival's mansion had a two-story foyer with a vaulted ceiling, and Starlight counted five doors branching elsewhere on the ground floor alone.
"Sniff snuff snuff snooorrff..." Valey waved her nose around, thoroughly ignoring the staircases to the second-floor balcony. "Thinking we're going this way. Coming?"
Starlight watched the decor from Maple's back as they passed along through doors and hallways. The aesthetic sense reminded her a little of Elise's home in Blueleaf, with plenty of contrast between bright accents and dark backgrounds, with a fondness for swirls and a dislike of the green side of the color spectrum. Red, orange and purple, the colors were stacked like a sunset, with straight walls and elegant exposed support beams and an architecture that never felt claustrophobic while still giving the impression of strength. She wondered how many different creatures had worked together to design the building, or if Percival had drawn the plans himself.
"Well now," a kindly voice drawled as they stepped into a more open room, "what have we here?"
Starlight blinked. A batpony mare in an apron faced them from between two rows of countertops, looking like she had once been tall and slim before a decade of good eating took its toll. With an unusual pale peach coat, she raised an eyebrow at them, a rolling pin tucked beneath one wing.
Valey raised an eyebrow back. "So. Something tells me you're the chef around here."
The larger mare nodded back with a disapproving smile. "And something tells me you're a ragamuffin looking for free handouts when you should be enjoying your holiday, so I guess we'll have to give each other the benefit of the doubt."
"Buh?" Valey tilted her head.
"Meyneth, not 'buh'," the mare corrected, tapping Valey's nose with the end of her rolling pin as she walked past. Ignoring her entirely, she then gave Maple and Starlight an appraising nod. "You two, on the other wing, look famished. There's a cookie jar over in that corner if you're looking for something, though it hasn't been refilled since yesterday."
"Oh, sweet!" Valey perked up toward the indicated corner, only to be held up by the rolling pin.
"Not you!" Meyneth chided, bopping her with the handle once again and then prodding her in the side. "You're plenty well-fed already, you roly-poly shrimp! Leave those for ponies who would appreciate them."
Valey fell back, wincing and rubbing where she had been poked. "Hey! Watch who you're calling fat, lard barrel! We're supposed to be on the same side!"
Maple winced as well, standing far away from the indicated cookie jar. "Could we not fight? We're trying to stay on good terms with as many ponies as possible while we're here..."
"Hmmph," Meyneth huffed, stepping back and leaving Valey alone. "I can tell when someone comes to this kitchen purely hoping to score a bite to eat. You're up against senses honed by countless waves of gremlins from that school over yonder." She pointed in a vague direction. "Using your holiday for pilfering, too. Don't you have anything better to spend your time on?"
"Well, what are you doing here if it's a holiday?" Valey asked, vaguely hurt and pointing an accusatory hoof.
"Cleaning, and keeping the place open for anyone who really does have nowhere better to be than at work." Meyneth jabbed the roller right back at her. "Which doesn't include you, you goon. Management really ought to take better care of wayward souls like you."
"Management?" Valey's eyes crossed, though she still kept a wary watch on the rolling pin. "What?"
"You are from management, aren't you?" Meyneth asked suspiciously, patting her free wing with the roller.
"What? No!" Valey protested. "We're from Ironridge! Ever looked at a newspaper? Or maybe a dossier your boss put out? We're like guests of state, or something. I don't even know what management is!"
Meyneth took a moment to size her up. "She's right," Maple confirmed, nodding her head. "And it is a little mean of you to be picking on her alone."
"Bananas, what is it with me and chefs in the Empire...?" Valey groaned, unhappily slumping and wiping her brow with a wing.
"...I see," Meyneth decided. "Well, I'm still fully aware of what you came here for. My apologies for calling you fat, bone bag. I suppose you'll be wanting me to dirty this kitchen making something special just for you, won't you?"
Valey winced. "Uhh, look, if it's trouble..."
"I suppose I should be grateful you're in here instead of off pestering someone not accustomed to it," Meyneth sighed, brushing open several cabinets and cupboards with a wingtip as she breezed around the kitchen. "There's no menu, and I'm not making anything hot. You wash your own dishes when you're done. Say nothing and it's sandwiches made from leftover lettuce that needs to get used up. Understand?"
Maple gave an awkward smile. "Really, we don't mean to cause trouble..."
"Don't. I'm used to it." Meyneth nodded, already focusing on something as she removed several jars from a cold box. "You don't get by in a job like this without getting yelled at by far too many ungrateful brats. Bone bag! I don't know what you do for a living, but you're about to learn to slice tomatoes. Get over here and show me how you hold that knife."
"I'm not a bone bag...!" Valey growled, ears back as she nevertheless obeyed. "Bananas, what have I gotten myself into?"
"Tsk. Just can't make up your mind, can you?" Meyneth sadly shook her head. "Knife. Use it, ball barrel."
Valey's eyes flashed, and then the steel did, the countertop tomato falling into perfect fifths. "How do you like that?" she growled around the handle. "And don't call me fat either!"
Meyneth eyed her job. "Five pieces? There are only four of us here, you gluttonous pile. Put them back together and try again."
"What...?" Valey's ears folded, then perked in annoyance. "It's a tomato! How do you put it...? Urgh. Never mind. Seriously, lady, what's your problem? I have a name, y'know."
Meyneth touched the tomato slices with a wingtip, sliding them gently over each other, and then there was a tiny spark of light. Her cutie mark gleamed from behind the apron, and then the tomato was whole.
"...Bananas." Valey swallowed, eyeing her expression and slumping in defeat. "Well, at least Jamjars isn't watching. Something tells me I'm in for a bad time..."