Illiad awoke after a very restful sleep; it turned out that the cushion was more firm than first thought - it slept nicely, and Illiad felt that it might have been even better than the bed! There was the scent of freshly baked apples that was wafting through the air; breakfast, maybe?
After taking care of the typical morning necessities, Illiad opened the door to head into the hallway-
*SPLASH!*
He was suddenly and completely covered in what appeared to be tomato soup... cold tomato soup, at that. The bucket that had been tied above his door fell onto his head with a hollow thump. Somewhere down the hallway, there was the sound of a self-satisfied giggle.
My reflexes are simply awful these past two days. Well, I was going to take a bath anyway. It's a good thing I haven't gotten dressed yet.
Illiad simply stood partially out of the doorway for a moment as he sought out Oglevy's emotional signature. If I can hear him then I can feel him. Once he found him he briefly considered fusing the pot to his head, but decided the pot was more useful as evidence to his transgressions. Instead he once again wished he had a supply of fear with him, but the unease he picked up earlier would have to do. He pushed the unease into Oglevy, and had a small amount of pleasure as his signature quickly went nervous, hopefully contemplating the consequences of his actions.
Illiad then returned to his room, closing the door before removing the pot from his head. He removed as much of the soup as he could from his coat, placing it back in the pot, before he entered the cool water he had discovered the previous night. He sat mostly submerged in the water, just his eyes and nose above the surface, as he contemplated how he was going to proceed from here.
The soup will be a pain to remove from the carpets no doubt, thus they will sit as evidence for some time. I don't know how he thinks he can get away with this.
Illiad quickly cleaned himself before stepping out and drying his coat before wrapping it in his robes. He dried his mane and tail in a similar manner, leaving them a bit floofier than the day before, but they began to settle as he moved.
He reentered the hallway, this time making sure that there was no secondary trap, carrying the pot in his magic so it could not be stolen easily. As he looked either way down the hall he realized he had no idea where to proceed from here. So he decided to wait in his room until someone came for him.
He left the door open to signify that he was awake. He retrieved the three marks that the gem was holding, he began to experiment with different combinations as he waited patiently.
"Good morning, sir."
A butler pony (maybe it was Beck?) poked his head through the doorway, politely averting his eyes from where Illiad was.
"The Blackwaters are already at breakfast, but I was told to escort you to them as soon as you awoke. I trust everything was in order last night?" He grinned. "I'll dare say Master Dax nearly talked my brother's ear off about it."
He eyeballed the carpet for a moment... then simply said, "Oglevy." With a sigh, he seemed to make a mental note it, then turned to await Illiad's reply, standing straight and dignified.
"I suspected as much." Illiad said with a sideways glance towards the butler. He had managed to combine the symbols into a complex, yet understandable symbol. It took the key elements of each mark and intertwined them in a sort of braid pattern, with Dax's serving as a sort of background. He returned the design to his robe and merged the leftover with his diamond before approaching the butler with the soup pot in tow.
"I don't know how he expects to get away with this. Please, do take me to the others, I want to see what happens when I tell the parents about this morning's events." Illiad continued, somewhat mumbling.
Seemingly coming to himself, Illiad shook his head and turned to face the butler. "Sorry about that, I got a bit dramatic there. The room was quite comfortable if not a bit too quiet. Other than that I would like a towel or two brought in, I didn't notice any in there this morning and while magic can dry me fine it always leaves my mane a bit unmanageable. But enough of that, time is too short to worry about such trivialities, let's get this day underway."
The butler lifted an eyebrow at Illiad's words, then actually gave a smile when he saw the pot. "Very good, sir. I shall personally see that your requests are fulfilled."
With that, the butler (Call, it was Call... right?) led Illiad along through the halls. The smell of apples hung thick in the air, and only got more so as they approached their destination. Eventually, they came into the large, open kitchen.
It was, of course, expensive. There were multiple grills, three iceboxes and, in the middle of it all, a large fire pit. There was an extravagant table off to one side, which was where the Blackwaters were seated.
Luther was seated on a bench that was specifically designed for his frame; it looked quite comfortable. He had a newspaper laid open in front of him, and was sipping at a cup of dark, aromatic coffee. He looked up as Illiad entered, and nodded.
Vylia was seated at the other end of the table, and at her side was the other butler (was THAT Beck?), pouring thick red syrup over a small stack of pancakes in front of her. She gave Illiad a smile. "Oh, good morning Mr. Easle! Won't you join us?"
Dax was sitting straight in his chair, though not primped and polished like he was yesterday. After a quick glance at his folks, he gave the unicorn a small wave and a smile. Dax looked (and felt) ready to go, even though his plate of fried apples and toast was yet to be touched.
Oglevy was sitting at the table with a stuffed dragon in his lap. In front of him was a salad, a bowl of sliced apples and a tall glass of what appeared to be apple juice. He was muttering to the dragon, lost in his own world, until he saw Illiad... and when he saw the pot, he frowned deeply, narrow eyes stabbing at the Trojan.
Finishing the pour, the butler next to Vylia set down the pitcher of syrup and promptly traded places with Illiad's escort. "What would sir prefer for breakfast this morning? Perhaps something as per a standard breakfast, or perhaps some Trojan fare, which I have looked into since sir's arrival?"
Illiad took an available seat. He almost spoke but remembered that he had an accent to uphold around the Blackwaters. He set in to the same accent he used at the tea party, just with less smugness so it would be similar enough to the accent he used with Mr. Blackwater.
"My you are quite accommodating aren't you? Well I wouldn't want your preparations to go to waste, I would like something simple, a bowl of dried oats with honey on the side if you please?" Indeed Trojan meals are usually simple, breakfasts are usually uncooked but later meals can be a bit more involved.
As soon as told, the butler bowed and headed to the pantry. It was mere moments before a bowl of top-grade oats was sitting in front of him, a small pitcher of fresh honey laid next to it. As proper, he waited next to Illiad to be told to pour.
With his meal taken care of he turned back to the table at large. He gained the impression that this was not the sort of family to talk much during a meal so he simply set the pot next to him on the table waiting to be spoken to first. As he waited he retrieved the current seal design from his robes to make a few minor adjustments as he saw fit.
When the pot was set onto the table, there were mixed reactions:
Dax's eyes widened a bit, then he instantly turned to look at his little brother. Obviously, he was familiar with the significance.
Oglevy's eyes snapped to the pot, then to Illiad; there was revenge in those irises, and it wasn't a pretty sight... and, perhaps, a bit of worry from Illiad's earlier mental push.
Vylia, in the midst of her pancakes, gave it a look like she expected it to begin dancing lewdly at any moment. The butler behind her moved to take it away...
Luther, however, stopped him with a raised hoof. He then gave it a look, then turned to Illiad. "Why is this here?" Straight to the point, as always.
Here we go.
Illiad turned to face Mr. Blackwater, a very slight smile on his face. "I'm glad you noticed, an interesting thing happened to me this morning. As I opened the door to my chambers this morning I found that someone had balanced this precariously above my doorway, and my opening of the door caused it to fall on me. Cold Tomato soup is not an enjoyable substance to have poured over you in the morning as I discovered. So I brought the pot with me as evidence of the occurrence. I hope this does not become a regular event."
That said he turned towards the breakfast that had been set before him, he elected to pour the honey himself, grasping the end of the honey wand in his magic to apply it in a thin spiral layer to his oats before mixing it throughout the bowl. As he tried the first spoonful he found that while the oats were not as dry as Trojan oats, their soft texture mixed better with the honey, in all it was a bit better than back home.
All eyes turned toward Oglevy... except his were now turned to his dragon toy. The words, however, decided to have a traffic jam...
"Tomato SOUP!?"
"I knew it! Oglevy, you little rat!"
"DON'T call your brother a RAT, young colt!"
"Madam, the syrup!"
"Oh! OH! GAAAH!"
"Why does DAX get to have guests, but I DON'T?"
"You don't HAVE any friends!"
"STOP PATTING, YOU DOLT - IT'S STICKING!"
"Yeah, well YOUR friend's a NERD!"
"He is NOT!"
"Maybe a wet towelette..."
"He is SO!"
"Well, GET SOMETHING!"
"I hate you!"
"I hate you!"
"ENOUGH."
The kitchen went dead quiet.
Luther set down his coffee and stood up.
"Oglevy - your work?"
"Father, I don't like it when-"
"YOUR WORK?"
Oglevy went silent, looked at the floor, and spoke softly. "Yes, Father."
Luther stared holes into the colt's head, his gaze of disapproval searing the little pegasus with guilt.
"The empty room. Two hours."
Oglevy's emotions went from angry and chastised to humiliated and chastised. "No! Father, I-"
One look at the elder Blackwater was all it took.
"... yes, sir."
"Apologize."
Oglevy scowled at Illiad for a moment. "... I'm sorry..."
"Louder."
"I'm sorry - okay!?" It was clear by his emotions said that this was a lie, through and through.
"Now go."
"But... breakfast..?"
"GO."
Oglevy stared for a moment more, then took to his wings and zipped out of the kitchen... as he went, he tried to knock the pitcher of honey off the table and onto Illiad, but the butler next to him was far too swift; not a drop spilled on the Trojan.
Luther sat back down, and calmly picked up his coffee. Before returning to his paper, he turned to the unicorn.
"Apologies."
Vylia shoved the butler next to her; he collided with his twin, who steadied his brother and helped him regain his hooves.
"... I'll get it in the bath; Mr. Illiad? Please excuse me - I'm a mess!" She tossed a warm smile at him. "Perhaps later, we can enjoy another tea time, hmmm?" She rose from the table and left, both butlers following right behind her.
Dax looked grateful the fracas was over. He was now stuck between focusing on his breakfast, and focusing on his friend. He idly picked at his food; apparently, he'd picked his focus. He gave Illiad one of his sheepish grins, and began eating.
Mr. Blackwater is quite scary when he gets mad, I'll wait to show him my design until I'm sure it is perfected.
Illiad was a bit pleased at how things had turned out, Oglevy hadn't tried to claim that Illiad was lying about the incident and his actions would be more suspicious in the future, making repeat attacks harder. Illiad returned his attention to his breakfast as well, he found himself enjoying the differences in texture from what he had grown used too.
He called me a nerd? Like it was something to be ashamed of? Clearly he doesn't understand how valuable knowledge is to Trojan culture.
Illiad left the pot where it was so the butlers could put it where it belonged later, it wasn't long before he finished his breakfast and was left wondering what he was to do with the leftover dishes. He decided he would wait to see what the other two did when they finished.
Luther continued drinking his coffee, refilling it himself from the small pot next to him on the table. He read his paper, the customary frown on his muzzle.
Dax stood up and, gathered his plates - and the pot as he passed it - and moved to one of the grand sinks at the sides. Taking his time, he washed each dish carefully; the pot, he scrubbed, rinsed, and placed upside-down on the countertop. Once that was done, he looked back toward Illiad, a questioning look on his face.
They wash their own dishes? Interesting, not at all what I expected.
Luther turned a page.
"Father? Will you be needing me for anything today?"
Luther glanced up.
"Schooling?"
"Cleared with Mother; off for the next two weeks."
"Chores?"
"Done before I came to breakfast."
"Errands?"
"One delivery to Taps, but nothing else."
Luther thought a moment, passed a glance at Illiad, then refocused on his son.
"Fine."
Dax grinned, and Illiad felt a small wave of love from Luther.
"Thanks Father - have a good day. Mr. Illiad?"
Illiad gathered his dishes as well, he watched how Dax washed so he could do the same. He then washed his own dishes after the same manner as Dax. That completed he turned to face Dax directly.
"Well, lead the way."
"Okay, c'mon!" The young stallion almost bounded out of the kitchen.