"…and, above all else, never forget to match the settings to trends in style and the current season," Jacoby instructed sternly. "Silly as it may seem to the ignorant and uncultured, such minor details will make the difference between a successful social event or a diplomatic incident."
"Yes sir!" Sullivan replied with a bob of his head. He was furiously scribbling away as they spoke. While he was proud of his memory, it wasn't flawless and he wanted to make sure he could review the information later.
As he wrote, he reflected on the events that had led up to this point. While attending the institute, he had prided himself on his 'advanced' skills in literature. In fact, he had been the go-to man for helping the kids with any sort of reading or writing. He'd thought himself equal—if not superior—to the 'instructors' that taught them. Jacoby had shattered that delusion within moments of their first official meeting.
As soon as Sullivan had laid eyes on the proud bunny butler furiously confronting the notorious headmaster of that gods-forsaken facility, Sullivan had cultivated a keen respect for Jacoby. When he met the man in person the following day, that respect grew to an admiration which was further fortified by a powerful desire to become more like him that developed as he watched him in the days to follow.
"Additionally, always make a point of knowing the culture, needs, and personal preferences of distinguished guests. Always, always, ALWAYS! If you have to, know what they want and when they want it before they have the notion to visit. Sufficient to say it would be HIGHLY inappropriate to serve any food or beverages that could harm or offend. Again, it is a competent staff that makes effort to communicate, research, and plan." Jacoby continued. "Furthermore-"
His words were cut off by the unexpected and abrupt sound of the door creaking open. As it happened, the two had been standing in the foyer, overseeing little Owen's duties as the boy took a snack break. They hadn't actually been anticipating guests, so their being there was more a formality for the sake of training.
"You're Majesty," Jacoby frowned as he offered a curt bow to Arnwald. "Forgive us, we would have opened the door for you if we had realized you were coming. What brings you here this time of day?"
Sullivan mimicked the bow and decided to observe quietly as Jacoby confronted the kingdom's monarch. Admittedly, Arnwald still terrified Sullivan to the point he couldn't form proper sentences around the man. Nonetheless, it was entertaining watching Jacoby and Emerick interact with Arnwald, especially when they were frustrated with him. Add to that the fact they knew something Sullivan was fairly confident Arnwald was oblivious to and the situation was primed for quite a memorable event.
"Have you seen Emerick?" Arnwald replied without really listening to Jacoby. "I was hoping to catch him this afternoon."
"I have not seen the Prince since early this morning when, as ever, I encouraged him to dress appropriately for a change," Jacoby replied, polite smile tight and hostile as his frustration continued to rise. "I suppose the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."
"What are you talking about?" Arnwald questioned. "If I'm anything, I'm a big old coconut. Hard priestly exterior, sweet and gooey on the inside, and just a little bit nutty."
He threw Sullivan a wink, clearly expecting some kind of reaction. Sullivan simply stared at him, not comprehending what he felt was a poor attempt at a lousy joke. Was this a father thing? Or was this simply an Arnwald thing?
"Sir, are you sure you don't have other matters to attend to?" Jacoby pressed. "Mr. Abbot is generally quite dutiful in alerting me to your schedule and when you have time to visit on a whim. I was under the impression you were supposed to be paying a visit King Jerome in the neighboring kingdom in no less than an hour."
"Oh loosen up," Arnwald dismissed him with a scoff. "Old Jerome probably doesn't even remember who I am, much less that I'm supposed to pay him a visit. I doubt that he remembers his own name for that matter."
"You are an authoritative figure, Syre. Are you not expected to act accordingly?" Jacoby glanced quickly to the staircase. "It would reflect poorly on you if you not only neglected protocol in at least announcing your attentions to visit, but to dismiss an important meeting with a long-standing friend and ally for simple chit-chat with your son who lives practically in your back yard."
"Is this why Emerick is always so exasperated with you?" Arnwald huffed. "I never realized it, but you tend to nag a lot. In fact, you're starting to sound like Esmyria."
Jacoby was preparing to respond when he was cut off, quite rudely, as Trixie darted by. Sullivan winced as he watched her accidently smash his toes under her feet in her haste. She wasn't necessarily heavy, so under normal circumstances it probably wouldn't have bothered him beyond mild annoyance at her lack of manners. Unfortunately, according to Jacoby, it had been some time since the last time he properly trimmed his foot-claws, and so his feet were already sore from the rubbing of his boots.
Sullivan watched in awe as Jacoby muscled his way through his evident pain. He was so focused on his mentor, he nearly failed to notice Emerick barreling towards them, likely chasing after Trixie. Come to think of it, he doubted either of them had seen any action since the queens took up residence in the guest rooms. He almost felt bad for the prince when—as he was rushing past—Arnwald seized him by the shoulder and halted him abruptly.