Breakfast in the Fortemps manor was pleasantly sedate, until Emmanellain came into the dining hall.

“Greetings on this beauteous morning, one and all.”

Artoirel looked up at his brother, a small frown on his face, “You’re unusually sprightly for the early hour of the morning.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? The weather is clear and fine, and there is good company to enjoy!” He swept an arm out to indicate the three scions sitting at the table.

Alphinaud paused, his cutlery hovering over the eggs he was tucking into, Tataru gave the youngest member of the house a broad smile, and the warrior didn’t respond, instead taking a long sip of tea.

“I’m glad to hear that my son,” Lord Edmont said, “Perhaps you can thus ease my mind concerning rumours that have reached my ears about the activities you engaged in last night.”

Emmanellain immediate began waxing lyrical about what he had been up to last night, of course none of which was anything like the scandalous rumours that had reached his father’s ears.

When he finally paused for a breath, the warrior spoke, “Your performance would be far more convincing if you fingers were not crossed behind your back.”

The younger elezen flushed and spluttered, the hand that had been hidden behind him was quickly brought forward. Lord Edmont fixed his son with a steely look, which quickly had him mumbling excuses and ducking back out of the dining room, Honoralt giving a short bow to them before he followed.

“How did you know he was doing that?” Artoirel asked.

“Honoralt. He was suppressing a smile. And it’s the action I would expect from a four year old trying to hide their actions,” she replied, completely straight faced.

Artoitel tried valiantly to smother a smile, failed, and then raised a pot, “More tea?”