Despite the constant twinkle in his eyes, Wyn wiped the small grin he was wearing off his face as he arrived outside of Alphonse's bedchamber.
In his years of serving Alphonse and the Ainsleys, Wyn had learned that they favoured polite and deferential servants compared to genial or unctuous ones. With a candelabra in his left hand, Wyn used his right hand to rap on the door three times. In the Ainsley household, knocking on a door three times was the code for a servant to inform their master that they are coming in to attend and get them ready for bed.
"Come in."
Unlike his father's commanding and assertive voice, Alphonse's voice was soft and kind, and it illustrated a personable, affable and benign young man.
Wyn stepped into Alphonse's imposing bedchamber and placed the lit candelabra on a table before turning to his master. As he turned around, he noticed Alphonse shoving what appears to be a letter underneath his pillow. Wyn had an inkling about the contents of the letter, but made no comment as he approached his master.
As Wyn approached him, Alphonse stood up and raised his hands parallel to his legs.
Wyn gave a curt, reverent smile to his master as he began to undress him.
"Happy birthday, Sire."
"Thank you, Wyn," Alphonse smiled. "I really can't believe that I'm already 18. It seems like just yesterday when I had my 13th birthday celebration. You must remember it, Wyn. That was when I met you."
The memory of the day flashed back to Wyn. While it was a lovely day for Alphonse, it was an unpleasant memory for Wyn. It was the day his life changed.
"You saved my life," Alphonse remarked with a chuckle. "I could have died that day, at the stables, and on my birthday no less. It would have made for a very devastating birthday, but it was my great fortune that you were there," Alphonse giggled as he recalled the events. "I remember how you jumped in front of that horse to save me. You stopped it in its tracks, without regard for your own safety, to save my life. It was the bravest feat I had ever seen a man accomplish."
"You flatter me, Sire," Wyn said drily, having no interest to recollect that day. "I was merely performing my duties as a stable boy."
"Your job was to feed the horses and clean their cages," Alphonse said. "You had no responsibility to save my life, but you did, and I owe my life to you for that."
Wyn kept quiet. Sometimes, Wyn wished he had not saved the life of the young master of the Ainsley family.
As he finished undressing Alphonse, he placed his clothes on a cabinet before moving towards the closet to fetch Alphonse's nightwear.
Wyn swung open the closet doors softly. His eyes landed on a black briefcase sitting on the bottom of the closet, and he looked over his shoulder to make sure Alphonse had his back to him before reaching out for the briefcase.
"I am entirely grateful to you," Alphonse continued to speak with his back facing
Wyn. "I wanted to bestow upon you a small amount, to thank you, but Father had a different plan."
Wyn unlocked the briefcase quietly. He fished inside it nimbly and quickly pulled out a pair of tickets. He placed the ticket he had procured into the pocket of his servant attire swiftly before reaching for Alphonse's sleepwear and shutting the closet doors promptly.
"I was upset when Father brought you into the Manor as a servant. I know how tough being the help is, and I couldn't help but feel sorry that you had to become a servant because you saved my life," Alphonse spoke in a sympathetic tone. "To make up for that, I managed to secure you as my manservant. It's not much, but at least I can control the difficulty of your workload by having you next to me."
With a small, dutiful grin on his face, Wyn joined Alphonse and began to dress him in his sleepwear without any indication of having stolen something from his briefcase.
"I thank you for that, Sire," Wyn said. "Working for you is a pleasure."
Alphonse sighed heavily. "I know of Father's rules about servants. You have to put on a smile, be respectful and subservient at all times. There is to be no complaints, no protests, not even a single grumble. But, I know that working here is arduous and unfair to most, and I suppose what I'm trying to say is…"
Alphonse paused for a moment as he struggled to find the correct words to use. "…I'm sorry."
Wyn met Alphonse's apologetic and regretful gaze. For a brief moment, a look of guilt and hesitation appeared over his face, but it quickly disappeared, replaced with a poker face.
"There's no need to be sorry, Sire. I'm just doing my job."
With conflicting thoughts racing through his brain, Wyn finished dressing Alphonse and took his leave.
Outside Alphonse's bedchamber, Wyn stood with his back against the wall in the dark and dimly-lit hallway devoid of life. He retrieved the ticket he had stashed inside his pocket, and a look of contrition swept over his face.
He stared at the ferry ticket he held in his hand as two voices in his mind fought each other.
One voice told him to put the ticket back where it belonged.. Another voice urged him to take the ticket and leave, for it was his only chance to escape his servitude and leave the dull and uninteresting town of Springton. But the other voice fought back, iterating that stealing was wrong, especially from Alphonse, who had been nothing but kind and amiable to Wyn. Yet, the second voice reminded Wyn that had it not been for Alphonse and his father, he would never have been reduced to a life of servitude. Alphonse did not need the ticket, not as much as Wyn did, and Alphonse only wanted the ticket for a personal and greedy reason.
Wyn recalled the day he discovered the ticket. He had been dusting Alphonse's bedchamber, specifically his closet, and had moved the black briefcase sitting on the bottom of the closet, away to clean the walls of the closet when the poorly-locked leather bag fell open and its contents spilled out into the ground.
Wyn had gathered Alphonse's personal effects and placed them back inside his briefcase, but found himself drawn by several items.
The item that captured most of Wyn's attention was a pair of ferry tickets bound to The Promised Land. Wyn had taken note of the tickets for the date of departure was the day of Alphonse's 18th birthday. The next item that intrigued Wyn was a colourful brochure that spoke of a new island, The Promised Land. The brochure spoke of the discovery of a new island and the intended occupation of it. It called for businessmen, merchants and those in seek of a fresh start to purchase tickets for a ferry bound for The Promised Land to populate the island, where those who wish to bury their past and make good money can live a life free from worries. The title of the brochure, The Promised Land, a land of happiness, was what attracted Wyn. The last item that interested Wyn was a handwritten letter. He did not mean to look, but as he picked it up, his eyes skimmed the contents of the letter, and he realised it was a love letter, from Grace, a handmaiden with the Ainsleys, to Alphonse. The letter spoke of Grace's excitement and eagerness to leave Springton with Alphonse, and in that instant, Wyn realised what the tickets were for. Alphonse intended to leave Springton with Grace, whom Alphonse knew that Alanis would never approve of, to head to The Promised Land in search for a fresh start.
Wyn had an epiphany as he read the letter.
This was his chance, his opportunity, his occasion to leave. The tagline of the brochure repeated itself in Wyn's mind. A land of happiness was what Wyn desperately wished for. He knew it was his only chance to leave, and so he formulated a plan to steal the ticket and leave the night of Alphonse's 18th birthday for The Promised Land.
And yet, as the events of that fateful day played in Wyn's mind, he found himself unable to walk away. A voice in his head told him it would be inappropriate for him to take the ticket and leave, but the other voice, the other voice that was extremely compelling and persuasive, encouraged him to do as he had planned.
Wyn clenched his fist tightly as determination enveloped his face.
It's too late to regret, Wyn told himself. The virtuous and righteous voice in his mind had been silenced. With steadfast resolve, he slid the ticket into his pocket and strode out of the hallway.