A Trying Morning

Voodoo slowly blinked his eyes open and stared groggily up at the wooden roof of his tiny room. It was pitch black, as the sun still hadn’t risen over New Babbage yet. He didn’t have the luxury of sleeping in however; he had too much to do, and preparations to make.

Today was an important day, and everything hinged on him to make sure it went off without a hitch, and given his track record…well, he was praying things would go smoothly.

The master of the house and his bodyguard were both still sound asleep, and no doubt would be for some time, given how much they had drank the night before. The butler was grateful he had chosen to stick to with hot tea, dreading the thought of nursing a hangover as he prepared for their trip away.

Luckily he didn’t have to be overly quiet as he got dressed in a rather cheap looking suit, and began packing thelast of the items they would need into cases. It was a pain finding everything (especially since all he had to illuminate his search was a lit candle), but he managed to get their two suitcases packed just as the sun was beginning to rise.

By that point the butler was already exhausted, but he had no time to relax. Scrambling and straining, he loaded the heavy suitcases onto a metal pull cart (having to push them up a slanted piece of lumber), and secured them safely. Next came an incredibly heavy locked trunk, which rattled ominously as it was pushed across the ground.

This effort took slightly longer, and
when he was finally done, not only was he panting and sweating, but he was
late!

With a groan and a glance down towards his rumbling stomach, the butler grabbed the handle of the cart, and began dragging it down the street, in the direction of the train station.

Voodoo had hoped to have purchased the tickets already, and been back home to cook his employer a healthy breakfast, but it was looking like they’d need to eat something on the train.

The butler arrived at the train station covered in sweat, looking quite the mess in his stuffy and cheaply made outfit. But he didn’t stop to catch his breath, as he headed over to the ticket booth.

The rather portly (and snooty looking) ticket master regarded him dryly, clearly disapproving of his shabby attire.

“How may I help you sir?” he asked in a bored tone, putting a rather rude emphasis on the last word, as he sized up the small male from behind his glass screen.

Voodoo took a moment to gather his wits, before sliding a sealed envelope under the ticket window.

“I need three tickets on the next train heading to the portside, by Steeltopia,” he said softly, huffing between every breath, “Payment is enclosed in the envelope.”

“And are you paying to have those bags taken aboard as well, sir?” the ticket master asked, as he nonchalantly slit open the envelope with a letter opener, and glanced at its contents.

“Because if you are, I believe you’re a little…short,” he said with a wry smile, and the butler couldn’t help but take it as a snide remark about his stature.

Voodoo hissed under his breath, and fished around in his pockets for some coins. He grabbed a handful, and slammed them down on the ticket booth counter in an agitated fashion.

“There, that should be more than enough!” he muttered, silently wishing he didn’t have to dip into his own meagre funds, “And make sure those cases are handled with care, or Mister Kuroe will be livid!”

The name seemed to strike a chord with the ticket master, who thornily dragged the handful of coins off the counter and into a cash register.

“So they’re Mister Kuroe’s then…funny, I didn’t think he was still alive, the old fossil,” he muttered the last part under his breath, but it was more than loud enough for the butler to hear.

“Do not speak ill of Mister Kuroe,” he said darkly, affixing the stout man with an evil eye, “I’ll have you know he’s one of the kindest men I know!”

The ticket master smiled condescendingly, as he slowly slid three tickets under the glass window, but kept his hand firmly planted on them.

“And who might you be exactly?” he inquired, clamping his hand down on the tickets as Voodoo reached for them, obviously wanting to pry an answer from him, “I wasn’t aware he had the money to afford a butler…even if the butler in question is as poorly dressed as yourself, sir.”

He blushed darkly at the insult, but didn’t relent from trying to tear the tickets from the man’s chubby fingers.

Finally, he relented, and let out a deep sigh as he indulged the incredibly rude ticket master.

“Master Kuroe pays me exceptionally well,” he shot back, staring daggers into the eyes of his new found adversary, “And my clothes are shabby because my goods ones are in my luggage.”

The butler leaned forward slightly, having the urge to spit in the man’s face – pity it was protected by a glass screen.

“Now give me my tickets, and we can both get out of each other’s hair,” the butler hissed angrily.

The ticket master finally let go of the tickets, allowing the butler to stuff them inside his breast pocket for safe keeping.

The portly gentleman sniffed, and regarded the butler as one might regard a spot of filth on the bottom of their shoe.

“Your train departs one and a half hours, Sir. If you miss it, we are not responsible for the loss of your property,” he sniffed, shooing the butler away, clearly tired of speaking to him.

Voodoo let out a heavy sigh, and stepped over to the luggage cart wearily. He quickly found a porter, and produced a second (much smaller) envelope to purchase his services. He was quite on edge ten minutes later, but at least the porter had finally loaded all the cases onto the train, and locked the compartment tight. Voodoo took the key from him, and quickly stormed out of the station, dragging the cart behind him, and no doubt being given a disdainful look from the fat ticket master.

His face was burning as he made his long trip back to the Kuroe household. It had become a familiar feeling of embarrassment by now however, and although he had gotten used to being demeaned, it still didn’t make his lot in life any easier to accept.

In truth he wasn’t paid well; he wasn’t paid anything, in fact. The reason for his clothes being shabby was much simpler as well; it was one of the sets he had hand-made from inexpensive cloth, and had been repaired multiple times.

He wasn’t even a butler, and that fact was almost too humiliating for him to admit to most strangers.

In actuality, he was an indentured servant, and had been for some time now, that he reflected upon it. Around a year ago his employer (Mister Kuroe) had saved him from a rather rough spot of bother, at no small cost to himself, and now he was repaying that ‘kindess’, one labour-filled day after another, and he would be for many, many years.

It wasn’t the worst job, he told himself. At least he wasn’t slaving away in a coal mine, breathing in lungful’s of poison air until he curled up and died.

He had a roof over his head, food to eat, and a relatively warm bed, so he was lucky in that regard. But sometimes he felt like he would trade all of that, if only it meant he could pay back his debt, and earn his freedom.

At least he’d have enough time to cook breakfast for everyone (hopefully including himself) before they had to leave on their trip. That was the one lucky windfall of his day.

He could only stew in his own self-pity for so long however, and eventually he returned back home. He deposited the cart in the shed out back, and slowly entered Kuroe house, worn out and utterly weary. He heard the sounds of stirring upstairs as he dragged his feet into the kitchen, and headed towards the pantry.

Footsteps came down the stairs as the servant gathered up items from the pantry, and by the time he was starting on breakfast, Mister Kuroe had entered the room to watch him.

“Only starting on breakfast now?” he said with a slow yawn, glancing at the servant wearily as he cracked eggs into a hot pan.

“I was held up at the train station, Sir,” he muttered softly in reply, not bothering to glance back, too absorbed with his current task.

“Pity,” came Mister Kuroe’s reply, as he pulled out a seat by the kitchen table, and slid lazily into it, “Did you get the tickets at least?”

Voodoo slid several rashers of smoked bacon into a second pan, filling the room with the merry sound of sizzling meat, and popping fat.

“Yes, and the suitcases and crate are both locked away in the train compartments, Sir,” he informed, quickly stepping over to the kitchen table to deposit the tickets and key in front of Mister Kuroe, before returning to the hot stove.

“Good…as long as the guns are safe, our little trip should net quite the payday,” Mister Kuroe commented, grinning to himself as he examined the little compartment key.

Another stirring in the house signalled that the bodyguard was up, and Voodoo began to lay out several plates, two of which he piled high with eggs, beans, and bacon, while setting aside whatever remained for himself.

“Before you eat, I need you to go bathe,” Mister Kuroe muttered, as he poked his fork into a juicy piece of bacon, “And change into something…nicer. I can’t have you accompanying me dressed like a common urchin.”

“Yes Sir,” Voodoo said, barely suppressing a sigh as he left the room, his belly grumbling loudly in protest.

He knew his food would be cold by the time he had bathed, dried himself off, and made himself presentable, and he would be exceptionally lucky to manage a few mouthfuls of food before they had to catch their train.

But he would be lying to say he hadn’t grown used to this sort of thing; he was a servant after all, and for the very far foreseeable future, this was his life. The only thing he could do was accept it.