Under the gentle blue guise of twilight, Alden treaded the sands on the shores of the Thames where river and sea became near indiscernible. The rushes and sloshes of soft waves onto the sands brought with a welcome, cool spray of water that smelled like silt and algae. Behind him a young servant struggled to keep up, sinking too deep and getting stuck every so often in this particularly sandy stretch of beach.
“Please, Milord, wait up.” He said, as he tried to free his shoe, only to instead pull out a socked foot now covered in sand. He hopped on one foot as he tried to put it back in, his curly brown hair hopping along. But he saw that the Viscount had no intent of stopping, and was left to hastily dig out his shoe.
“Come on now William, we do not have all night. Besides, you are going about this the wrong way, at this point you’re ought to have taken your shoes off.” Alden had turned around, but all the while continued to stride backwards as he spoke.
“What about yours then Milord?” William asked, reluctantly setting to untying his shoes.
“Well, mine have not been lost yet, have they?” Alden said, unable to hide a smirk. Indeed, his were still on, since he had stepped close enough along the waves where the sands were wet and firm enough to hold him, even if it were at the cost of his shoes getting washed over every now and then. He also had the advantage of being smaller and lighter than his servant, despite being older, perhaps making it unfair from the very start.
A few moments later, William ran up beside him, his shoes in one hand.
“May I ask why we are here Milord?” He said between a few heavier breaths from having to catch up.
“I wish to count the ships returning at ten o’clock.” Alden said, as he showed William his notebook stowed in the fine leather bag slung around his shoulder. With it he carried a small lantern as well, so he had light to write in.
“Why must you count them?” The young servant asked, and by the exasperation in his voice one could tell it hadn’t been the first time he had questioned his Lord’s strange compulsion.
“Well, I dread to think they would be left tragically uncounted. What if one needs to know how many there were to save a life, and nobody was there to count them?”
“But how would they know to ask you? And what about the roses you counted yesterday? Or the books the day before?” William rebutted.
“Well, nobody takes the time to count those, don't they deserve for someone to at least count them once?” Alden said back, unwavered even if he knew himself all too well it was completely irrational – part of him simply enjoyed toying about with William’s budding critical mind.
“You would count all the ferns in the Africas tomorrow if you woke up feeling like it.” William sputtered rather frustrated that his logic held no sway on Alden.
“Don’t be ridiculous my dear William,” Alden immediately replied. “No one man could count all the ferns in Africa in a day.”
“Indeed they could not.” William sighed, as he nodded in defeat.
Alden took a few steps in silence, taking a moment to ponder over their situation. He turned his head to look at William with a gentler smile, no longer gleeful.
“It has little use to take away one's irrationalities if they soothe the mind. Judging a man solely through logic would only serve to leave him devoid of character.”
William looked up and nodded with a more stern expression, taking his turn to think about the words and digest them.
“Would it not soothe you more if you had no need to take count of these things? Then you wouldn't worry about them so much.”
“Perhaps, but I assure you that had I no need for it, I would not be here.” Alden's words were followed by a long sigh, as he looked out over the beach. At least he was glad that the harsh daylight had settled for a much more sensible evening warmth. “This should do, come, let's sit for a while.” He gestured up to a dyke, covered in tough grass and a few weeds flowering defiantly in their harsh surroundings.

Alden took off his vest and laid it down so he could sit a bit more comfortably, and watched William forgo that to just sit down as he were. He wasted no time as he took the items from the bag, handing the small oil lantern to William, together with a lighter so he could light the wick.
In the meanwhile he set to finding the right page in his notebook, and tested his pen on it. A few scribbles later the lantern had been lit, and a golden, steady glow washed over them.
Alden fished up a silver pocket watch, which opened to the miniature portrait of a stately man in heavily decorated uniform, beside the elegant, finely crafted watch face. A name was written in red paint: ‘Silas L. G. C. Ewart’. Out of habit he ran his thumb along the silver edge, the pressure rather comforting. Until a moment later, when he handed the watch over to William.
“Tell me when exactly twenty minutes have passed, no more, no less.” He said sternly, as he picked up his pen and began marking the lights floating in the distance on the ocean, and on occasion close by enough to discern what type of boat or ship it was as it returned to the harbours up the Thames.
Many were steamboats, the sounds of the engines puffing and occasionally paddles hitting the water echoing out over the calm waters. Sometimes a sailboat drifted by more silently in the dark, the sail a deep black shape that obscured the lights on the distant other shore and the stars in the sky.
In silence Alden tallied each and every one, and William knew better than to speak and risk breaking his focus. He'd been through this song and dance often enough to know that it entailed him being quiet.

“Time, Milord.” He said as the hand hit the twenty minute mark, and Alden made a quick scribble on the bottom of the page then laid his notebook down beside him and contently laid back. William looked on slightly surprised, then handed him his pocket watch back. He took it and stuffed it away, before placing his hands underneath his head.
“I love the stars.” Alden said with a slight smile, “I regret that I was never good enough at mathematics to become an astronomer…”
William remained silent, not sure if the remarks were meant for him, or just the inane ponderings of a mind he hadn't quite grasped the depths of even after four years.
“Do you see the moon?” Alden pointed out the rather obvious waxing moon to William.
“I am quite aware of the moon, Milord.” He replied, a tinge of bitterness to his tone, but that didn't deter Alden from continuing to make his point.
“Imagine that the sun is a giant lantern casting a shadow on an orb floating tens of thousands of miles away in endless nothingness. A giant sphere suspended in absolute emptiness. Can you see it?” Alden said, as he watched William's intent expression with a slight smile. A few seconds later he noticed his eyes widening slightly, as the scope of the distance set in and with it came the perspective of just how vast the nothing in between was.
“Everything amazes,” Alden eagerly continued. “But only if you watch closely enough to let it amaze you, instead of taking it for granted. Even the things that are always there; you should especially notice them, because by the time people usually do it means they are gone.”
“Why are you telling me these things?”
“I don't know, because I feel like it? There haven't been many moments where I can say what I feel like saying, so forgive me for taking the opportunity.” Alden said, still looking at the stars but frowning slightly. “I am aware you don't like it here.”
“I'm sorry.” William mumbled as he pulled his knees up higher, even if he knew that wouldn't help at all against Alden's uncanny perceptiveness. “It just feels so useless? I shined a hundred shoes today for people I don't know, who serve you so you won't have to do anything at all in your life. I don't know you as such an useless man…”
The words made Alden chuckle slightly, nearly proud that William had come to the same conclusion as he had.
“I agree. I've been meaning to tell you all day that I decided to return to London, the day after tomorrow. I can't stand this mansion for much longer, I am not even allowed to put on my own clothes.”
“With all due respect Milord, but if I am to shine another hundred shoes I will go stark mad.” William said as he laid down beside him and looked up at the stars as well.
“The view here is better though.” Alden said with a decisive nod as he took in the millions of stars sparkling along the inky black sky.
A soft, chill breeze announced that night had truly fallen. It caused William to shiver slightly, but Alden gladly welcomed the cold.
“Perhaps it is for you, I've only seen laces and soles and shoeshine.”
“Things will go back to normal soon, it will be only Miss Rayne, and my books.”
“Will that be acceptable?”
“Well, the estate will be fine. But a life in it isn't for me. Not yet at least. It's too much, too soon.” He shook his head, only to hear a yawn come from beside him. With a smile he looked sideways. “Have you grown tired of my rants already? It is not even ten o'clock.”
Immediately William shook his head.
“No, my apologies Milord, I have been up since before sunrise. If anything I enjoy speaking to you.”
“Even on the subject of stars?”
“Perhaps not, but I appreciate your insights more than your subject choice.”
Alden let out a loud, genuine laugh at that comment, despite knowing it probably seemed rude since it had been so sincere, coming from William. With still shaking shoulders he tried to explain himself.
“More often than not I don't have the faintest idea, my dear Will.”
“Which means you're thinking in the right direction at least some of the time, which is more than many can say.”
Alden's smile faltered a little as he racked his mind over that sentence, and could only conclude that it was a fair point.
“I must give you that one.” He conceded.
A silence fell again, of the sort they were both fine with, as it wasn't in a lack of something to say, but simply because there was no need to.

At least until Alden glanced at his pocket watch, and decided it was time to leave.
“We should head back, I've done and said what I wanted to.” He said as he sat up right again, but William didn't follow.
“Can I ask one more thing of you? As your friend, and not your servant?”
Alden looked down at William slightly puzzled, but agreed to hear him out since it seemed important – enough so that he had to address him as a friend, something he had never dared do.
“Don’t perish?” Although they were only two words, one could write a book on what they spoke of. So much that the implications frightened Alden, leaving him to smile it away as if it were nothing.
“I don't plan to.”
“Neither did my mother.” William said back as he sat up as well, piercing Alden's thin veneer of nonchalance through brute force. “Promise me.”
Now well aware of the importance it held for William, he quietly looked over his scarred hand, but could only shake his head.
“If I were to promise that, my words would mean nothing. I can't in good faith… but I will try.”
William gave a slow nod.
“That’s enough for tonight.” Without another word, Alden stood up and began walking back. A moment later William scrambled after him, lantern light in hand, and still on bare feet.