Night, in the bedroom's study.
Alfred sat at the desk, writing a self-criticism.
If the soul could take tangible form, Alfred's desk-no, his entire bedroom-would have been filled with Reflection Vouchers.
Alfred believed that tonight's banquet had been a failure.
The reason for its failure was... it had not been perfect.
During the banquet, the young master had frowned several times, and the direct cause of all of it had been his own mistakes at work.
He had pursued and relished the pleasure of preaching too much, blurring the boundaries. One could also say he had done his job "too well," so that when an individual event was placed within the overall plan, it failed to function properly because it did not fit.
The self-criticism grew longer, the stack of paper thicker.
But suddenly, Alfred stopped and put down his pen.
"Slap."
Lightly smacking his forehead, Alfred realized he had made another mistake. The young master could not even be bothered to read work documents that had passed through his hands, so how could he possibly read this hefty self-criticism?
He could clearly go straight to the young master and admit his mistakes face-to-face, identifying and resolving the problems in a simpler, more efficient way. Yet here he was, writing so much. He had fallen into formalism, violating the principles of team interaction the young master wanted.
As for what those principles were...
"Slap."
Alfred lightly smacked his forehead again. He realized he had made another mistake: he had actually failed to establish interaction principles for the team of believers in advance.
"Alas, if the young master didn't trust and care for me, my meager abilities would never qualify me to be his personal valet."
Alfred tossed the self-criticism aside and began drafting the "Believer Interaction Conduct Principles." He planned