BOOK 2 - The Symbol for Lightning

The city towered overhead. Wind from alleyways mixed the warmth of the new season with a crisp chill from the old in gestures of indecisiveness. Domed cathedrals welcomed mismatched monks dressed for anything from a warm summer morning to an icy evening. Merchants and laborers shared the streets with noblemen, each periodically looking up as if the sky held any forecast of the confusing weather.

Black boots stepped on a pile of slush before Corporal Eulerous Key bent down and removed the reflection of winter from on top of them. They once again mirrored the Royal Cities' buildings and storefronts as he made his way down melting streets.

Eulerous Key, or 'Just Key' as he would prefer, made his way back to the office of investigations. He came and went as he pleased, with the caveat that his team of four people – Jory, Trudie, Keebler, and Lambro – always appeared to be busy. With his sharp uniform, regulation hair, and this morning's shave, he looked all the part of a professional Royal City guard with responsibilities too important to slow down. Unfortunately, this was beginning to be more true than it used to be. Coming up with busy work for four individuals every day was cutting into what he loved doing the most: nothing at all.

His Captain, Charles Castor, refused to talk to any one of the guards Key oversaw for an overwhelming number of unspoken reasons. After failing to come up with a functional plan to remove the guards, they finally settled in, taking up space in the office like water poured over a cup of sand.

The small quarters offered little room to sprawl out. In Castor's case, it offered no room to drop the pretenses of his station, which he only did when his four unwelcome subordinates weren't around. The lack of space was probably the reason for Castor's less frequent visits. Sometimes, he wouldn't show up until the middle of the day; on some occasions, he didn't come at all.

Key walked in the office to find Corporal Logan, or rather, Trudie, sitting at his desk. She pushed an invisible strand of ashy blonde hair back into her meticulously tied bun when she saw him. She wore the investigators' dress uniform with a red sash over her left shoulder and underneath a neatly pressed blue jacket. Her copper buttons shined as bright as her eyes as she offered Key the morning greetings.

He greeted her back and asked, "Where's everyone else?"

"Keebler is running the correspondences the captain left for you, and Jory and Lambro are getting the list," Trudie responded neatly.

Key's team coined the phrase, 'the list' because 'Today's copy of the Ledger of Crimes and Petty Thefts' was too cumbersome a name for something that came up in almost every conversation. The list was Key's saving grace. It gave his men something to do while Castor came up with ideas on how to terminate them. Usually, Key would task each of his team with investigating the crimes from the list and logging their findings in 'The Ledger of Investigating Crimes and Petty Thefts,' which was Castor's idea to make the research appear more official. It was referred to as 'the other list.'

"It's warming up outside," Key said, walking around Castor's desk and sitting down. "Nearly perfect for a full crucible."

"If you think you can keep up, I'll take you on right now," Trudie said, punctuating her statement by slapping her open hand.

The crucible was a towering structure with thirty-two different ways to climb. It was built for the purpose of strength and agility training. A full crucible was when a single person completed the whole course in less than an hour. All of them had trained on it almost every day during the winter, but Key and Trudie were in constant competition with each other. Neither of them had finished the course in under an hour. The ice and snow made it nearly impossible, but now that it was warmer, they couldn't blame ice or numb fingers for their shortcomings.

"Today, then," Key said, leaning back in Castor's chair. "Should we bet five marks?"

"I want to use the men's bath," Trudie stated abruptly.

"What?"

"The men's bath house. I've heard so much about it, but I've never even seen the inside," Trudie began explaining. The guard didn't have a female bath, and she had to walk to a public bathhouse her whole career. "I want the full experience."

Key didn't blame her. With marble pillars, statues, and two large pools of hot spring water, the place was magical. Nearly three years ago, when he first used it, he was amazed that there was something so nice available for the lowest ranking guards. Still, he couldn't see how he could help Trudie, it was for men only. "How could I possibly get you in?"

"You just go in, clear the place out, and then stand guard, like you've been trained your whole life, and keep people from going in until I come out. We do it at a slow time when there aren't a lot of people. All you would need to do is stand outside." Trudie's plan sounded like it was well thought out.

"Fine, but if I win, you have to clean my uniforms and polish my buttons." Key counteroffered.

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"Sefulu said that when I complete the full crucible, he will teach me something new," Trudie said, setting up for a playful taunt. "He would probably teach you too if you follow in my footsteps."

"He told you about the black dance?" Key asked incredulously. "I told him not to tell you."

"Yeah, the black dance," Trudie recalled, disappointed that her banter fell flat. "I guess he told you about it too. What? Scared I'll use it to beat you?"

"You can already beat me," Key said from experience. The two spared each other daily, and she was indeed the better fighter. "I was hoping to get an edge on you. That's all."

The door to the office opened, and Jory and Lambro walked in. After briefly glancing at Key, they picked up seemingly where their conversation had left off.

"I'll ask something like, why were you carrying so much coin, and each time, I swear, they act like it's normal to carry enough gold everywhere to buy a horse and a stable," Jory explained to Lambro. His dark curly hair fell around his slightly pudgy, if not handsome, features. At the beginning of their career, he and Key had played tricks on each other. Since Key covered for him sleeping on watch, there hadn't been a single prank between them. The two weren't friends as much as they shared respect for each other like two men sharing a drink after a bar fight.

"We should start investigating where all this money is coming from and find the gold mine under Royal City," Lambro added.

Once Key got Lambro to start bathing regularly, he found that he didn't mind having him around as much, especially in the limited space of the office. He really wanted to be a good guard but needed a nudge in the right direction before he started acting like it.

"What does the list say?" Trudie interjected. "Anything good?"

Jory gave her the list that he had transcribed. "Looks like it's going to be a good day. There's a murder on the books."

Trudie leaned in towards the paper, squinting her eyes. "Jory, your handwriting is atrocious. I can hardly read this."

"Let me take a look," Key got up from the chair and moved towards his desk.

Lambro took the opportunity to run past him and sit in the newly vacated captain's chair. He put his hands behind his head and stretched out with a groan.

Trudie handed Key the paper. After failing to comprehend the words, he returned it to Jory. "Just read it off to me, and I'll rewrite it."

Trudie stood up from Key's desk, and Key sat down. After preparing his quill and a fresh sheet of parchment, he gestured towards Jory to begin.

"The… something of last night is as follows," Jory cleared his throat and continued reading. "Murder of a man named Nicolas Poole. He was found by Corporals Gustave and Remero in an alley intersecting Erebus and Weaver Street. Stab wound to his chest. Probable cause of death: stab wound to his chest. No suspects."

Trudie looked at the map of Royal on the wall. "It's near Canal Street. I'll bet it was one of them."

"Probably drinking, gambling, and who knows what else," Jory said, moving to the only chair in the room without a desk. He sat down and continued. "Ven-something Overwood, wool merchant, pickpocketed. He says there were seven gold royals in total. No suspects. It happened somewhere between Rodell and Alpenrose.

"This is what I'm saying, who carries that much money around with them. I want this case, just so I can find out what Mr. Something Overwood was doing just sauntering through the streets with four years' wages in his pocket."

The door opened, and Castor walked in. He stopped in front of his desk and stared arrows at Lambro until he moved. After he sat down, he cleared his throat and said in a gentle voice, "Please excuse us for a moment."

Jory stood up, placed his poorly written list on Key's desk, and quickly left. The others followed on his heels. Key began standing when the captain waved him to stay.

When the two were alone, the captain spoke, "How's everything going?"

"We're going over the list right now," Key held up the paper he was holding. "Later today, Trudie and I are going to attempt a full crucible."

Castor smiled and rubbed his hands together. "That's exciting! What are you betting?"

"If I win, she's going to wash my uniforms and polish my buttons," Key hesitated for a moment. "She wants to use the men's bathhouse."

"That's going to be tricky," Castor began loading his pipe. "How do you play into this?"

"I guess I just make sure the place is clear and then make sure no one goes in," Key supposed. "I'm not worried. I'm pretty sure I'm going to win."

"It might be easier to put her in the Sergeant's bathhouse," Castor lit his pipe. "I'm told it has smaller and more private baths."

"I didn't know the sergeants even had their own bathhouse," Key admitted.

"Oh yeah, you've probably noticed you've never seen a sergeant bathe before," Castor blew a near-translucent smoke ring. "You pass it every day. It's a big square building with steam coming out of it. They built it there because of the natural springs. Pretty selfish of our forefathers if you ask me."

The door opened, and Keebler walked in wearing the messenger's satchel.

"Corporal Keebler," Castor said, directing his attention to the red-haired man who had entered. "Let's try that again, shall we? Exit my office immediately and then knock. If I tell you to enter, then you are welcome to enter, not before."

"Yes sir," Keebler said, then left and shut the door behind him. A moment later, a knock came to the door.

The captain smoked a few puffs from his pipe, letting several uncomfortable moments pass before finally saying, "Enter."

Keebler walked in and handed the captain a sealed letter. "I'm back from delivering correspondences, sir. I was told to bring this back to you."

"A lot better," the captain said, taking the letter. "Now go wait outside with the others."

When Keebler left, Castor held the letter in his hand. "I have good news and bad news. The good news is I am holding a letter that gives me my office back. The bad news is your new office is roughly two thousand paces away; I lost count at around fifteen hundred. This means that you will need to send people on long errands whenever you need to visit my office, which I suspect will be frequent."

"What do you mean, my own office?" Key asked confused. "Corporals can have offices?"

"No, unfortunately for me, they can't," Castor said, handing the letter to Key, who stood up and took it. That's why I put you in for a promotion."

Key quickly scanned the document until he found the words "…promotion to the rank of sergeant." His wide eyes landed on the signatures at the bottom, and his breath caught in his chest.

Castor stood up and walked over to the door, opening it. "You can join us now." As soon as the door shut behind the last person, he called the room to attention. "From this day forward, Corporal Eulerous Key has been meritoriously promoted to the rank of sergeant. You will treat him with the courtesies granted to him by the office of his majesty, the king."