Trudie tossed a sealed letter on Key's desk and stared at him. "Are you sore?"

"From what?" Key asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. "From beating you yesterday or from your feather-light attacks?"

"Feather-light attacks?" She repeated begrudgingly. "You'll be sorry you said that. I'll bet you're already regretting it."

Key opened his mouth to retort, but Trudie cut him off. "It's okay, you know what? I'll see you out there later today. I'm going to go warm up my feather-light attacking arm."

She went back to help the men who were polishing everything from the smooth stone floor to the decorations on the walls. It had been over half a fortnight since he had gotten the office, and it already looked as official as any in the officer's quarters.

Key glanced down at the letter on his desk and recognized the seal. It was identical to the one he used, but it had an extra imprint from Castor's ring. He broke the seal, opened it, and read the words, "Come now," in the handwriting he had struggled to mimic since joining the investigators.

"Trudie, you're in charge," Key announced and placed his two-cornered hat on his head. He squared it off in a polished shield on the wall. "The captain wants me."

Trudie gave a salute from across the room with mock precision. "I will serve and obey."

Key smiled and walked out into the street. The sky stirred with dark grey swirls as he entered the captain's office. He was thankful it hadn't started raining before he arrived.

"Ah, you're here," Castor said, picking up his slightly larger and more decorated hat and placing it on his head. "Are you ready to go?"

"Where are we going?" Key asked, opening the door he had just closed.

"To the castle," Castor said, following him out the door. "We have a big day ahead of us. Filled with magic and mystery."

"Do you care to expound?" Key asked, keeping up with the captain's brisk pace. "Or do you intend to keep the magic and mystery a magical mystery?"

"The magic you are going to learn and the mystery we are going to learn together. Delina has summoned you, and the king has summoned me. I, in turn, am taking you to both summons in the order of priority. You are my retinue, after all."

Key followed his captain around the corner to the stables. "Do you have any idea what the king wants?"

Castor held up two fingers to the stable attendant on duty, who went back to saddle the horses. "If I knew that, our day would be filled with magic and something different. Probably groveling."

A short time later, the stable attendant brought out two well-mannered horses. Castor took both reins in his hands and looked over the horses. He handed one off to Key.

"Did you do anything bad lately?" Key asked, mounting his horse. "I mean, you're not in trouble for anything, are you?"

"Let me put it this way," Castor said, leading them towards the castle. "If I was in trouble, I would know about it. I am the chief investigator; it's my job to know things. That's partly what worries me. If the king summons me, and I don't know why, it's because the king hasn't told anyone. If the king hasn't told anyone, it means he has a mission of the utmost secrecy, or it's of a personal nature.

"All you have to do is stand on my right, bow when I bow, and don't say one word."

"What if the king tries talking to me first?" Key asked.

"The king doesn't talk to the retinue," Castor said frankly. "But I suppose, on the off chance he does address you, by all means, answer his question or respond, 'Thank you, Your Majesty.' Though you'll have no reason to thank him, so just keep your mouth shut. If he compliments you, I'll polish your buttons personally."

The castle came into full view, and Castor straightened his posture. Key knew that whatever comment or retort he could come up with would have to wait. He had to embody every formality he had ever learned for what was to come.

The two dismounted in front of a wide marble staircase leading to the entrance of the castle. A formally dressed man wearing white gloves took the horses away as another similarly dressed man took his place.

Rain started trickling down as the two made their way up the staircase with a balance of quickness and composure.

"Stay on my right and slightly behind me," Castor whispered as the two giant double doors opened for the two men.

Key gave the guards standing watch at the doors a sympathetic nod before he walked inside. Only months ago, he was standing guard at the castle in the rain. It was an unfortunate consequence of the job he knew too well.

Key had been in the castle more times than he could count, but the grandeur of the great vestibule had never stopped amazing him. The doors opened to a large room with luxurious carpets, crystal chandeliers, and two symmetrical staircases that joined together at a point.

A man standing at a podium inside the door held out his hand and cleared his throat. Castor reached inside his inner pocket and placed a letter in a gloved hand.

The man unfolded the letter, read it, and handed it back. "You are expected in the great hall."

Castor nodded curtly and walked between the staircases towards yet another regally dressed man standing in front of yet another set of mammoth doors. He approached the man and spoke first, handing him his letter. "Captain Charles Castor and Sergeant Eulerous Key."

The man glanced at the letter briefly before opening the doors. "Captain Charles Castor and Sergeant Eulerous Key," he announced in a loud voice shaking with vibrato. He swept his hand ceremoniously toward the center of the room.

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The great hall was a long and rectangular room meant for accommodating large groups of people. The king might have hosted large, lavish dinners with long tables, lavish decorations, dinner, and entertainment, but with the king sitting at one of the tables with only a handful of others, it looked like a waste of space.

Key stayed to the right of the captain and slightly behind, trying to match his controlled gait. They approached the royal seal on the floor in the center of the hall, stopped, and bowed.

"Arise," the king said, standing up himself and addressing Castor. "Chief investigator, I have a matter of importance to discuss with you if you'll follow me." He brushed crumbs off his royal garments and made his way around the oversized table. Two guards followed after him on either side, wordlessly in sync with each other.

Key noted the difference between the royal guard uniforms and that of the king's guard. The king's guard had long, angled helmets that gave their faces a fox-like appearance with a long bunch of horsehair trailing behind. They wore purple capes, and their armor gave the illusion of muscularity. They held long, shining, and sinister spears.

The king, followed by his personal guard, escorted the investigators through a normal sized door in the back of the room. Key was last to enter, finding himself in a smaller room than the hall that was by no means small. It's stone walls towered overhead in an octagonal shape around chairs, a large table, and an even larger throne.

The King pulled out the closest chair and sat down. "Please, take a seat."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Castor said before pulling out the chair opposite of the king and sitting down. Key stayed silent but sat next to his captain. The guards towered over everyone.

"Will you two stop crowding me?" The king turned in his chair and glared at his guards. "Go stand over there, next to the door." He said before commenting, "They act like I'm meeting with the scourge and not the family of a close and personal friend.

"Tell me, Charles, how is your brother faring in Brunshold?"

"He is well, your majesty," Castor said easily. "He was worried about the dry weather for a while, but the rain seems to be coming often enough now."

"That's good, that's good," the king smiled and patted his knee. "I started to worry somewhat about our little dry spell myself until recently. Now, I wouldn't mind a clear day."

Castor smiled but offered nothing further.

"And how is the new sergeant enjoying his promotion?" The king asked, looking at Key. "I enjoyed hearing the stories about you rushing in and rescuing; what was it? Nine women?"

Key allowed half a moment of silence to pass in case the king had asked the question to his captain instead.

"It was only two, Your Majesty," Key replied, "and I am settling in very well, thank you."

"Still, that is no small feat of bravery," the king made a fist and bumped it on the table. "Next time court rumors circulate about you, I'll make sure I invite you back to help me sort out the facts."

"It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty." Key reacted. He wasn't certain if he was supposed to respond to the king, but alas, what was said was said. If Castor was upset with his response or the fact that he would be polishing buttons later, he gave no sign of discomfort.

"I've brought you here today to discuss my son, Bartholomew." The king's face grew serious. "As next in line for the throne, I'm afraid he is vastly ill-prepared for the responsibility. I want him to experience life outside of the castle and see danger without experiencing its threat so much. I want him to learn life's lessons that can only be learned outside of these walls.

"Your name came up the other day and I had the perfect idea. As my chief investigator, you see murders - after the knives have all been put away, you see thefts and larceny, and now, thanks to your new sergeant, rescue damsels in distress."

Castor resisted the temptation to argue with him. "Of course, I will serve and obey, Your Majesty. But if I understand correctly, you are asking me to employ the crown prince in the office of investigations and introduce him to all of the dangers and intrigue that come along with it."

"Nothing escapes the attention of my chief investigator," the king praised. "That is precisely what I was going to ask. Shall bring him in?" The king stood up, causing the others to stand with him, and walked to the door. He cracked it open and called out, "Where is my son? Where is Bartholomew!"

"I'm here father!" A court-accented voice shrieked in through the door crack.

Castor's face betrayed no feelings of panic, disappointment, or his inward crackling anger for having to care for the arrogant, dandy of a prince. His face was composed and possibly even pleasant looking, while inwardly, he was bursting with outrage. Whether heir to the throne or not, the crown prince Bartholomew was a rose-scented force of selfishness, foolishness, and daintiness. It would have been better for Castor to have gotten into trouble. It would have been better to receive ten lashings from the royal inquisition.

The door opened, and a middle-aged, rail-thin man walked in. He wore a thin crown across his head, a silk, gem-encrusted jacket with rich colors and embroidered sleeves dangling around his elegant hands. Velvet pants and black polished shoes with silver buckles stepped into the room and approached them with a loose gait that dared you to make fun of him. He didn't walk as much as he wobbled forward with an infuriatingly uncontrolled demeaner.

"Don't stand on my account," the crown prince said. "Please be seated."

The captain grabbed Key's arm, preventing him from making the mistake of sitting while the king was still on his feet. "With his majesty's permission, of course."

"Yes, yes, let's all sit down and talk." The king said taking a chair and lowering himself into it.

Castor released Key's arm, and the two took their seats.

"What's all this about, father?" Bartholomew asked, collapsing in his chair like laundry dropped into a hamper.

"Bartholomew, did I ever tell you about the war I fought in when I was your age?" The king asked his son.

"All that boring stuff about poking people with spears and the like?" Bartholomew yawned. "Heard it a thousand times. I don't know what that has to do with anything; we're at peace, and we have treaties that will last hundreds of years."

"The reason we had those wars was because the treaties we had at the time - very similar to the ones we have now - were broken. That means that at any point, the treaties we have now can be broken, and we could still go to war." The king spoke like he was talking to a child. "That's not the purpose of this discussion. I'm trying to explain that when I was your age, I was out training with my men, getting my hands dirty, and gaining valuable insights into the world around me."

"I'm sure you were quite heroic in your day," Bartholomew said, gesturing for his father to continue. "What are you getting at?"

"I want you to work with the chief of investigations, Captain Castor. It will be a chance to help him with his investigations and learn from him." The king announced. "I have arranged for you to stay in the officer's quarters. I will send five of my best to protect you. Three to guard your room, and two guards to accompany you at all times."

"I don't know why you went through the trouble of all that. I'm not really interested. Thank you, though, but I will be fine," Bartholomew said reassuringly.

"I'm not asking you, son; I am telling you." The king stood from his chair, causing everyone else except Bartholomew to stand with him. "Tomorrow, you will report to the office of investigations, and you will not return until you are half the man I was when I was your age!"

The king stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him. Bartholomew stood and slombered off after him, leaving Castor and Key alone in the room. Key stood awkwardly, embarrassed for having been present to watch the crown prince get scolded by the king. He looked towards Castor for any sign that what he had just seen hadn't come from his imagination. Castor offered no outward sign of discomfort.

"On to our next meeting then." He said and then led the way out of the door.