Key woke up excited to try on one of his new uniforms. He had never worn the dress uniform before but liked how they looked. He had to remember to keep them somewhere Jory couldn't mess with them, but where could they go?

He got out of bed and promptly opened his footlocker. Inside, his new uniforms lay neatly folded, stacked in a pile, and ready for him. He pulled his tunic on over his head, pulled his trousers up, and began pairing his many buttons to their rightful slots. The jacket proved harder to button, as there were more of them and a more complex system of flaps and folds to navigate. The knee-high boots were simple enough to tie, if not tedious.

He couldn't remember if the sash went over the left shoulder or right, so he picked one at random. He completed the uniform by placing his two-cornered hat on his head and looked in the mirror. The sight of himself all decked made his pride tingle with excitement. He practiced some crisp salutes and a few debonair poses before pulling himself away from the mirror.

Everyone in the barracks had turned their heads and watched him as he made his way downstairs. He endured the attention as he ate a plate of eggs and bread and walked to the office. He had received eight compliments, not counting a whistle and a wink, before leaving the building. Granted, they were all compliments from his friends, but it felt good nonetheless.

As soon as he got to the office, he opened the door, and Castor frowned.

"The sash goes over your other shoulder. Like this," he said, gesturing towards his own sash. "It's left to right, so we can-" he drew his sword and made some stabbing motions followed by slashing ones, each accompanied by various sound effects and voices with his mouth. It sounded like, "Ching, ching, no, please don't hurt me, oh yeah? Shing shing, ohh, my eyes! Ha-ha! Swish, thunk plop plop, dead…”

Key removed his hat but paused mid-motion at Castor's theatrical performance. He made a mental note to check the captain's tea whenever feasible.

"Anyway, if your sash is over your left shoulder, you have more freedom with your sword hand," Castor said, sheathing his sword.

"I don't think I'll ever forget," he said, removing his sash and switching sides. "Thanks."

Castor inspected him. "You look perfect. Are you ready to make a small difference in the world?"

They walked in silence until they arrived at the prison. Alrick was standing out front, guarding the entrance. Key realized that he didn't recognize him in his new uniform.

Alrick saluted and opened the door, "Good afternoon, gentlemen."

Key stopped in front of Alrick, who still hadn't made eye contact with him. "Captain, did you hear that? He called us both gentlemen."

"Well, I suppose you look gentle enough," Castor replied. "Probably couldn't hurt an old woman with her own cain."

A look of confusion overcame Alrick's face before he noticed who he had addressed. "Key, is that you? You look like a flaming peacock in all that."

"Thanks, how's the watch?" Key asked.

"A lot better not that I've seen you all cleaned up," Alrick said. "Begging the Captain's pardon, sir."

Castor raised an eyebrow at Key.

"He's good, sir," Key said, vouching for Alrick.

Castor nodded towards Alrick and walked past him, stepping inside.

"Talk later," Key said, following the captain's lead.

As Key stepped inside the prison, he made his footsteps louder than necessary to wake up anyone who might be sleeping in one of the spare cells. He had been woken similarly too many times not to pay the courtesy forward. However, after getting close to Crumb's cell, they still hadn't seen the guard on watch.

Key stomped his foot, claiming that he still needed to break his boots in. Oblivious, Castor agreed that the knee-high boots take some time to get used to. They continued forward until they finally stopped in front of Crumbs' cell. The boy was lying on the ground, staring at the ceiling with his hands behind his head.

"Good morning, Crumb," Castor greeted with gentle authority. "Are you ready to go?"

"That depends," Crumb said, standing up. "Are you going to release me, or are you going to chop my head off?"

"You made good on your promise, so we are going to make good on ours," Castor informed him. "Today, you go free. Also, we talked to your sister; she's going to meet us at the wagon."

"If you were going to kill me, you would tell me, right?" Crumb asked, nervously fidgeting.

"No," Castor said, cocking his head as if listening for a word from the almighty. "I don't think I would," he said before looking around and asking, "Where is the guard?"

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"I'll find him," Key said and ran towards the sleeping area.

He rounded a corner to find his arch-enemy in a cell, snoring on a cot. He shook him awake. "What are you doing?"

"Huh? Oh, I'm just," Jory said, stalling for time while trying to remember where he even was. "Oh, I'm just cleaning out this cell."

"Hurry. I have a captain over there who needs to get a prisoner out," Key urged him quietly. "Slap your face a few times so it doesn't look like you were sleeping. You're lucky you were on your back."

It was common knowledge that if you were going to take the risk of sleeping on watch, you should never sleep with your face, cheek, or forehead touching anything that would leave a sleep print. Even while standing, if you were to lean your head against anything, it could leave an incriminating mark called 'cot burn.' It was evidence that you were resting your face against something for longer than necessary and enough evidence for several lashings.

"Thanks," Jory said, standing up, slapping his face, and opening his eyes. He started walking out of the cell.

"Jory, where's your helmet?" Key asked urgently.

Jory turned around, walked back into the cell, and reached under the cot. He quickly pulled out the helmet, put it on, and joined Key, walking back toward the captain.

It would be bad news for Jory if he was caught by a captain sleeping on watch. Key would not wish that kind of punishment on his worst enemy, which, it turned out, was Jory.

As the two walked back, key coached him, "Remember to salute, and make sure you ask for the letter before releasing the kid. Just because he's a captain doesn't mean he can set people free whenever he wants."

"Ah, captain," Key said as they approached the cell, "I found him cleaning out the unused cells."

"Good man," the captain applauded. "I am here to take this prisoner into custody."

"May I see the letter of release, sir?" Jory asked, sounding as if he had been alert all day.

"Very well, corporal," the captain said, handing the letter to Jory, who, in turn, pretended to read it before handing it back.

"Everything checks out," Jory said, and then, searching his key loop, he found the right key to unlock the cell. After it was unlocked, he opened it and ushered the street urchin out.

Crumb cautiously walked out, looking untrustful towards the three other men.

"Let's go," the captain ordered and led the way outside. The others followed.

Key winked at Jory, who still hadn't conveyed recognition for the man he had played countless tricks on for the last two years.

"Thank you, sir," Jory said graciously and saluted.

Key lagged behind and waited for Castor and Crumb to walk ahead. As soon as they were out of earshot, he quickly told Alrick how he found Jory.

"I just didn't know it was him," he concluded. "He was sawing lumber back there like I've never seen my whole life. You guys keep him up late?"

"I'm not sure what he was doing last night," Alrick admitted. "Did you turn him in?"

"A full captain finding a lowling sleeping on watch? Come on, I wouldn't put that on anyone," Key confessed distastefully. "I helped him get on his feet, made him slap his face a few times, and then told the captain that he was back there cleaning."

"You are truly worthy of that uniform," Alrick praised. "But I'm not sure he would have done the same for you."

"You know what the best part is?" Key asked with a cunning smile. "Because of this uniform, I don't think he even recognized me. He even called me 'sir' on my way out. I didn't tell him I wasn't a sir; I just walked away."

"That's brilliant!" Alrick shouted. "When we get relieved tonight, I'll make him tell the story in front of everyone. As soon as he's done singing your praises, I'll tell everyone who really saved his life."

"I like that idea," Key said, turning to leave. "Let me know how it goes."

When Key caught up to the other two, he found Castor telling the boy what to expect. "The most important thing is always to be honest. Don't take anything that isn't yours, or he'll find out. And work hard. As soon as he sees you are hardworking and reliable, he'll give you bigger and better responsibilities. If it gets difficult, just remember that nothing is as bad as starving on the street."

"So, what if I don't want to go yet?" The boy asked.

"The choice is yours," Castor shrugged. "You're free to leave whenever you want. Even when you get there."

"So, I can just run off right now, and you won't chase me?" Crumb asked.

"Yeah, try it out. Stretch your legs and go for a run," Castor said, gesturing forward with his hands. "We won't chase you."

The boy sprinted forward, disappearing down the street.

"He didn't just run away for good, did he?" Key asked.

"It's important for these kids to know that they are making the decision for themselves," Castor said, not breaking his pace. "I'm not going to force him to do what I know will make him happier. He has to want it for himself."

The two walked in silence until they reached Skipper's transport. Crumb still hadn't come back, but his sister, Marie, was already sitting inside of the carriage.

"Hi, Marie," Castor waved. "Did Grant tell you to wait in the carriage?"

"No, but Mr. Barlow said I could," She said. "Where's my brother?"

"I'm sure he's just packing up," Castor guessed. "As soon he realizes you're here, he'll probably come as soon as possible."

"Is everyone ready to go?" Grant asked, carrying a small crate around a corner.

"The boy ran off. He probably went home, I can't imagine why he hasn't shown up yet," Castor said, looking around for him.

"It probably wouldn't be good separating them," Grant figured. "What do you want to do?"

"We could always send Marie back home to see if her brother even wants to go," Castor offered. "In the meantime, we can have a smoke."

Before the pipes were lit, Marie yelped, "Corbin, you're back!"

The three men turned their heads to see the young boy walking towards them carrying a small pack.

"Your name is Corbin?" Key asked the boy.

"I guess," Corbin said and lowered his head.

"That's a good name," Key said. "I think you should introduce yourself with it from now on."

"Especially so the temple mutilating Gerard doesn't recognize the name 'Crumb' if he ever comes looking for you," Castor added helpfully.

The boy's face turned red, and he balled his fists.

Key turned to the captain, "It might be better if you go now."

Key was right but before leaving Castor reached into a leather pouch and took out five Marks. He placed them in Key's hand. "Here's a lesson for you. Always pay your debts as soon as possible; It sharpens your reputation." When he was finished saying his goodbyes and walked off cheerfully.

"It's been a pleasure meeting you, Master Corbin," Key said sincerely. "Keep your sister safe and do the right thing out there. Here," he said, offering the boy a small carver's knife. "Take this just in case."

Grant made a loud, frustrated noise. He walked over and plucked the knife from the boy's hands, "I'll make sure to give you this when we arrive. We should go now."

Key said goodbye and watched the cart lurch forward until it was moving North at a steady speed.