The sixth bell wake-up came, and Key conducted his morning routine. He was still getting used to wearing the new uniform, but at least he knew how to wear it right. When he was dressed, he took his hat off of his lamp table and found something under it. There was a flask with a note under it that said, "Thank you. -Jory."

He uncorked the top and smelled the contents. It smelled fine, but there was no way he was drinking something that came from Jory, even if it wasn't too early in the day. It didn't matter how appreciative he thought his archenemy was. The flask was nice, though. He tossed it into his footlocker, remembering to empty the contents later and wash it thoroughly.

Downstairs, he found bread, chicken gravy, and watered-down beer. He made himself a plate and sat down at one of the tables. Trudie sat down across from him.

"What's with the uniform?" She asked, eyeing his triangular hat.

"It's a long story," he warned her. "I'm not entirely sure myself. It has to do with castle formalities and how, if I deliver a message there, I won't offend the King."

"It looks good," she said sincerely. "I heard about you saving Jory's tail the other day. We all heard about it. You've become quite a topic of conversation lately."

"What are they saying?" Key asked, eating a bite of dried bread with gravy.

"Besides, the fact that you ended The Great Key and Jory Feud with a single act of kindness?" she asked, trying to remember what all else happened. "They are also saying that you saved two beautiful women who were kept in a secret manor's dungeon. They also said that you discovered who did it and killed him with his own sword."

"I should clear some things up," Key said, steepling his fingers. "I didn't kill anyone, and I didn't save two beautiful women. When I told that story, I might have embellished it a little. Only one of them was worth looking at, but she was old enough to be Dilly's grandmother."

Trudy let out a laugh, "So you're saying it's true?"

"No, I'm saying it's not true," Key corrected her. "And they weren't in a dungeon; they were tied to the bed,"

Trudy blushed slightly, "You didn't just save two damsels in distress; you also saved their honor?"

"It wasn't like that at all," Key explained, feeling that he was making matters worse. "They were bound and gagged, and their eyes were all red and puffy from crying all night. It was terrible and the complete opposite of a romantic rescue."

By the look Trudie gave him, she didn't appear to be listening. He decided to change the subject. "Sefulu says you are the best sword fighter we have."

"He says I'm the best?" She asked, surprised. "He's never told me that."

"Well, don't tell him I told you then," Key said, wiping his hands on a napkin. "But yeah, he says you show up and train with him more than anyone. What makes you train so hard?"

She looked around, noticing everyone else had left, "I should probably go before I'm late for the morning assembly," she said before gulping down the rest of her ale. "Next time I see you, I'll tell you about it."

Key stopped her from clearing her dishes. "I'll take care of these. You don't want to be late."

"And he's a gentleman," she said out loud before standing and leaving.

Key sat for a while longer, enjoying the fact that he didn't have to go to another morning assembly. After a moment, he cleared his and Trudie's dishes off the table and sauntered towards the office of investigations.

He spent the morning writing financial acquisition letters. When he had finished his third one, he handed it to Castor for inspection.

"Not bad," he said after closely scrutinizing every letter of every word. "Your handwriting has certainly improved. I think it's time to give you your own official seal of office."

"So I can write the letters, seal them, and take them to where they need to go?" Key asked, leading to something. "What would you do?"

"It will certainly open up my schedule a little more," Castor admitted. "With all the extra time from not proofreading your work or sealing your letters, I could probably afford to stop and smell the flowers a little more. Maybe I'll start a family or an underground fighting ring. Anyway," he reached into his drawer and pulled out an older-looking, wooden-handled stamp. "This is for you. Don't worry, we can have a ceremony."

Key held up a hand to stop him. "It's okay, you don't have to...."

"Attention in the room!" The captain called out.

Key's body acted on instinct drilled into him since training camp. He popped to attention, standing ridged with his arms to his side.

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"This seal that I bestow into the capable hands of Corporal Eulerous Key is a symbol of the King's security and trust. With it, may he seal acquisitions, correspondences, and other things that require secrecy and a safeguard from prying eyes. May he stamp out unruliness and deliver justice into the hands of the just and righteousness into the hands of the right.

"Now, hold out your hand and repeat after me," Castor continued with his oration. "I receive this-"

There was a knock at the door.

"A moment!" He called before continuing a little faster, "I receive this seal as a servant to the king with great honor, humility, and justice."

"I receive this seal as a servant to the king with honor -"

"With great honor, humility, and justice," Castor corrected him.

Key repeated him word for word. When he finished, Castor handed him the stamp.

"The office of investigations only uses red wax," he added and called for whoever had knocked to enter.

A guard that Key did not recognize entered and removed his helmet. "Sir, we found a body in the Basin Street River. I was told to inform you."

"Has anyone identified the body?" Castor asked.

"No, sir," the guard said. "All I know is there was a stab wound. It looked like one of those wealthy types."

"Show me," the captain said as he followed the man out. Key placed the seal his desk drawer and tried the lock for the first time. It turned smoothly and clicked in place. He placed the key in his pocket and followed after the two.

"Let's make a quick stop at the stables," the captain said, changing direction. "I don't feel like walking today."

After a brief visit to the stables, the three had arrived on horseback at the scene. There were several other guards either standing around or interviewing the surrounding people. After salutes and introductions, Castor handed his reins to Key, walked over, and looked down at the body. He knew exactly who it was.

"This is Waller Barley," the captain said. "Played cards with him once or twice; bad bluffer."

"Should we check his house?" Key asked, holding the two horses. "See if there's any more people tied to a bedpost?"

The look of stark realization passed over Castor's eyes, "If there are, we have a big problem on our hands."

"Like what?" Key asked.

"Like, a group of rogue thieves and assassins working together to make my job harder than it needs to be," Castor said before barking orders at the surrounding guards and putting them all into action.

The two mounted their horses and made their way down Basin Street. It wasn't even midday and there were drunk people shouting, women standing half clothed outside of shanty looking shops, and bodies passed out on the road. The captain had shouted at disorderly people more than once to remind them to keep the peace.

"Reprehensible," Castor sneered," I would recommend stationing more guards here if I wasn't worried they would all get stabbed."

Key rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. "I just try to avoid Basin Street."

"I suspect that everyone avoiding this place is why it has gotten so out of hand," Castor considered. He finally turned down a side street and continued forward. After they arrived at the house, they tied off their horses and made for the front door.

After several knocks with no response, Castor directed Key to check the back. The back door was unlocked, so he drew his sword and entered. He noticed the house had clearly been ransacked. He walked quietly to the front door, unlocked a latch, and opened it."

"The place has been looted," Key said, walking out of the front door. "Are we going in alone or getting back up?"

"In light of past recent events," Castor said, drawing his own sword. "Let's call for backup and then make sure there's no one inside. We have to get to the bottom of this."

An hour later, the house was swarming with guards. There were no clues about who had conducted the theft, but Castor had a plan. As soon as his investigation was complete, he directed a sergeant to ensure that the proper reports were made and to inform Mr. Barley's nearest living relative of his passing.

The two saddled up, and Key followed Castor back to the office.

Inside, Castor drafted a letter, pausing every once in a while to think out loud. "If we were going to stake out an estate, how many people do you think we would need?" he spoke to the ceiling.

"I don't know, fifteen?" Key replied from behind his desk.

"It would be hard to hide fifteen guards, even if it was dark," Castor said and then put his quill to paper again. "But eight… That will do the trick."

When he finished writing, he gave the letter to Key. Who began reading it.

"Flaming balls, corporal," Castor cursed. I didn't give you the letter to read; I gave it to you to seal it with your new stamp."

"Oh, I wasn't sure," Key said, holding the letter. "Do you have a candle?"

Castor sighed, stood up, and lit the candle on his desk. He placed it carefully on Key's desk and added a small wooden box next to it.

"What's the box for?" Key asked.

"Sprinkles," Castor replied. "It makes the seal look more official."

Key opened the box to find a silver powder and a small silver spoon. He then refolded the letter and dripped wax over the flap in the middle. He sprinkled the powder on top of the wax and pressed it with the seal. After a moment, he lifted the seal and displayed the seal of the office.

"It's crooked," Castor critiqued. "Look, the top of the handle indicates which side is up. Fortunately for us, Sergeant Dilly has no standards."

Key handed the letter to Castor, who lifted his hands. "What am I going to do with that thing? This is your show now. You're the one with the stamp."

"I really don't want to talk to Sergeant Dilly," Key confessed, refraining from sounding desperate.

"And I don't like mincemeat pies," the captain replied. "Now that we're done talking about our dislikes, you have a delivery to make."

Key gripped the letter and walked outside. The horse he borrowed from the stables was still tied to a stand-out front. The sergeants' offices were not too far of a walk, but Key liked riding horses. Now that he knew he could just borrow one from the royal stables any time he wanted, he was going to ride as often as he could.

At the sergeant's offices, he tied up his horse, walked to Sergeant Dilly's front door, and knocked.

"Enter," came a voice from inside.

The sergeant started rising from his chair before he noticed who had just entered. "Corporal Key?" he asked. "What are you doing out of uniform?"

"I was instructed to wear this uniform," Key defended himself. "Anyway, I have correspondence from the captain, sergeant."

Dilly took the letter from Key's hands, cracked the seal, and began reading it. After a long moment, he spoke, "Does he really expect me to keep eight of my best, able-bodied soldiers off duty to stand around, doing nothing until he decides to call on them?"

"I don't know what the letter says, sergeant," Key told him, not offering further information.

"I will look into this; good day."