Key woke while it was still dark. Four of the five men who shared his barracks room let out soft snores and whispered breathing. One of the cots lay empty; Alrick was probably on watch. He put on his bathrobe and walked out into the common room.

Each room in the barracks slept anywhere from four to nine people, depending on the size of the room or the rank of the individual. The only exception was Trudie - the only female guard. She slept by herself in the smallest room. Women were encouraged to join the Royal Guard, but not many answered the call. Key thought it was a shame; it was hardly fair that Trudie got a whole room to herself.

The common room had two hearths that burned day and night in the winter. Food was usually available, though the selection was poor. Key poured himself some tea and took a small loaf of bread and ham before walking to the bathhouse.

Contrasting to the giant barracks built with warm-smelling timber, the bathhouse was a smaller structure made from old stone. Figures chiseled from columns lining the walls offered sculpted towels, oils, and other stone-shaped amenities. Earlier in his career, Key marveled at the bathhouse. He considered how nice the king's bath must be if simple guards were privileged enough for this one.

He entered and disrobed, laying his garb on a bench before rounding the corner. Steam billowed out from the bath; Alrick sat in the water across from a newer guard he recognized as Borjani.

"Alrick!" Key said, stepping into the warm water and holding his meal high enough to avoid the splashes. "I thought you would be on watch."

"Just got off," Alrick said. "Played some cards, broke even. It was a good night. Borjani here cleaned everyone else out."

"You guys were at the armory tonight?" Key asked.

"Where else?"

"Isn't Borjani a little new to be playing with the big boys?" Key said before facing the younger man. "No offense."

"None taken," Borjani admitted, hiding any potential hurt feelings.

"He's alright," Alrick said. "I vouch for him."

“Thank you,” Borjani beamed.

Alrick ignored him and looked at Key with concern. "I heard your name spoken a few times from the higher-ups. I couldn't tell if it was good or bad. Is everything alright?"

"Normally, I would assume the worst, but this time, as crazy as it sounds, I think it might be a good thing." Key took a sip from his mug and then recounted his last two days. He started with the discovery that his armor had been shined and talked about double duty, finding a dead body in the street, and what happened to the man's house. He ended the story by explaining how he walked into the bathhouse only to find the two ugliest tossers he had ever seen.

"Hey," Borjani said. "Your mother thinks I'm handsome."

"You discovered a murder, saved two beautiful women, and got sent home early? All without taking a nap?" Alrick said, eyebrows reaching upward. "They'll probably make you an officer after that."

"I doubt it," Key admitted. "They wouldn't waste the money on my commission. And even if I did, who would want to be a stupid officer?"

"Good point," Alrick said, playing with the water. "Not me."

"What I want to know is, how did it feel blowing the whistle?" Borjani asked. The question caught Alrick's attention, who had stopped splashing around.

"You know when you're doing something you're not supposed to, and it feels good?" Key asked.

The two nodded in unison.

"It felt like that," Key proclaimed. "This whole time, we've carried these things around, but nothing ever goes wrong, so we can't use them."

"And we just carry them around like the forbidden fruit with fear and reverence," Borjani interjected.

"Uh, sure," Key turned his whole body towards Alrick. "I think your guy here is a poet."

"He gets excited sometimes," Alrick waved him off. "You should have seen him bluff with some of the ugliest cards I've ever seen. Went on about how he gave a dying monk his last coin, and now the spirit of the monk gives him good cards or some such."

"It worked, didn't it?" Borjani asked.

"We'll see if it works next time," Alrick said doubtfully. "If you're ever in a card game with him, just know that the more confident he acts, the more he's bluffing."

"Or so I want you to think," Borjani said with an attempt at malicious laughter.

"We'll see if I ever stand watch in the Armory again," Key admitted uncertainly. "I think Dilly has it out for me. He didn't seem to like that Castor took me off the watch bill. Not to mention, he needs me again tomorrow. So that's another day I won't be supporting his 'watch bill flexibility.' On top of that, I haven't even told him yet that I won't be at the muster tomorrow."

"You're just going to no-show and hope your good behavior covers for it?" Alrick's tone was clearly sarcastic.

"Good behavior or not, Dilly is going to beat you silly," Borjani predicted.

"Here's the thing," Key made an arbitrary circle with his fingers. "Captain Castor told me not to check in. He told me to skip muster and show up at his office and not to tell anyone."

"That's funny because he's not in your direct chain of command," Alrick pointed out. "Captain or not, he can't really do that. Or at least I don't think he can. What does he do anyway?"

"He is in charge of investigations, but I don't really know what he does," Key admitted. "Even then, I would be hard-pressed not to obey the direct order of a captain. Especially when it suits my interests."

"Even if the captain does fight your case for not showing up in the morning, he'll get you eventually, one way or the other," Borjani shrugged. "Dilly always remembers."

"See?" Alrick pointed both hands towards Borjani. "Hardly a new guy anymore. Already knows Dilly up and down."

"I'm learning," Borjani tapped the side of his head. "Alrick explained the great Key and Jory feud today. I honestly believed he was buying perfume for a girl when it spilled all over himself."

"I would have believed it if he was buying it for himself," Alrick said. "I know Key's touch when I see it. That trick reeked of your doing. Know what you're going to do next?"

"I am ashamed to admit that I don't," Key said. "Usually, I have a couple of good ideas brewing before he makes his move, but I've been kind of busy."

"Tie his pant legs together and fill them with sawdust," Borjani blurted out.

"That's not a bad idea," Alrick said approvingly.

"If there were any doubts about Yorbani before, you've squelched them," Key slapped the kid on the shoulder. "Welcome to the big boy's club."

"You're not half bad yourself," Borjani said thoughtfully before teaching him the correct pronunciation of his name. The three finished bathing and made their way back to the barracks. Key explained why they shouldn't repeat anything they had talked about. Oaths were sworn, and the three of them split off to go to their respective beds.

"Key, you slog, this is your sixth-bell wake-up." A voice came from a shadowy figure hovering over him. "I'm not coming back."

"I'm up," Key said, rising to see the barracks watch and leaving his room.

He slipped on his clothes and rubbed a cloth over a few areas to maintain the polished look. It looks like I have to try to look good for one more day, he thought, slipping the armor on and clasping the last few pieces in place. He stepped out into the common room, climbed down some stairs, passed a few tired-eyed acquaintances, and headed outside. The air was colder than it had been all winter. Key's breath made rapidly decaying plumes of mist in the air. The rocks he stepped on seemed to hold their ground instead of sinking into the earth as he moved toward his destination.

Arriving, he knocked three times on the door, lighter than usual to preserve his frozen fingers.

"Enter," came Castor's voice from inside. He opened the door to a warm fire and candles; the room was otherwise dark.

"Come in at ease," the captain said, pouring a measure of red wax onto an envelope. "I'm almost done."

He pulled out a spoon, small enough for a pebble, and scooped a silvery white powder from a copper vessel. He sprinkled in over the wax and pressed a round metallic stamp into it. The symbol was generic to his station, three diamonds inside three circles in a delta configuration. He briefly pressed a ring from his right hand in the middle of the impression and blew on it.

Key wandered over to inspect a hand-drawn map of Royal City on the wall. The image showed the castle, roads, alleys, temples, and businesses. He couldn't read the road names by dimly lit room alone but traded the blurry words for the names he knew by heart in his head.

"We have a big day ahead of us," the captain said. "Well, you do anyway. Care to know what the plan is?"

"Yes, sir," Key answered.

"I'll have none of that when we are working together, save for when there are people around," the captain said. "If you are capable of maintaining airs of courtesy when required, a simple yes or no will do."

"I can, sir," Key said and then corrected himself. "I can, and if I understand you correctly, I believe I am capable of discerning a situation."

"Excellent, then you may talk to me like a regular human being," he said and paused a brief moment to steeple his fingers in front of him. "For the two days I have had you on loan, you've shown me nothing but a high aptitude for leadership, investigatory insight, and humility. Don't misunderstand me; you are not yet in a position to coast on your achievements, but I think that your talents, in all sense of the meaning, might be better spent here than playing cards in the armory."

Hearing the guard's best-kept secret from an officer shocked Key.

"Don't worry, I'm not shutting down the card games," Castor said. "It's my job to know things." He held up the sealed letter in his hands. "It's your choice. Do you want to work for me, or do you want to go back to the caprice of Sergeant Dilly?"

"What is the job, exactly?" Key asked.

Castor eyed him momentarily. "I'm the head of investigations, which would make you an assistant to the royal investigator."

"I'm in," Key committed to the job before it went away.

Castor smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. There's only one prerequisite."

"What's that?" Key asked.

"When you speak of me to anyone, and I mean anyone, you have to make me out to be a heartless slave driver that never gives you a moment's rest," Castor grinned. "If you need to list the things that make you sound overworked when your peers ask, by all means, write it down. As far as you will let on, I only care about the king and getting things done at your expense. If you've ever wondered why there are so many churlish officers in the king's guard, it's because only savages get promoted. A reputation I aspire to cultivate."

When Key agreed, Caster held up a letter.

"Take this to Major Kane and stand by for his instructions. I have plans in motion, but you have to work fast," Castor handed it to him.

Key took the letter and walked out onto a stone walkway. He found the Major's office several moments later and knocked on the door.

"Enter!" the voice spoke from behind the door. When Key was inside, he found an older man sitting behind a desk in an office similar to Casor's. He had a large mustache curled up with wax behind a steaming cup of tea. After seeing Key, he held out his hand for the letter. After taking it, he lifted the seal, unfolded the parchment, and spent some time reading over its contents.

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Key stood at attention.

The man let out a few grunts of understanding as his eyes touched every letter of every word. When he was done, he leaned back in his chair and raised his eyes to the ceiling, blinking several times. He then found his quill, and with a few swooshes of penmanship, the letter was signed. Moments later, the wax on the letter was pressed with a new seal and then held out for Key to take.

"This goes to Colonel Chapman." He said as Key took the letter.

"Yes, sir," he said and then left back into the chilled weather. The colonel's office was a little bit more of a walk. He passed a statue of a marble woman standing on top of a dry fountain, hands cupped and held out in front of her, offering no water.

He came to a dark wood door with a plaque stating, 'Colonel C. F. Chapman' and knocked.

"Come in," a voice said.

Key found himself in a room big enough to fit a hundred people at least. An elegant but sturdy table decorated a portion of the room with over twenty chairs surrounding it. The chair at the head of the table looked nice enough to be the king's throne. He felt that maybe the chair was for the king. Swords, axes, and shields, mixed with other battle armaments, hung on walls between the mounted heads of hunted beasts.

The colonel stood with two officers Key did not know. They made small talk near a blazing hearth. The colonel was taller than the two, grey hair climbing up his temples. His voice was soft like melted iron and carried farther than the other two voices. When the other two officers were finished, Key saluted them as they walked out of the office. They didn't appear to see him. When he approached the colonel, he saluted again and made his report. "Good morning, I have correspondence, sir."

The colonel returned the salute and held out his hand. "Good morning, how's the weather out there?" he asked, taking a miniature sword from his desk and slipping the blade through the wax seal.

"It's cold, sir," Key replied. "It might be the coldest morning we've had this year."

The colonel looked at Key as if he were truly listening to him as if his weather report was the most important piece of information he could have received. "I see," he said, giving a further moment of reflection. His eyes went from Key to the parchment he was holding. He took a large feather quill from his desk and signed it at the bottom. Perhaps he was a fast reader, or the other signatures on the paper were good enough to elicit his own. His eyes quickly glanced over the document he had just signed before he was satisfied and handed the paper back to Key, unsealed.

"Carry on," he said and then returned to the fire.

"Yes, sir," Key said, saluting the colonel's back. He made his way outside, open letter in hand.

Without further instructions, Key brought the letter directly back to Captain Castor, who was filling his office with pipe smoke.

"The major and colonel both signed this. I'm guessing it goes back to you?" Key asked, getting used to the feeling of talking to a high-ranking officer so casually. He placed the open letter on the captain's desk.

"Did you read it?" Castor asked.

"No," Key answered honestly.

"Oh, good," Castor said, picking up the letter and holding it in his open palm, "Then this is a good place to start. Lesson one, unsealed letters. In an office that greatly benefits from knowing things, unsealed letters are a wealth of information. How can people like you or I know things if we don't take the time to learn them? I recommend looking at every unsealed one of these tomes of knowledge. You would be surprised at the information you can glean from them. Keep in mind that it looks poorly for a messenger to be seen snooping around. Barring that, there are plenty of places one could go to investigate the contents of any piece of correspondence.

"This one, for instance, can tell you a lot. Here, at the top, I have added an introduction so mundane that anyone reading it would likely skip it altogether. It also explains what gives me the authority that I have. Under that, I put in some literary cheek-kissing. Let me ask you this, what is better, physically kissing someone's cheeks or convincing them that you've already kissed them?"

"Probably the option where I don't have to physically kiss anyone's rear end, or are we talking about their face?" Key asked, worried he had already left a bad impression by assuming which cheeks he referred to.

"Precisely, and here," Castor pointed to the part of the letter, presumable with the literary cheek kissing, face or otherwise, "I have made it sound as if in all my years, I have been nothing but a humble servant. In person, I wouldn't deign to kiss any part of them, face or otherwise. Remember this, never overtly curry favor with a ranking officer in person. It makes you look weak, and it's bad form. Letters are different; they must embellish your respect, But that is a lesson for another time, I'm sure.

"Under that I made a request. I packaged it in such a way that the colonel would have come to the same conclusion if I didn't mention it at the end. Always form a request in terms of the other person's interests." The captain continued, pointing to the signatures at the bottom of the page.

"Here at the bottom, a keen eye would recognize that I skipped certain people in the chain of command involved. I don't recommend doing that unless you know things. I know things, so I can do them. Care to read?"

After listening to the captain's monologue, Key did in fact want to read the letter. He took it from the captains' hand and turned his back so the light beginning to creep in from the windows revealing the words. They were written in a swooping script that seemed regal.

Captain Charles Castor, Chief Investigator for the King, protector of the realm of Royal City, son of the late Baron Nathan Castor who was beloved by both King and Creator, and brother to Baron Nathan Caster the second of Brunshold Keep:

To my most esteemed mentors and superior leaders, Major Elton Kane and Colonel C. F. Chapman, a request for your prudence on a matter I believe holds the interest of his Royal Highness the King and you, his mighty constituents.

Under my tutelage, I have worked with one Corporal Eulerous Key who has shown a high aptitude for receiving instruction and performing shrewdly under my edict. He aided me in discovering the Late Mister Templeton after he was murdered in cold blood, and he was the one who charged in for the heroic rescue of Templeton's household servants. I believe it is within the King's best interest and, therefore, our best interest as servants of the King's peace to place him in a more impactful position.

For your judicious decision to allow a lateral transfer of Corporal Eulerous Key from the Office of the Guard to the Office of the Royal Investigator, please sign.

Submitted:Captain Charles Castor

Approved:Major Elton Kane

Certified:Colonel C. F. Chapman

Key lowered the letter, emotions between excitement and uncertainty. "So, I work for you now?"

"Yes," Castor said.

"Where it says," Key held up the letter and read, "Under your tutelage… I've shown a high aptitude for receiving your instruction and performing shrewdly under your edict," he lowered the letter. "That doesn't seem entirely accurate."

"This conversation we are having right here is why I prefer to do away with propriety when I'm having a discussion one-on-one," Castor said. "If I held you to the strict standard of not speaking until spoken to, standing at attention, keeping my cards hidden from you like so many other people of position do, and all of that "yes, sir," "no, sir" nonsense then I would miss out on some of the most important pieces of information the other person can offer. And I do love information. You spoke to me honestly, but anyone else would only hear petulance.

"When a king conquers a territory, do they say, "It was the army that won the war," or do they say that the king won?" Caster asked.

"They say the king wins," Key replied.

"That's right. Even though the king rarely sees a single battlefield, he is still claimed as the winner. In the same regard, everything you do from here on out will be reflected on me. Had you not rescued anyone but decided to get drunk and walk around the city naked, they would blame me for it," the captain said. "They would say, "Captain, why was your man walking around with his balls out?" I am ambitious, but I am also fair. When I am promoted, it will be because the men under me got me promoted. Right now, the men under me is you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, and I am grateful," Key said. "Does this mean I don't have to go to the morning assembly anymore or stand watch?"

Castor smiled. He reached for his pipe with one hand and a leather pouch with the other. The pouch was empty. He frowned. "That is correct, but as often as I don't need you, I expect you to continue improving. There's still a lot more we need to go over before you are half the man my last assistant was. Speaking of the morning assembly, guess who wasn't there this morning?"

Key looked at him, puzzled, "me?"

"Correct," Castor said. "If Frederick, erm, I mean if Captain Watford pursues the right channels, he will have Dilly check your barracks before bringing the matter to the office of investigations. Oh, wait, that's me."

"But you told me not to tell anyone or report it," Key formed the statement like a question.

"I haven't told them yet," Castor said. "I will let them know soon enough." He rummaged through his drawers and cabinets before finding another leather pouch. He pulled the contents out and meticulously loaded his pipe, making sure no flakes were left on his desk.

Key sat and watched him light his pipe with a candle on his desk. Wax dripping on a silver plate.

There was a knock on the door. The captain glanced at Key, who was already moving to stand in his position next to the desk, eyes forward.

"Enter," the captain said.

Sergeant Dilly walked into his office and saluted. "Good morning, sir,"

"State your business, sergeant," the captain said, setting down his smoking pipe.

The sergeant eyed Key, standing at attention and looking forward. "I was going to report a certain individual who missed muster, but I see you have already detained him."

"The corporal isn't detained as much as he is working on pressing matters in the service of the King. Furthermore, he will be in my service until I am done with him." The captain said, proffering the letter signed by the colonel. "It says here," he cleared his throat. "For the lateral transfer of Corporal Eulerous Key from Office of the Guard to the Office of the Royal Investigator, signed Major Elton Kane and certified by Colonel C. F. Chapman."

The sergeant held out his hand.

The captain turned the letter around and pointed at the bottom line and signatures.

The sergeant leaned forward to read. A half moment later, the captain retracted the letter, placed it on his desk, and took his pipe. "­­­­Is there anything else?"

"I have him standing a double today," the sergeant said. "You can't possibly expect me to make last-minute changes when lateral transfers require two weeks' notice."

Captain Castor rose from his chair, face filling with anger. "Do you forget yourself, sergeant, or has your time in the company of Captain Watford made you as soft-headed as he is?" Before the sergeant had a chance to respond, the captain held up his hand. "Corporal, wait outside."

Key saluted and silently left the office. From outside the door, he could hear the captain yelling at Sergeant Dilly. The attacks were a constant berate of accusations and insults. He could hear things like, "No respect for your superiors," "Your mother must be ashamed," and "When was the last time you even bathed?" The one-sided conversation seemed eternal. When it was over, a red-faced Sergeant Dilly rushed out of the office. His face was a depiction of pure torment. He did not spare a glance at Key as he walked quickly back to where he came from.

After a cautious moment, Key knocked on the door.

"Come in," the captain said.

Key gingerly opened the door and made his way to his chair, careful not to get swept into the same current Sergeant Dilly had.

The captain composed himself, "Normally, I would say something like, "I'm sorry you had to see that," but in this circumstance, I'm glad you were there. I've been working on that speech for the last two days."

"You knew the sergeant was going to come looking for me and that he would be an 'unbathed, slovenly disgrace to the uniform' before I even started working for you?" Key asked, quoting the captain.

"I knew that I would need a new assistant and that the sergeant would make it difficult for me when I tried to get one. I was correct. I also made you absent from your duties and responsibilities this morning, intentionally, might I add, so that this very conversation would take place," Castor said matter-of-factly. "I accomplished four things by humiliating that sorry excuse for a sergeant. I should say that I truly enjoy efficiency.

"First, I reminded him that I am not one to be trifled with and that it is not in his best interest to work against me. Second, I broke a rule to prove that I could get away with it. The sergeant was right about the two-week lateral transfer notice. Your heroics the other day made it easier for me, but I would have gotten around it either way. When he saw that I had the power to ignore that rule, he assumed that I was close-knit with the powers that be. There are a lot of rules I am going to break in the future, and I don't want anyone to think they can stop me. Third, someone who is flustered is, mark my word, incapable of holding a logical conversation. By setting him off, so to speak, I was able to show him the letter without showing him my cards. My cards being a very disgraceful display of ass kissing that was above the part that I showed him."

Key waited a moment before speaking. "You said there were four reasons."

"Ah yes," Castor said as if acting like he forgot. "The fourth reason, and probably the most important, is a selfish one. I further developed my reputation for being a conspicuous blighter."

"Is that a good thing?" Key asked. "Just wondering."

Castor relit his pipe. "Have you ever heard anything about the quality of friends you keep reflecting who you are as a person?"

Key shrugged.

"It's not only true, but it is my personal philosophy that I would rather fall off a bridge than get roped into the same category as most people in this city." He said before taking three more quick draws from his pipe. "A reputation is a tool. Like a lever, it does all the hard work with minimal effort. If you have a reputation for the sword, no one will challenge you. If you have a reputation for honesty, a simple point of your finger will damn a man to death. The trick is to stand on the long side of that lever. If you have a reputation for cheating, even if you win honestly, no one will believe you. You might even find yourself confronted by someone with a reputation for punching cheaters in the face."

"So, you want people to think you're a..." Key circled his hands for a word.

"A giant lobcock, yes."

"Can I be one too?" Key asked.

"I'm afraid not," Castor said. "You have to be seen as polite, competent, and restlessly hardworking. That is, until you're a captain, then you can do whatever you want."

"The sky will rain baby dragons before that ever happens," Key said. "I couldn't afford a commission in a hundred years based on my salary. How about a sergeant?"

"Now that's a tricky question," Castor said. "Remember those rules I talked about breaking earlier?"

Key nodded his head.

"As a captain, I'm supposed to have, at a minimum, a company of twelve or so people with a residing sergeant under me, at a minimum. When I took over this office as a lieutenant, I rewrote my job description so I wouldn't be bogged down with so many people also attempting to act busy."

There was a knock at the door. Key leaped up and stood at attention in his spot.

"Enter," the captain said.

A tall, dark-haired youth walked in wearing a blue coat over a pale blue sash and matching vest. "Good morning. I have correspondence from Major Kane."

The captain took the envelope and cracked the seal with his thumbs. After he finished reading, he set the letter in his drawer.

"By your leave, sir," the messenger said, requesting to go.

"One moment, Corporal Singer," he said.

"Yes, sir?" Singer replied.

"Where did you get the idea to wear the formal dress uniform?" He asked.

"Major Kane, sir," Singer replied. "He requires all his runners to wear this while in a messenger status. It's for the case that we have orders to the castle during formal events."

"Where did you get it made?" The captain asked.

"Gretta's Sewing Shop on Alpenrose, sir." He responded.

"Then, you are dismissed," the captain said.

Corporal Singer saluted and left the office.

"Do try to not jostle around so much next time someone pays a visit. It sounds suspicious," Castor said. "Where were we?"

"I believe you were explaining the woes of having a company," Key replied.

"I don't want one, and if I had a sergeant working under me, that would make two people negligent of a division," Castor admitted. "If you keep trying to get promoted, I'll have to figure out some kind of workaround."

"So, I just work here? Like, I'm in the family now?" Key asked.

"Did you want a ceremony?" Castor asked.

"I don't know," Key said. "I'm just trying to wrap my head around all of it."

"Ceremony it is," Castor said, reaching into his drawer. He pulled out a white candle and held it across his desk. He moved it back and forth until Key took it. He then held up his lit candle and walked around his desk.

"This flame represents the light that shines fourth reveling murderous crimes, embezzlement, and other evil deeds. To you, I pass the light."

With that, he lit Key's candle, made his way back to his desk, and sat down. "Does that quench your ceremonial thirst?"

"I don't remember asking for a ceremony, but yes. That was actually quite nice." Key said.

"Good," Castor said. "Now blow out that candle and go get measured for four formal uniforms at Gretta's. Charge it to my office. If Major Kane's doing it, I want to do it too.

"Oh, and get a red sash. The royal investigators only wear red sashes from here on out."