Crownsmith Chronicles

Key was relieved and upset at the same time. He had been kidnapped, blindfolded, and thrown into the back of a cart without his consent. He was made to dig a hole that he was convinced they were going to bury him in. There was the possibility they were still going to bury him, but at least he knew he wasn't in mortal danger. Seeing some of the familiar and smiling faces as they helped him out of the hole lightened his mood slightly, but there was still a seed of anger growing inside him.

"It happens to everyone," Allister explained, brushing the dirt off his shoulders. "When they had me dig the hole, I cried the whole time. A lot of us did. You'll start feeling better about it soon, I promise. How are you doing now?"

He was searching for words to describe how he felt when he was distracted by a group of men carrying two crates to the hole he had dug. Except, they weren't crates at all; it was a coffin and Key's foot locker. They stopped in front of the hole and upturned the contents of the foot locker into it, tossed the coffin on top, and then began digging in the hole.

Key jerked forward to protest, but Allister held him back and said, "Just trust the process. They've been doing it this way for a hundred years."

The speaker, an older man named Steele, held up his hands to quiet the crowd. "These are Corporal Eulerous Key's belongings. As Corporal Eulerous Key is no longer with us, we bury them with his memory."

"I'm right here. What are you doing with my stuff?" Key called out, but he was cut off as the leader rang a bell.

"Yes, please don't interrupt; we have limited daylight left," the speaker stated. "Does anyone wish to say something in remembrance of Corporal Eulerous Key?"

A member of the group called out, "I hate that guy."

The speaker agreed sagely to the comment. "Yes, and as we put the memory of that Corporal to rest, we also put his reputation down, too. No longer is he a failure; he is now a success. No longer is he a stranger; he is now our brother. No longer is he hated by us, but rather, he will be hated by the other corporals."

The whole speech was a little insulting, but Key had experienced enough ceremonies from Castor to understand what they were trying to do. They were trying to reconstruct his identity as one of them.

"First, let me congratulate you on your performance. No one got stabbed, so that's an improvement," Steele continued. "Every year is different, but the rules are always the same. So, listen carefully as I lay out this evening's agenda and a few of its key points. If I forget anything, I do hope you remember it from a previous event. Tonight we compete. The games will be written on a scrap of paper and then put into a hat. The challenged will select one from the hat, and you will compete. The winner gets the loser's brand on his mug. This is a mark of pride, but do try to be a good sport about it. If you lose against the same person twice, you will get their brand on your arm. I don't recommend doing that; it hurts and leaves a permanent scar.

"Anyone can challenge anyone. Before a match, if a rule isn't specifically stated, it isn't a rule. Before a challenge, you can specify any rules you want. I've already discussed losing to someone a second time; that rule only and always applies if your brand is already on their cup.

"If you are challenged and you reject the challenge, you must drop what you're doing and fill the challenger's cup immediately. If you accept the challenge, you may finish what you are doing first, I'm sure. Is that everything?"

"Elect the keeper of the trials!"

"Ah yes, are there any nominations?"

Dilly stepped forward. "I nominate myself because I'm sure it will come as no surprise that I hate Eulerous Key more than anyone else here. Does that suit everyone?" When no one disagreed, Dilly produced a writing quill and a piece of parchment and announced he was ready. "Who will be the first challenger?"

"I will," an unfamiliar man volunteered.

"Ah, Lieutenant Wesley, good," the speaker said as Dilly scribbled his name on a piece of parchment. "Good luck."

"Let me get Key's cup and brand situated, and I'll bring the hat around when I'm ready," the speaker said before disappearing into the gathering of people.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Key watched glumly as the others took turns scooping dirt onto his belongings in the hole. It was odd that they didn't put them in the coffin before burying them, but instead, they tossed the empty coffin on top of everything else. He figured it was either a tradition or a form of laziness. Either way, he had to admit, it was kind of funny.

Lieutenant Wesley approached and introduced himself. He was older-looking with short grey hair and a long mustache. He had kind eyes and a pleasant demeanor. He explained how he would have offered some tips on the games, but finding out the hard way is part of the fun.

"I don't want to sound rude, but isn't this whole thing for sergeants? How do you fit into all this?" Key asked, pulling his attention away from the people erecting a gravestone over his buried belongings.

"This may come as a surprise, but I wasn't always an officer. I started out just like you. I guess I was in the right place at the right time, and I had my commission paid for in recognition of exemplary service." He said, smiling. "When I was your age, if you would have told me that I would be an officer, I would have either laughed at you or punched you in the face. I was pretty violent back then, but look at me now! I guess anything is possible if you dedicate yourself to your craft."

"And what is your craft, if you don't mind?" Key asked, genuinely interested.

"Logistics. I control and schedule shipments of goods from one place to another. Anything from food and lumber to bedsheets. Really, anyone can do my job with enough practice."

Key instantly liked the man. He was genuine, kind, and a great conversationalist. He could have talked to him all evening if the conversation wasn't cut short.

"Quiet down everyone. Listen up. We have everything prepared, but before we start, we have to bestow the cup and brand. Front and center, Sergeant Key."

Key approached Master Sergeant Steele. He was holding a large barrel-shaped mug and a brand. The twisted cast iron rod ended into a shape that left no doubt about who or what it was for.

"In the old days, we would use letters on our brands, but as you can imagine, that caused a lot of confusion when two people had the same name. I believe there are a few letter brands left over in this group; mine and Sergeant Dilly's are among them. We later changed the brands from letters to shapes that represented the person. In this circumstance, Sergeant Key, there was only one shape that we could all agree on," Steele announced, presenting a cast iron rod tipped with the symbol of a small skeleton key.

Steele then held up the wooden barrel mug in his other hand before also giving it to Key. "There's only one family that makes these mugs, and they've been doing so for many generations. This mug is unique to us, and you'll have it for the rest of your career. It's extremely hard to replace, and the consequences of losing it are severe. Also, you have to earn back all of your brands. So don't lose it, okay?"

Key was then given a hat brimming with crumpled strips of paper and was instructed to select one. He reached in, plucked one out, and read it out loud.

"Bucket Ships," he read, feeling more confused than he had ever been in his career. He looked around for confirmation, but the surrounding sergeants just nodded gravely to themselves.

The crowd cleared a spot in the middle where two buckets of water were placed in front of two opposing lines while Dilly recited rules from memory. "Each contestant will stand behind the line at all times. They must throw rocks at the enemy ship and sink it before the other person does. Are there any questions or revisions to the rules? No? …Begin!"

Key was given a pouch containing little round pebbles. He began throwing it at the lieutenant's ship. He was able to hit the ship several times, but his aim wasn't as good as it could have been. The lieutenant, however, had begun pelting his ship with larger stones, causing it to rock chaotically back and forth. The rocks he was using weren't the same as the ones they both started out with.

"Hey, wait a minute," Key said as he threw his small pebble. "You aren't using the rocks in the pouch."

"I know," The lieutenant said, lobbing another large rock that was handed to him. "If you do not specify the rules beforehand, then it's not cheating to use a different strategy. I just happened to have seen this little trick from several years ago. One day, you might get a chance to do the same with the next new sergeant."

Just as quickly as the game began, it ended with defeat. Key watched as his ship sank to the bottom of the bucket. He wasn't too concerned; it was only his first game, and he hadn't really understood how everything worked. He understood now, though. He would have to look for loopholes, ask more questions, and really understand what he would be getting into before starting the next round.

"Good game," the lieutenant beamed. "Obviously, the trick to that one is not using the rocks provided to you at the beginning of the match. You could have specified that we had to use the rocks in the bag, but in that case, I would have put each larger rock in the bag before throwing it. Does that make sense?"

Key nodded, and lieutenant held out his hand, asking for the brand. After taking it, he moved to a central fire and stuck it in until it was glowing hot. He pressed the glowing tip onto an empty space on his own mug until a tiny image of a key was burned into it. There were a lot of brands on his mug from winning in previous years, but each was small enough that he had room for more.

"And now for the best part," the lieutenant said, giving Key back his brand. "Do you care to do a second challenge?"

Key frowned. "If I lose again, don't I have to get your brand on my arm?"

"That's right. The first win I collect your brand, and if I won again you would collect mine, " he said holding up his own brand with a 'w' on it. "It would be this one."

Key declined, but the lieutenant just smiled and held out his mug, "In that case, I'll take a cider."