Crownsmith Chronicles

When Castor witnessed Key's abduction, he immediately assumed it was some part of the Sergeant's hazing ceremony. He didn't know for sure, and that concerned him. All it would take for his peace of mind would be a brief trip to some of the Sergeant's offices, verifying that no one was there, and then he could rest easily. Well, he could rest as easily as anyone could while harboring the least talented and most entitled artist in all of Royal City.

"Come with me, Your Highness. We have to find out who has my Sergeant," Castor said, walking forward, not going back to the office for his pipe.

"Oh, are we conducting an investigation?" the prince asked, raising his knuckles to his face and shaking them in a strange display of excitement. He hadn't been bullied enough as a child, and Castor needed to ensure that it didn't start now.

"Very perceptive, Your Highness. The first stop is the Sergeant's quarters," Castor said with careful consideration.

"I'll need a sword, right?" Bartholemew asked, sounding dizzy with excitement. "Imagine, my first investigation... do we do these every day?"

Castor shook his head and reached for the pipe that was back in his office. "Only on the days Key gets kidnapped."

The prince kept asking stupid questions, including, "How often does Key get kidnapped?" until they arrived at the Sergeant's quarters. They walked up and down the district, knocking on door after door until he was confident Key was in good hands. Castor knew they might rough him up a bit, but he would be back and ready for work soon enough. He was about to tell the prince that since there were no sergeants, it must mean they had something to do with it, but he reconsidered. The whole situation was a perfect opportunity to do a danger-free investigation that would keep the prince preoccupied. It would also keep the prince from painting any more of his office. All he needed to do was nudge him in the right direction, solve the mystery, and then send him back home to the castle to be someone else's responsibility.

"No sergeants can only mean one thing," Castor said, looking stoically off into the horizon. "We have to investigate this ourselves, and I want you to be in charge of the investigation, Your Highness."

The prince nodded with determination as he took responsibility for Key's life. In a way, it connected him to the common person. It was also a form of responsibility he had never experienced before. For the first time in Bartholemew's life, he was in charge of something. He stood up straighter, squared his shoulders, and asked, "Okay, so what do we do now?"

Castor gave him a knowing look, "First, let's disguise you as a captain and get your personal guards into something less conspicuous. I have a spare uniform for you at home, and we can get your guards loaded out at the armory. Ah, and I suppose we can get you a sword there too."

On his way to the armory, he took a quick detour to his house to fetch one of his spare uniforms. He felt satisfied with the cleanliness of the place; however, had he known he would have a visit from the royal prince, he would have hired help. The uniform fit, even if it was a little baggy. Castor taught the prince how to wear the trifold hat and give a proper salute. After several quick lessons on being an officer, they set out with two Guardian Elites trailing after them.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

When they arrived at the armory, Castor could hear the sound of dice, cards, and coins. He also heard the secret knock warning of a visitation by high-ranking officials. The guard in front of the armory had straightened his posture and gave the signal as soon as the four came into sight. Castor still gave them extra time to put away their card table. He didn't want to give the prince a bad first impression of the royal guard on his first day in the city.

"Captain," he said, addressing the prince in an effort to stall for time. "Before we go into the armory, I just have one thing to say. When I put you in charge of this operation, I put you in charge of solving a mystery. I want you to focus on that fact. You solve a mystery by illuminating situations so that the answer stands out so blatantly obvious you wonder why it was even a mystery to begin with. I use the word illuminate to represent uncovering the truth. Think of it like you're shining a lantern in a very dark place. We do that not just by asking questions but by listening and understanding. You have to weigh each word, twitch of the hand, and voice inflection for its deeper meeting. You have to look at a situation and ask yourself, "What does that imply?" And above all, you have to desire the truth more than anything else in the world. Does that resonate with you?"

There was a moment of pause as the prince considered Castor's words. The moment was long enough for Castor to recognize the stillness of the air. It was time to go inside.

"A mystery, you say?" Bartholemew asked, adjusting his captain's uniform.

"You got it!" Castor praised. "Shall we go inside and get you your sword now?"

The armory was supposed to have five people on watch at any given moment: Two people to stand outside, two people to stand inside, and one person to make log entries. So it came as no small surprise that when the captain entered the armory, twenty-seven corporals were all polishing small circles into anything from weapons and armor to an empty spot on the wall.

One of them called out, "Attention in the room," and the noise of polishing came to an immediate halt.

"Who's in charge here?" Castor asked, surveying the sea of frozen figures. In the center, he noticed some sheets draped over what he suspected were card tables. This only reinforced his belief that Key had been taken by the sergeants. They were likely taking advantage of the fact that none of the sergeants were checking in on them. When the cats are away, the mice will inevitably set up a massive gambling ring in the armory, as one would expect.

"I am technically in charge, sir," a scared little corporal said from behind a podium. "I'm taking logs this evening."

"My captain needs a new sword, and these elites need to borrow a set of normal guardsman armor, each," Castor specified.

"One thousand gold Royals to whoever finds Sergeant Key and brings the savages that abducted him to justice!" The prince announced in a voice that was as official as it got. "By order of His Majesty the King!"

The room was quiet just long enough to hear Castor slap his forehead, and then all pandemonium broke loose. Discarded cleaning rags piled onto the ground, sheets were lifted, exposing card tables as people hurried to retrieve their personal items, and almost everyone fled at once in search of fortune and their friend. The armory went from having too many watchstanders to too few in a matter of seconds.

"Two sets of armor and a sword, sir?" the corporal behind the podium asked.