Crownsmith Chronicles

"I apologize, Your Majesty. I will endeavor to always tell you before we execute any more of these, shall we say, radical training exercises."

Key looked at his captain, entirely at a loss for words. Hadn't Castor just told him to always be honest? He could already hear his excuse turned lecture: Of course, you should never lie, but some things are better than the truth. Or some other nonsense like that.

"I believe you have proved yourself a capable tutor," the king's eyes flicked from Castor to Key, "and for that, you and Sergeant Key will be my guests of honor at the ball I intend to host in a month. Captain, I believe your brother will be in attendance as well. Won't that be nice?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." Castor sounded genuinely honest for once.

"Good, good." The king tapped on his leg. "There will be many distinguished noble women in attendance. I'm sure being an honored guest won't hurt your chances…"

"That is very gracious of you, Your Majesty," Castor replied smoothly, "but I believe I could be successful in that area regardless."

"Ho ho! I'm sure. I'm more concerned for Bartholomew..." The King gave a telling look. "His struggle hasn't been with confidence as much as it's been with a sense of self, but it seems that is all changing now, thanks to you. What do you say you keep him until then?"

"Keep him until the ball, Your Majesty?" Castor nearly squeaked. "For another month?"

"I'm not letting you keep him forever, but yes, I will allow you to retain him in your employ for another month. How does that sound?"

"I am delighted by the honor, Your Majesty," Castor said, wearing what Key was beginning to recognize as his lying face.

The king leaned forward. "While I have you here, I did want to ask about this rumor of a thousand-royal reward, Captain?"

Castor explained how, regardless of the outcome, it had been an unexpected variable. He hadn't realized the prince would offer such a reward, and he didn't think it was his place to nullify an official command.

"Yes," the king mused, folding his fingers together. "It's fortunate you had a plan. But the large reward sets a bad precedent. A bad precedent, I say. How will we prevent the next guards from being abducted and ransomed off for the hope of a similar exchange?"

A small knock came from the door, and Marcus Tal'el poked his head inside. "Is this a bad time, Your Majesty?"

"We were just having a discussion," The king waved him in. "I believe you know Captain Castor and his Sergeant, Key?"

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Marcus Tal'el did, in fact, know each of them. He was the leader of the Overseer sect of the Crownsmith, and Castor was his second in command. He even visited Delina, also a Crownsmith, when she worked with Key. He greeted the two as if they were of no consequence. He was no stranger to the art of subterfuge.

He was short, stout, and completely unassuming. His balding head and humble manner gave him a monk-like presence. He slunk inside, fumbling with a package of papers and a writing tool in each of his hands. Castor knew his facade was a calculated one. The duality of the position demanded it. Marcus approached, setting his items on the table, and carefully interjecting himself in the conversation.

"I was informed of your meeting with the captain and Sergeant Key and came to advise on the matter. I have considered the implications of offering such a high reward for a hostage negotiation…"

"It sets a bad precedent!" The king bellowed for the third time.

"Indeed, Sire." Marcus agreed, taking a seat on the edge of an empty chair. "That is why I have the idea for a potential solution."

The king waited for him to continue. Castor sat poised as ever, and Key was beginning to feel sweat prickle on his skin. This was the reason he and the rest of the guards hated standing watch in the castle. Nothing made him feel more powerless than being surrounded by people who had absolute control over his life. He felt like his whole future lay in the next few, meekly spoken words. All he could do was imitate his captain's posture, which was supremely confident.

"Shall I continue?"

"Yes!" The king exclaimed, throwing an irritated hand in the air. "Out with it! You always try to build things up while I die of old age. Yes, please tell us your idea."

"I just didn't want to presume-"

"Presume away! What are you, third in line to the throne? You're about to be second after I shrivel away waiting for you to presume for once in your life."

"Fourth in line, your majesty, but if you insist, I can be convinced to continue," Marcus said, glancing at Castor, who was scarcely containing a smile. "We know that Prince Bartholemew was the one who offered the thousand Royal bounty on the sergeant here."

"Right…"

"It is a unique situation already, because a mere captain is in charge of him."

"This was your idea to begin with!"

Marcus held up his hands. "Who's to say who had the idea first? My point is, there couldn't have been an easy way for the captain to annul the royal decree. There is a natural order of things, after all. That is why I propose that you bestow him with some temporary and unique title. One that would allow him to nullify some orders like the ones last night."

The king rested his chin in his hands, pushing his wrinkles up into his face. "What do we call it?"

"That doesn't matter as much, but," Marcus looked up as if he could snatch a name out of the air. He shrugged, "We could call it Sealbearer of the King for all it matters. The important thing is it would provide a level of safety from erratic decrees."

"That's fine," The king decreed with no small level of apathy. "Just write up the documents and I'll sign them."

"I drafted something before finding you," Marcus fumbled through his papers before withdrawing a large sheet covered in fine lines of perfect script. He dipped his quill and hovered it just above an empty spot between the writing. "Are we settled on calling it Sealbearer of the King?"

Marcus scratched in the words and set the document before the king.

"Just sign there."

The king glazed over the text and signed at the bottom.

Marcus cleared his throat. "Excellent, now, shouldn't you give him your signet ring? The captain can hardly be considered Sealbearer of the King without the royal seal…"

The king groaned, plucked a ring off his middle finger, and set it on the table. "I want this back before the ball."