A thousand gold coins was far too much. It was more than far too much. The prince had no understanding of economics, and Castor was about to pay for it. The implications of such an extravagant reward were so significant that he stared at a half-polished helmet, trying to wrap his head around it all while the Guardian Elites tried on their armor and the prince tested his new sword.

Did the prince have a discretionary fund, or would the funds come from the office of investigations? Either way, the payment would affect Castor's own future budgets while his reputation plummeted into oversight and improper allocation. No one would blame the prince. They would blame him. He was the one in charge of Bartholomew and expected to prevent this kind of mishap from happening.

He was in no position to rescind an official declaration by the prince. To contradict the prince, openly or even with too much hesitation, was political suicide. Better to let the kingdom burn to cinders around you than to rebuff the future king. Castor had seen seasoned officers banished to outposts for merely questioning a decision and whispered stories told of worse. The crown remembered. And worse, it expected reverence. The prince's word, no matter how naive, was law. That didn't mean he couldn't create a situation to compel the prince to amend his orders, but that was impossible after twenty-something guards had already received the order and dispersed.

If anyone found Key and claimed that reward, Castor would be ruined. And, what of the possibility of someone kidnapping themselves for a similar reward? Was he already ruined? There had to be a way out.

The prince seemed comfortable holding the sword. His stance was balanced, his sword arm extended in front of him, unwavering. His offhand rested casually to the side as he tested the weight of his blade. He had taken lessons, and it showed. For the first time in his life, Castor recognized the prince's potential. He looked like someone who could hold his own in a duel, someone who could solve a crime....

Castor had an idea. It could be considered reckless, but uncertain times called for uncertain measures. If it all went well, he would be able to turn the whole situation around in his favor. If the prince found Key, he wouldn't have to pay the ridiculous one thousand gold to anyone. He just needed Key to be tied up somewhere for the prince to find. The prince would find him, develop a hero's reputation, and hopefully go back to the castle.

For the first part of his plan, he needed to deliver a message but didn't know exactly where to deliver it to. He had never cared too much to look into where the sergeants conducted their welcoming ceremonies. In order to find that out, he was going to have to visit an old acquaintance, but he needed to ditch the prince first. Fortunately, Key's office wasn't too far away, and that was his first stop.

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As he entered, he waved off Trudie's salute and made his way to Key's desk in the back. "Corporal Logan, this is Captain, uh, just Captain and his team. I need you and the captain to not leave this room until I get back. I just have a quick letter to draft before I go."

He took out a parchment and began writing the most important letter he had written in his whole career. When he was finished, he bobbed it up and down in the air for the ink to dry while he looked up from the desk. He had been vaguely aware of the prince explaining Key's abduction, which explained why the room was on edge, ready to jump at the slightest provocation. Castor sealed his letter and lifted it up to represent the solution to all of their problems because, after all, it was.

"Corporal Logan, please search The Ledger of Crimes and Petty Thefts for the last few months and list every instance of an abduction," Castor ordered, moving toward the door. "Try to find a connection."

"What should I do?" The prince asked, concern filling his voice.

"Will you help her, Captain?" Castor implored genuinely. "She needs your help. We all do. I will be back soon with an update, but this letter is a high priority."

Not waiting for a reply, he slipped out of the office and began searching for someone he hadn't spoken to for a very long time. Sergeant Briggs had retired years ago, but he had been the decent sort while he was still with the guard. Castor hoped Briggs was still alive and still lived in the same house. There wasn't much of a backup plan otherwise.

He stopped in front of his door and knocked. He knocked again. He could hear noises coming from the house. Still, he waited for long moments before a voice behind the door asked who was knocking.

"It's me, Captain Castor. May I talk to you for a moment?"

"The only Castor I know was a second lieutenant the last time I checked," a man said, opening the door to reveal a corpulent man with rosy cheeks. His long mutton chop sideburns had gone from fiery red to an ashy grey since the last time Castor had checked.

"It appears we have both changed," Castor said, smiling down at the man. "I find myself in desperate need of your help…."

Castor explained a version of his predicament without mentioning the one thousand gold prize. The fewer variables his plan had, the better. Instead, he framed the problem in terms of a threat to the Sergeant's secret ceremonies. If the prince didn't find Key, then he would have to open up an investigation into the people who did find him. That would force Castor's hand to expose the sergeants. Doing that, Castor explained, would put him in very bad graces with the most important members of the guard. He hoped the flattery wasn't too much.

"A threat to our sacred ceremonies, you say?" Briggs asked with deep consideration. "What can I do?"

"You can tell me where the ceremonies are," Castor explained, gauging the reaction on the man's face. Briggs clearly wasn't thrilled by the idea of exposing that secret, so he went for his backup plan. "Or you can deliver this letter to Master Sergeant Steele at the ceremony happening right now."

"I'll do it," Briggs announced without a moment of hesitation. "I'll just need to get ready and saddle my horse first…."

Castor waited for him to get ready, and then, when it was time, he gave Briggs the letter. The letter represented a gamble Castor never wanted to risk again. As Briggs rode off on his horse, the dice had been cast. Whatever happened next was now out of Castor's hands, at least for now.

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