It was the first day in what seemed like a very long time that Key had a completely clear schedule. It was also the least convenient time for it. He wanted nothing more than to leave his team to sulk while he went off to do some kind of busy work. The awkward walk to the office did not help him imagine a reason to excuse himself. Instead, he spent his time considering how to make things right.

What made the whole situation worse for him were the awestruck looks and hearty congratulations he got. In Key's defense, he had explained who had really solved the murder during each interaction. If anything, it made him look humble, grateful, and even more deserving of his two monumental awards. Despite his repeated denials, the compliments from the congratulators only became more enthusiastic.

When the door to his office creaked open, it signaled that the time for reflection was over and that it was time to talk.

"I had nothing to do with this!" Key blurted out the moment they were out of the public eye. "I know that you know that I know that you all deserve this medal, and I don't. Both of these medals. I don't know how anyone would think I was involved in solving any mysteries. I haven't even been around to be involved!"

"It's fine," Trudie joined the others around the table. The way they sat heavily in the chairs made him realize it was not fine.

"I'll make it up to you, somehow. Lunch is on me today." As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew it was a miserable offer. Who would be hungry after someone else got all the credit for your work?

"The only person you owe lunch to is Trudie," Jory stated matter-of-factly. "None of us did anything either."

"I'll be honest, I was a little upset at first," Trudie explained. "I'm still kind of upset, but I don't blame you. Everyone said that the Royal Guard was going to be a miserable, thankless job, but we all signed up for it anyway. Working for you has been the least miserable part since I signed up in the first place. So what if it's still thankless? It's a lot better than getting woken up at all hours of the night to stand watch outside some abandoned building."

"That's the truth," Lambro agreed.

"But what about lunch?" Keebler asked, still wanting to capitalize on Key's offer.

"You look like you've eaten enough already," Lambro insulted, eliciting angry looks around the table.

"I'll buy lunch for anyone who beats me in a duel today," Trudie wagered, temporarily preventing Keebler and Lambro from fighting again.

"First to three?" Jory asked as if he stood a chance.

"First to five," she offered, standing up from the table. "Are you coming or not?"

Key, like everyone else, had gone home to change. He dug through his new footlocker to find that his training garments had all been replaced with new ones. The corporals wore the matching tan linens they had on under their armor. He found that his new ones were completely different.

His cream-colored tunic was laced at the top and fit loosely around his arms. His light brown pants were tighter-fitting, and he hoped they wouldn't hinder his movements. Even his beat-up boots had been replaced with sleek-looking shin-high ones. The only things that had remained behind were his dress uniforms, which he kept hung up now, and Jory's black teeth flask.

The training grounds were busy with groups of people practicing formations, dueling in the training areas, and waiting in line for the crucible. Sergeants dressed like Key either mulled around or barked coarse words of encouragement to their subordinates. Key found Trudie, and the rest of his team were already waiting for an opening between several of the dueling areas.

They watched the surrounding duels like a merchant watching street urchins. They didn't want to miss a thing.

"Look at this guy," Trudie elbowed Key's arm. "I'll bet he's faking a limp so his opponent overestimates him."

Key had seen him get beaten in the ring before limping out. "He's probably faking the injury so he doesn't have to stand watch."

"Or he's actually injured," Jory offered quietly. "He looks like he's about to cry like a big baby."

The five of them watched as the man limped over to Sergeant Jobe and asked to be excused from watch.

"Told you," Key reveled in his victory.

"That doesn't prove anything; if I were injured, I wouldn't want to stand watch either," Jory said defensively.

They continued watching. His sergeant must have refused his request to be relieved from watch because he limped dejectedly towards the barracks. When he thought he wasn't being watched anymore, his limp magically disappeared, and he began walking normally.

"Told you."

When one of the dueling areas became available, the group instinctively walked toward the weapon rack. They began selecting wooden swords with the best cross guards. A pockmarked man, at least a head taller than Key, stepped into the ring to claim it before they could.

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"Sorry," the man said without remorse. "We have this next."

"Who's we?" Trudie asked, looking around for the rest of his supposed group.

"They're just finishing up the crucible, they're coming now."

"You have to wait in line like the rest of us," Key informed him. "Maybe you'll get the next one that opens up."

"He gets a promotion and a couple of awards and suddenly he's the master of the training grounds, huh?"

"Who's your sergeant, uh," he tried remembering his name. He had seen him around, but couldn't picture it.

"It's Taylor, he was one of my guys," Jory filled in the blank.

Taylor smiled and held up a defensive hand. "You don't need to do all that. Why don't we have a friendly duel for the field? If you win, I'll give it to you. If I win, you wait for the next one. How does that sound?"

"Fine, but you have to beat Trudie to get to me," Key countered.

Taylor pointed at Trudie with his wooden sword. "I'm not fighting a girl; it's disrespectful. Besides, I don't want to get in trouble if I accidentally hurt her. You know how girls are, always crying and whatnot."

"Five marks says she hurts you first," Key wagered, noticing that the approaching group was close enough to overhear him say it.

"It's fine, we can wait," Trudie began to say before Taylor's group stepped onto the field.

"What's this?" One of the sweaty newcomers asked.

When Taylor explained the situation, he did so in a loud enough voice for everyone to hear. "Sergeant here just bet five marks on Trudie beating me. It would be a shame not to take his money, seeing that he got that new promotion and all."

It was true that Key had gotten a promotion, but he hadn't started getting paid for it. He only had money because he was good at saving. That and his biggest expenses were usually gambling debts and elaborate pranks; two things he hadn't had any time for. So if he lost five marks, it wouldn't hurt him.

Another lackey with a dirty face reasoned, "If the sergeant is going to pay up, he could probably part with more than five measly marks. I say you make it a whole half Talant."

Key looked at Trudie expectantly, and she shook her head no.

"Fine, you can bring my winnings to the Sergeant's Quarters in less than a week. Don't make me have to find you," Key warned.

"Same," Taylor agreed and then corrected himself. "You know where the barracks is."

"I'm not sure about this," Trudie protested frantically. "I haven't really dueled anyone else except you guys."

"You'll be fine, just get in there and do your best," Key practically pushed her into the center of the ring. He didn't want to give anyone the chance to tease her for backing out.

"First to five?" Taylor asked.

"First to three," she replied.

A small crowd gathered, drawn in by Taylor's loud pronunciation and Key's minor fame from earlier that morning. Sergeants Allister and Jobe fought their way through the crowd and stood next to him in the front. Allister asked if she was good, and Key told him that Sefulu said she was the best.

Trudie held her sword with two hands and a by-the-book stance. Taylor, being much taller, held his with a lifted elbow and free hand out to the side. The stance would capitalize on his height advantage. It was good for quick, high jabs to the neck and with a twist of the hand, low arcing cuts to the abdomen, or in Trudie's case, also her neck.

"If I didn't trust you, I'd be betting against you right now," Allister admitted, not taking his eyes off the ring.

There was no ringing of a bell or blowing of a whistle; the two just began fighting. Taylor swung his weapon as hard as he could to test her defenses. Key had dueled people with similar strategies. It was an intimidation technique, and it either worked or it wore you out. Trudie didn't seem intimidated, but it was knocking her back. Instead of blocking, she switched to moving back at each swing. She took three steps back after three consecutive swings, but on the fourth, she dashed under the swing and jabbed him in the side of the rib cage.

"She's fast," Allister admitted, thankful that he hadn't made the bet after all.

Benj nodded and muttered his approval before all went quiet as the second round started.

This time, Taylor started taking her seriously. He played defensively, waiting for his opportunity to strike. Trudie made a few efforts to get inside his defenses, but not much happened besides them circling for a while, making periodic test swings. Then, all at once, it was over. Trudie swung up from the lower right, preemptively blocked an attack from her upper left, and slid her sword into his chest.

The score was two to zero, and Taylor looked mad.

"You'll regret that," he said, still rubbing the pain out of his chest.

"I'm not scared of you, I've been beaten by men half your size," came Trudie's characteristically unhinged response.

The third round started, and Taylor ran forward and swung as hard as he could with two hands. Trudie perried, but Taylor kept running and shoulder checked her onto the ground. It was a careless attack, but it worked. As if he hadn't already won the point, he swung his weapon against her sword arm and she cried out in pain.

Key rushed over to her to help her get back on her feet. "Are you okay?"

"He hit me while I was down; that was a dirty move, and he knows it," she growled as she got to her feet.

"I got this," she said, pushing Key away and picking up her weapon with her left hand. Her right was tucked uselessly over her chest; she couldn't use it. Still, she pressed on, walking to the center of the ring.

Key was mortified. He didn't know if she could even use her left hand. He was surprised by her resolution to continue fighting even though she was injured and could barely walk normally. Was that a limp? Her earlier words came to him and lit hope in his heart: "Look at this guy, I'll bet he's faking a limp so his opponent overestimates him."

Key leaned over and whispered to Allister, "Watch this," just as the fourth round began.

Trudie stood looking worse than she ever had. With her left hand, she held out a trembling practice sword. A grimace of pain flashed across her face, but she stood her ground. She looked like the type of wounded animal a predator would go after, and Taylor had blood in his eyes.

He tried the same technique from the previous round, charging forward with a two-handed swing. He was going to try shoulder-checking her again. She switched sword hands at the last moment and parried the attack like before. This time, just as he was about to shoulder check her, she ducked under his right side, hooked her weapon around his legs, and grabbed it by the blade with her free hand. She lifted and pulled, taking him off his feet and dumping him on his face. Decisively, she darted at him and swung with both hands as hard as she could at his sword arm. The contact made a thick slapping sound that reverberated through the silent crowd.

"Revenge is such a juvenile concept," she said, looking down at her defeated enemy. "It kind of feels kind of good though, huh?"

The crowd cheered for her as she walked without a limp, holding her sword arm high in the air. She basked in the glory of victory. This recognition was for her, and no one could take it away.

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