The apartment was still, which was common, but the slight rustling sounds that came from the bedroom made Mal suspicious.

It was when he stepped carefully into the bedroom that he realized that the other inhabitant of the home was throwing clothes frantically into a large bag, scrolls lying askew in the otherwise neatly arranged room.

He watched as his lover carried robes to the bag, before pondering over a number of scrolls and tossing them in as well. Mal watched the slightly built short blonde for a moment before his lover almost tripped over a scroll, then succeeded and fell into a heap of limbs and bruises.

"Sera, what are you doing?" Mal pushed a dark red lock of hair away from his face and helped his lover up before deftly plucking the offending scroll from the floor and opening it. 

The scroll was suddenly taken from his hands as his lover answered, half thinking it seemed, "Leaving."

"What?" Mal pulled the younger man into his lap and collapsed on the bed. "Seraphim, darling, if you're upset at me, you tell me, you don't leave!"

Seraphim looked up at him with enormous brown eyes as his spectacles slipped slightly down his nose and his mouth opened a little before he shook the shock out of his face. "No! No, no, Mal, I'm not leaving you...I'm going to start a project."

There was a sudden silence, and Mal looked around. "You muddle-brained scholar, you didn't tell me that you had sudden interest in a project."

Seraphim lifted himself off his lover's lap and nodded. "Sorry, it just came up. The opportunity...you understand! I was offered a wonderful opportunity, a wonderful chance!" He resumed stuffing his enormous bag, and Mal raised one eyebrow before sighing in an almost melodramatic fashion. It was typical of Seraphim to pick up projects quickly after finishing one - he should have expected it. The small, studious scholar was swift to resume his studies; and after he had finished one paper, he would snap up the chance to write another one as soon as it came up. 

It didn't make life for Mal easy. Mal was a Principial guard who didn't have the same kind of passionate devotion to his calling as his lover did, but was willing to support all of Seraphim's pet projects. Unfortunately, the cost of paper had been going up, not to mention the cost of funding an almost hermit-like scholar who didn't typically subscribe to the usual fare of public reading. 

He looked around quickly, praying to every god he knew for a good answer before asking, "What's this new project, love?"

"Keys." Seraphim's distracted voice emerged from behind the bed, and he couldn't see Mal's reaction. 

Mal tried to find a way around the bed, but clutter deterred his movement. "You're researching whores?"

Seraphim's face appeared from behind the bed as he explained, "They're not really whores, Mal..."

"Then what would you call them?"

"...because calling them whores would imply that they were sold to whoever can pay their prices on a night-by-night basis...."

"And they aren't?"

"...they're more like sex-slaves."

There was a very pregnant pause.

"You don't want me to take this project, do you?" Seraphim stood, his skinny arms filled with scrolls and bits of stray parchment paper. He dumped all his papers on the bed and kneeled on the edge. 

Mal took a deep breath, closed his eyes and released it with a measure of dignity. "No...you know that I want you to do what you like..."

"...but..."

Mal opened his eyes and crawled over the bed. "But nothing. I want you to do what makes you happy. And if researching Keys makes you happy...then I'll do what I can to support you." He took Seraphim's face in his hands and kissed him gently, his lips lingering for a couple of extra moments before releasing him.

"Thank you, Mal."

The Palace of Keys was a magnificent building that hugged the capital's northern border, at the edge of the woods. The grounds spanned more space than the Principial Home, which was snug in the capital's center. Mal had been to the Palace once, as a guard for the Prince of Night, who had decided to take a short vacation from his wife. It was a well-known fact that many nobles of the Principy had Keys, and all three of the Princes also owned Keys - they often spent their free time in the Palace. 

Mal couldn't believe that he was bringing his sweet, delicate Seraphim to the Palace of Keys for his research. 

Seraphim bounced, jostled on the back of Mal's horse. He snuggled his cheek against Mal's back and closed his eyes, excited for himself as they approached the Palace. He wanted to know what it was like to be a beautiful treasure that was so valuable that they were locked away in rooms, what it was like to be the toys of the most owerful men in the city.

Seraphim loved Mal to death, but he was far from one of the most powerful men in the city.

He had decided to take the Key project when his cousin - another scholar, but infinitely more noted than him - had died, leaving the Key project unfinished. As part of his will he had left Seraphim a great deal of his library, a portion of it containing the beginning part of the research needed to begin the Key project. As Seraphim leafed through the pages and read about the concept of Keys and why they were a necessary part of high-class society, his interest peaked. However, the notes and the research ended with a frustratingly unsatisfying note on the theory behind it, not with any solid field notes. 

Seraphim decided that he needed to finish what his cousin had left behind.

He planned to live in the Palace for a bit, not as a Master, of course, but as a scholar, taking space where he could and interviewing the Keys as he needed to. He was certain that the head of the Palace would allow for him to do this - he was, after all, a scholar, and was planning to publish his findings and his paper by the end of the year.

They arrived at the Palace as the sun was setting, and the broad, open lobby was spotlessly clean, and rather empty. The clerk at the desk looked vaguely bored for a moment, but as soon as he realized that there was someone coming in, he sat up straight and smiled broadly, welcoming Seraphim and Mal warmly. 

"Welcome to the Palace of Keys, gentlemen! Do you have a Key, or are you in the business of purchasing one?"

Seraphim shook his head and spoke before Mal had a chance to reply, "No, no...I'm here to research Keys? Um...I was hoping to speak to the head of the palace?"

The man at the desk's smile faltered for a moment before he turned quickly to his side. He asked, "Will you be purchasing a Key?"

"No, I'm here to research!" Seraphim bit his lower lip and then continued, "I'm Seraphim Eres, and I am a scholar of human behavior and sociology. I was hoping write a paper on the place of Keys in society."

The man looked genuinely perplexed, and stuttered, "So you won't be purchasing a Key?"

Seraphim looked up at Mal, a confused look on his face. "I...said I wasn't going to, right?"

Mal shrugged and nodded, then was about to attempt to explain again when the man shook his head and opened his book. "I must tell you, that if you plan to remain here for any sort of time, you must purchase a Key."

"But..."

"I'm sorry, sir, but the regulations clearly state that any one person who wishes to spend extended time with a Key must be the owner of the said Key. Now, may I interest you in one?"

Seraphim looked up at Mal, helplessness in his eyes. Mal shrugged and asked, "How much does it cost for a Key?"

The man looked confused again, then opened his book to another page and turned it. "Usually we do not discuss prices with the customer, but I will make an exception for this case. The open Keys are marked - please take your pick."

Seraphim looked over the prices and his eyes widened. He looked up at Mal and squeaked, "Wow. I didn't know they were so expensive!"

Mal shrugged and murmured, "Well, write that in your notes - we'll find something for you, alright love?" He leafed through pages and looked intently at the prices while Seraphim tried to scribble various amounts in his notes. 

Finally the clerk sighed and suggested, "Perhaps you would like to purchase one of our more...economical Keys?"

Mal looked up suddenly and agreed, "Yes. That would be preferable."

"Then may I suggest the Gargoyle Key? He has been a Key for quite some time, and I assure you that he is highly trained and very well-versed in all forms of pleasure."

Mal looked at Seraphim, who was still taking notes, his charcoal stick staining his fingers with black. He took a sudden deep breath and leaned in to speak to the clerk. "This Gargoyle Key is highly trained?"

The man nodded, and leaned in to hear Mal's whispering. 

"Seraphim is...delicate. And naïve. But he's especially mine. And while I am willing to let him do what he wants - I'm really not sure if I want him sleeping with this Key."

The clerk smiled and softly replied, "I don't think that it will be a problem, sir."

Mal took Seraphim's face and kissed him several times before telling him, "You take your time. Do what you need to do - don't worry about the money, alright?"

Seraphim nodded and kissed him back, replying and muttering, "I'll be fine...this shouldn't take more than a month."

Mal sighed and promised, "As soon as I have time, I'll come visit you, love. Just...be careful. Don't get in anyone's way. And don't upset any of the real Masters with prodding questions, you understand?"

Seraphim nodded as he watched a page take away his enormous bag, struggling to pull it along the scrubbed stone halls. He hugged Mal one last time before he left.

The clerk pulled out a large polished wood box, and opened it in front of Seraphim. Inside there lay an oversized granite key, the handle shaped like a stylized gargoyle with its mouth wide open. The shaft was thick and the lock that it fit must have been overly simple due to the wideness of the teeth. 

The clerk nodded to the key and stated, "This is the key to the room. You are the only one with access to this Key, and I urge you to guard it."

Seraphim nodded, then blinked. "Is that speech standard?"

"What?" The clerk looked confused for a moment, then stammered, "Y-yes. That's a standard speech."

"Oh." Seraphim pulled out his charcoal pen and asked, "Could you please repeat what you just said?"

The clerk set down the box and repeated the speech word for word as Seraphim frantically scribbled, slipped the parchment back into a pocket of his thick winter robe. Finally he noticed the box sitting neglected on the table, picked it up and nodded at the clerk, following the page that looked vaguely amused and mildly horrified.

The page led Seraphim to a door, a large polished wood door of rich mahogany, which had a large keyhole. Seraphim turned to the page, who smirked at him a little before disappearing with a superfluous bow. Seraphim shrugged, then fumbled with the catch on the box before finally opening it and removing the key.

He stood before the door like that for a couple of moments, holding on to the feeling of anticipation. He wondered what the man on the other side of the door would look like - would he be refreshingly young, or a bit older and more experienced? In his cousin's research he encountered the mention of legendary Keys with magical powers - would his Key be magical? Would he be stunningly beautiful, or roguishly handsome?

His stomach clenched with nervousness as he eased the stone key into the lock, and the feeling increased as he slowly turned it, and the sound of each tumbler falling into place seeming to echo through the hall. 

Finally he grasped the wooden door's handle, turned it, and the door swung open.

The first thing that Seraphim noted about the rooms was the simplicity of them. There were two charming long couches at the end of the main room which framed a fireplace that had a blazing fire burning in it to keep out the cold. Polished wood made up the mantle, which was covered in a number of what appeared to be children's toys. 

As Seraphim stepped in, he glimpsed a movement in his peripheral vision. He turned, and his mouth dropped in shock.

That's a Key?

The man that stood in front of him was easily a foot and a half taller than him, and built a great deal like Mal - built like a Principial guard. His face was square, and almost brutish in appearance, and his scruffy black hair was tied back in a short horse-tail. His nose was crooked, highly, with the look that it had been broken several times in different places.

He was far from anything that Seraphim had ever imagined.

The man smiled, and it was highly lopsided. "Master, I am the Gargoyle Key."

"Oh." Seraphim closed his mouth abruptly, then nodded, and offered his hand, "I'm Seraphim Eres. You can call me Sera, if you like...but if you're more comfortable with Master, I understand."

"Which are you more comfortable with?" The Gargoyle Key's voice was deep and booming, rasping up through his throat and was hoarse. Seraphim assumed that he did not have a cold, but that his voice was indeed like that all the time.

"Well...Sera is fine. Or Seraphim. What's your name?" Seraphim's finger's flittered nervously to his charcoal stick and he pulled a scrap of parchment before he began to meticulously take notes.

"Leal Grigori, Master Seraphim." He smiled again, and invited Seraphim to the couch with an extended arm. "Please, come over and sit."