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"Original key vent..."

Kostya began to sweat beneath his collar.

"That vas original key?" he said, and it came out as a warble of a question instead of an answer. It was the same key: it had looked the same, felt the same (through the cloth, at any rate), and... "Vas the vun I picked up."

With a look of utmost resignation, Kostya laid his left hand on the desk. He forced himself to look at it, to keep looking at it, no matter what might happen.

This was his bed. He'd made it, and now he'd lay in it.

Kostya looked at Otto and Shiloh, helpless, simply shaking his head as if to say stay back. He'd done this. It would be a wonder if Caelius would ever accept him into the division at all.

Caelius pulled a knife, and it was silly because Dragons Didn't Use Swords Mister Caelius Dragon, but apparently the universe didn't care about the logistics of dragon claws and opposable thumbs. He carved a line into Kostya's palm.

Some people took pain in stride, with dignity and with candour.

Kostya was not among them.

He emitted a screech that was only muffled by his other hand clasping over his mouth, but made no move to jerk his hand out of Caelius' grip, lest the Death Leader decide to take out a bit more than a few drops of blood.

It was sort of like watching a train wreck move in slow motion. Reaching was the key verb; the next second and Shiloh was flat against the desk staring right at the polished very sharp knife.

"Is there a problem." The knife slammed blade tip down not even an inch in front of Shiloh's right eye, pegging the lapel of his coat to the table. There it would remain as Caelius stood up, literally pulling Kostya's hand up with him as if it didn't come attached to a person and wasn't dripping blood. He actually seemed pretty unconvinced about the whole hand and dripping ordinary blood thing and then, giving Kostya a rather unreadable expression, dropped his hold on the trainee.

His eyes scanned over to Otto, whom he seemed to almost expect to join the circus troupe, though thankfully the senior Hunter knew much, much better and then back to Kostya. The Death lead sat back down, ignoring Shiloh altogether. "The truth is often undervalued. There are always signs to point out inconsistencies, physical flaws and simple, menial lies. Your failed mission, Konstatin, does not warrant a promising future for your record, but your truth and the the consistency of truth has allowed negotiation. Hunters only receive things they deserve. No Hunter deserves a second chance, however, they may negotiate their use."

He paused and pulled out from his drawer a folder. Inside were photocopies of different shaped keys. "There are two currently on this Island in posession. Find and bring at least one of the two and don't ******** touch it." He handed the photocopy over to Kostya, eyes still on the trainee. "I will repeat myself. No Hunter deserves a second chance. If I find you have been negligent in this simple task, you will be permanently relieved of your duties as a Hunter and I am very good at finding the truth. I hope I make myself very clear."

A longer pause as he finally relinquished the paper. "Otto, Konstatin, you are dismissed."

There was a problem, but the words describing said problem got lost in the back of his throat as the blade of the knife flew dangerously close past his face and into the lapel of his coat, pinning him effectively to the table lest he shrug his jacket off and run. The back of his neck prickled at the thought of what the consequence to that would be, as if the air were already filled with the static, humming current. He’d stupidly opened his big mouth again and already, almost immediately he was chastising himself but at least Caelius was releasing Kostya, at least the knife was embedded in his jacket and not further into Kostya’s hand.

Shiloh liked Kostya. He didn’t want to see him hurt.

He didn’t want to seem himself get hurt, either, but it always came as an afterthought, like how he now stood quietly half hunched over the table while Caelius explained to Kostya the terms of his endeavor. Shiloh was curious, he always was, and even though one portion of his brain was worrying over his fate, the other half tuned it out, soaking up every detail of information.

Then Caelius was sitting down, and Kostya and Otto were dismissed and Shiloh's curiosity went with them. The rest of him remained, however, not daring to speak another word.

Caelius hadn’t moved from his chair but Shiloh knew he was in trouble. He’d tried to be a hero again, in a situation that in retrospect hardly warranted it and in doing so he’d disobeyed the terms of their negotiation.

Kostya, on the other hand, had managed to leave relatively unscathed, minus the slice in said hand, his skills in diplomacy far exceeding those of Shiloh’s. Shiloh’s instinct to protect himself had finally kicked in, as he remained bowed before the king but it was about five minutes too late and of no use to him now.

“It means I’ve done something wrong, sir,” Shiloh with a hang of his head, eyes glued to the table.