What should've been the most important and revelatory discovery of Bragi's young life had been replaced by fear, shame, and the sad realisation that kind Mr Sterling had always just been a cannon waiting to go off. Bragi felt rotten that he should be the one to light the fuse.

He could not bring himself to tear his eyes away from the man's glowering face, but if he had he would've noticed that he and Galahad had in fact wandered straight into the open barn, just as its owner had said, perhaps far too used to the open, casual system back home. He hadn't been thinking. He'd behaved like an entitled child.

Now said door slammed shut and locked. Galahad gave a nervous whinny, and, despite himself, Bragi shuffled a bit closer to him by way of comfort. But there was no comfort to be found here as Mr Sterling threatened him further. Bragi raised a hand to hurriedly wipe tears from his cheek, ashamed of them, but only succeeded in smearing blood across his face. He looked a broken mess.

"N-no, sir", he replied when asked if he had any propriety, for evidently he did not. His parents would be ashamed of him. Mr Wilson would be too. Would his well-to-do neighbours in North Bartonburg still have him if they knew he was no better than a burglar? He allowed himself to feel his injured hands as much as possible, knowing he deserved the pain; but it didn't stop him fearing what could come next, as Mr Sterling shot menacing sparks from his wand.