The door closed behind Elise de Bellefeuille with a click, leaving the Kavi and Jupani facing each other. As soon as they're alone, Kaalaas bursts out, "Tsagairt, you can't possibly be serious! I work alone! I'm not a babysitter! And giving me a Dagh-cursed noble poodle and de-Kavi-killer-Bellefeuille to boot – this is preposterous!"

The wolf watches her through narrowed eyes burning with cold fury. "Are you through, Executor Majoris?"

"No! I'm not done! I'm not done until you rescind this ridiculous order and send that woman away! Just tell me this is all some sick joke, Tsagairt – "

Her words are cut off abruptly as the wolf's hand lashes forward, wrapping around her throat. Her eyes widen in surprise and fear as he lifts the Kavi bodily from the floor, and slams her against the wall. Tsagairt leans in close, muzzle inches from hers, holding her by one hand with her feet dangling above the floor. "My title, Kaalaas, is Arch Inquisitor. You will call me Arch Inquisitor. Say it, girl. Say it." He shifts his grip to press his palm against her collarbone, easing the pressure enough for her to breathe.

The Kavi's fingers curl around the hilt of the dagger she wears at her waist. "… Arch Inquisitor… "

"Good." His eyes glance to her hand, then back to her face. He pushes the heel of his hand upwards, grinding it into her windpipe. "You want to fight me, girl? You wanna fight? Go ahead. Draw that pigsticker. Let's have it out, right here, right now, you and me. You think you're a match for me? Go on. Let's do this."

The mongoose's head tilts back, pressing against the wall in an effort to ease the pressure on her throat. Slowly, she shakes her head, releasing the hilt of her weapon.

Tsagairt shifts his hand again to let her breathe. "No? All right then. Understand this: I am your Arch Inquisitor. What I say goes. You do not defy my orders, you do not question my judgement, and you do not tell me what to do. Ever. If I tell you your next mission is helping Temple Scouts sell cookies, you salute me, say 'Yes sir,' and go do it. You are whatever the Dagh I say you are, Kaalaas."

The Executor swallows, staring at him. "Gaelan – "

The wolf's fingers clench around her throat, and he lifts her away from the wall, pivots ninety degrees, and steps forward, slamming her into a different one. "Wrong," he snarls. "I made you my Executor Majoris, girl. I did it because I thought you were right for the job. Don't make me regret that, girl." Tsagairt leans closer still, snarling in her ear, "You don't want to disappoint me."

He shifts his head back, watching fear, anger, and pain war in Kaalaas's eyes. She neither cries out nor whimpers, only stares back at him, unmoving. "You are not required to like Bellefeuille, Kaalaas," he tells her. "You don't have to be nice to her, you don't even have to be polite. She's your Secundus and you can do whatever the Dagh you think is appropriate to get her trained up. If she doesn't meet your standards, too bad for her and she's out. But you are required to give her a chance. If she can do the job, then it's hers, whether you like it or not. If. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," the Kavi whispers. Her arms form awkwardly into a Temple salute, the best she can manage in her current position.

"Good." He releases his grip, and she drops to the floor, her body trembling involuntarily. The wolf steps away, brushing at his uniform to straighten it, while Kaalaas rubs a hand against her throat, sagging against the wall where he left her. "Sit," he orders, pointing to the chairs before the desk. She does so, not looking at him, her hands clenching against the arms of the chair. He watches her back for a few moments, then opens the door to the antechamber. "Bellefeuille," he says.