"Harry Hart. Damon Lassiter. Once you're done with your meals, both of you are wanted for a private meeting with your superiors."

Damon stared at Ian mid-chew before hastily gulping down the bite of oatmeal in his mouth. "Our superiors?"

"Merlin wants to speak to you," Ian replied tonelessly. "And Arthur wants to meet you, Harry."

Arthur. The name electrified Harry's brain. Could this be it? The final test that Basil had spoken of?

"I'll take you to the meeting rooms," Ian concluded. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the doorframe, quietly watching. Harry met Damon's eyes across the table, both sensing the finality of the moment. Once they parted ways, one of them would never set foot in Kingsman headquarters again.

May the best man win, indeed…

No sooner had Damon and Harry returned their dirty dishes that Ian whisked them away, leading them down the corridor to an elevator. When Hesse squeezed in behind Damon, Harry lifted Mr. Pickle into his arms and followed. At the first stop, Ian urged everyone out.

"Arthur's waiting for you in the library." Ian indicated the room at the end of the hallway. "Good luck."

"Thank you," Harry said, setting Mr. Pickle down on the floor. He steadied himself and watched as Ian led Damon off into an adjacent room, before making for the end of the hall. The dark wood doors were closed, so Harry knocked.

"Come in," called a polished, refined voice. Harry opened the door and walked in, Mr. Pickle following closely at his heels. A single glance rewarded him with a wide expanse of books, from wall to wall. But Harry paid little attention to anything besides the man seated before him. His hair was pale and thin, his face lined with age, and he wore an elegant suit and glasses. On the table next to him sat a half-empty decanter, a full glass, and a pistol.

Arthur.

"Harry Hart," Arthur said. "I've heard so much about you. Please take a seat." He gestured to the chair across from him. Harry obeyed, calling for his dog to sit as well. "Heel, Mr. Pickle." Arthur eyed the dog fondly.

"Interesting name for the little chap."

"He's an interesting dog, sir," Harry replied. Under Arthur's piercing gaze, he expected nervousness to set in, but there was no hesitation. Curiosity ruled more than anything, a strong desire to see if Arthur was the sort of man to live up to Basil's praise.

Arthur chuckled hoarsely, reaching for his drink. "I've heard a lot about you from Agent Percival. He tells me you're at the top of the class."

Harry nodded. "So it seems."

"Well, allow me to offer my sincerest congratulations," Arthur said. He took a sip from his glass and continued. "Regardless of the outcome of your final test, it's been an honor having you here to work with Kingsman."

As Harry watched closely, Arthur set his drink down and then picked up the pistol. He weighed it ponderingly in his hands, and the smallest flicker of unease went through Harry. What if the test involved hurting-

No. No. Shut that thought out. You're not going to end up injured.

Arthur offered the gun to Harry, and he took it with the gentlest touch. Wildly his mind switched gears- he's not going to ask me to shoot HIM, is he?

No… he wouldn't dare…

"This weapon is live," said Arthur gravely. "Shoot the dog."

A bright grin fell across Damon's face as Ian led him into the room where Noel was waiting. "Good morning, sir. What's the occasion?"

"No occasion," Noel said coolly. He waited for Ian to join him at his side before offering the pistol in his hand to Damon. Confusion swam through Damon's eyes, but he easily accepted it.

"Tell your dog to sit," Noel said. Damon did, and Hesse loyally followed his command. Noel cleared his throat.

"Damon Lassiter, you've been a fine candidate in our program. You should be proud of the work you've accomplished here, whether or not you become our next Galahad."

"Thank you, sir," Damon said, dipping his head. "From the bottom of my heart, I mean it. Thank you for everything."

Noel did not react to Damon's words. Instead his gaze shifted to Hesse, and inevitably Ian's gaze followed his.

"The weapon in your hand is live," Noel said. "Shoot the dog."

Arthur's command felt like a white-hot blade shoved into Harry's stomach. He kept his gaze trained on the pistol, unable to face either Arthur or Mr. Pickle, for fear of what he might find from them.

His first instinct was to resist. I CAN'T shoot the dog. Merlin said the dog represented teamwork. And lack of teamwork was the very thing that had led to disaster during the first test. Destroying a symbol of something so important was unthinkable.

Then reason kicked in, Basil's voice swimming through his brain- "A man like Arthur deserves your utmost respect." This was an order from Arthur, of all people. Not a stranger or a man in disguise, but Arthur, Kingsman's leader, the man Basil praised to the end of the earth. He couldn't ignore an order so important and direct. The man had told Harry to shoot the dog, and shoot the dog he must. He must.

The only question left was whether he had it in him to follow through on that order- which must be the test. Ignoring the order would be to ignore Kingsman, to turn his back on everything it stood for.

Harry lifted the gun and turned it onto Mr. Pickle. The act itself felt like a sort of betrayal, especially as he met Mr. Pickle's eager gaze. For heaven's sake, he has no idea what's going on. It was unfair to shoot such an innocent creature…

But then a new voice rang in Harry's head, one that belonged not to Basil, but to himself.

Kingsman is the best thing that's ever HAPPENED to me! OF COURSE IT'S WORTH DYING FOR!

Immediately a spark of energy surged through Harry, and he gripped the gun more tightly, emboldened. Yes! Hadn't he just told Basil of how he wasn't going back to his old home if he could help it? Hadn't Basil shown him everything that could be his if he succeeded, promised that Kingsman would always have a place for him? Hadn't Kingsman provided him with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, one that he would never get back in a million years?

Yes.

Harry had been ready to lay down his own life for Kingsman. Sacrificing a dog meant nothing in the long run.

Swallowing heavily, Harry aimed for Mr. Pickle's eager smile, set his finger on the trigger, and fired.

Horror spilled across Damon's face at Noel's demand. His eyes immediately darted to Hesse, then back to Noel, then to Hesse again. He opened his mouth, on the verge of protesting, before realization sunk in. Ian could see it in his open expression. This is a test… This is THE test.

For a long moment Damon stood frozen, the gun all but forgotten in his hand. His eyes narrowed, and he bit his lip, trying to work up the nerve to pull the trigger. Then all at once a look of relief spread across his face. In an oddly calm manner, Damon held out the pistol, offering it back to Noel.

"No, sir." The words were said just as clearly as I won't. Ian looked to Noel to see if this was the test's proper conclusion, but Noel's face remained blank. He took the pistol back, turning it over in his hands.

Another pause followed. Ian wondered what was supposed to happen. Is Noel waiting for a different reaction? Does Damon get a second chance? Damon seemed to be wondering the same, because his gaze flickered back to the gun. Uncertainty scrawled across his face, questioning his decision.

Then, from the next room over, a shot rang out.

"Damon," Noel said at once, solemnly. "Head back to the barracks. Your work here is done."

Damon's brow furrowed, and he stared down at Hesse, frowning.

"I'm sorry, sir. Did I-"

"Go home, Damon," Noel intoned, emphasizing the point.

"Ah," Damon mouthed, finally realizing. Now that it was clear he was out of the program, an ironic cheer began to settle over him. Or perhaps he's merely relieved he doesn't have to kill his dog. Damon snapped his fingers, bringing said dog to attention. She hopped up on all fours, and Damon gave her a pat on the head.

"Merlin," he said. "You weren't joking when you said we could take the dogs home, were you?"

"Would I joke about such an important souvenir?" Noel countered.

Damon let out a short, strained laugh. "I suppose not. Thank you for everything, Merlin. I wish nothing but the best for you and Kingsman." With that, he turned on his heel and exited, Hesse following her master all the way.

Almost immediately after Damon had left, Ian rounded on Noel. "If I might ask, what did I just see?"

"You saw the final test, of course," Noel said. He turned Ian around before raising the pistol. Aiming for the wall, he fired one shot.

The sound split the air, causing Ian to involuntarily clap his hands over his ears. But smoke was all that issued from the gun barrel.

Slowly it dawned on Ian, and he turned to Noel. "There were blanks in those guns."

Noel nodded. "Kingsman doesn't take lives unnecessarily, Ian. Not even the lives of dogs."

He set the weapon aside and faced Ian, laying a hand on his shoulder. Slightly bewildered, all Ian could do was stare at Noel, wordlessly begging him to explain.

"Teamwork is extremely important to our organization," Noel said. "You heard me say that on the second day of training. But sometimes, it's more important to know when to leave someone behind." For a split second pain flashed in his eyes, as if recalling a heavy memory, but the emotion was gone before Ian could register it.

"It's always a tough decision, Ian, and I can promise you it never gets easier. But you always have to understand the situation. Remember that sometimes, a Kingsman agent can't save the world. We must try to at all costs, but we're only human, and sometimes our best isn't enough."

Ian closed his eyes, accepting the answer. No wonder Damon had looked so agonized at Noel's order. Deciding who to save and who to leave behind was too much of a responsibility for a man as careless and fun-loving as he was. Damon had entered Kingsman looking for a way to enjoy himself, and no matter how much he had learned, that was all it would ever be to him. Harry Hart, however, apparently had the right mindset to take on the job, and so it was he who succeeded where Damon failed.

"Are you all right, Ian?" Noel's gentle voice reached his ears. Ian opened his eyes and nodded, and Noel withdrew his touch.

"Oh, I'm fine." Ian took a deep breath. "I just wanted to thank you for all you've taught me during this program. It's been an amazing experience. Thanks for everything, Noel."

Wordlessly, Noel leaned forward and gathered Ian into a hug. Pleasantly surprised, Ian hugged him back.

"You're very welcome," Noel said when he pulled away, breaking into a secretive smile. "But I'm not done with you yet."

Harry tried to force himself not to look away, but as soon as the shot went off he couldn't help but squeeze his eyes shut, not wanting to witness the aftermath. However, his eyes sprang back open when he heard a high-pitched whine, the sound of an animal in fear rather than one in the throes of death. Mr. Pickle, terrified by the shot, had sought refuge under the chair, trembling.

Alive.

"Mr. Pickle!" All potential questions, such as why was the gun filled with blanks, flew out of Harry's mind, relief coloring his voice. Forgetting Arthur, he rose from the chair and dropped to the floor, reaching out to his dog. "Mr. Pickle, it's okay…" Tremors ran through the dog's body, but eventually he came close enough to give Harry's hand a lick. Harry scooped him up and got back on his feet- and that was when he noticed that Arthur had risen from his chair, looking tremendously pleased.

"Well done." Satisfaction dripped from every word. "Percival will be overjoyed to hear that you've passed the test."

Passed the test. Passed the test. The words spun around and around in Harry's head. He fought to keep the joy from breaking out across his face.

"Percival can't be here to congratulate you personally," Arthur continued. "But he asked me to give you this gift should you succeed." He reached into his pocket and drew out a house key, with a ribbon threaded through its hole. Harry's heart surged, and he had to refrain from snatching it out of Arthur's hand.

"Thank you, Arthur," he breathed. Beaming, Arthur held out his hand.

"Welcome to Kingsman, Galahad."

AN: From the depths of my heart, thanks to everyone who read and commented on this fic! Your feedback means a lot. Thanks as well to my friend and editor RafaelaFranzen, who spent almost a year painstakingly helping me craft this story to perfection.

The sequel to this story, The Path of a Kingsman, will be posted in the distant future. It features more action, more drama, and plenty of romance. For now, I hope everyone enjoys The Golden Circle and whatever fics may come from it!