Talsarios appears incensed. His face flushes as he jabs an accusatory finger at his host with a hiss: "No-one died but my man Gregoras - and he was a half-starved weakling with no more than a leather jerkin to keep him safe, while you, sir, are wont to clank about in a suit of mail with half my own mass on you in fatty padding! Gods save us from your prudence and caution, Brandon!"
He half pulls the longsword from his scabbard and points to it. "You dare question my bravery! Did I not get into the fore of the fight? Is there no goblin blood on this blade? Am I not a quarter of your size, and bereft of armour or training?
"If your price to do your duty by your allies is my own peril, have no doubt I will pay it, that you must know! But if you press this point then I shall never trust my judgement of a man's honour again, and perhaps it would be best I take my leave to go sleep in the street."