"Oh? Well, ain't you all high and mighty, son? Work here sure isn't for the faint of heart, or some high-bred rich boy who got a nice, new sword, and wants to test it out, then go home and cry to the other richies about how he risked his life, and suffered so many painful injuries, and how he leads such a tough life. And if that's you, then just turn right around and go on home, because we've got more than enough of that kind, loitering around here and stirring up more problems than they solve." He harrumphs, and puffs out an angry cloud of smoke, studying Draiss.