Quelgrum's brow furrowed, and Drex's face contorted into an expression of rage. “If you really want to know, I was trained by an utter cow called Sister Melana. She took her eyes off me for a moment while she ate. I punched her in the back of her neck. She fell to the ground, and I brained her with her plate. She stopped moving. I hope I killed the little slut. I kept to the shadows ‘til I found my way down to the coal store. There was nobody there-there almost never is-and I escaped through the delivery chute."

The intensity of her scowl stunned Grimm, and he felt his heart swelling with pride at his beloved's fortitude and resourcefulness. “You see, General? There's no conspiracy here. This is Drex, for goodness’ sake!"

Guy Great Flame sauntered into view, twirling his Mage Staff in the manor of a bandmaster. “Hullo!” he said, his mouth crinkling in a half-smile. “What do we have here, a drowned rat? Be careful you don't catch anything off it!"

Grimm felt his dislike of the proud Questor fulminating into sheer, scarlet hatred. “Don't you dare talk about Drex like that!"

He realised his protesting squeak sounded more callow adolescent than Seventh Rank Mage, but he did not care.

Guy raised a sardonic eyebrow. “So, this is your vaunted housekeeper? I must say, Dragonblaster, I insist on a stricter dress code for the hired help in my house."

The younger mage took his own Mage Staff, Redeemer, in a two-handed grip and stepped forward, his face contorted in rage.

"Think you can handle it, youngster? If so, feel free; I'd love you to try."

Grimm felt Guy's cool, self-assured manner fanning the fires of wrath within him to such intensity that they threatened to consume him.