"Since I first met you, all you've ever done is to belittle and disparage people. It seems to me you consider yourself the acme of your own little universe, so enjoy it while you may.

"You're a Questor, just like me, so I know you didn't always dress in silk finery; whether you like it or not, you're no different to me."

Guy opened his mouth, but Grimm glared at him with an intensity born of a hatred for the Prioress that even the old witch's hate-filled grandson could never hope to match. The older man seemed to be pushed back by the ferocity of the Dragonblaster's passion, and he remained silent: a minor victory in itself.

"You may feel slighted because you felt you should have had better treatment in your House's Scholasticate,” Grimm said, “but I grew up with the ever-present assumption that penury and maltreatment were my inevitable lot in life. You hate your grandmother, Lizaveta, because she condemned you to a life below your expectations; I detest her because I know she caused my grandfather's name-my name-to be reviled throughout the Guild."

Realising his fists were tightly clenched, Grimm relaxed them. His fight was not against Guy Great Flame; it was against the witch, Lizaveta, the root cause of both mages’ problems.

"What would you rather be?” he continued. “An anonymous pauper despised for his lack of social status but respected for his success in the Ordeal; or the Renegade's Spawn, loathed for his grandfather's treason? I have laboured under that stigma since I was seven years old, and I grew up believing that it was all true: my beloved grandfather was a damned, bloody murderer! Now, I know Lizaveta was behind all of that, and I intend to make her pay for every single insult I had to endure as a Student.

"Compared to what I had to face as a child, Great Flame, your life must have been a bloody picnic!"