I'm a mage. Though wait, I forgot. Everyone suffers equally, my mistake. Truly every group has been treated as below every other, had their worthiness doubted.

[He can see the anger in Michel's eyes and knows another blow to pride has landed, another offense taken. The Chevalier wears altogether too much on his sleeve and thinks himself above it, above everyone. It's satisfying to land a blow.]

Don't you have somewhere to flee to? With your wound still intact? Beyond your pride, because I can tell that's wounded too.