"Oh, I don't know," Byerly responds breezily. Or, well...With a faint strain in his voice that he hopes passes for breeziness. "I think you're not a true Vorrutyer until you have a body count. That's what my famous ancestor Le Sanguinaire thought, in any case. I suppose we do come from a softer time, though."

He gives a little jerk of his head a moment, an indication that he needs a rest. He stands, half slumped-over, catching his breath, and then straightens up and starts again.

"Anyway, I like my reputation. It serves me very well." Then, with a curl of his lips - "Nearly as well as yours serves you."