They are not ordinary men, anymore. They can put out our fires as easily as we light them, they can cut us from casting entirely, they can—I do not know what they call it, but it fucking hurts. And when we are without magic, their tin suits and their swords put them at a small [ teensy, minuscule ] advantage. We were at war, before Corypheus arrived, and we were losing. If we return to war tomorrow, we will return to losing.

[ A lecture. He used to teach. He was pretty shitty at it. But, with that out of the way, and Iorveth's assurances he knows who deserves to be lit on fire in this situation, he is left feeling somewhat more charitable. ]

You would lose a war, too. And that is not what any of us wanted. Be careful.