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"Your Grace," Vargas sidles up to Deus. "I'm looking at our fighters and thinking: do they have what it takes to make their weapons sing? For instance, milord von Himmel — he's very good at shooting, I myself barely managed to dodge his attacks, yet the quartermaster issued him a stock bow! As a result, he couldn't snatch victory from milady Stefania, for whom my respect is beyond all praise. Here, of course, skill won out, but it also feels that equipment could have played a role to some small extent. Or, for example, milord Yin — he always helps us, is exquisitely gallant, I love him more than anyone. But there's something about it, as if he's sometimes lacking a bit of impact — specifically in a confrontation situation. Exclusively in comparison with other colleagues — who have artifact upon artifact — and they don't hesitate to use them for victory," he glances at scout Orvald changing his barding, then at the crowd of bristling Albusians. "Just a thought, nothing more. I am guilty of my own observant nature."
"Victory should not be stained by a bloody veil of impatience, darkening the eyelids and tarnishing honor." — In modern youth slang, this might mean something like "seriously? couldn't find a better time to ask this than right before the start of the regional team battle that I myself initiated? dude... well, that's mega-disrespect," but fortunately or unfortunately, Deus did not possess such vocabulary. "A better time than the present will come for this."