“I would like to apologise for my actions during the recent spring fertility festival. While I hope we can agree that the virgins stumbling and falling into the bonfire was nobody’s fault, I should have taken greater actions to save them. Indeed, it was far too soon for me to open my arms to the flames, offer their pure souls to the quint-coloured mother and beg her eternal blessing. It was an inappropriate time for funerary rites. I hope you can forgive me.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! It was a fertility. Festival! It is my job to offer prayers as the fertility rituals are being performed, and now you want to condemn me for it? When I was some distance from the entire event? Are we then to assume that every famine our village suffered before I arrived was due to you drinking in the local tavern, Ser Idiot? I can understand this is a difficult time for you, but don’t let your grief blind you! I will overlook this baseless accusation this once, but only once.”