[ Kostos makes it through the remainder of the sentence he's writing in silence, teeth grit. But nothing kills an internal temper tantrum quite as effectively as having the source of it nearly directly addressed. That doesn't mean he's much happier, when he does set down his pen and look at Ilias again, but it shifts toward general irritation over his existence, his whole calm and collected aura, his title, and the fact that he is absolutely, indisputably going to be helpful.

How dare he.

Kostos glares at him in silence for a few more seconds for good measure. But, ]

We have been trying to determine what caused them to attack in the Grand Necropolis. We have narrowed it down to a problem with the body rather than—

[ A stumble, a pause. ]

The body is affecting whatever spirit I bind to it.