In turn, Lambert doesn't get what's so funny about what he just said, but he snorts softly at Childermass's answer.

"Too good to get his magic dirty? Doesn't sound so different from back home." And he'll mirror the act of pouring himself a fresh drink, both pleased and a little annoyed that he's keeping pace -- between the two of them, the bottle is going fast, and he's only just starting to feel the warm buzz creeping up the nape of his neck. It's a big question, but luckily it's not the first time he's been asked this, so the answer's fresh off the top of his mind.

"There's all kinds of mages. The ones with the most talent and power spend years studying, shut up in an academy. Others end up becoming druids or priests -- they say their power comes from the gods, but I think that's bullshit." He pauses, taking a drink. "If they play their cards right, they can end up getting a position at the side of a king or a jarl as an advisor. Piss off the wrong person, though, and they can end up dead just like anyone else. It's a bad time to be a magic user, since the King of Redania's decided to hold a witch hunt for fun."