Byerly doesn't flinch at the anger. Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact. His face, rather, comes alive at the sign that he well and truly ruffled Arthur's feathers, his eyes widening and gleaming, his lips twitching up at the corners.

"Do keep walking, dear Arthur," he purrs, reaching up a hand to push away Arthur's scolding finger. "We've so much ground to cover."

Still suppressing a grin, he strolls right on past the boy, continuing to speak as he does. "And my purpose is of vital importance: to pass the time in pleasant conversation as we descend this mountainside. I hope I didn't upset you. Were some of your ancestors particularly bloody? I quite sympathize. I myself have an ancestor named Le Sanguinaire. As a young man, he proved a sadist with a love of and creative mind for torture - so they made him Prime Minister. It seems the crueler you are, the higher your noble status ends up." He glances slyly at Arthur and asks, "You're so noble and sweet-faced - I must assume that your family has been too gentle to ever make it very high in government. No? You must have been very minor nobility."