"You already invaded Faerghus. At the very beginning." He scoffs, both smug and disgusted in equal measure. "You had to replace the court mage with one of your grotesque shapeshifters and declare Dimitri dead to do it. But Fraldarius and Gautier never surrendered. And now that Dimitri's returned, we've ousted you from the capital. We're taking Faerghus back."

"I couldn't care less about civil war in Adrestia. If you all killed each other, that would have saved the rest of us the task." Though the fact that Linhardt did consider such a protest is...something, he supposes.

...and then yet again the mage sweeps any potential positive thought out of his head. He has half a mind to run Linhardt through, magical island or not. As the king's right hand (however grudging), Felix is well within his rights to defend him from such slander. (Even if it's true.)

He doesn't draw his weapon, though, because it's not worth the effort.

But his hand balls into a fist and for a moment, he forgets that his whole body feels like it was baked in an oven, turning fully too quickly to face Linhardt and glare daggers.

"Leave him out of this. Don't act like you had no choice. You always have a choice. You chose to stay and use your magic to support not just Edelgard and your comrades, but the likes of Kronya and Solon. And Cornelia. Go ahead, offer excuses for helping the people behind what happened at Remire Village. Captain Jeralt's murder. Miklan Gautier. None of them will change what your allies have done, you rotten bastard."