"Mr. Conar," Winters said with a faint smile, "you must understand, when you speak of 'them,' you are not referring to one person or two, nor a hundred or ten thousand people, but a—possibly several—generations of ethnic groups living on that land."
His eyes shone brightly, and his tone was solemn, "There are only two ways to 'eliminate' such enemies.
"One, you personally take up the saber and exterminate them to the last, literally, indiscriminately killing them, regardless of gender, regardless of age;
"Do not expect to hand them some weapons and wait for them to slaughter each other—self-inflicted slaughter has its limits;
"Nor should you expect to accomplish this by someone else's hand—that is not only foolish but cowardly—if you're going to do the dirty work, don't pretend your boots aren't stained."
The candlelight quivered uneasily, and the guests' shadows danced wildly on the walls of the dining room.
Everyone felt a chill, as someone had not yet finished speaking.
