It wouldn’t.

Not “she” wouldn’t. It wouldn’t. His and Vasilia’s story wouldn’t end there. Water is wet. The void is dangerous. The gods are immanent. He only takes notice of the thought because a goddess has contradicted it, and only then to wonder how he knows it to be true. Never to think it could be false.

He might say that is what separates it from setting a broken bone. The crucial difference. 

He might.

“Thank you. I shall give your advice all due consideration.” he bows his head in shame. “Though much of your wisdom may be too lofty for me. Your servant has been striving to fill the gaps in my education, and I do so appreciate our talks, he’s really quite wonderful at it. But I am just a chef. As far as we’ve come, we still have quite a ways to go.”

See the humble wrinkles in his forehead. See the sincere effort in the scrunch of his nose. Could any such student be accused of lacking honest effort?

His wife’s not a horse. Hrm. That could also be crucial.