You're not afraid of staining your hands, I know.
But, caro, you shouldn't. It does not behoove you.
Later, perhaps, you'll discover your gusto for violence. You will tune and play it like an instrument: strumming but a lazy folia, you'll strike fear into the hearts of men. But not now, carissim'. There are things it would be unwise for a cardinal to do, so I only let you see and taste the poison you will need to survive.
But when the time comes, you'll be ready. You'll be faster, smarter, deadlier, and... only then will I yield.