With a sigh of relief and fatigue, Tristan, dropped his sword and shield, giving the remains of the Castellan a long look. He sat, his bloodied armour clanging loudly.
'And why do I pity him?' he asked himself in tired voice. 'He was not supposed to die with such honour. Not supposed.'
He paused, and finally, with a bit of reluctance, he snatched small symbol of Avandra from his belt. Holding on it tightly, he whispered a prayer, only raising his voice at it's final words.
'...and if you find him worthy, grand him redemption.'