[ Koltira's eyes widen slightly as Achilles reaches for him. He had felt a rush of repulsive pity when last Achilles grasped his knee, a shock of uncertainty over what to do next, how to respond. He feels no less prepared for the correct answer now, despite how both of their tempers have cooled.

But as they are no longer locked in bloody combat, and as his mind is not clouded with hateful rage, Koltira can at least see the gesture for what it is: respect, insofar as Achilles defines it. Even so, he goes still, feeling awkward and undeserving. ]

Rise, Achilles. My anger towards you is spent.

[ Though he cannot forget Olivia's grief, he knows also that he has little power to affect it, and that she would not want Koltira's grudge to sustain itself, besides. So he regards Achilles warily, thinking on how he has thought so much about someone whom he knows so little. ]

I regret that your armor was shattered in our duel. I have gold and silver enough to repair it, and would gladly do so. You may consider it my apology.