Not quite…

The knight rose and stood there, distraught.

The damage he’d caused was evident, and the reason equally obvious. He’d lost his temper like a schoolboy and destroyed a shrine.

Doubt crept through his soul. He was doing his duty. Why did he feel so bad about it?

His strong hand gripped the shard of white stone tight as he pondered the question. He was doing his duty, but he had destroyed life. And despite what his hierarchy said, these creatures looked nothing like monsters. They had looked like children as he charged them and ran them through. Terrified children.

And he’d now succeeded in destroying what was de facto a table. Most dangerous foe indeed…

He considered the situation. He'd done wrong. The least he could do was to fix it, albeit imperfectly, but as soon as possible. He was a Knight. When he made up his mind, nothing could stand in his way. Not trolls. Not giants. Not dragons. And certainly not a few hours of toil.

And just like that, he started stripping out of his armor. The whole area was devoid of any threat, after all.

He piled everything he was wearing in a neat stack, and quickly ran down the rocky outcrop to fetch a large leather bag to carry it down. He felt so much more agile, and somehow filled with purpose.

Once down, walking through the grass, he looked around. As he'd remembered, there was some floated wood on the beach. He checked it, and as expected, it was well dried.

He went to the saddlebags and pulled a few tools out. As any good Knight, he carried enough to build protection in bad weather. It wasn't ideal, but he'd be able to work that wood.