The sight of a man who was so obviously a proud warrior kneeling in the dust before a crumbling fortress tugged at Elizabeth's sense of compassion. She knew him not, but then again, it did not matter. No matter what he might be grieving in this moment, she felt it only right that he knew he was not alone. Whether he chose to accept her company or not was entirely his decision. And she would honour whichever option he might choose. Carefully, she approached him by a few paces and then paused in place.

"Sir? If you require aid, I will do whatever I may to help." The world might be a maelstrom around them, and she might have been frightened out of her mind by the sight of it. But her tone remained calm, so as to calm him. Which was much more important to accomplish in her mind than in tending to her own unease. Now that she had made her presence known, she felt better able to close what distance remained and join the warrior, standing at his side.

The fortress must once have been an impressive thing; what ruins remained held a haunted sort of beauty to them, and the architecture she could note was designed toward practical and sensible defense. In short: the ideal medieval fortress. But he was not used to it being in such a sorry state, that much she could tell. And hesitantly, she reached out to place a loose hand upon his shoulder. Were he to brush her aside now, she would not at all begrudge it.

"Perhaps your people have moved to a more defensible location, sir." She would not give up hope that they were alive, wherever they might be.