It took a moment to recognize the figure as Astarion. He was strewn out on the ground, blood pouring from still healing cuts. It was hard to tell if he was conscious or not, even with the pained whines and whimpers he let out periodically.

You were lucky to have gotten here so quickly. You’d already killed Cazador, his dead body rotting in the casket below the manor. All that was left to do was take Astarion home.