"But isn't that freeing?" Tristan asks, surprised. He knows the feeling of training for a battle that may never come, a role that might never be needed, and the absence of a legacy - but he finds no [i]sadness [/i]in it. "None of what you are is wasted. That you've been prepared for greater trials just serves you to do [i]these [/i]duties unfailing and unflinching." Tristan finishes his tart. He's thinking to himself as much as anything, if Sir Hector is kind enough to let him lay out his thoughts like this. "Isn't it better to have a simple task ahead of you that you can do faultlessly, than an immense and uncertain one with such a burden of failure?" 

This isn't a Socratic dialogue, asking questions to lead to a desired conclusion. The work ahead guarantees a legacy. It does not guarantee a [i]flattering[/i] one. 

He thinks back to Sir Hector's disagreement with Robena over what worth there was in hunting a fox. Of the difference between a guaranteed good, and one that can be warped by a twist of fate. Given the choice, Tristan would always pick the fox. When he trailed larger targets, it was always with a mind for absolute mitigation of risk - glory was never more important than that a job needed doing, and that none could do it better.