[@TheDarkTemplar]

Damien looked across the room at Evelyn and the others with a furrowed brow that could possibly have been interpreted as distain or indignation. Keeping his staff upright beside him as he walked, he made his way closer, so as to be able to keep his voice down when answering the knight-captain. The young necromancer was different than his fellows, not just in his talents, but some deep part of his humanity itself had been broken. He had no respect for authority, no reverence for royalty, and no drive but to further his own lust for power and yet... not all of him was gone. A splinter, a fracture, a shard of his personality still clung on for dear life. Carefully, respectfully, he would not do anything that might add to the crying Valerie's grief. He passed her in silence and leaned close to Evelyn's ear in a small huddel that only a few other Templars would be able to listen in. 

Damien's face was young, and yet so full of hate. Evelyn could feel a slight chill at his touch on her shoulder, in spite of her armor. "You forget," he began, maintaining his snake-like offensive posture as he spoke brazenly to the small group. "I said the late lord commander might have been the only one among you worth a shit, but yes... I have grave news. Very soon, finding the murderers of dead kings is going to be the last thing on our minds. The enemy in the north is preparing to attack us, and I mean on an unprescedented scale. They have a massive army that I watched grow before my eyes as each of our fellows fell before them and were added to their number. Fort Gregory is gone now. Yes, I said gone. Everyone is dead. This is what we get for our prejudice... for refusing to allow those of us who 'can' to scout beyond enemy lines, to keep a watch on the undead. Deep in their lands. Where the living dare not tread, they were preparing all this time, and we were blind fools!" Damien was clearly a bit bitter about the shit he got for being a necromancer and the fact that they were never sanctioned and encouraged by the late King. Now it seemed like he was right all along, as terrible as that truth was. "Due to my magic, I am sure, I was the only one to escape, and I made sacrifices to reach the castle as quickly as I did. I don't know how much time we have to prepare." 

Sighing and reflecting a moment, Damien glanced behind him at the bustle of priests wrapping and carrying out the body, etc. He turned back to Evelyn, relenting his aggression. "Please forgive me for my impertinence. You must see now why I have no patience for our current state of affairs. I am no commander, so it must be you that decides what our next actions will be. ... I may be able to speak with the dead king, if I can be long enough with the body, but I doubt he can help us now."