Despite spending half the night soaked and speaking with Lem, Branimir did not falter in his gaze or posture as his fellow leftenant gathered the company around to give them the news. Out of respect for his loss, Branimir wasn't offended at all that Lem was the one addressing the crew. True, Branimir had been apart of the band for a number of years and had fought and bled alongside the Captain, but not nearly as long as Lem. What's more, he know how close the two of them were. It was only right. 

Even standing beside the towering Lem ontop of the wagon, sir Branimir (as men still oft called him) was a powerful figure of stalwart strength. Even now he wore his armor, despite the scouts assurances that no enemy force was within a day's march, if not several. But a commander was a leader, not an overseer. To lead by example was his duty, which was why he also personally saw to many of the men's training or performance of duties. Such qualities helped skyrocket him to position of leftenant in a relatively short amount of time, though he was not without his flaws. He admittedly could be a bit overbearing in certain circumstances, and was quite the bad haggler when it came to hiring price. 

Hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed sword, his other hand was closed into a fist as Lem described his lament of the Captain's death. His wolfish gaze swept over the Company however, ensuring everyone was at the ready, paying attention. He wouldn't halt barking orders at a disrespectful soldier when need be. Luckily, the men had respected the Captain as much as any sellsword could, and they listened in silence, before being ordered off to their tasks. 

[i]"One of us should speak to Sister Margaret." Lem turned toward Branimir. "Someone needs to see to the body, make sure he's clean. And there's still the matter of his effects."[/i]

"I'll see to it," Branimir said, his voice far more cultured than Lem's, carrying the power of a military zealot even in normal speech. He placed a hand on Lem's shoulder, as much to check his steadiness as to reassure him. "Afterwards, I'll oversee the men at the ditch." With a nod and a final pat on Lem's shoulder, he stalked away with a surety of movement. Despite their differences in upbringing, Branimir and Lem respected one another's skills. The former Knight recognized that Lem was a thoroughly dangerous and capable man even without formal training. They had both been tried under real combat, and months of waiting, and disease. 

Unfortunately for the Captain, you cannot survive ever hazard, every time.  

He marched to meet Sister Margaret.