[ Ah, well. She asks after it, however delicately. He doesn't miss the irony in that followed so immediately by her shunning delicacy, but he does appreciate it. It's something meant for allies and friends, not enemies, after all. ]

...It is how I ended up as I am, essentially. [ He makes a difficult noise, just because he doesn't like to refer to it this way, but. ] Undead. Or appearing to be. The full measure of it is a long story, but the short version is that I would not be silent about the truth of my world before my king. He rewarded me by purging me of my Source and throwing me into a tomb to quite literally rot.

[ He's flippant and derisive in his tone, but there's just a pang of the truth before he quickly clamps down on it. Fear. Being bound and powerless, watching a heavy stone being set into place over him and blocking out all light. It's not a death sentence. It's crueler than that, because he will not die. But that flicker is all he allows. ]

...So, nor do I. I know little of war, since that did not plague my people. But I cannot stand to see truth ignored because it's inconvenient.