Damian stood in front of the wall mirror, staring at his long gray hair with a deep frown. He wore plain black robes with long sleeves that covered both of his hands, including the one that had been badly wounded during his battle with Duke Dantalion.
Against the dark fabric, his long gray hair stood out far more than he would have liked, making the changes to his body painfully obvious. He knew very well that if he appeared before the royal court looking like this, it would not take long for the news to spread. His hair had turned gray because of the damage inflicted upon his soul, not because he was drained of energy.
Once the truth became public knowledge, the confidence his people had in him would inevitably be shaken. A ruler could show his people victory, strength, and certainty, but weakness was another matter entirely.
