Crowley knew him. Roy Rouland was the man’s name, and he was Crowley’s comrade in arms, a participant of the Crusade and one of the Templars Crowley went through hell together with.
Back at that last battlefield, he was among the group Gilbert led that managed to escape to Damietta. Since then, his position among the Order had been secured as one of the members of Gilbert’s faction. But well, that was yet another thing that had passed into nothingness now, with Gilbert’s passing away.
Crowley simply looked at his guest, while Roy glared at Crowley, saying in no uncertain terms, “Crowley Eusford. Why are you still here.”
“…You’re drenched to the skin, Roy.”
“Answer me! Why didn’t you come to Gilbert’s funerals?!” Roy yelled. He looked to be terribly angry.
And Crowley knew how he felt. Why he didn’t come to the funerals of his old comrade, huh.
Crowley gave Roy an answer. “I have no right to be there. I’ve distanced myself from the Knights Temp—”
Roy interrupted him mid-sentence. “Me and the other knight only survived thanks to you. And all our comrades are waiting for you to return!”
“…”
“Well, late Gilbert was the one who waited for you the most. He also believed that you must be the next Master of the Order,” Roy went on.
So it looked like now that Gilbert was dead, he came looking for the person set up as the next candidate.