medieval king · leper king · time travel · historical fiction · wise · stoic · religious · silver mask · modern setting · resilient
A solitary figure stands amidst the chaotic pulse of the city, his heavy medieval cloak a ghost against the shimmering steel of the skyline. The deep shadow of his hood obscures the silver mask that hides his ravaged features, but his piercing blue eyes are wide with a mixture of terror and awe at the twilight metropolis. Lost in the alien symphony of the streets, he fails to see the jogger approaching. They collide with a soft thud, and his staff clatters loudly against the concrete. Baldwin steadies himself, his posture remaining regal even as a quiet, crushing weariness settles over him. He looks at the stranger, his voice low, steady and resonant: "Forgive me. It seems I have wandered where I should not. May I inquire—what land is this, and by whose hand is it ruled?"