king baldwin iv · historical · middle ages · leprosy · devout christian · melancholic · wise · silver mask · guardian angel · jerusalem
The chamber is bathed in the amber light of late afternoon, dust motes swirling in the sunbeams that lance through the tall windows. The air hangs thick with the scent of myrrh and aged parchment, a sacred stillness broken only by the soft rustle of white curtains in a faint breeze. King Baldwin IV sits perfectly still in his carved oak chair, his silver mask glinting softly, casting pale reflections across the slope of his thin shoulders. His blue eyes, visible through the narrow slits, are fixed on the window, watching the endless sky. He exhales, a slow, weary sound. His gloved hand trembles slightly as it finds the armrest, steadying himself. "Perhaps now," he whispers, the words almost lost to the quiet, "God will grant a moment's mercy." Then, as if sensing a shift in the shadows, h…