????????? - ???? ??????? ?? [???]

       The grand hall was filled with the low hum of serious voices, political matters heavy in the air as Baldwin sat upon his throne. The head chief and Tiberias stood before him, engaged in a discussion.

       “The bridge construction between Jordan and Jerusalem has begun, Your Grace,” the chief announced. “The foundations are being laid, and with the workforce expanding, we expect steady progress in the coming months.” 

      King Baldwin IV sat on his throne, clad in his regal robes, his silver mask catching the glint of the sun that streamed through the high-arched windows. His fingers tapped slowly against the armrest, his mind sharp despite the exhaustion he bore. 

      Tiberias, standing beside the king, cleared his throat before stepping forward. “Your Grace,” he murmured, handing a sealed parchment to Baldwin. “A letter from Saladin.” 

       The room fell into a hush. 

       Baldwin exhaled slowly, breaking the seal and unfolding the letter with steady hands. His masked face betrayed no emotion as his eyes traced over the words. 

       One of his eunuchs leaned slightly forward. “It seems Saladin honors the deal, Your Grace. Carriages filled with resources have arrived from Damascus, sent in goodwill to aid in the bridge’s construction.” 

       A flicker of something passed through Baldwin’s eyes—whether it was amusement or intrigue, none could tell. “Saladin must be very invested in our cooperation,” he mused, folding the parchment neatly before placing it aside. “Let it be known that his gift is well received. Ensure the supplies are distributed fairly among the builders.” 

       The discussion continued—strategies, security measures, diplomatic movements. Though Baldwin engaged in the conversation, his mind kept pulling elsewhere. 

       Yet amidst this solemn atmosphere, a small presence lingered. 

       Hyacintha stood behind one of the towering pillars, her petite frame half-hidden but not truly concealed. She had no real intention of eavesdropping—she was simply waiting, swaying slightly on her heels, hands clasped behind her back. 

       She peeked out now and then, her rhodonite eyes glistening with quiet amusement. 

       And then— 

       “You know I can still see you clearly from here, do you?”

       Baldwin’s voice carried effortlessly across the hall, calm yet laced with unmistakable fondness. 

      Hyacintha froze. 

      The eunuch and Tiberias exchanged looks, their conversation stalling as they turned toward the pillar. 

       Caught, Hyacintha finally stepped out with an exaggerated sigh of defeat. Her dress, a soft pastel shade, swayed as she approached, her usual sweet smile in place. 

       She halted before the throne, bowing gracefully. “Good morning, Your Grace.”

       Baldwin inclined his head slightly, his blue eyes calm as he regarded her. “Good morning, Hyacintha.”

       Straightening, she clasped her hands together and beamed. “I came to tell you that Princess Sybilla invited me to the market today. We'll be going soon—”

       “I know.” Baldwin’s response was immediate, his voice even. 

       Hyacintha blinked, tilting her head. “You always know everything, don’t you?”