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       The air inside the royal hall was thick with tension, the flickering torches casting restless shadows upon the cold stone walls. Baldwin IV sat upon his throne, his form composed yet the weight of unease pressing into his very being. The golden crown upon his brow gleamed beneath the dim light, yet his eyes—once serene pools of unwavering authority—were dark with thoughts unspoken. Before him, his council had gathered, their murmurs weaving through the chamber like whispers of an impending storm. 

       Balian stood near the foot of the dais, his stance rigid, his hand unconsciously resting upon the hilt of his sword. His jaw was set, his eyes stormy with an unshaken certainty that had plagued him since the night before. Hyacintha’s fall was no accident. He knew it in his bones. The woods were familiar to her, each path etched into her memory since her youth. And yet, a pit—deep enough to break her bones, hidden beneath leaves and branches—had been placed where it never existed before. Someone had done this deliberately. Someone who knew her. 

       Balian took a step forward, bowing his head slightly before speaking, his voice cutting through the murmurs. “Your Grace, I beg your audience before I depart for the search.” 

       Baldwin regarded him with silent expectation, the torchlight carving sharp angles into his noble features. “Speak.” 

       Balian clenched his fist before exhaling, his voice laced with quiet urgency. “This was no mere accident—just like what I have said to you, last night. Someone knew exactly where to set that trap—knew that she would be in the woods, alone.”

“It has been years since she first wandered those paths, and never once has such a danger befallen her. This was not misfortune.” his gaze swept across the room, lingering on the assembled nobles and commanders, searching for a flicker of recognition—of guilt. “It was intent.” 

       A hush fell over the hall, and then a councilman scoffed, shifting uneasily where he stood. “Are you suggesting an enemy lurks within these walls, Sir Balian? The girl is reckless, is she not? It could have been a hunter’s trap, forgotten and left untended.” 

       Balian’s eyes burned as he turned to face the man. “A hunter’s trap would have left marks—blood, snares, signs of struggle. This was a pitfall. A deliberate one, and one that took time to dig. This was not the work of chance. Someone desired harm upon her.” 

       Baldwin had remained silent, his fingers pressed together in deep contemplation. But now, his voice emerged, quiet yet heavy with meaning. “If that is the case, then we are faced with a greater threat than an unseen pit in the woods.” his gaze swept over his council, keen and unrelenting. “This means that we are watched. Our lives are noted. And our enemies move among us unseen.” 

       A shift of unease rippled through the room. The unspoken implication settled upon them all—if Hyacintha was targeted, then the palace itself was no longer a sanctuary. 

       Tiberias, who had stood quietly beside the throne, stepped forward, arms crossed. His face bore a grim expression. “Then the question remains, Your Grace … who within these walls has reason to see her harmed?” 

       A question that burned with weight, settling into the chamber like a lingering shadow. The silence was deafening. 

       Baldwin’s fingers tapped against the armrest of his throne, his mind already working through the web of possibilities. His voice, when it came, was laced with quiet authority. 

       “Find out.” 

       Balian nodded sharply, his gaze flickering once more over the council. Something was amiss, and he would not rest until he found the hand that had dared to lay a trap for Hyacintha. With a final bow, he turned on his heel, departing the hall to begin his search.