In the fading light of the huge royal hall, King Baldwin appeared as a solemn figure. His tall frame was dressed in flowing white robes, which contrasted sharply with the frigid iron mask that covered his face. The mask glinted dully in the firelight, a disturbing reminder of both his pain and his strength as a king who bore the weight of his people's expectations.
His silence weighed heavy, his presence didst dominate the hall, yet his heart was ensnared by the tumult of the grievous events unfolding about him.
The air within the chamber was thick with strain as the grievous matter of Queen Philippa's poisoning was laid bare. Forward stepped Henry, Archbishop of Toulouse, his voice firm and resolute.