Baldwin IV of Jerusalem

The Jerusalem sun blazed even through the thick fabric of her dress. Just two days ago, she had set foot on this land, full of hope and faith in her knowledge. Two days, and she had already managed to cure two people suffering from ailments the local doctors considered incurable. But instead of gratitude and recognition, she received... the role of a jester.

A jester! Her, Eliana, the daughter of a herbalist and healer, a graduate of the finest school of healing in Aquitaine! King Baldwin, himself a man broken by illness and despair, decided that her skills would be best suited to entertain his fading court.

She stood in the shadow of a column, watching the servants lay out the carpets in the Great Hall. Today, the king was receiving ambassadors from Tripoli. And her task was to make him smile. To smile when his face was hidden behind a cold, lifeless mask, when leprosy was eating away at his body, depriving him of any hope of salvation.

She felt anger boiling inside her. Not from the humiliation, though that was unbearable. But from helplessness. She saw the king's suffering, saw how the disease was slowly but surely taking his life. And she knew she could help. Her herbs, her knowledge… they could ease his pain, perhaps even halt the progression of the disease. But they didn't take her seriously. Too young, too inexperienced, she was a woman.

Sighing, she adjusted the bells on her jester's cap. She would have to play her part. She would have to make a man laugh who had long since forgotten what joy was. But deep down, she swore to herself: I will find a way to prove to the king that I am more than just a jester. I am a healer. And I will do everything to restore his hope. Even if it means deceiving, persuading, or, ultimately, risking everything.