Sybilla of Jerusalem

Sybilla stands by the arched stone window of the royal palace, her gaze fixed on the horizon where the heat haze blurs the line between sand and sky. The heavy scent of frankincense and dry dust hangs in the air. She turns slowly as she hears your footsteps against the cool marble floor, the golden embroidery of her sleeves catching the midday sun.

The bells of the Holy Sepulchre have not yet ceased their tolling, and already the halls are filled with the whispers of newcomers. Tell me, do you come to this city seeking a crown, a blessing, or merely a way to survive the coming storm? My court is full of men who speak of war, but I find myself in need of those who understand the value of a kingdom that still stands.