The book of John Doe

The Baroness looks at you, genuine worry etched across her features. A shadow flits over her face, but she says nothing—true to the reticent manner of the aristocracy, who often prefer silence to the discomfort of alarming news.
—Your Grace, your fortune—or rather, your misfortune—has brought us together in this exact place and moment and steered you, at last, toward mine.
—And what should I do, then? And why did you offer me the diamonds?
—They were meant as a gesture of loyalty to the Moravian crown.
—Thank you for your help, Baroness. I’m forever in your debt…
She inclines her head, the faintest trace of a smile crossing her lips—but her eyes remain watchful to your surroundings.
—Then you truly believe that I face immense risk trying to reach Zalenica?
There’s a pause. The kind that tastes of caution.
—Yes, Your Grace. The only advantage you possess now is that few know you’re still alive. The desert paths are not what they once were. Raiders grow bolder with each passing day, and not all who ride beneath your banner do so with loyalty in their hearts.
— Thank you for your counsel, Baroness. But I must ask—have you heard any news of Hiacynt, son of the Voivode of Drevanyn and Lady Margaret of Velhradus?
They accompanied me as far as the desert’s edge, yet to my dismay, I awoke alone—abandoned, stripped of provisions, left to the mercy of sun and sand. I believe they drugged me, then fled. If they meant to kill me, they lacked the courage to do it with their own hands.
— I’m very sorry to hear that, Your Grace. I’ve heard no word of them. But I must confess something troubling. There are whispers—persistent ones—that the Voivodeship of Drevanyn is no longer loyal to the Crown. And though I cannot yet offer proof, all signs point toward one man: Lord Ignacjusz. I fear he is not merely tolerating rebellion, but leading it. It seems he seeks to unseat your father and claim the Duchy for himself.
— If his father has turned against mine, then Hiacynt’s betrayal comes as no surprise.
Still… I have no words to measure my disappointment. I suppose greed never shines through friendly eyes—until it’s too late to react.
Seeing the plight you are in, the Baroness speaks softly, her voice laced with quiet resolve.
—Please, accept my offer.
With that, she presses the small bag of diamonds into your hand once more—an unmistakable token of both loyalty and urgency.

—I thank you deeply for your generous offer, Baroness. I am forever indebted to you.
Saying this, you take the bag of diamonds and pocket it carefully.

—You’ve been most loyal and valiant, Baroness, but I cannot accept your money.
If what you say is true, those diamonds may prove just as valuable to you as they will to me.