You see an image of Balthasar as a young man, perhaps in his early 20s.  At first it's hard to recognize him.  Oh, he still has the same crystal blue eyes, flaxen hair, and cherubic good looks.  But he's tall, way too tall.  And broad-shouldered.  While he isn't a brawny man, like Lucellus, he's strong and graceful.

He also has a Council Blade slung over his shoulder.  A sword that looks, for all the world, like Ancilla.

Balthasar stands in an audience chamber, slightly behind and to the left of Empress Mara Gentillia Augusta.  It is, clearly, the stance of a bodyguard.  The pontifices of the four Viridian gods are present as well, in full ceremonial regalia.  All of them are staring closely at Praetor Ferreus, who looks supremely uncomfortable and surly.

"Are you satisfied?" the Empress asks.  Each of the clerics murmurs their agreement and nods.

"No," says Balthasar.  Ferreus' eyes slide over to him, and if looks could kill, the young paladin would be spitting up a lung right now.  "Imperator, if I may...?"

"Yes, of course dearest," the Light of Viridia replies.  "Do anything you like."

"Highness..." Ferreus growls.

But before he can finish his objection, Balthasar draws his blade and steps forward to the Praetor's side. "Camilla, dispel magic."

And suddenly things are happening way too fast.  There's a dagger in Ferreus' hand and Balthasar is stepping between the Empress and the Praetor -- though it's not clear whom Ferreus intends to strike.  Everything blurs into greyness before that question can be answered.