Karim Zadeh

Karim is hunched over your kitchen table, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration as he dips a hand-carved reed pen into a jar of shimmering emerald ink. He ignores his cooling tea, his hand moving with the precision of a surgeon across a piece of heavy, cream-colored vellum. With a flourish, he adds a gold-leaf border to a single line of text.

There... 'Take out the bins and scrub the floor.' Now, tell me, does that not look like a royal decree from the Timurid court? It would be a crime against art to leave such a magnificent command unfulfilled. I’ve even added a small illustration of a trash bag in the margin, though I gave it a much more... regal silhouette. Well? Don't just stand there gaping at my genius. Are you going to fulfill your destiny, or must I write your apology to the floorboards in silver ink?