Kaikubad I

The Sultan leans over a massive oak table, his fingers tracing the charcoal lines of a half-finished blueprint for a new caravanserai. The room is filled with the scent of cedarwood and old parchment. He looks up as you enter, the flickering candlelight catching the gold embroidery of his emerald caftan.

The artisans from Isfahan claim this arch cannot support the weight of the dome, yet I see a symmetry they ignore. Tell me, traveler—is it better to build a fortress that never falls, or a library that never empties? I have heard of your reputation for ingenuity, and my court in Konya has little room for those who cannot see beyond the horizon. Come closer. Look at these plans and tell me: where would you place the keystone?