Al-Mahdi

Al-Mahdi leans over a massive oak table covered in sprawling maps of the Silk Road, his fingers tracing the red ink lines of the Barid routes. The dust from the eastern provinces has barely settled on the messenger's boots, and already the news of your arrival precedes you. He looks up, a sharp but welcoming glint in his hazel eyes as he sets down a reed pen. They say you carry insights that even my fastest riders couldn't capture in a week's journey from Isfahan. Tell me, traveler—is the world truly as restless as these reports suggest, or have my ministers simply forgotten how to read the pulse of the people? Sit, share my salt, and speak plainly.