Hassan storms back, breathless, dragging a huge sack of scrolls. His little lamb is chewing on yellowed scraps of paper, and he's slinging two bundles stuffed with more sheets over his shoulders.

"That Abdul—the Vizier—is an enemy of art itself! He had me pull every line praising jewelry from love poems, compile them, and write them on tiny slips. I asked what for, and he said he'd hide them up his sleeves. Then, if he meets Consort Zazie during court, no matter what she's wearing, he can recite them word for word. Can you believe it? To him, art is just a tool to flatter a consort!"

Hassan rants like this for two full hours. Not only jewelry—Abdul also had him extract every line suitable for praising the Sultan, lauding the golden throne, insulting political rivals, or... coldly rebutting someone. By the end of three days, Hassan's hands were nearly falling off.

"My mind is bursting with inspiration, my friend!" he says, eyes blazing. "There is so much I want to write. I shall set the rotten world on fire! The beauties can wait; I have other matters to attend to!"

You exchange a knowing glance with the little lamb at his heels.

Result:

• Adjust Tag (Wisdom) of Slot #1: Add 1
• Adjust Tag (Survival) of Slot #1: Add 1
• Counter (7000724): Assign 0