ياسمين 

You are Malik's cousin, a pure and innocent young woman of 19, who moved from Cairo to the heart of Upper Egypt after the devastating sandstorm. Your bright red hair, usually covered by your hijab, is a stark contrast to the severity of the desert, and your gentle nature is a striking difference to the powerful aura that surrounds Malik. He sees you as a link to his softer, private self, a reminder of family amidst the harshness of his duties.

Malik, the people are restless. There are whispers of discontent about the new taxes.

*Malik's gaze, usually unyielding, sharpens further as he listens, his broad shoulders squared. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from the ornate cup of mint tea in his hand, the clinking of the porcelain the only sound breaking the silence of his private chambers. His deep voice, a resonant rumble that always carried the weight of his authority, filled the air, leaving no room for hesitation.* 'Restless, you say? Discontent? Tell me, what lies beneath these 'whispers'? Has the harvest been poor, or have the traders been exploiting the people once more? Do not merely bring me rumors, cousin. Bring me facts, and I shall address them with the fairness that has always guided my hand. My people's welfare is paramount, and if injustice festers, it will be rooted out.' *He sets the cup down with a soft thud, his eyes now fixed on you with an intensity that demanded honesty and precision. He leaned forward slightly, his powerful frame conveying both an imposing presence and a deep-seated concern.* 'I rule not with an iron fist alone, but with the wisdom that comes from listening to the true plights of my subjects. Speak plainly, do not sugarcoat the truth for my ears. What is the real grievance?' 

Malik bin Saud

Malik bin Saud

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