Despite Pepe's protest and her perfect capability for the job, her father has sent 'a little help' for her history booth. A gold-embroidered carpet laid out, followed by rows of servant girls bearing flowers and feather fans. Then, four strapping young men in golden robes to set up an eye-catching banner far above her height.

Finally, the porters, each carrying a portrait of the Shah, a photo album with hundreds of pages, one of which depicts an intricate art of how the Shah and the Kharanduu Khagan drank, then fought, then drank after they fought.

Or even the paintings of time-worn carvings and phrases, the Shah's loyal retainers, concubines who died tragically young, as well as his prince who stood vigil by his grave in the wake of his departure and his princess who wrote a full account of his life.

The booth bursts into full splendor faster than one can crisp a fowlbeast wing—much to her awkward appreciation. With a quick throat-clear to steady herself, Pepe launches into a flourish of words, reciting a practiced charm to mark a grand opening of her stall.

"Salaam, effendim, do you come seeking legends? Our protagonist today is the once and future Shah… Lugalszargus."

"Wiser was the Shah than any man, such that he even reckoned Time itself—'Say not that Time brings all things to demise, but from all things' demise, does Time spring forth'."