POV Ruqayyah
The morning sun streamed through the small glass windows of Ruqayyah's chamber, scattering golden light across the patterned carpet and walls. A serene warmth filled the room. After completing her dawn prayer, she lingered for a moment, letting the cool morning air brush against her face, when suddenly the system's familiar chime rang out.
[Ding! Host, a new side quest awaits you.
Quest: Attend the Majlis of Knowledge.
Reward: A potion granting the ability to evade danger.]
Ruqayyah furrowed her brow, drumming her fingers lightly on the arm of her chair. "Hmm… System, I still wonder… why did you and Qadhar suddenly end yesterday's video call without explanation? What secret was he trying to reveal?"
[Host, Qadhar was only boasting. He was not entirely… himself. But fear not—Saleh has corrected the matter.]
Ruqayyah lowered her gaze, lips trembling slightly in confusion. How could that happen? Aren't you supposed to be advanced?
"I am curious," she murmured. "Who is the scholar brilliant enough to create systems like yours?"
Nadhir's voice sounded polite, almost amused. [Come now, Host. This is not something you need to ponder presently. Best to focus on the quest. Such knowledge… is meant to remain a secret.]
Ruqayyah exhaled slowly. Though her curiosity burned, she knew the mission awaited. "Very well. I will take Layla with me to the Majlis of Knowledge today as well."
The sky over Baghdad was soft and pale, and the morning air held a gentle chill as Ruqayyah and Layla walked along the cobblestone streets toward the grand house where the majlis was held. Oil lamps flickered, fine carpets lined the floors, and the aroma of ink and ancient manuscripts permeated the hall.
Before entering, Ruqayyah glanced at Layla. "See, there are other young noblewomen waiting as well. They seem curious… yet a little anxious."
Layla smiled faintly. "Yes, we are welcome here, but we must remain at the edges. They are likely wondering which of us has the courage to hear the scholars speak."
Ruqayyah nodded, her eyes following several young girls whispering to one another, glancing around the hall. Some turned toward her, their gazes a mixture of curiosity, admiration, and a trace of apprehension.
Several of Baghdad's elite had already gathered, seated around a large wooden table. The discussion flowed warmly—at times heated—covering Islamic law, philosophy, and astronomical calculations to determine the beginning of Shawwal.
An elderly scholar studied the star charts intently. "If we rely on the observations from Kufa… the crescent moon of Shawwal will appear tonight, and Eid falls tomorrow."
Another man slammed his hand on the table. "No! The positions of the sun and moon in Baghdad differ. We cannot depend solely on Kufa's report. My calculations show the crescent will be seen one night later!"
The debate intensified, voices rising and clashing. A young professor sighed. "This is perplexing! All theories contradict one another. Should we consider another perspective?"
Ruqayyah lowered her gaze briefly, inspecting the tables, then scribbled notes on a piece of paper. Her heart raced, yet she restrained herself from speaking immediately. She observed a recurring pattern: it was not the data that was wrong, but the interpretation.
In a corner of the hall, Al-Mu'tashim, sat quietly, eyes fixed on the puzzled scholars. One of the ulama turned to him.
"Sayyidi, do you have an answer?"
Al-Mu'tashim frowned slightly. Before he could respond, Ruqayyah took a deep breath. "Pardon, gentlemen," her voice soft yet clear, cutting through the murmur of disagreement, "may I offer a suggestion?"
For a brief moment, all eyes turned toward her—some raised in curiosity, others shadowed with faint skepticism. Al-Mu'tashim leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp and assessing. This girl… do I know her? His heart skipped. No, it cannot be… could it? The girl I helped in the market that day…
"What could a young girl like you understand of our calculations?" an elderly scholar scoffed, his voice rising, tinged with impatience.
Ruqayyah inclined her head slightly, wrote a few figures on her paper, then looked calmly at the assembly. "A small correction, sir. If we account for the crescent's altitude from Baghdad's latitude, rather than Kufa or elsewhere, the Shawwal moon will be visible tonight, not tomorrow. The formula remains unchanged; only the perspective shifts."
The scholars exchanged glances, whispering among themselves. "Why is she allowed to speak?"
Layla tapped Ruqayyah's arm gently. "Come now, do not draw too much attention. The noble families have been anxious enough this year. Let us step back."
Ruqayyah nodded, about to retreat, when a voice cut through the murmur of the hall.
"Wait!"
They turned to see Al-Mu'tashim rising, hand raised just enough to halt them. "Miss, might you lend your assistance to these scholars?"
Ruqayyah blinked, uncertainty flickering across her face. "How do you mean, Ya Amir?"
The scholars exchanged glances, puzzled by the sudden interjection.
Al-Mu'tashim's lips curved in the faintest of wry smiles. If this girl were to leave, he thought, these men would surely press me for answers—and I have no interest in their endless debates.
Suddenly, one of the elder scholars straightened his robes and cleared his throat carefully. "It appears… the calculations are sound. If we follow your reasoning, the crescent will indeed be visible this evening here in Baghdad. This indicates—"
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle across the chamber. "—that Shawwal begins tonight. Tomorrow, God willing, we shall celebrate Eid al-Fitr."
A low murmur ran through the assembly, some scholars nodding reluctantly, others with a quiet spark of admiration. Ruqayyah felt a small thrill rise within her chest—her observation had brought clarity to a matter of great importance for the city.
Layla, watching her friend with a faint smile, whispered, "See, Aisha? Your words have set the calendar straight. Tomorrow… Eid."
Ruqayyah allowed herself a soft smile in return. A gentle warmth spread through her heart. Even under the scrutiny of Baghdad's most learned minds, she had helped establish the sacred timing.
One of the elder scholars again miled faintly. "We are also struggling to determine the area of lands and buildings for a new waqf project in the city. If you can demonstrate a more precise method, it would be of great service. You may showcase your skill without offending anyone."
Ruqayyah finally stepped forward to assist the scholars. She bent over the tables, studying the maps and sketches of the city's lands, her lips pressed together in concentration.
"Ya Amir," she said quietly, her voice steady, "if we divide this land into triangles and rectangles, measuring each side proportionally, we can calculate the total area with greater accuracy."
Several scholars fell silent, some reluctant to acknowledge her, yet Ruqayyah's precision could not be dismissed. An elderly professor frowned, then nodded slowly. "Indeed… this method is more systematic and logical. The young lady… is correct."
Al-Mu'tashim's smile was subtle, his eyes still fixed on Ruqayyah. "Interesting. This girl… intelligent, and courageous."
At the edge of the hall, several young noblewomen seated on carpets whispered among themselves, eyes glued to Ruqayyah.
"Look at her," murmured one in a pale blue robe, ducking her head so as not to be noticed by the ulama. "She… she truly dared to speak before the elders!"
"And the way she explained it… so logical," another whispered, lips curving in quiet admiration. "I… I could never imagine standing there myself."
A third covered her mouth with her hand, stifling an awkward giggle. "See, some seem startled—others might even laugh. Yet… she is undeniably correct."
Layla glanced at Ruqayyah, a faint smile on her lips. "See? They are beginning to take notice. Don't worry. I am here with you," she said softly, tapping Ruqayyah's arm.
Ruqayyah bowed her head, jotting down new notes, a quiet satisfaction blooming in her chest. The majlis resumed order, the elites' discussions continued with more discipline, and the hall filled with the scent of ink, parchment, and an undercurrent of admiration she could not ignore.
Suddenly, the system announced.
[Ding! Congratulations, Host!
Quest: Attend the Majlis of Knowledge has been completed.
Reward: The potion granting the ability to evade danger has been delivered to your system backpack. Use it whenever necessary.]
Ruqayyah had just begun to exhale when the system chimed again.
[Ding! Congratulations, Host! By initiating a favorable relationship with one of Caliph Harun al-Rashid's sons—Al-Mu'tashim—reward: knowledge of basic and intermediate medicine, along with medical tools, has been delivered to your system backpack.]
Ruqayyah's heart swelled with gratitude. "With the knowledge and tools you mention… it feels as though I have claimed my right to learn, even here in the ninth century, far from my own world."
[You are correct, Host. God grants you your due.]
And so, the day at the Majlis of Knowledge came to a close.