The King’s gaze is as steady and unflinching and nonchalant as the hawk’s. He is dressed in the heavy traditional robe of Mughal royalty - layered silks and velvets, featuring the finest embroidery in the fashion of the times. He carries a dagger at his waist, for what is a king without a weapon to defend what he owns. Close-cropped jooties clad his feet, and the colour of his turban matches that of the scabbard.
His stance is of one whose pleasures now lie only in dangerous pursuits, of which falconry is one. The hand that bears the hawk is eerily stable. The other hand is bare as it reaches out to the animal in measured caresses over its warm, downy breast. It is the onset of twilight upon which it has returned home to its master.
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