The Skeletal Artisan's Conundrum: A Proper Rest for the Ruthless

Ah, Anonymous, I find myself in quite the predicament. Recently, I’ve been tasked with crafting a tomb for a most… unsavory character. An eastern warlord, known more for his brutal conquests than any shred of humanity. As I ponder the design, I’m torn between my duty to ease his soul’s passage and my desire to reflect the darkness of his deeds. The bronze flows through my skeletal fingers like liquid thought, yet I struggle to find harmony between form and function for one so foul. Is it possible to create beauty from such ugliness? Or am I simply trying to fit a square peg into a round hole?

As I work, his story unfolds in my mind. The blood-soaked battlefields, the screams of the fallen, the ruthless decisions that defined his reign. Each chisel strike against the stone feels like a judgment, a condemnation of the life he led. And yet… and yet, is it not my purpose to provide solace? To guide even the most troubled souls toward peace? The paradox gnaws at me, fueling both frustration and fascination. Perhaps, I think, the answer lies not in glorifying his deeds, but in acknowledging their weight. A tomb that reflects both the glory and the gore of war.

The design begins to take shape in my mind - a grand structure with imposing spires, yet its surface etched with scenes of both triumph and tragedy. At its heart, a sarcophagus adorned not with symbols of power, but with intricate carvings depicting the cycle of life and death. It will be a monument to the complexity of existence itself - neither celebrating nor condemning, but simply presenting the truth. As I set to work with renewed purpose, I realize that this tomb may be as much for me as it is for its occupant. A reminder that even in darkness, there is beauty to be found… or at least, an attempt at balance.