In the Ottoman Empire, the princely power of a Pasha was not measured by sparkling crowns, but by dried horsehair. The ultimate status symbol was the so-called Tugh – an intricately carved wooden staff from which the tails of noble black or grey horses dangled. The higher the Pasha climbed in the military hierarchy, the more horsehair tails he had carried before him during campaigns and parades: a simple governor was allowed to adorn himself with a single tail, an experienced army leader led with two tails, and the powerful Grand Vizier rode at the head of the armies with a proud three horsehair tails. Only the Sultan himself could top this bizarre spectacle, claiming up to six tails for his entourage. When an Ottoman force approached, enemy scouts would frantically count the fluttering horsehairs on the horizon to quickly calculate how much cannon fire and elite Janissaries would soon be upon them.

The title of the Ottoman Grand Vizier, the Sadrazam, sounded like absolute sovereign glory, yet in everyday life it was the most dangerous top job in world history. As the keeper of the seal and the right hand of the Sultan, the Grand Vizier governed vast provinces, commanded immeasurable wealth, and resided in the famous Sublime Porte. However, if he lost a battle, the state treasury went into the red, or he simply incurred the wrath of the harem, the ruler wasted no time with legal proceedings. The chief palace gardener, the Bostancıbaşı, who also served as the court executioner, would discreetly knock on the minister’s door and solemnly present him with a silk cord. According to ancient custom, a Grand Vizier was not to be beheaded like a common criminal, as noble blood should not stain the ground. The powerful dignitary had no choice but to reverently kiss the cord and allow himself to be strangled in his own study – which is why some wise statesmen panicked and declined the coveted title, preferring to keep their heads on their shoulders.

Although Oriental empires were outwardly regarded as pure male domains, in truth, it was the women who ruled the Ottoman Empire in the 16th and 17th centuries – an era that historians aptly named the Reign of Women (Kadınlar Saltanatı). At the top of the hierarchy was the Valide Sultan, the Queen Mother, flanked by the Haseki Sultan, the imperial chief consort. Legendary rulers such as Kösem Sultan or Hürrem Sultan (known in the West as Roxelana) pulled all the political strings from deep within the Topkapi Palace, forging alliances with European kings and deposing viziers and sultans at will. Since Ottoman laws prohibited women from officially sitting on the throne, the powerful ladies simply received foreign ambassadors behind opaque screens or had orders conveyed to the state council through trusted palace eunuchs. Those seeking a ministerial position, lands, or fleets in Constantinople did not bribe the ruler on the golden throne, but sent precious silks and jewels to the chambers of the Valide Sultan.

In the Persian Empire, rulers have claimed a title since ancient times that is hard to surpass in self-importance: Shahanshah, which literally translates to “King of Kings.” A Persian Shah did not see himself as a mere prince, but as the living centre of the entire universe, to whom all other monarchs of the world had to pay homage unconditionally. This imperial grandeur reached its peak in the 18th century with the construction of the legendary Peacock Throne, which was adorned with thousands of rubies, emeralds, sapphires, and pure gold, and featured a jewel-encrusted peacock with a sparkling plumage at its pinnacle. When the Shahanshah held his audiences, subjects and foreign envoys had to perform the Proskynesis – prostrating themselves flat on the ground and touching the dusty carpet with their foreheads, without looking directly at the ruler. When Western diplomats insisted on standing upright before the Persian throne in the 19th century, the court master of ceremonies had the doors of the reception halls built so low that even the proudest ambassadors had to bend deeply to crawl into the hall.

In the splendid realms of the Indo-Oriental Mughal rulers and princely states, the Nawabs and Nizams took the concept of luxury to dizzying dimensions. The most famous among them was the Nizam of Hyderabad, who ruled over a vast, semi-autonomous principality and was regarded as the richest person on the planet at the beginning of the 20th century. His princely wealth was so immense that he used the famous Jacob Diamond – one of the largest gemstones on Earth worth several million – simply as a mundane paperweight on his desk, to prevent the rising breeze from scattering his bills. While European dukes struggled over tax revenues, the Oriental Nawabs owned their own pearl fisheries, kept hundreds of armoured war elephants with gilded tusks, and had tons of fragrant rosewater sprayed over the heads of their guests at festivities. Those who held any esteem as Nawabs did not travel in ordinary carriages, but were carried in velvet-lined palanquins by dozens of servants through the crowds, while tasters and fly swatters ensured that not the slightest inconvenience befell their noble disposition.