Last King of Kings

Chapter 14: The weight of life

After Jabalah got some rest from the constant stress of dealing with his officers, he started preparing the envoy. He had his servants prepare gifts, such as rare chinaware, silk clothing and even a pair of noble steeds. He had supplies, carts, transports and feeding for the steeds prepared, along with the two dozen men he employed for this mission. This all was done in about a day. He also had prepared how the negotiation process would go, as he wanted to quickly take control of the negotiations. His men also prepared for him a formal clothing, that was to be worn only during the negotiations. After a final preparations and checking everything is in place and where it is supposed to be, Jabalah embarked on a journey to Istakhr.

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Rostam walked the palace corridor, a corridor he knew very well. Decorated with all kinds of pottery, paintings and busts, he stopped in front of a certain door. It was night, sun no longer shining and only torches illuminated his tall figure, which cast a long shadow on the ground. His brownish eyebrows frowned as he knocked on the door.

"Who's there?" a high, almost childish voice came out. It was the voice of his liege.

"Rostam Farrokhzad, your spahbed, my Shahanshah, may he be immortal." he said, in a cold, monotone voice. Yazdegerd instantly knew that something was wrong.

"You may enter." rung the voice. Rostam opened the door, still frowning, a stack of papers in his hand. Once he entered, he instantly knelt.

"My Shahanshah, may he be-"

"My spahbed, please. What happened?"

After being interrupted by his Shahanshah, Rostam nodded and stood up, his frown not disappearing from his face.

"Very well, my liege. Do you remember the garrison reinforcements you had sent into Atropatene region to counter the Khazars?"

"Of course I do, my spahbed. Continue."

"Half of them, that is around 1500 soldiers never arrived."

Yazdegerd was horrified, and it showed in his face. Both eyes and mouth wide open, heart beating quickly and loss of breath. It came as quickly as a shot from an archer, like a shock meaning to scare you away. Now, Yazdegerd didn't frown. He averted his eyes and looked down.

"I see. How did they die?"

"It seems that wandering Khazar groups got them after they divided because they headed to different cities. Ambush and complete extermination. Mainly in remote locations, like mountains or forests. According to this, they found one of the sites of battle. One-sided massacre, ambushed at night and killed. But not looted. It seems Khazars killed them only for their own pleasure. They also found a few dead Khazars, so it seems they fought back."

After hearing this horrifying story about how these men walked into a death trap, Yazdegerd couldn't help but feel guilty of it. But what could he do? The men were dead, slaughtered with him completely helpless.

"Compensate their families accordingly. It is the least I can do." The most uptodat𝓮 n𝒐vels are published on n0velbjn((.))com

"But, my Shahanshah, may he be immortal, we can't afford to compensate every family of every fallen soldier. What if tens of thousands of soldiers die in a war. Will you compensate every dead soldier's family?"

Yazdegerd wanted to cry, shout and yell simultaneously. But, somehow, he managed to contain his emotions inside him. He knew his spahbed was right, and that in this time, he couldn't afford to spend money on something like this.

"My spahbed, if I show my benevolence towards the people, won't they accept me?"

"But, my Shahansah-"

"Enough. I am the Shahanshah, not you. Think of it as a one time monetary investment, my spahbed."

"As you wish, my Shahanshah."

After this exchange, Yazdegerd didn't have an appetite to talk with anyone any further. He stayed in his room, thinking about the soldiers. What if he didn't send them there? Would they be now still living their life, with their family and dear ones? He didn't know, and this ignorance gnawed at him from inside. Lost in thoughts and mind, he eventually stopped caring about it. Well, more like he learned how to hide that he cares. Thousands will die under his rule, both directly affected by him or not. And if he felt guilt for the death of every one of them, it would break him for sure. He needed to clear his mind, maybe even forget, at least for a while. So he had wine brought to him. Not water diluted. He wasn't sure it was the right choice, but it was the necessary one. And so, in the age of nine, Yazdegerd III., Shahanshah of Iran and Aniran drunk himself.

After he woke up next day, a sudden rush of memories from last night caught up to him. He remembered feeling guilty, he remembered what he felt, but not the feeling itself. He was glad. So glad that he remembered about Bashir and that kid who was supposed to be Zoroaster's reincarnation. Suddenly, an idea striked his mind. An idea, that could help him in his plan of concentrating the power to him. He immediately stood up, dressed himself and headed for their room. And he found them there. Both were quite surprised by his sudden visit, as it wasn't even seven in the morning. But as a priest, Bashir was used to early morning routines when he was on the road, and so was the child. They were both already awake, doing what they could to kill time.

"My Shahanshah, may he be immortal." said Bashir immediately upon noticing the young Shah and he knelt, forcing down the kid to also kneel. "What brings you here at such an early hour?"

Yazdegerd waved off their greeting and gestured for them to stop kneeling.

"From tomorrow, you shall start preaching again."

Bashir looked at the young Shah, perplexed and startled simultaneously.

"I will give you my personal approval to preach and support. I shall also grant you new clothes. And you, in exchange, will go from city to city and preach. Preach about me, the child and our lord Ahura Mazda. And bring me results. Oh, and, this isn't an offer."

Bashir, still looking a bit confused thought it over, but after he understood he can't refuse, he sighed a bit. Yazdegerd's idea was to have this man preach around the country to challenge the corrupt and greedy clergy and to let people find new hope and trust for Zoroastrianism. That was his plan with Bashir, who reluctantly accepted his irrefusable offer. And the next day, armed with new clothes, wisdom, money and a child, which Yazdegerd found out was mute, Bashir took off to preach about the new way of Zoroastrianism. About a prophet, whose prophecy wasn't fully fulfilled yet.