Last King of Kings

After making sure the men began their work, Yazdegerd left. It was not like he didn't trust them – well, at least he trusted Farrukhzad. But he also believed that Bijan, being Farrukhzad's friend is also competent. When he entered his chambers, servant already stood there as if waiting for him. Yazdegerd noticed him and looked his way, waiting for what the servant has to say. The servant bowed and handed him a letter.

"My Shahanshah, may he be immortal, this letter is from your subject, a man named Bashir."

Yazdegerd brightened up a bit. He hadn't hear from him for a long time. He accepted the letter and before the servant could take his leave, Yazdegerd instructed him.

"Bring me my spahbed here."

"Yes, my Shahanshah."

After the servant left in search of Rostam, Yazdegerd opened the letter and read its contents. Bashir's type of writing wasn't very suited for a report. The way he wrote his weekly "reports" reminded Yazdegerd of fairy tales. He always told where they went through, what city did they visit and what did they did. He also wrote what they preached about, focusing more on the positives of worship of fire. They preached about how Christian God abandoned them and the Romans, leaving behind only half of it. They preached how Buddhist deities never gave birth to an Empire as grand as Iranian. They also preached that Zoroastrianism was there before Christianity and Buddhism, and so it shall outlive them.

Yazdegerd smiled every time he read these letters. They were soothing to read in its own way, disconnecting Yazdegerd from the troubles of reality. Just like fairy tales. But his connection to reality restored a sound of fingers knocking on the wooden door. It was probably Rostam. Yazdegerd put down the letter and with a simple "Enter" answered the knocking. Rostam went inside and, as always, knelt down.

"What do you need, my Shahanshah, may he be immortal?"

"Rostam Farrokhzad, my spahbed. I want report. How many capable soldiers are you able to muster? If you can, exclude the young and elderly."

Rostam was a bit perplexed as to why would his liege want to know. They weren't in war and as far as he knew, weren't preparing for one. And he was the spahbed of the Empire of Iranians, so he should know. There was but one option. His liege was plotting something.

"I'd have to check to make the numbers exact, but maybe around 30000."

The numbers were always lower than the estimated number, so the real number would be around 26000. Yazdegerd didn't know if that will suffice or not. It simply had to.

"My Shahanshah, may he be immortal, may I ask why? Are you planning a campaign?"

"My spahbed, Arabs are at our doors and we have yet to consolidate power and to prepare against them. And what is quicker and more effective solution than killing you oponents?"

"My Shahanshah, what do you..?"

"What do I plan? I plan to ignite a civil war. I want the disloyal clergy and nobility to rebel against me. Rostam, are you aware of the reforms of Khosrow I. and how he implemented them?"

Rostam, being a literate and wise man knew who was his Shah talking about. Khosrow I., the King Philosopher, implemented his land and tax reforms in a very simple yet unexpected manner. He used the chaos of a peasant uprising to tax the land revenue from noble's land and transfer it under the crown. And nobles were completely helpless against this. Rostam understood his Shahanshah's intentions. He wanted to imitate Khosrow I., but go a step further and instead of implementing crucial reforms during the ensuing chaos, he also wanted to eliminate opposition. Such a drastic measure could have drastic consequences. It was a bet. A high-risk high-reward one. But, as always, where would Yazdegerd be now if he wouldn't be able to take risks? But this one would be the biggest risk of his life.

"My Shahanshah, do you mean what I think? Ignite a civil war, implement reforms and crush the opposition?"

"You understood it perfectly, my spahbed. But you forgot one crucial thing. When the clergy is crushed, I'll install my own puppet to lead the country's religion. Then I'll have enough power to stand toe to toe with Arabs."

It was a cunning plan, not without flaws and not without risks. He bet his whole life, everything he had on this drastic yet necessary measure.

"My Shahanshah, isn't this way too risky? I don't think it's a good idea."

"My spahbed, you do not decide what idea is good and what bad. I rule this Empire. I rule over tens of different ethnicities, I rule over tens of different regions and over tens of million people. And I understood something. That this Empire is mine and I'll do anything I want with it. So, my spahbed. I want you to start preparing the army ahead. I should also contact Bashir and tell him about this..."

At the moment Rostam thought of something.

"My Shahanshah, if Bashir is out there with the Zoroaster's reincarnate preaching, being obviously loyal to you, the clergymen could have already set their eyes on them and targeted them."

At that moment, Yazdegerd understood he made a crucial mistake. He rushed out of the room, shouting, with Rostam behind him.

"Servants! Servants! Anyone! Bring me my hazarbed, Jalinus! Quickly, it is urgent!"

After a while of running around, some servant brought Jalinus to him. He breathed heavily, so he probably ran all the way here.

"My Shahanshah, may he be immortal, what do you need?" said Jalinus with deep breaths in between the words. Although he was tired, he felt the obligation to kneel down, so he did.

"Stand up. Send a messenger with urgent message to Bashir. Make him hurry. And you, take a few men with yourself and ride to Ectabana, where Bashir should currently be. After you make sure he and the reincarnate are safe and unharmed, you shall take them here. Be discreet and quick. They may be at a risk of life."

Jalinus quickly nodded and ran off, hopefully already sending out the messenger and preparing the men. Yazdegerd had nothing to do but wait now. Without Bashir and the reincarnate, his plans would be crushed.