Last King of Kings

"My Shahanshah, may I have a moment of your time?" asked Rostam as he entered Yazdegerd's office nonchalantly. Yazdegerd was in the middle of reading through some documents. It was the year 639. Two and a half years have passed since the end of the war. Yazdegerd was now 15 and was experiencing everything that came with it. He began growing a stump, and his voice was now much deeper. He has also grown in height, becoming nearly as tall as Rostam. His shoulders also broadened. He was no longer a boy, but also not yet man. He was something between. And he wasn't entirely comfortable with these changes yet.

"Of course, what is it?" asked Yazdegerd, being briefly surprised by his voice. Rostam simply smiled and began to speak.

"I have some reports you should take a look at. Several of them. And each one being critical." He said with a serious voice. Yazdegerd was taken aback by the sudden change of mood. He frowned.

"Take a seat here, Rostam. And show them to me." He said, putting the papers he was reading aside.

"I am sorry to disturb you when you are working, but this is very important." Said Rostam, looking at the papers Yazdegerd put away.

"Rostam, I know that you wouldn't come to me with something that could be discussed at a later date. Now, show me. What's the matter?"

Rostam simply nodded and took out several papers. Some of those were letters, some were reports and documents. Then, he pulled out a map.

"According to these documents, which you may want to read by yourself, there is some trouble brewing in the Roman Empire. There has been a word of assassination plot on the current Emperor and our ally, Heraclius. We do not have this confirmed, but it may be wise to at least keep it in mind, and perhaps alert Heraclius of this fact. Then again, I do believe he already knows about this, and is perhaps dismissing it as mere rumours. But we should be careful, my Shahanshah, and we should be prepared for a possible military intervention."

Yazdegerd was tense and was sweating from what he heard. He was well aware of some ploys being set against Heraclius, but this was far worse than he imagined. Now he wasn't sure he wants to know about the other matter. But he had to. This was his job.

"I do believe we should be prepared for any military conflict, but sending a messenger might be too much. He may get intercepted. We don't know who exactly is plotting against him. Anyway, I need more time to thing this over. Was there anything else?"

"Yes, my Shahanshah, though I would say it's not that serious. There have been reports of several raids and skirmishes between our soldiers and soldiers of the Chacha Empire along the Indus river. It seems they are testing our reaction to see whether a conquest of territory would be possible. So long losses were minimal on both sides, but should they attempt anything bigger, we may have to act."

Yazdegerd was surprised by this. "Oh, really?" he said. He was flabbergasted that someone other than Arabs would try to attack him. He could understand why Arabs would do that – after all, his Empire was in horrible state at the time. It was no surprise they tried to exploit its weakness. But now, Eranshahr was strongest it was in a long time. Reformed bureaucracy, taxes and conscription, among other things, meant the country could stay modernised and prosperous. Either the ruler of this Chacha Empire was a fool, or he knew exactly what he was doing. And the latter possibility scared him.

"What of this Chacha Empire? Are they someone we should be vary of?"

"I wouldn't say so, at least not yet. But it would be prudent to act cautiously and within reason. It seems they have been expanding rapidly while we were busy fighting the Arabs. Perhaps they are trying to cling to the legacy of Ashoka. Who knows?"

"In the same way we are trying to cling to the Achaemenids of old?"

Rostams smile withered away as he realized his foolishness. Was it wrong to try and cling onto the great legacy of your people? Was it wrong that Assyrians still revered the days of the great Ashurbanipal? That Armenians to this day celebrated Tigranes II., who was called "The Great"? Of course not. Persians also remembered their own Greats. Cyrus, Xerxes and Darius, every one of these men did good deeds for the Persians. So it's no surprised they would be recognized and celebrated, even if they died centuries ago.

Yazdegerd gave Rostam a wry smile. He then stood up and began leaving.

"As I said, I need some time to think. Give me a day. Maybe two. But no more. In the meantime, I would ask you to look into the matter a bit more. I believe Heraclius is not only strong man, but also a capable ruler. I don't think he is the kind of man that would not take information like that seriously. So let us focus on dealing with the Indians first. Maybe send a messenger to negotiate. Talk this over with Farrokhzad, too. Tomorrow, or the day after, we shall meet and discuss the matter at hand."

As he finished his talk, Rostam only nodded, then stood up and bowed as he watched Yazdegerd leave his office. It was strange, seeing him growing up so fast. As if it was yesterday when he was only a small boy, incapable of doing things himself. But now, he was truly the one ruling this country and calling the shots. Such a growth only warmed Rostam's heart.

--

Yazdegerd was wandering through the corridors of the Imperial Palace in Ctesiphon, wondering about this or that. But mainly, he was thinking about himself. The successes he achieved during these past few years were astounding. Considering the dire situation he was facing in the beginning, it's quite admirable that he was able to make it so far. Now, Eranshahr was once again the major player in the world, perhaps second only to the Romans. The warring tribal kingdoms in Europe, that have conquered the former lands of the Romans weren't even worthy of consideration. Not yet, anyway.

And hearing this talk about some powerful Indian kingdom, stretching way beyond the Indus, he felt uneasy. He had to get his act together and think rationally. After all, he was the ruler. He had to call the shots. And so he thought. A dangerous neighbour, threatening to invade, most likely coveting our lands. The issue is, why? According to his intel, this Chacha Empire wasn't even half the size of Eranshahr. Rationally speaking, they shouldn't have any chance of winning this war. So why were they so confident? What drove them? Perhaps they were the ones with bad spy network, thinking the Empire is in a completely different state than it really is? Or maybe they had confidence for a similar reason Arabs had? Not necessarily a new religion, but perhaps a highly skilled and competent ruler and/or general? Who knew? The more Yazdegerd thought, the more he was getting entangled in his own thoughts. He needed a break.

He ventured into the palace gardens. He wasn't visiting them very often, especially after a certain incident involving his life occurred here. From then, he always ventured here with at least few pushtigban members. But now, he was alone. He always thought the place was beautiful. It was soothing for his mind, to sit down on a bench and listen to the chirping of birds, flow of water and fizz of flowing water. He sat right by an artificially made lake, in which fish were swimming. He thought about them, always looking so calm and unbothered. How easy of a life they must have. Just swimming freely in the water, no responsibilities and no obligations. Just water.

Eventually, his thoughts wandered somewhere completely different. He thought of Roxane. After all, he hadn't seen her for a while and the prospect of seeing her again intrigued him. After all these years, she must've grown even more beautiful than she was. And considering how pretty she was when he first saw her, even his imagination was short. He simply couldn't fathom the sheer beauty she must've possessed by now.

But he also thought about other things. About Usama, who was now ruling in Yazdegerd's name over Arabs, continuing with the practice of their religion, unopposed and free. And even though Usama sent monthly reports, which were mostly uneventful, mainly consisting of financial reports and some other stuff Usama noticed or found out, Yazdegerd knew very little about how Usama himself was faring.

Then there was Heraclius, the man he talked with Rostam about just a while ago. Yazdegerd believed in him. He knew very well that Heraclius is a clever, calculating man that wouldn't let himself be caught off guard. And that was exactly why he was so worried. Because if Yazdegerd knew that, so did everyone else in the Empire. And if they knew his weakness, they could easily exploit it. But, once again, Heraclius must've known that, meaning he will take necessary precautions. Even knowing that didn't help Yazdegerd shake off that uneasy feeling he had.

He sighed. He had enough worries about himself – he can't be worrying about others, too, or he will go insane.

He eventually lay down into the grass, closing his eyes and simply relaxing. He thought about a lot of things. His issues, his needs, things he was responsible for, things that were in his grasp and things he could influence. After a while though, he cleared his head and while listening to the surrounding sounds, he slowly and quietly descended into a peaceful slumber.