At night, in the plain of Anshan, it was as if the sky had become one with the earth. Kourosh's small caravan, after days of travel, had stopped in the deep silence of the night and had gathered in a circle around a warm fire. The flames danced in the darkness, scattering the long shadows of the caravaneers on the dusty ground, as if each shadow narrated an untold story of an adventurous journey. Little Kourosh, in the simple and disguised attire of an ordinary traveler, stood among the group, but his presence, even in this humble clothing, seemed to have an invisible force that drew everyone towards him. The firelight illuminated one half of his childish yet thoughtful face and plunged the other half into a mysterious shadow, a reflection of the duality of his existence: a prince hidden in the guise of a shepherd, a child who nurtured the dream of an eternal empire in his heart. His eyes were fixed on the countless stars in the sky, as if seeking an answer from them. A cool breeze blowing from the plain played with his hair, immersing him in deep thought, as if the stars were whispering secrets of the past and future in his ear.
From the heart of the darkness, a silent shadow approached him. Fariborz, the shrewd and loyal spy, stood beside Kourosh with caution, like a specter separated from the night. His dark clothing hid him in the darkness, except for his piercing eyes that glinted in the firelight, revealing his alertness. In a low voice, audible only to Kourosh's ears, he said, "My lord, in this solitude of the night, what occupies your noble mind? Have the stars shared a secret with you?" This question spoke not only of Fariborz's curiosity, but also of his deep loyalty to Kourosh, a loyalty that made him watch over his master's well-being even in moments of solitude.
Kourosh, without taking his eyes off the sky, replied in a voice tinged with longing and nostalgia, "Fariborz, I am thinking of Anshan, of my home, of my family. It has been five years since I have seen anything of them but dry and soulless reports. I long for my mother's warm embrace, for my father's firm yet kind gaze. Do you have any news of them? How are they? Tell me, Fariborz, what do you know?" The longing in Kourosh's voice seemed to mingle with the night breeze. He who had spent years in the solitude of Behistun, among rocks and books, drawing the maps of his land's future, now on the verge of returning home, was thirsty for the warmth of his family more than anything else.
Fariborz, in a calm and compassionate tone that showed his deep understanding of Kourosh's feelings, said, "My lord, your noble mother, Princess Mandane, has been in a state of endless joy and excitement since she received the news of your return. Every day, she goes to your room in the palace of Anshan with her own hands. No servant is allowed to go near it. She dusts away the dirt, straightens the fabrics of the bed, and as if with every touch, she keeps the hope of seeing you alive in her heart." Fariborz paused for a moment and continued in a voice tinged with a little sadness, "But this motherly love, in these five years, has been followed by the taunts of enemies and rivals. They whisper in the corners of the court that Princess Mandane has gone mad from the sorrow of her son's absence and has taken refuge in fantasy. But we, my lord, know that this is only a mother's love that no barrier can extinguish."
Hearing these words, Kourosh closed his eyes and fell silent for a moment. An image of his mother, with her long hair and hands lovingly tidying his empty room, came to life in his mind. A deep longing squeezed his heart, not only for being away from his mother but also for the suffering she had endured from the rumors of their enemies. He remembered his mother's open letter, a letter written with tears and hope, which spoke of her "oppressed son." That letter, which had spread among the people of Anshan and even beyond, had drawn many hearts to Kourosh's cause, but for Mandane, it was only a cry of longing. In a voice that trembled slightly, Kourosh asked, "And my mother? Have these rumors broken her?"
Fariborz shook his head gently and said, "No, my lord. Princess Mandane, despite all the suffering she has endured, remains as steadfast as a mountain. She endures these rumors with a smile and says, 'The day of my son's return is the answer to all these taunts.' She has faith that you, with your wisdom and determination, will conquer not only her heart but the hearts of all Persians." Kourosh gave a bitter smile and whispered, "My mother... she has always been my shield, even in absence."
Fariborz continued, "Your noble father, King Cambyses, shows his emotions less, but the eyes of our watchmen have observed him. Every morning, before sunrise, he goes to the top of the city walls of Anshan and stares silently at the surrounding plains. The guards say he sometimes stays there for hours, as if waiting for a caravan from afar. With his kingly fortitude, he hides this eagerness, but his heart, my lord, is overflowing with the hope of seeing you." Fariborz paused for a moment and added, "Once, one of the guards heard him whisper to himself, ''My son, where are you? Anshan is incomplete without you."
These words brought Kourosh's longing to its peak. He remembered his father, the man who led the kingdom with his authority, but in private, was a kind father who always reassured Kourosh with his gaze. Kourosh looked at the stars, as if wanting to hide his tears in the darkness of the night, and then asked in a firmer voice, "And my grandfather, Astyages? What effect did my mother's letter have on him? How is he now?"
Fariborz, in a tone that was a mixture of seriousness and caution, replied, "My lord, since the publication of Princess Mandane's open letter, Astyages has been drowned in anger and restlessness. That letter, which exposed his tyranny and oppression to the people, ignited the fire of discontent among the Median and Persian tribes. He who once sat with authority on the throne of Ecbatana is now mired in chaos." Fariborz lowered his voice and continued, "Our reports say he has taken refuge in debauchery and drinking and has endangered his health. At night, his nightmares keep him awake, and his screams echo in the palace. During the day, he is lost in a delusion of conspiracy and has become suspicious of everyone, even his most loyal officials. His governmental apparatus is in turmoil, and the officials, fearing his wrath, dare not speak."
Kourosh fell silent for a moment and thought of the book "The Principles of Persian Governance," where he had written that a government based on fear and oppression will eventually collapse. The situation of Astyages was living proof of this truth. In a voice that was a mixture of regret and resolve, he said, "Fariborz, this dark shadow of Astyages is seeing its end. He destroyed himself with his own tyranny. But we, with wisdom and justice, will light a fire that will banish this darkness forever."
Fariborz looked at Kourosh with eyes full of admiration and said, "My lord, you are not only the prince of the Persians, but their hope. Your books, which are hidden in the chests of this caravan, are the map for this light. What is your command for me?" Kourosh replied with a confident smile, "Be ready, Fariborz. The time of my return to Anshan is near. Your network must be our eyes, and Aban's Golden Roads, our lifelines. Together, we will rebuild this land." Fariborz, with a deep bow, bent his head in a sign of obedience and said, "By your command, my lord. My eyes are the eyes of the Persians." Then, like a shadow, he disappeared into the darkness of the night.
Kourosh looked at the stars once more. It was as if they brought him not only the whispers of the past but also the promise of a bright future. He whispered in his heart, "Anshan, I am returning. Not only for my family's embrace, but to raise the banner of justice." With this thought, he sat by the fire and, waiting for the dawn that would bring him closer to home, fell into silence.