10 What plagues the Empire

Farrukhzad rode in the direction of Tabarestan, thinking to first take care of Rasht and then head through Amol into Zarang. It would be a long journey – around a month long. Although he had his servant, Sam to take care of any official inquiries, such as requests, orders and commands Farrukhzad will have issued, he was the one to prepare propaganda for his Shahanshah, and then things like supplies, horses, guards and so on. He rode in a carriage, together with Sam accompanied by a group of guards riding on horses with spears and sabres. They rode from Istakhr along the Zagros mountains through Ectabana, where they resupplied and changed horses. Then, after around a week, they arrived at the gates of the city of Rasht. This city on the coast of Caspian sea was quite big for city in early middle ages. With population of more than one hundred thousand it was an important trade hub in the Tabarestan region, with lot of trade coming through here from Caspian sea and the Caucasus. Or that would normally be the case. With the plague running rampant in the city and the quarantine order issued, no one was allowed inside or outside of the city. This would prevent any further spread of the plague at the cost of trade influx. But it was price he was ready to pay. Or at least his Shahanshah was. When camping in front of the main gate, Farrukhzad was thinking about the future. Will it really be alright? Will his Shahanshah be able to keep the empire united? He did not know, yet he believed. He saw something in that child-emperor, something that made him want to give it a try. At least until things look completely unrepairable. He was a man of quick but rational thinking. He knew when the Empire would be beyond saving. And now wasn't the time. At least he thought so.

The next day, someone emerged from until now closed city gates. Well, not one person, but a few. At least ten. They all wore protective masks, most likely filled with herbs to stimulate the smell of rotting corpses and dying people that for sure ensued in the city. They were the subjects of Tabarestan's marzban Darius. By his subjects in meant his court physicians with their respective disciples or assistants. They came to collect the funding of their efforts and some additional "monetary gift" from their Shahanshah, should they spread his name far and wide in the city. Farrukhzad also brought medical supplies with him, at least these that could last for the duration of the journey. Because, what use would the money have if they didn't have medicaments? When talking to Farrukhzad, they retained some distance between him.

"Honourable wuzurg framadan, I greet you on behalf of the physicians and doctors here in Rasht. I am Darab, and I lead the relief effort here in Rasht." said the man in the centre, a bit muffled by the mask and the distance. Farrukhzad had to strain his ears to hear him properly.

"I also greet you, doctor Darab. And I thank you for your effort. I bring funding from my Shahanshah, may he be immortal, for you to use. It should encompass the price of all supplies needed for your effort and of course, a honest pay for your work. We have also brought you supplies and rations, so you can withstand the quarantine. I am sure I can count on you to take care of it's redistribution, right?"

"Yes, but of course, honourable wuzurg framadan." said the man and sent someone halfway to collect the supplies, which were all stacked on a cattle-drawn wagon. As another of Farrukhzad men led the cattle to pull the carriage towards them, Farrukhzad placed another pouch of gold on the carriage. Darab, obviously surprised by this looked perplexed, even trough his face mask.

"'Tis but a gift from my Shahanshah, an extra let's say. Be sure to spread it in the city, how our Shahanshah helped you."

"But of course, honourable wuzurg framadar."

Darab then turned around, said something to the two men behind him and then turned back to Farrukhzad.

"Then, dear Darab, I think this concludes our meeting. I wish you well. Good luck, and I hope your efforts won't be in vain. And I also hope that your results will be satisfying."

After that, Darab, together with his followers and the carriage went back into the city. Farrukhzad hoped that everyone gets at least some rations, as it was basically clear that most of the rations will be sold to those who can pay the most. Everyone was greedy, but it wasn't like he couldn't understand those people. These were hard times to come by, especially for physicians, who were expected to do all the work with minimal pay, mainly during epidemics like this. Farrukhzad sighed. Although he had technically one third of his journey behind him, it was the easiest part. The hardest part was still to come.

---

Yazdegerd was sitting in the guestroom, looking at a kid devouring chicken and drinking water with it. He sighed. He really thought this kid was about his age, but apparently, he was four years younger. And the man with him was only fifty-four. The man was also eating, but looked more refined when he did. Also, he drank wine and Yazdegerd was told he complained about this wine's quality. He of course wasn't served the wine the Shahanshah and his trusted ones drank, but it still wasn't the cheapest one. Old man probably grew on some high quality one.

Yazdegerd let them eat and fill their stomachs, and then spoke.

"What is your name, old man?"

"I am Bashir, former magi of Herat."

"Magi of Herat? That is a very prestigious position. And yet, as a priest of Ahura Mazda, you believe in reincarnation? Do you not know our religion is mutually exclusive with reincarnation?"

"Of course I know, my Shahanshah, may he be immortal. When I found the child, I did not think of him as a reincarnate. But when traveling, I met a Manichaean priest named Savid. He told me about the option this child is a reincarnate of someone. And I think he is right."

Yazdegerd thought about it for a while. There sure were Zoroastrians who were directly influenced by Manichaeism, and those believed in the so called process of reincarnation. Yazdegerd himself didn't believe the man, same as he didn't believe in reincarnation. But the old man seemed very devout about the idea of the child being a reincarnate. And if he really was magi of Herat, that only added to its validity. If he wanted to use them as a means to achieve dominance over religion in state, as a political tool, he had to act quickly.

"Okay, Bashir. I will house you in my palace and help the young one get the recognition he deserves. Under one condition."