Nowruz 3

' By the grace of Ahuramazda, I became King on my father's throne'

——

A few weeks have passed since Artaxerxes' rebirth, and the Nowruz festival was taking place.

'Man, mother wasn't kidding when she said the Nowruz festival is the biggest party of the year'

Around Artaxerxes, who was relaxing in his mother's arms, the entirety of Persepolis was alight. Inside the massive apadana, which could literally fit 10,000 people on its terrace, it was packed with people dancing and partying.

Artaxerxes had never seen so many people in one place before, especially since all these people were the elite of the elite, whether it noble clans, high-level bureaucratic officials, or ambassadors from far-off lands, they were all feasting and reveling under the night sky. To be totally honest, before his rebirth, Artaxerxes knew next to nothing about the Achaemenid Empire, much less its customs, so everything he had been experiencing these past few weeks had left him culture shocked to the core.

However even all of these past few weeks combined couldn't top how amazed he was by the sheer enormity of the festivities tonight at Persepolis. With an army of servants catering an endless amount of food and all sorts of odd and exotic displays on sight for the celebrations, Artaxerxes couldn't quantify how much all of this must have cost.

Supposedly, it was all worth it, with Artaxerxes using the art of a baby and being in the right place at the right time, he overheard what exactly this festival was all about. The Nowruz festival was essentially the Persian New Year when the Achaemenid clan threw a huge celebration in Persepolis, and the rest of the empire got a week off from work.

It wasn't all festivities however, Artaxerxes had overheard his mother and some of her gals talking about the foreign dignitaries that were arriving in Persepolis to give tribute to the king of kings, which was a yearly tradition. Not only that but offerings were made to Ahuramazda, apparently the chief god of the Achaemenid clan.

Artaxerxes and his mother sat at an elevated table with other members of the Achaemenid clan, ranging from cousins, uncles, and brothers. Speaking of brothers, Artaxerxes had discovered he had two older brothers. Hystaspes and Dariaios. Both were years older than him, with the eldest, Dariaios, having just turned 12.

"Hystaspes! Stop picking your food and eat." Amestris said through a gritted smile. Hystaspes just humphed and flicked a piece of meat at Dariaios, who was two years his senior. Dariaios, not one to let things slide, kicked his brother under the table out of his mother's sight. Hystatspes, about to respond with a kick of his own, felt a looming sense of dread behind him.

Hystaspes, wobbling his head towards the presence, saw his mother, She had a kind smile on her face that may fool onlookers from a distance, but her children knew that this smile only meant despair. Immediately getting his act together he stopped being a nuisance to his brother and ate his food obediently.

Artaxerxes had gotten used to the circus of his family, where his two brothers would quarrel regularly and only occasionally team up to blame things on him, which didn't tend to work out well since whenever Artaxerxes was blamed for something, the logic of him being a few weeks old canceled out whatever excuses they used to sabotage him.

Overall, from Artaxerxes's few weeks of existence, he had gotten familiar with seven direct family members, Amestris, his mother, Xerxes, his father, Hystaspes and Dariaios, his brothers, and two sisters, Amities and Rhodogune.

His father, Xerxes, Great King, King of Kings, King of All Lands, the Achaemenid was sitting aloofly atop the Takht, a raised imperial throne that allows the Great King to look down on the festivities.

-------

As the hours passed, the festivities were just as vibrant as they were before, seemingly going on for an eternity. That was until huge bronze trumpets ripped the air with triumphant fanfares and an orchestra of drums, cymbals, and sistra, accompanied by harps and lyres, created a rhythmic march that signaled the commencement of the ceremonies that were central to the festival.

Hazarapatish stepped forward, the commander of the royal guard, to make an announcement.

"Xerxes the king proclaims, By the favor of Ahuramazda, these are the countries of which I am King outside of Persia. I rule them, and they bring me tribute: Media, Elam, Arachosia, Armenia, Drangiana, Parthia, Areia, Bactria, Sogdiana, Chorasmia, Babylonia, Assyria, Sattagydia, Lydia, Egypt, Ionians, who dwell by the Sea and beyond the Sea, the Maka people, Arabia, Gandara, Indus, Capadocia, Dahae, Scythians who drink haoma, Scythians who wear pointed hats, Thrace, the Akaufaka people, Lybians, Carians, and Nubians."

(A/N: Got this from some inscriptions online, the validity of the submissions of the Saka, Dahae, and Akaufaka are dubious)

The Hazarapatish, finishing his announcements, signaled for the emissaries from the aforementioned nations to step forward and offer tribute. As a tribute, they would bring various things native to their homelands such as gold, turquoise, lapis lazuli, wool tapestries, silk coats, cotton tunics, and spices, and leading horses, camels, sheep, and even lions into the lofty throne room.

Artaxerxes, still in his mother's arms, watched with glittering eyes as the countless ambassadors from foreign lands kowtowed to the King of Kings and offer him tribute as a token of their submission, and couldn't help but imagine himself in a similar place that his father was in.

The same sets of glittering eyes could be seen on many at the Achaemenid's table.