Long eras rolled across the mortal realm, and the deep secrets of destiny began to unfold. Fereydun the Wise, the just Pishdadian monarch, reached the autumn of his long life, as the dust of old age settled upon his spring garden. As confusion and darkness shadowed human affairs, the fires of envy and avarice flared within the heart of Salm, Fereydun’s eldest son, who had been granted the rule of Rum and the West. Salm’s soul became drowned in greed, and he grew deeply bitter over his father’s division of the world, for Fereydun had bestowed the golden throne of Iran—the heart of the earth and the plain of heroes—upon his youngest and purest son, Iraj.
With a furrowed brow and a heart brimming with malice, Salm dispatched a swift courser to his middle brother, Tur, the ruler of Turan and China. Salm’s message incited Tur, questioning why he remained silent while their father had exalted the youngest brother above them both. When the envoy delivered Salm's words, Tur's brainless head filled with arrogant rage, and he erupted like a roaring lion. Tur declared that their father had deceived them in their youth, planting a tree whose sap was blood and whose leaves were bitter gall. He urged that the two brothers meet secretly to combine their forces from Rum and China.
Meeting far from the eyes of strangers, the two treacherous brothers mingled the honey of brotherhood with deadly poison. They selected an eloquent, sharp-witted Mobad as their emissary to bear a harsh and brazen ultimatum to King Fereydun. Salm instructed the messenger to ride with the speed of the wind, enter the royal court, and accuse their aging father of injustice and impiety. Their message claimed that Fereydun had abandoned equity by raising Iraj to the heavens while leaving them in the dust; unless Iraj was stripped of the Iranian crown and banished to a humble corner, the combined hosts of Rum and Turan would sweep over Iran and utterly destroy Iraj.
The envoy galloped until he reached Fereydun's sublime palace, whose battlements pierced the clouds, guarded by chained lions, leopards, and towering war-elephants, while the roars of mighty champions echoed through its gates. Upon entering, the messenger beheld Fereydun: a monarch with a face like the shining sun and hair as white as camphor, who received him with gentle speech and placed him upon a seat of honor. With trepidation, the envoy delivered the harsh words of the foolish princes. As Fereydun listened, his noble blood boiled with grief and anger, recognizing that Ahriman had seized control of his sons' souls.
Fereydun replied sternly, warning the messenger that evil fruit comes only from an evil root, for Greed had usurped the throne of Wisdom in their minds. He called the heavens and the earth to witness that his division of the world had been guided solely by truth, divine fear, and the counsel of astrologers and sages. Fereydun cautioned them that this world passes quickly, that he who sells his brother to the dust is devoid of pure lineage, and that those who sow malice shall reap only divine retribution. Stunned by the majesty and profound wisdom of the ancient king, the messenger bowed low and rode away swiftly like the wind to carry Fereydun's solemn rebuke back to the rebellious brothers.