When the sun drew back the curtain of dawn and washed sleep from the eyes of the world, the two bitter brothers, Tur and Salm, devoid of shame and consumed by malice, marched toward the royal pavilion. Seeing them approach, the noble Iraj ran out with an open heart and unarmed, welcoming his brothers with loving warmth. Yet hatred had blinded Tur, who bitterly accused Iraj of claiming the crown of supreme kingship over Iran while his elder brothers labored in distant lands.
Iraj, serene and humble, replied that he sought neither the throne of Iran, nor rule over China or Rome, for earthly power whose end is darkness holds no value, and a humble brick is the ultimate pillow for all kings. He willingly offered to surrender both crown and signet ring to end their enmity. But Tur was deaf to righteousness; leaping up in fury, he raised a heavy golden throne and struck Iraj upon the head.
Falling to the ground, Iraj pleaded for his life, begging Tur to fear the God of the world, to spare a brother's blood, and not to break the heart of their aged father, warning that the Almighty would surely avenge his murder. Yet Tur drew a shimmering, poison-tempered dagger of blue steel, slit open Iraj's royal chest, and severed the crowned head from his body. Embalming the head with musk and ambergris, the villainous brothers sent it back to the aged Fereydun with cruel taunts, before departing—Tur to Turan and Salm to Rome.