When Shah Anushirvan reflected upon his past harshness toward the sage Bozorgmehr, his face grew pale with remorse and his brow furrowed in sorrow. Grieved that he had repaid steadfast loyalty with cold severity, the King of Iran sought to heal the rift by filling the minister's mouth with precious pearls. Observing the monarch's pained spirit and withered countenance, Bozorgmehr raised his voice in comforting wisdom. He recounted the mysterious events—the black bird, the hidden jewel in the armlet, and the true meaning of the royal dream—reassuring the Shah that all which had transpired was predestined by the heavens. He noted that sorrow over past fates serves no purpose, for whether one is a Shah, a Mobad, or Bozorgmehr himself, all must bow before the destiny stamped by Yazdan upon the stars. Wishing Anushirvan eternal joy, Bozorgmehr gently reminded him that while a king's domain is war, hunting, justice, and royal banquets, the daunting burden of managing the realm's treasury, army, and administration falls upon the soul of his wise counselor.