A long era unfolded, and after relentless military campaigns, the imperial army of Iran fell into dire need of silver and gold. The commander summoned the treasurers and paymasters, speaking of the insurmountable rivers, trenches, and arduous marches that could not be sustained without fitting armor, horses, and wages for the troops. King Khosrow Anushirvan ordered his scribes and keepers of the realm's wealth to audit the imperial stores. Upon tallying the ledgers, the minister reported a deficit of three hundred thousand silver pieces.
The King's countenance darkened with anxiety, and he summoned his wise vizier, Bozorjmehr. Anushirvan bade him dispatch camel-drivers to the far-off treasury of Mazandaran to haul loads of gold. But Bozorjmehr bowed and offered sage counsel: the road to Mazandaran was long, and the army would languish in empty-handed frustration. Instead, he suggested borrowing silver from the wealthy merchants and landed gentry of the nearby towns, to be repaid once the royal treasury was replenished.
The King assented, and Bozorjmehr chose a prudent, handsome, and noble-minded messenger to ride forth. Arriving at a neighboring city, the envoy announced the royal loan. A wealthy shoemaker stepped forward, eager to serve the crown. Without needing parchment or pen, he brought forth scales and weighed out forty 'man' of silver coins—each 'man' worth a hundred thousand pieces—handing it joyfully to the messenger.
Yet the shoemaker harbored a single, burning desire. He implored the messenger to ask Bozorjmehr and the Shah for a high favor: that his beloved son be permitted to study under royal tutors to become a scribe, crossing the threshold of the learned elite. The envoy returned at night and delivered the silver to the court, relaying the shoemaker's humble plea.
When King Anushirvan heard the request, his brows furrowed in stern indignation. He declared: 'Has a demon clouded your eyes, O wise vizier? Turn back the camels instantly and return his silver! If the child of a shoemaker becomes a scribe, acquiring wisdom and high office, who shall inherit the seat of nobles when our royal bloodline ascends the throne? The lowborn will usurp the places of the well-bred, and generations after us will curse our memory for shattering the holy order of the realm.' Thus, the King refused the shoemaker's vast fortune, choosing rather to protect the rigid hierarchy of the empire than to accept money stained by class transgression.