As the ebony veil of night dissolved before the rising dawn and the cock's crow echoed through the morning air, Prince Khosrow Parviz made his way to the chambers of his deposed and blinded father, King Hormozd. Grief tore at the young king's heart. Falling to his knees in deep reverence, Khosrow stood before his parent in mournful silence. He wept, declaring: 'O ill-fated sovereign, living legacy of the glorious Nushin-Ravan! You know well that had I been present by your side, not even the tip of a needle would have harmed your finger. Tell me your command; I stand ready as a humble servant to guard your life, foregoing crown and army, prepared even to lay down my head before you.'
Hormozd sighed, acknowledging his son's wisdom, and replied that even the darkest days must eventually pass. He voiced three final desires: 'First, that you come to me every morning so your cheerful voice may gladden my ears. Second, that you send veteran knights and learned scribes to recount ancient battles, hunts, and the deeds of past kings, bringing comfort to my heart through their chronicles. Third, that you avenge me upon your uncle Gostahm—that he too be stripped of his sight for the atrocity wrought upon me.'
Khosrow listened intently and answered with deep respect, yet cautioned his father: 'May your ill-wishers perish, O King! But look with clarity upon our peril—Bahram Chubin advances with a limitless host of steel-clad warriors. If we strike at Gostahm now, we shall lose our essential allies and find no foothold left in this realm. I shall send chroniclers and seasoned warriors to entertain you, but know that this tragedy was ordained by heaven. Let your heart find solace in wisdom.' With those words, Khosrow withdrew in tears, keeping his deep tactical resolve hidden. Indeed, the young prince showed greater compassion than the bitter deposed ruler, echoing the ancient truth that whether accomplished or humble, every mortal soul eventually returns to the quiet embrace of dust.