The chronicle of the realm turns to the unmatched majesty and splendor of King Khosrow Parviz, whose earthly grandeur surpassed all memory of high and low throughout the ages. From the distant domains of Turan, India, China, and Rome, rivers of tribute flowed into his shining court—heaps of pearls, rubies, dinars, and endless retinues of servants. So radiant was his soul that not only the nations of men, but even the soaring eagles, the lions of the wilderness, the leopards, and the leviathans of the deep submitted to his covenant. He assembled legendary hoards of treasure: the Treasure of the Bride (Ganj-e Arus); the Emerald-Green Treasure (Ganj-e Khazra); the Windfall Treasure (Ganj-e Bad-Avar), whose vast count baffled all accountants; the imperial woven tapestries of Khosrow; the recovered ancient hoard of Afrasiab; and the Burnt Treasure (Ganj-e Sukhteh), alongside the magnificent carpet Shadvard-e Bozorg, interwoven with pure red gold and shimmering gems. In his royal halls, the master minstrels Sarkash and Barbad entranced all ears with untainted melodies, while twelve thousand spring-like maidens, two thousand two hundred war elephants, sixteen thousand battle steeds, and twelve thousand pack camels filled his realm. Yet, despite such unmatched glory, this mighty monarch fell at the hands of a mere attendant. Thus stands the eternal lesson of the transient world: a passing inn where one soul enters as another departs, where crowns and thrones crumble into dust, and where nothing abides save the seeds of righteousness sown upon the earth.