With a heart steeped in crimson sorrow and a countenance pale as sandarac, King Yazdegerd set his pen to paper, writing unto the Kanarang of Tus and the mighty marchlords of the eastern borders. He commenced his missive with sublime praises to the Just Creator—the Sovereign of victory and imperial glory, who fashions the wings of the gnat and the talons of the eagle, ruling the elephant upon land and the leviathan in the deep. Reaffirming his descent from God-fearing monarchs whose justice bloomed across the earth, the Shahanshah addressed the guardians of Shamiran, Ruyin-Dezh, Rabeh-Kuh, and Kalat. He recalled their steadfast loyalty during the rebellion of Bahram Chubin, when they retreated to high mountain peaks to safeguard the realm. Yet now, a darker doom had descended: the nightmare of Khosrow Anushirvan was fulfilled. In that ancient dream, a hundred thousand unbridled Arab dromedaries crossed the Arvand River, extinguishing the sacred fires of the temples, darkening the radiant celebrations of Nowruz and Sadeh, and bringing the battlements of the imperial palace crashing down into dust. Seeing that fortune had turned her face, Yazdegerd marched with his remaining paladins toward Khorasan. Kashmagan, son of the loyal warrior Farrukhzad, arrived at court to detail the secret mountain sanctuaries of Gonbadin-Kuh, Kharmaneh, and Lazvardin. Recognizing that their massive host could not fit inside narrow fortresses, Yazdegerd ordered the entire wealth of Iran—gold-brocaded garments from Rome, Kashmir, and China, along with immense stores of grain, dates, honey, salted hides, and thousands of cart-bulls—to be transported and walled up inside these mountain retreats under the supervision of learned Mobads. Finally, he decreed the minting of new silver dirhams stamped with the Holy Name of God on one side and his own crowned effigy on the other, ensuring that even as darkness swallowed the empire, the memory of its majesty would endure through the ages.