Two months after the widespread distribution of the printed books and the spread of the New Persian language, the whispers of Kourosh's silent revolution echoed like a gentle but powerful breeze through the various layers of society, from Anshan to the heart of the Median land. Literacy, which had previously been an exclusive and sacred privilege for scribes and priests, found only in palaces and temples, was now gradually becoming accessible to ordinary people. In the villages, farmers and shepherds, with unprecedented curiosity and enthusiasm, gathered together, trying to decipher the simple words of "A Guide to the Writing of New Persian," as if a new window to a world of knowledge and awareness had opened before them, and their long-held thirst for understanding was being quenched.
In the bustling markets, merchants from the Maspii tribe, who were always seeking efficiency and profit, excitedly showed "The Comprehensive Dictionary of New Persian" to their colleagues. One of them, with a smile that shone with satisfaction, said, "Truly, this script and language are easier than what the priests say! We can write our trade letters faster and more accurately and keep our accounts with greater precision." In the cold mountain nights, the shepherds of the Dai tribe gathered around a warm, bright fire and, instead of ancient tales, read the stories of the "Achaemenid Avesta" to each other. These books had become not only a tool for knowledge and progress but also a means of entertainment, uniting the people, and strengthening cultural and spiritual bonds among them.
Among the Median priests, opinions became sharply polarized, and a deep rift formed among them. The younger priests and those with a more open and forward-thinking perspective, like some from the Magian tribe, saw the immense potential of the "Achaemenid Avesta" for spreading the teachings of Zoroaster and strengthening faith among the common people. They had come to believe that this was a way to bring people closer to Ahura Mazda, a path that had not existed before, and that now Ahura Mazda himself had opened this way. One of them said with enthusiasm, "Perhaps the wisdom of Ahura Mazda wants to find its way into every home, not just in the fire temples and in our monopoly."
But in contrast, the high-ranking and conservative priests, especially Atropates, the chief Magus and leader of the Magian tribe, saw this new invention as a serious threat to their authority, which was based on the monopoly of knowledge and the interpretation of religious texts. In private, Atropates said to his like-minded priests, "If everyone can read and interpret the Avesta, what need is there for us anymore? This new script and these books destroy the thousand-year-old tradition of oral transmission of wisdom and may lead to incorrect interpretations and deviations." They were looking for a way to counter little Kourosh's actions and to contain this dangerous wave.
In the Median court as well, the news regarding Kourosh's innovations and his growing influence raised serious concerns. The Persian nobles who were like-minded with Kourosh and were aware of his intelligence and vision, like Arsames and Pharnaspes, spoke with pride of his successes and praised the potential of these inventions for improving the country's administration, increasing military power, and boosting the economy. They saw that Kourosh was not just a prince, but a true leader who could bring Persia to the pinnacle of glory.
But among the Median chiefs, especially those more loyal to Astyages who saw their power in the king's shadow, like Ormozd of the Busae, these praises were accompanied by deep fear and concern. Ormozd whispered with a worried tone, "This Persian child is very cunning. He is only five years old, but his influence has spread beyond the borders of Anshan and has captured the hearts of our people as well. These books are just tools, but the real power is in the hands of the one who created them." These whispers, like a cold wind, gradually reached the ears of Astyages, the king of the Medes, and shattered his false sense of peace.
The news about the "wondrous Persian books" and the "unusual intelligence of Kourosh" revived Astyages's old anxieties. He remembered his terrifying dreams and the Magi's prophecy about the threat to his throne from his grandson. This time, the threat was not manifested in an open sword and a moving army, but in the hidden power of wisdom and knowledge; a power that emanated from a five-year-old child and, in silence, was strengthening the foundations of his influence and drawing the hearts of the people towards him. The shadow of fear once again fell upon the heart of the Median king, driving him towards a deeper madness.
Astyages, in his solitude, wrestled with this new fear. He saw that this threat was invisible and pervasive, and it could not be suppressed with a sword or an army. This knowledge was flowing like water among the people, and the more he tried to contain it, the more it spread. This situation pushed him towards hasty and ruthless decisions; decisions that, instead of containing the danger, would only inflame it further and shake the foundations of his rule. He did not know that this very fear would be the beginning of his own downfall.