With the end of Mandane's letter, a heavy and breathtaking silence fell upon the court hall; a silence that was louder than any shout, the weight of truth filling the magnificent space. The mother's words had landed like a heavy hammer on the heads of those present, their faces contorting. Secret and meaningful glances were exchanged among the Median nobles; some looked with open sympathy at Mandane's brave messenger, who had brought a message of pain and injustice to the heart of power with unprecedented courage. Others stared with fear and dread at Astyages's stone-like and flushed face, while some, with a new understanding of the depth of the king's madness, pondered an uncertain future. The whispers began; quiet but meaningful murmurs that shattered the apparent calm of the court and spoke of a deep-seated distrust and internal unrest.
The Median nobles, including Ormozd of the Busae tribe and Ariobarzanes of the Paraetaceni, who themselves suffered from Astyages's tyranny and lack of wisdom, openly expressed their dissatisfaction with this public scandal, their faces drawn. Ormozd whispered under his breath, "What kind of oppression is this that he inflicts upon his own blood? Is a sovereign who fears his own grandson worthy of the throne?" The chief Magus, Atropates, watched Astyages with deep concern. He feared that the king's unbridled anger would worsen the situation and that they would lose control; he who had previously thought that with Kourosh's "death," the danger was gone, now saw that this child, even in his absence, was sowing the seeds of rebellion.
Astyages's face, which had initially frozen upon hearing his daughter's letter, the color draining from it, now slowly began to contort; as if a mighty storm were forming within him. His eyes, previously piercing and searching, had now narrowed into thin lines full of rage. His lips were pressed tightly together, and the veins on his neck bulged, a sign of the immense pressure upon him. Reclining on his golden, jewel-adorned throne, he slowly emerged from his autocratic and arrogant state, his expression gradually transforming into a grim, sinister, and terrifying visage; a face that signaled a mighty storm of madness and rage within him, ready to explode at any moment.
Astyages's anger was no longer controllable; it had flared up like a fire in a haystack. He suddenly and with a swift movement, rose from his throne. His stature in the center of the grand court hall seemed like a horrifying giant of rage whose shadow fell upon all present. With a voice that echoed through the hall like the roar of a hungry lion and shook the stone columns, he shouted, "What audacity! What shamelessness! My daughter shames me before my own people? This is a Persian fabrication! This is a deception to incite the Medes against me and destroy my kingdom!" The roar of his voice was so mighty that the nobles present, each out of fear, took a step back, and the whispers ceased entirely, and an absolute, but fearful, silence reigned over the hall.
Terrified glances filled the entire hall. No one dared to move or speak; it was as if breaths were held in chests. Astyages, with eyes red from fury, looked at all those present. His gaze, like a poisoned arrow, targeted their hearts. "And you? Do you also believe these lies? Have you also submitted to this deceit? You are all accomplices! Accomplices with that Persian sorcerer and my disobedient daughter!" His words, with the sharp scent of anger and madness, spread through the air, planting fear in the hearts of the nobles; a fear that stemmed from the absolute and ruthless power of the king.
He no longer controlled himself; madness had overcome his reason. With another shout that came from the depths of his being and made the entire hall tremble, he commanded, "All of you, out! Get out of my sight! This court is no place for deceitful and treacherous accomplices! Go! Leave me alone!" The words "Leave me alone" were his last cry; a cry that spoke of the height of his anger and, at the same time, his feelings of loneliness, helplessness, and isolation; an isolation that he himself, with his tyranny and folly, had created for himself.
The Median nobles rushed towards the doors of the hall in haste and fear. Everyone wanted to get away from Astyages's unbridled rage as quickly as possible and to survive this storm. In a matter of moments, the magnificent court hall was emptied of people, leaving only an angry and despotic king on his throne; a king who, with this letter, had not only lost his prestige and been shamed before his people but had also planted the seeds of rebellion in the hearts of many. He was now alone, facing the storm of anger and madness that he himself had unleashed; a storm that was destined to uproot the foundations of his rule.
This moment was a major turning point in the history of Media. Astyages, with this clumsy decision, had pushed himself towards a certain fall. A reaction that, due to Kourosh's greater fame compared to the real history and his unprecedented political and religious influence among the people and the nobles, would strike the body of the Median government much more severely and devastatingly than what Herodotus had narrated, and would shake its foundations. The shadow of Persia, this time deeper than ever, had fallen upon the heart of Media, and the whispers of Kourosh's innocence were turning into roars of anger in every corner of the land.