The light of the torches in Kourosh's study continued to burn late into the night.
Cambyses paced the room with heavy steps. His face was a mixture of admiration and anxiety.
The letter to the Elamites was a diplomatic masterpiece, a calculated risk that could neutralize the western flank in the coming war.
But he knew this was only a defensive move.
To win, they needed something more than the neutrality of the Elamites; they needed the hearts of the people of Media and Pars.
He stopped and looked at his son.
"The letter to Elam planted the seed of doubt in their hearts, Kourosh. But a seed needs time to grow, and we do not have much time."
Kourosh lifted his head from the tablet.
His ten-year-old eyes, in the flickering light of the torch, had a depth that astonished Cambyses.
"The seed of doubt is for the Elamites, Father."
"For our friends and brothers in Pars and Media, we need something more than doubt."
"We need faith."
He rose and came towards his father, holding a blank scroll of New Persian paper in his hand.
"The letter to Elam was a whisper in the ear of the nobles. But this letter will be a shout that will echo in every street and alley, from Ecbatana to the farthest villages of Pars and Media."
"This will be a cry for justice."
Cambyses frowned with concern.
"A shout? Kourosh, this is an open invitation to rebellion. Azhidahak can no longer ignore it. He will descend upon us with his entire army."
Kourosh replied with certainty, "He will do that anyway, whether we write the letter or not."
"Fariborz's reports are clear; he is preparing."
"But this letter will destabilize his army from within before it even reaches our borders."
"We must give the Median soldiers a reason to fight for us, not against us."
"We must remind them that I am not only the son of Cambyses, King of Anshan. I am also the son of Mandane, the Median princess. The blood of Media flows in my veins."
He turned towards his mother, Mandane, who was listening to them in silence with a resolute face.
"Mother, your letter pained their hearts. Now is the time for us to turn that pain into hope."
Then he turned back to his father and, with a voice that now had the tone of a ruler, began to recite the text of his second masterpiece of psychological warfare.
"This letter will be signed with both our names, but it will speak with my voice."
"We will write it in the New Persian script so that every literate Persian and Mede can read it and recite it for others."
He took a deep breath and, with a clear and deliberate voice, spoke the words that were destined to make history:
"From Kourosh, son of Cambyses and Mandane, rightful heir to the kingdoms of Media, Pars, and Elam, to all my brothers and sisters in these two great lands."
"I speak to you not as a prince, but as a son of this soil."
"The great Ahura Mazda has commissioned me to free you from the yoke of oppression that weighs upon your necks. But I will only accomplish this mission with your consent and your help."
"I make a covenant with you."
"Azhidahak, who sits upon the throne of Ecbatana, has broken his pact with Ahura Mazda and with the people."
"He is a king who is terrified by the shadow of his own grandson and, to preserve a trembling throne, is willing to spill the blood of the innocent."
"He showed no mercy to me, to his own blood. Will he show mercy to you?"
"He who is drowned in corruption and fear, how can he be the guardian of justice and prosperity?"
"He is not only my enemy, but the enemy of the bright future of your children."
"I swear to you that I will establish a just government based on 'Justice' (Dād) and 'Prosperity' (Ābādāni)."
"My covenant with you is this:"
"No land shall be unjustly taken from anyone."
"No tax shall be collected through oppression."
"Everyone, of any faith and belief, shall be free in the worship of their gods, and no temple shall be destroyed."
"In the empire under my guidance, the worth of a person will not be in their lineage, but in their good thoughts, good words, and good deeds."
"This is my covenant with you, and indeed the god Mithra is the witness to this pact."
"So arise!"
"O brave people of Pars and O my noble brothers in Media! Join this 'Persian Cry for Justice'."
"This is not a battle of Pars against Media."
"This is the battle of light against darkness, the battle of justice against injustice, and the battle of hope against fear."
"Join us, so that together, we may bring down this tyrant king from his throne and build an empire worthy of the name of our great ancestors."
When Kourosh's words came to an end, a deep and respectful silence filled the room.
Cambyses stared at his son. This was no longer a child; he was a strategist, a politician, and a consummate leader.
Mandane looked at him with eyes full of tears and pride. In these words, she heard the echo of the cry for justice of all people who had been victims of oppression.
Kourosh gently rolled up the scroll and gave it to his secretary.
"Take this to the printing press and tell them to print ten thousand copies."
Then he turned to Cambyses.
A smile was on his lips that held the confidence of a conqueror.
"Father, now is the time to set the wheels of the revolution in motion."