*****

Abtin jumped up at the sound of a grump, and his hand instinctively reached for his sword. Still groggy and disoriented, he struggled to focus on his surroundings. Gradually, his vision cleared, and he realized that Babak was lying on a sofa in the opposite corner of the room, and his trousers were pulled up only to his thighs. Abtin stared at this unusual sight, trying to make sense of it.

Confused, he asked, "What happened?"

Babak, still adjusting his clothing, replied, "Go back to sleep."

Persistent, Abtin inquired, "But what happened?"

Babak sighed, "I woke you up, didn't I? Sorry about that. I stumbled over the bottom of Hutan's or Siamak's pants, and I fell to the ground."

Babak pulled up his trousers while sitting and continued, "I know how disorienting it can be to wake up suddenly. I apologize again."

Abtin, his voice still hoarse, released his grip on the sword and asked, "Why aren't you wearing your own trousers? Are they not dry yet?"

Babak explained, "Actually, they are dry now. Yours as well. That fire, whatever its name is, works wonders. It even removed the smell!"

Babak stood up, wearing his new attire consisting of a long-sleeved black shirt, black trousers, and a red waist shawl. He examined his appearance in the dim light and then turned to Abtin, half-raising his arms in a questioning gesture, silently asking for Abtin's opinion. Abtin responded with a nonchalant shrug, indicating that the outfit was acceptable.

Babak continued:

“But well, I wanted to wear new clothes now that we’re gonna join this group that I still don’t get what their main objective is. Of course, it seemed like even they didn't know! Maybe we were unlucky and met the low-ranked ones.”

Abtin couldn't help but question Babak's motives as they prepared for the day. He asked, "Wasn't the whole purpose of this journey to take you back to the battle arena so you could remember your past?"

Babak, in a somewhat cryptic response, acknowledged, "Yes, but this situation has piqued my interest. There's always time to delve into the past. However, I may never have another opportunity to uncover the mysteries of this group and their activities. Even if we were to venture out on our own, we lack proper directions, and it would likely be a challenging journey without a guide. Let's just say it's all on Ardeshir's shoulders!"

Babak chuckled at the last part, leaving Abtin somewhat surprised by this unexpected cautiousness. As they continued with their preparations, Abtin quipped, "One learns something new every minute!"

A few minutes later, as they made their final preparations, Babak was eager to throw open the door and explore their surroundings, his anticipation bordering on impatience—perhaps they had been forgotten altogether. Just then, a series of discreet knocks graced the door, arresting their attention. When the door swung open, it revealed a man who was idly toying with a loose gem nestled in his ring.

"Good morning," the man greeted them. "Did you enjoy a restful night's sleep?"

Abtin, with a nod of approval, and Babak replied, "It was satisfactory. We slumbered with empty stomachs, but it was still tolerable."

The man shook his head, a gesture laden with regret. "I must extend my apologies. I've heard that Barbod and Saman have undertaken the role of your hosts. When those two are together, they tend to lose track of everything else. The fact that they even remembered to bring you here is a minor miracle. Unfortunately, they did overlook the matter of your supper, for which I am truly sorry."

The man pushed the door open further, stepping outside its frame as he continued, "In their defense, it must be noted that none of us were aware of your impending arrival until moments before your descent. A swift order came down, commanding a select few to make their way to Yoshita Hall and await your arrival."

Babak and Abtin, having securely placed Sana back inside his collar, followed the man out of the room, exchanging meaningful glances. This newfound guide appeared decidedly more rational and, at least, more conventional compared to their previous hosts. He was a middle-aged gentleman, approximately fifty years of age, with an athletic physique and sturdy build. His beard was neatly trimmed, and his hair, a harmonious blend of black, white, and gray, fell at a moderate length. Dark brown eyes complemented his slightly tanned complexion, and a modest mole graced his right cheek. Abtin, finding this presence far more agreeable than Barbod's, surreptitiously observed him from head to toe.

The man donned close-fitting milky trousers and a short-sleeved shirt, the hue of a sunrise sky. His voice, gentle and composed, explained, "Meals here, as per the decree of Zal Mardas, are regarded much like briefings or mission announcements. That's why the majority of Sepidaran's occupants converge in the main hall for breakfast."

With a yawn, Babak inquired, "Where does the food originate? What is life like in this underground realm? How closely does it resemble the surface world? These questions have been haunting me since last night."

As they traversed a corridor wide enough to comfortably accommodate all three of them, the man replied, "There are indeed numerous parallels. All the conveniences of ordinary life are at your disposal here. Some individuals, predominantly the recluses within our community—such as scholars, historians, and the like—venture outside only once or twice a year. They utilize the concealed courtyards of Sepidaran's outskirts to breathe in the open air. Meat is primarily sourced from the external world through hunting, in addition to the herds cultivated within Sepidaran, nourished by rapidly growing grass. Vegetables are exclusively cultivated in subterranean fields."

Abtin's attention wavered from the man's explanation as he was captivated by a resounding clamor emanating from close proximity. As they entered the next corridor from the underground alley, the source of the commotion soon became evident. In the middle of this circular area, adorned with multiple entrances, flowed a waterway, wide enough to leap across. Despite its considerable depth, the watercourse exhibited a swift current, a testament to the ample source feeding it.

The man, his face wearing an enigmatic smile, seemed to revel in the fascination he saw in the expressions of both Babak and Abtin. It was unclear which of the two was more enthralled. He proceeded to elucidate the origins of the turbulent stream before them, a watercourse that had traveled thousands of miles from the gold-laden mountains of Zarnegar, earning its status as a primary tributary of the Zino River. In this underground haven, they had bestowed distinct names upon each of its sub-branches. For instance, one such sub-branch had been christened "Arameshan." Here, they had ingeniously crafted an artificial conduit, a suggestion courtesy of Dr. Mahram, to channel the stream through the clinic. Within this section, the current's vigor subsided, giving rise to a gentle and tranquil flow, which emitted a soothing, melodious hum. Mahram's belief was that the continuous, melodious rhythm of the water's flow directly contributed to the swifter recovery of patients.

As they resumed their journey, Mahram had become an object of admiration for the two young men, based solely on the tidbit of information they had received, never having met or known him in person. They ventured into yet another underground alley, where a narrow tendril of the Zino River meandered from one corner. The man, a host who displayed a level of hospitality marked by a more structured grace than their previous guides, continued his exposition without any prompting.

"Mahram is an exceptional individual. Despite his youth, he is unmatched in the field of medicine. Zal Mardas himself once confided to me that Mahram possesses the potential to achieve remarkable feats through his medical expertise. He joined our community at the tender age of twelve, and by the age of fifteen, he had become the foremost authority for our patients. In the decade he has spent among us, he has encountered the most grievous injuries and mysterious ailments, treating hundreds, perhaps even over a thousand patients. Only one patient lost in all those years."

Babak's admiration for the doctor was vividly etched across his countenance. In contrast, Abtin, wrestling with a sense of guilt for finding a hollow in a full cup, contemplated the identity of that solitary patient and the nature of the ailment that had confused the compassionate physician. What formidable affliction had defeated the benevolent healer? These ruminations swirled within his mind as the man continued his discourse.

"When I was first introduced to the Sepidarans and the world of the Noushfarrians, I had already reached an age where I had formed a well-defined conception of the outside world. Witnessing another realm that ran parallel to our own—a world shrouded in secrecy, unbeknownst to ordinary individuals—initially stunned me. As I grew older, I came to recognize the likelihood that there are numerous such concealed worlds within our own species, hidden in plain sight among us. The reason I mention this..."

The man turned his gaze towards the two young men, who were trailing behind due to Abtin's preoccupations, and resumed his narrative.

"...is to convey that I understand your lingering uncertainty regarding what you're witnessing. It is bound to be astonishing. Rest assured, I have seen more incredulous reactions than this. What I mean to say is that for as long as you are here, you may turn to me with any inquiries or if you encounter any challenges. While there are many individuals here who possess greater knowledge than I, and who would be more than willing to assist you, I prefer to speak and offer assurances solely on my own behalf."

Abtin, still somewhat preoccupied, murmured absentmindedly, "That's very gracious of you."

Babak, nodding in agreement, inquired, "Could you provide a precise account of your organization's activities? For instance, do you aid the less fortunate, eliminate enemies of the people, or something else? Do you issue your own operational licenses?"

"Understood," the man replied. He paused momentarily, seemingly contemplating the best starting point for his explanation and the path he would take in his discourse.

As they took a few more steps, the man raised his head, a solemn expression etching his features.

"In the early days when the current Noushfarrian came into existence (for there are older iterations as well), a long time ago, the sole objective of its members was to safeguard the Parsin community. However, as time passed, debates on varying interpretations of this objective prompted the drafting of internal regulations within the association and the establishment of various operational branches. No government institution, be it small or grand, is privy to our existence and activities. At least, they are not supposed to be aware. Nevertheless , throughout history, our association has clandestinely offered aid to rulers, regional leaders, monarchs, and even remote, beleaguered villages. While we may have extended assistance to impoverished villages on occasion, our foremost principle is to deter destitution, ensuring that, once our involvement concludes, the inhabitants can stand firmly on their own feet. Moreover, the scale of our endeavors tends to be extensive and transformative. Often, news of our activities never surfaces because we snuff out threats in their infancy. For instance, roughly a millennium ago, a high-level conspiracy unfolded. A trusted advisor to a western governor was operating covertly as a foreign spy, with plans to betray the two border cities to the enemy. To begin with, the advisor met an accidental, fatal end when he tumbled from the castle's ramparts."

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The man delivered a meaningful gaze and proceeded, his voice tinged with sorrow.

"Secondly, two sealed directives, unbeknownst to the governor and endorsed by the advisor, were dispatched to those two border cities. Our community members intercepted one of these letters along the way, averting the impending disaster."

At this point, the man fell silent. His brows furrowed, and a profound melancholy shadowed his eyes.

Abtin, taking the lead in the conversation this time, inquired, "And what happened to the other city?"

The man sighed, reluctantly delving into the painful details. "The other city did not succumb, but two of the principal leaders of our association, alongside seven hundred soldiers and ordinary citizens, perished in the valiant resistance."

As they continued along the extended corridor, a heavy silence enveloped them for a minute. Even Sana, who had peeked her head out of Abtin's collar, fixated on the door and the wall, had grasped the gravity of the matter. Eventually, the man overcame his sorrowful reverie—Abtin was almost certain he'd glimpsed a solitary tear trace its path down the man's cheek, yet when he brushed a hand across his face, no vestige of it remained. He resumed his dialogue with the same welcoming and warm demeanor.

"So, you can understand that the existence of this association is of paramount importance, and it has rendered invaluable services to the people and the Parsinians. However, most of the instances I've recounted hark back to a distant past. In this current era, this new epoch of Noushfarrian existence, circumstances have evolved. I can attest that our services know no bounds, yet they are predominantly instigated when we perceive a deficiency or a perilous misstep. For instance, if the agricultural sector in a particular region is functioning seamlessly, we remain uninvolved. But if we repeatedly encounter suspicious reports, such as night fires ravaging the fields of specific national crops, like wheat, we begin to harbor doubts regarding the intentions of the region's rulers or governors. We dispatch our agents to investigate and compile comprehensive reports for our scrutiny. It is conceivable that an adversary seeks to undermine Parsin in other ways by manipulating the lens of food scarcity. Certainty is elusive. Especially in this era bereft of monarchy and marked by a multitude of factions, where neither the governors devote attention to their dominions, nor the villages and their inhabitants are well-acquainted with governmental affairs. And then there's Ashuban! Someone, or something, must fulfill the role of the cohesive force that binds it all together, wouldn't you agree?"

Babak nodded in agreement, his heart swelling with pride at the realization that individuals with such noble ideals existed within humanity. In Abtin's heart, a profound sense of connection arose; he now saw the prospect of linking all his daring adventures to this association. What better way to hit a multitude of marks, including possibly thousands he hadn't even fathomed, with a single arrow? Moreover, his parents were part of the same association. Although suspicions lingered regarding his father's departure from the organization, they would have to be addressed in due time.

"We have arrived. This is the foyer of Parvin."

Numerous descriptions could be lavished upon the Parvin foyer, but what initially captivated the boys, a short while later, was the vast expanse of the ceiling overhead. Abtin's rough estimation suggested that even ten Erkhons, stacked atop each other's shoulders, would fall short of reaching it. Adorning this celestial arch, a testament to divine craftsmanship, innumerable stars and blazing celestial bodies, their colors unlike anything Abtin had ever seen, glittered and twirled. He often recounted that they beckoned the audience to dance and surrender to unbridled passion—no, they commanded it. Not an inch of the ceiling was vacant; every stone was concealed by the radiant luminance of the deity-kissed arch. The gaps between the shimmering stars were bridged by the interconnected lines of the same pebbles, more harmoniously and splendidly united than ever before.

"Excuse me...sorry..."

What was this disconcerting sound? Who sought to distract them from the paradise of immersion in this peculiar shower of light, which, although intangible, seemed to carry an aroma to their noses and a symphony to their ears? Strangest of all, it would gently caress them and bestow tender kisses on their foreheads.

"Hey!"

Something heavy landed on Abtin's right shoulder and Babak's left shoulder. Their heads dropped, their eyes redirected from the enchanting spectacle above, and their half-parted mouths closed. In a state of befuddlement, their inebriated gazes fixed on the face of their guide, whose hands now rested on their shoulders.

The man extended an apology, "Sorry, I forgot to mention the effect of the Parvin Arch. Although, even if I had, it probably wouldn't have made a significant difference. Even the elderly residents here, who have gazed upon it countless times, still find themselves entranced, as if they are witnessing its power and allure for the very first time. Saman's research reports on the arch consistently convey that sensation."

For a moment, Abtin's gaze instinctively yearned to return to the arch; even the very mention of his name sent a shiver of excitement coursing through his heart. Nevertheless, he exerted a firm resolve to resist, keeping his eyes on the man with unwavering attention. His eyes widened, and his neck barely retained control as he locked his focus on the man to absorb his forthcoming explanations.

"I delved deeply into the library's resources in pursuit of any information related to the Parvin Arch. Regrettably, there is scant data available. There are sporadic accounts of similar phenomena occurring in remote corners of the world. Nevertheless, I believe the only individual here who may possess knowledge on the subject is Zal Mardas, and it is not within my purview to seek answers from him."

Babak, eager to perpetually affix one eye to the arch above while utilizing the other for matters below, inquired, "Why? Based on what I’ve heard he’s a pretty nice person.”

The man responded, "Oh, he certainly is, in his unique way! When I say I can't do it, it's because I invariably feel diminutive in his presence. It's as if my body stiffens, and my tongue becomes ensnared. It's perplexing that this effect doesn't seem to extend to the others I know here. Well... once the influence of the arch on your consciousness diminishes, you will probably be able to perceive the other wonders present here and hear the din of this bustling crowd, correct?"

Upon hearing the man's final words, Babak and Abtin, as though a veil had been lifted from their senses, suddenly comprehended their surroundings. All this time, the three of them had been standing in a corner of a grand hall, akin to the court of kings, teeming with people and resonating with lively commotion. The clamor, which had undoubtedly been ongoing, now gradually swelled in their ears.

"My goodness!" Neither of them could refrain from expressing their astonishment.

Ten rows of long tables stretched side by side on the largest carpet they had ever laid eyes on. Men and women of varying ages and appearances sat along them, indulging in a breakfast spread replete with items such as cheese, butter, bread, basil, vegetables, walnuts, eggs, and clay vessels filled with water. These individuals conversed animatedly while dining, and on occasion, a jovial pat on the back or playful jest ensued. The atmosphere resembled a festive gathering rather than a simple daily meal, with the collective exuberance effortlessly dispelling any personal troubles.

Abtin, carefully observing each diner's countenance, inquired of the man, "Are these people members of the association?"

The man affirmed, "Yes, indeed. Nevertheless, these are not the entirety of the association's members, nor even all the members active within Sepidaran. We have additional headquarters scattered across the world, comprising large communities whose reach extends beyond the recognized boundaries of geography. At this time of day, some are in classes, some are engaged in missions, and others may be resting."

Babak, who had furrowed his brow, absently scratched his head—causing him to wince as he momentarily forgot about his injury—and remarked, "I'm more taken aback by the existence of classrooms down here. I assumed the entirety of this forum revolved around practical and operational matters."

The man patiently elucidated, "It is a requirement for all boys and girls within the association to attain a minimum level of literacy encompassing reading, writing, and basic mathematics. Even if someone joins our group at a later stage in life without prior education, their initial training encompasses these fundamental skills. Subsequently, individuals are assigned roles based on their talents and preferences. Some choose to pursue the same scientific fields, sometimes generating inventions entrusted or sold to the military or security agencies we collaborate with. Everyone finds their niche in their preferred domain."

The boys nodded, grasping the explanation. The man was about to delve further into the topic when the thunderous rumbling of Babak's stomach, impervious to the surrounding din, interjected itself. Babak, somewhat embarrassed, placed his hands on his protesting stomach and grinned so widely that he closed his eyes. The man, sporting an understanding smile, rubbed his hands together and remarked, "You must pardon me. I entirely forgot that you haven't eaten since last night!"

The two young men, who had actually been without sustenance since the previous afternoon, exchanged a glance but remained silent. Sana, however, who had emerged from Abtin's collar, chimed in with her faint voice. The man directed them to the last available seat at the far end of the row of tables. Simultaneously, Abtin surveyed the surroundings while Babak engaged in conversation, posing questions that the man answered as he conversed with some of the other individuals.

"Do you happen to know how many of you there are?"

"Hello, Behrouz! I don't possess the precise count of our members, but here in Sepidaran, we number almost four hundred. Naturally, this figure fluctuates. The total population of Sepidaran stands at approximately six hundred individuals, but the number present here at any given time typically hovers around four hundred. Good morning, Lady Parya!"

Babak inquired further, "The number of women here is almost equal to the number of men."

The man responded, "You're correct. Dear Arjang! That issue we were discussing has been resolved. You need not be concerned."

Babak persisted, seeking more specific details, "What roles do the women hold here?"

The man explained, "Their roles are the same as those of the men: contributing to the advancement of Sepidaran and the betterment of all individuals."

Babak continued to seek clarification, "I understand that, but I mean..."

The man preempted his question, saying, "I know what you mean. Women and girls play a significant role in scientific research, as well as in the organization of daily activities and annual conferences. Many of our professors are women. However, when it comes to the renovations and construction work here, none of the women chose to participate, and we didn't force the issue. If they had expressed interest, they could have."

Babak's curiosity led him to ask, "What about the military department?"

The man disclosed, "We do have one or two individuals who assist in the operation rooms when planning missions. However, most of our women gravitate towards scientific studies. There were a few who aspired to become Parshangies. Zal Mardas attempted to guide their interests towards other roles, but when he couldn't dissuade them, he granted them permission. They have participated in several missions, although, the one thing they are not allowed to do, and have not expressed a desire to do so far, is engage in direct combat."

Babak, intrigued, probed further, "What exactly is the role of a Parshangi? Barbod used that term as well, but I didn't get a chance to ask him. Is it something akin to espionage?"

The man clarified, "Their role pertains to indirect and covert warfare. At times, it may involve elements of espionage, but spies rarely have missions involving taking lives, whereas Parshangies do. Their missions involve eliminating specific targets without inciting large-scale conflict, among other things."

Babak expressed his admiration, saying, "That's remarkable!"

The man added, "I believe Zal Mardas had his reasons for attempting to steer their interests towards different roles. However, such discussions will always persist. As long as Zal Mardas, even if reluctantly, granted them permission and did not obstruct their choices, I will refrain from making further comments. Please, have a seat."

The man directed them to the very beginning of the table, where people were seated at scattered intervals.

The empty seat at the table was occupied by only one other individual. This person wore clothing similar to the ones Babak had borrowed, but with the distinction of having a thicker upper garment and a hood that was fully drawn over their head, obscuring their face. The only visible feature was a cascade of long, dancing black hair. Babak and Abtin hesitantly took their seats across from this person. The man spoke to them, assuring, "By the time you finish your breakfast, you will receive the news."

The man then rested his hand on the shoulder of the introverted figure sitting in front of him and whispered into the person's ear, their voice low enough for Babak and Abtin to overhear, "Pejman, my dear, these are Babak and Abtin. I' m certain you'll enjoy getting acquainted."