Faramarz (فرامرز)

Faramarz, son of Rostam and ruler of Zabulistan, which in practical terms means “inherited the job of standing in front of incoming disasters and hoping legacy counts for something.”

His father is dead. Killed by Shaghad through betrayal. So the protective structure that once held the family together is already gone before the next wave arrives.

That wave is Bahman.

Son of Esfandiyar, carrying inherited vengeance like it’s a duty rather than a choice, Bahman invades Zabulistan. The stated goal is to “avenge” Esfandiyar, but the practical outcome is something closer to erasing Rostam’s entire existence from history.

Faramarz steps in.

He fights to defend his homeland and Zal, Rostam’s father, now an elderly man at roughly 300 years old. A living relic of a lineage that keeps getting stretched beyond what it can realistically endure.

Faramarz fights well. Not performatively. Not symbolically. Actually well. But numbers and momentum decide the outcome, and he is eventually overwhelmed by Bahman’s forces.

What comes next isn’t even framed as battlefield justice.

Bahman orders a public execution. Faramarz is hanged and shot with arrows. Not killed in combat. Displayed in defeat. Turned into a message rather than an opponent.

Then Bahman loots the family treasures and imprisons Zal.

At this point, Zal isn’t a threat. He isn’t even resistance. He’s just a very old man who has already watched his son, grandson, and legacy collapse around him. And now he’s being held captive anyway.

The cruelty goes far enough that even this world pauses slightly.

Bahman’s uncle intervenes. Not through battle. Through shame. He calls it what it is: mistreatment of someone who is defenseless and already reduced by loss.

Only then does Bahman relent. Zal is released.

Faramarz’s story ends as one of those inevitable extensions of a larger tragedy: a man born into heroism, raised under legend, and killed not because he failed alone, but because the weight of inherited revenge kept rolling forward until it reached him.

In this universe, survival often depends less on strength and more on whether the cycle happens to pause long enough for you to step out of it.

He didn’t get that pause.