A Different Path

Loyalty

"Planning to kill yourself?"

"Making up for the lost time," Duryodhana replied before cursing inwardly when he saw his opponent aim the sword straight at his legs. Bracing himself, he lurched forward in an offensive attack. His opponent side-stepped then raised his sword at Duryodhana's limbs again. Duryodhana jumped back and swung his arm across his opponent's body, slashing the leather vest open.

The fight was over, but Duryodhana was not happy with his win.

"What is this, Pramod? Why are you holding back?"

"Prince, forgive me but the healers have-"

"I don't care what they say! I am your Prince. Your foremost duty is towards me rather than those fools! What do they know?" Duryodhana placed his sword on the long, wooden table and turned to the general "They know nothing of the Kshatriya spirit that can overcome any adversity from outside and from within."

Duryodhana sighed. "Go on, general. We will continue this tomorrow."

Pramod hesitated but overcoming his perturbation, saluted Duryodhana and left promptly. Ashwatthama neared his friend and raised an eyebrow at him. "You are putting him in a delicate position. You know how devoted he is to you. The healers have instructed you-"

'Again with those lame arguments! I have taken every precaution."

"Yes, because spending every hour training so hard that your bones crack and your muscles tear is the way to go. Do you know the servants put you to sleep when you faint every night from terrible exhaustion?"

Duryodhana wiped the sweat off his brow and shook his head. "There is a war coming."

"So you are planning to die before that?"

Duryodhana laughed. He couldn't help it. Ashwatthama smiled at him in that compassionate way of his and offered him a towel. Duryodhana wiped the sweat off his shoulders, neck, and chest then handed it to a maidservant.

"I have to be ready. Look at me, Ashwatthama. Do you think I am in a position to lead an army?"

Duryodhana had been shocked into silence when he had seen himself in the mirror for the first time. He was thinner than a flagpole, his skin, a ghastly shade of yellow and eyes bleak and empty with dark bags under them. His movements were torpid and languid, overwhelmed by the lassitude of physical weakness, mental exhaustion, and emotional trauma. Lord Shiva, he was an utter mess! He was in actual danger of being defeated in wrestling by someone like.........like......Nakula.

"If you cared so much about getting fit to lead you would have stopped taking those herbs" Ashwatthama argued.

"I can't. Please, just let it be." Duryodhana was getting ruddy sick of people telling him what to do. Since when had he listened to anyone but himself?