Sopeaholic
The grand hall stood still as Prince Rishikesh rose to his feet. The council chamber, once a year place of controlled discourse, now trembled under the weight of his words.
"Indrathara must recognize the Queen of Vajragarh."
Gasps rippled through the court.
Prince Surendra slammed his hand onto the armrest of his chair. Viradev leaned forward, his expression unreadable, but his knuckles white. The ministers exchanged wary glances-no one had anticipated this.
The scribes hesitated, their quills hovering over parchment.
"You force the hand of this court, Rishikesh," Surendra spat. "Do you even understand what you have done?"
But Rishikesh only smiled.
Across the lands, Queen Agniyeka received a messenger bearing the news. She read the letter, her fingers tightening around the parchment.
A victory. But why did it feel like a move in someone else's game?
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Arrival of the Storm
The royal court of Indrathara was abuzz with tension. The news had arrived like a dagger in the night-Crown Prince Aryavarnan's ship had reached the shores.
No formal letter. No warning. Just the silent, looming presence of a man whose rage was legend.
The courtiers whispered among themselves, fear creeping into their voices. Surendra and Viradev stood rigid, their expressions betraying unease. Queen Devakshita sat motionless, eyes fixed ahead, as if preparing for the inevitable storm.
A lone messenger ran into the hall, breathless.
"His Highness is on his way."
The doors trembled as hurried footsteps echoed outside. The great doors burst open.
And there he stood.
Aryavarnan.
Drenched from the journey, his eyes dark with fury, he took one slow step into the hall.
"Which one of you," his voice, eerily calm, cut through the silence, "will explain to me how my brother vanished without a trace?"