The weight of his newfound position settled heavily upon Arya's shoulders as he strode through the corridors of the fortress. The air felt different, heavier, as if the very walls carried the burden of Upendra's legacy. It was his now. Whether he wanted it or not.
Upendra's chamber was grand yet cold, a space meant to intimidate. Massive wooden beams arched overhead, carved with scenes of war and conquest. The long stone table at the center was surrounded by men who had once answered to Upendra—now, they were waiting for him. The room fell silent as he entered. Every gaze followed his movements, scrutinizing, assessing. The moment he took his seat, the weight of authority pressed down on him like an iron yoke.
A figure stepped forward—an older man with a slight hunch, his thin face betraying wisdom and skepticism alike. His dark eyes gleamed with calculation.
"My lord, we wish to discuss business with you. Many await your command," the man said, his voice smooth but firm.
Arya studied him carefully. "Who are you?"
"I am Yatnish, Lord Upendra's counselor and record keeper," the man introduced himself with a slight bow. His words were polite, but his tone was laced with unspoken discontent.
Arya leaned back in the massive chair. "You know how things worked under Upendra? Then I will need your help."
A flicker of something unreadable passed through Yatnish's eyes before he stepped closer. "I can guide you, but know this—while you may have taken Upendra's place, you will never be able to fill his shoes. You have no idea what awaits you, boy."
Arya tensed at the words. Yatnish did not flinch. Instead, he smiled slightly and moved to the side, beginning to explain the vast empire that now rested in Arya's hands.
The businesses Upendra had controlled were vast—spice trade, wood trade, weapons, even human lives. Arya's stomach twisted as he listened. There were records of entire villages indebted to Upendra, forced into servitude. The web of corruption ran deep, feeding into the economy of the pit and beyond.
"He commanded over 1,500 men. His office staff alone is another force altogether. The city relied on his operations, both legal and illegal," Yatnish continued, his hands gliding over scrolls and ledgers.
Arya's head spun. He knew Upendra had been powerful, but he hadn't realized just how entangled his reach was. "And now… all of this is mine?"
"Indeed," Yatnish confirmed. "What you do with it… well, that is where the real challenge begins."
Arya inhaled sharply. He turned to Raghav and Rudra. "Go through the ledgers. Find out where the money is coming from and where it's going. I want to know everything."
The twins exchanged a glance. This was a world they had stolen from but never managed. The weight of it settled on them as well, but they nodded and got to work.
Yatnish's lips curled slightly in amusement. "A bold move, putting your faith in thieves. Let us see if it serves you well."
The next stop was the heart of Upendra's control—the warriors and the slaves.
Ashvapati led him down the spiraling stone staircases into the depths of the fortress, where the true workings of the pit took place. Arya followed in silence, the echoes of their footsteps bouncing off the damp walls. The underground corridors smelled of sweat, blood, and despair.
When they reached the massive training yard, Arya's breath caught in his throat. Fighters sparred in the sand-covered pits while overseers barked orders. Some of the warriors were hardened veterans, their bodies covered in scars. Others were barely older than Arya, their eyes filled with desperation.
And then, there were the slaves.
They carried weapons, tended wounds, cleaned the filth left behind from the fights. Some bore shackles, some bore brands. But all bore the same hollow expressions.
A heavily built man approached, his head shaved, his face emotionless. Ashvapati introduced him with a single nod. "This is Ganak. Master of the pit. He controlled the fighters and the slaves under Upendra."
Ganak sized Arya up, his disapproval evident. "Upendra ruled this pit for over twenty years. You expect me to believe a child will do the same?"
Arya met his gaze steadily. "I don't expect anything. But if you doubt me, then I'll prove myself."
A long silence passed before Ganak let out a low chuckle. "You have spirit. Let's see if that's enough to keep you alive."
As they moved deeper into the underground chambers, Arya's mind churned. Upendra hadn't ruled just through strength—he had ruled through fear and strategy. Power was not just about fighting. It was about knowing where to strike, whom to control, and when to act.
He wasn't just leading a band of fighters—he was navigating a kingdom of shadows.
As the day wore on, exhaustion threatened to consume Arya. Every decision weighed on him, every glance from his new subordinates tested his resolve. By the time he and the twins finally made their way toward their chambers, his mind felt as though it would collapse under the pressure.
But the day wasn't over.
A messenger waited in the chamber. He was well-dressed, his posture refined—an envoy, not a mere errand runner.
Yatnish's eyes gleamed with something between curiosity and amusement. "Ah. Here comes the next trial."
The messenger turned to Yatnish with surprise. "I was sent to Lord Upendra. Who is this boy?"
Yatnish smiled faintly. "This is Arya, your new master."
A flicker of hesitation crossed the messenger's face before he bowed slightly. He pulled out a scroll and unrolled it.
"Lord Arya, you have been summoned to a meeting of the city's ruling factions. The council wishes to meet you."
Silence stretched in the room. The weight of those words settled over Arya like a suffocating cloak.
He had fought to survive. He had fought to claim a throne he never wanted.
Now, he would have to fight to keep it.