The letter arrived at dawn.
Lakshya was woken not by dreams, but by the sharp knock of a messenger at his door. He rose, still weary from the council's firestorm the night before, and accepted the sealed scroll. The wax bore not Samudra's crown, but the insignia of another kingdom — a coiled serpent crowned with jewels.
The Kingdom of Vajratva.
Lakshya broke the seal and unrolled the parchment. The words were brief, written in elegant strokes:
> To the one marked by the Ashen Circle, bearer of the Mandate,
The Watchers do not come without reason. Their gaze does not fall on common prey.
We invite you, Lakshya, to our court. Not as a guest. Not as prey.
But as debt.
Come, and let us speak of crowns.
— Queen Padmashri of Vajratva
Lakshya frowned. The ink shimmered faintly, as though alive. When he touched the page, the mark on his palm throbbed in response, a dull ache that refused to fade.
---
By midmorning, the council was summoned again. The scroll lay on the stone table like a coiled snake.
Minister Devadatta scowled. "Vajratva? Hah. Their queen sends honeyed words, but her court drips with venom. This is no invitation — it is a trap. They seek to bind him, to chain our city's fate to theirs."
General Bhairav leaned forward. "And what if it is? If the queen courts him, then Lakshya is no longer merely our burden. He becomes bargaining weight. If he stands with Vajratva, their enemies hesitate. If he stands against them, their allies crumble. Either way, his mark makes him currency."
Samudra's gaze sharpened. "Currency, perhaps. Or debt."
He tapped the scroll with one finger. "The Ashen Mandate binds Lakshya to us. But it also makes us visible. Every throne in Bharatvarsha now knows — Nandigram holds the Marked One. Each crown will weigh its response. Some with offers. Some with blades."
---
The high priest murmured, "The Watchers chose well. They needed only mark one, and now all crowns turn to him. Their silence has become a debt we cannot repay."
Lakshya finally spoke. His voice was steady, though inside, unease coiled tighter.
"Then let me repay it in my own way. If Vajratva calls, I'll go. Not to bow, but to see. If they think I am coin, let me know their price. If they think I am curse, let them speak it openly. But I won't hide."
The chamber stirred. His words carried the weight of choice again, as though the Mandate itself demanded them.
King Samudra studied him, then nodded slowly. "Then you will go. But not alone. You will travel with an envoy of Nandigram — soldiers, scribes, and priests. You will carry our banners, and in doing so, they will know: wherever the Marked One walks, Nandigram walks with him."
---
That evening, as preparations began, Lakshya sat beneath the banyan tree near the palace walls. The city bustled nervously with rumors of his departure. Children whispered that the Watchers themselves would march at his side; merchants argued that Vajratva's markets would collapse under the weight of his curse.
He looked up at the twisted branches of the tree, its roots knotted deep into the earth.
The mark on his palm pulsed again. Debt. That was the word that clung to him now. Not just to Samudra. Not just to Nandigram. But to crowns unseen, thrones distant, rulers whose hands would soon stretch toward him.
He whispered, almost to himself, "If this is debt, then I'll pay it. But on my terms."
The branches above rustled, though the air was still.
---
The next morning, the envoy assembled at the gates. Priests blessed the road, generals tightened their armor, scribes prepared scrolls to record every word spoken in Vajratva's court. Lakshya stood among them, cloak drawn close, the city's eyes heavy upon him.
King Samudra approached on horseback. He did not dismount, but his words carried weight. "Lakshya. When you step into another crown's court, remember: every word you speak will echo back here. Do not forget — the Ashen Mandate binds us all. You cannot act for yourself alone."
Lakshya nodded once. "I won't forget."
Samudra's gaze lingered a moment longer. "Good. Then go. And may silence favor you."
---
As the envoy departed, the road stretched long and uncertain. Beyond the horizon lay Vajratva, its jeweled crown gleaming like promise and threat alike.
And somewhere higher still, beyond cloud and sky, Lakshya could almost feel it — unseen eyes watching, weighing, measuring. The Watchers had marked him not just for silence, but for debt.
And now the crowns of the world would collect.
To be continued....