The Palace of Nandigram was never truly quiet. Even in the hours before dawn, when the moonlight spilled like milk over the carved sandstone corridors, the air was thick with whispers, hurried steps, and the faint clink of golden anklets in shadowed alcoves. It was a living creature—breathing, watching, waiting.
And now, it was watching Shaurya.
The events of the last evening—the subtle duel of wits with the Queen-Mother and the sudden appearance of a mysterious ally—had set the court ablaze with rumors. Every corridor seemed to hum with speculation. Some called the stranger an envoy from a distant land, others a rogue noble, a shadow moving in the margins of the royal tapestry. But Shaurya knew better.
And that knowledge was both a weapon… and a burden.
The Peacock Hall
The next morning, Shaurya was summoned to the Peacock Hall, the most opulent chamber in all of Nandigram. The hall's walls shimmered with inlaid lapis lazuli, jade, and gold, forming intricate mosaics of peacocks with tails like jeweled fans. Sunlight streamed in through stained glass, painting the polished marble floor in shifting patterns of crimson and emerald.
At the far end of the hall sat the Queen-Mother upon her raised throne of carved sandalwood, its back shaped like a blooming lotus. She was robed in silver-threaded silk, her crown a delicate lattice of pearls. Around her, the senior ministers, courtiers, and foreign envoys stood in a crescent, like an audience before a drama.
The mysterious ally was there too—seated among the visiting dignitaries. Their eyes, dark as obsidian, flicked toward Shaurya only once, a brief acknowledgement before settling back into perfect neutrality.
The Test Beneath the Surface
"Prince Shaurya," the Queen-Mother's voice carried across the chamber, honey-smooth yet edged like tempered steel. "You have shown… potential. But Nandigram's court is not easily swayed by charm alone. Today, I wish to see how you dance when the floor beneath you shifts."
A murmur rippled through the hall. Several nobles leaned in, eager for the spectacle.
The Queen-Mother gestured, and attendants brought forward two ornate chests—one of carved ivory, the other of deep black sandalwood inlaid with gold.
"One chest contains a gift worthy of a ruler," she said. "The other, a burden that will cost you dearly. You may choose one… but the chest you do not choose will be given to a rival."
Shaurya studied her face. This was no mere game of luck—it was a web of politics. The contents of the chests were irrelevant; the real test lay in who the "rival" was, and how his choice would shift the balance of alliances.
The Hidden Ally's Move
It was then that his hidden ally moved.
Without stepping forward, they murmured a remark to the noble beside them—a remark loud enough to ripple through the court. Something about "how the sandalwood chest once held the crown of a fallen king."
The words were bait. They planted seeds in the minds of those present, skewing perception, nudging the tide without making it seem deliberate.
Shaurya caught the cue instantly.
Shaurya's Response
He stepped toward the chests with measured grace.
"The true ruler," he said evenly, "is not swayed by the fear of loss or the glitter of gain. I choose not for myself, but for the stability of this court."
His hand fell upon the sandalwood chest.
The Queen-Mother's eyes narrowed—just slightly.
When the chest was opened, it revealed a scroll of trade rights to one of Nandigram's richest ports. A victory on the surface… but it also carried the weight of managing restless merchants and balancing foreign trade agreements. A gift, yes—but a poisoned one.
Shaurya accepted it with the faintest of smiles, as if already anticipating how to turn the poison into medicine.
Aftermath in the Shadows
Later, as the court dispersed, the hidden ally slipped into the columned gallery beside him.
"You took the heavier burden," they murmured. "Why?"
"Because," Shaurya replied without breaking stride, "burdens, once mastered, become weapons. And because the Queen-Mother expects me to stumble under it. I don't intend to give her that pleasure."
The ally's lips curved—just slightly.
To be continued....