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Evening in Nandigram
The palace of Nandigram, usually glowing with torches and laughter, felt strangely subdued that evening. The shadows of the colonnades stretched long, and the banners hanging in the courtyard stirred uneasily in the night wind.
The Trial of Arms had ended with Shaurya's iron biting through shields, leaving both awe and unease lingering in the nobles' minds. Now, word spread like wildfire: the next test would be the Trial of Loyalty — the Rite of Banners.
It was a trial not of harvest or steel, but of hearts. Nobles, soldiers, and merchants would declare whom they gave their banners of allegiance to. It was the most dangerous trial yet — because hearts, unlike grain or swords, could be bought, swayed, or broken.
Shaurya sat in his guest chambers, the faint glow of an oil lamp illuminating his sharp profile. Around him were his closest ministers:
Varun, the stoic strategist, his mind endlessly calculating the moves of friend and foe.
Acharya Govind, robed priest and advisor, who murmured prayers to Narayan under his breath even as he spoke politics.
Raghavendra Singh, commander of Ashval's guard, his broad shoulders tense as he sharpened his sword.
The weight of tomorrow loomed heavy.
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Varun's Warning
"My king," Varun said, his voice calm but urgent, "tonight will not be restful. The Queen-Mother will not wait until the trial to test you. Every noble of Nandigram will attempt to sway the field before dawn. They will whisper, bribe, threaten, and probe. You must expect visitors."
Shaurya's lips curved faintly, almost a smile. "So the trial begins before the trumpet sounds."
Acharya Govind's prayer beads clicked softly. "Do not underestimate them, Maharaj. The heart is the most fickle of territories. A man may pledge to you in the morning, then betray you by dusk."
Shaurya rose, his tall frame casting a long shadow on the wall.
"Then tonight," he said, "we watch who comes knocking."
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The First Approach — The Merchant's Gold
It was not long before the first visitor arrived. A plump merchant, draped in silks, was escorted into Shaurya's chamber. His rings glittered with every movement.
"My lord of Ashval," he began, bowing low, "I come with friendship and opportunity. Tomorrow, many banners will be raised. Some may be persuaded by… incentive."
He placed a coffer upon the floor, its lid sliding open to reveal glittering gold coins. The light caught their edges, dancing across the chamber walls.
"Support me as spokesman of the merchant guilds," the man said with a sly smile, "and I will see that your banner rises higher than all others. Refuse, and… well, merchants are known to scatter their wares to whomever pays best."
Raghavendra's hand went to his sword hilt, but Shaurya raised a hand.
The Ashval king's eyes lingered on the gold, then rose slowly to meet the merchant's. His voice was calm, steady as stone.
"Gold buys wagons. Loyalty buys kingdoms. Do not mistake one for the other."
The merchant's smile faltered. Shaurya gestured toward the door.
"Take your coins. Tomorrow, raise your banner where your conscience allows. If it is swayed by silver, then it was never yours to raise for me."
The merchant left, stiff and pale. Varun exhaled softly.
"You may have lost his coin, Maharaj."
Shaurya's reply was a whisper, almost lost in the crackle of the lamp.
"Better to lose gold than buy a hollow heart."
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The Second Approach — The Noble's Threat
The next arrival was not humble, but haughty. Lord Rudrapal, a noble clad in black robes and carrying the insignia of three ancestral lines, strode into the chamber without bowing. His eyes were sharp, and his voice cut like steel.
"Ashval king," he said coldly, "tomorrow the banners of three noble houses may be yours. But know this — if you falter, if your ambition threatens Nandigram's sovereignty, those same banners will turn against you."
He leaned forward, his breath harsh.
"The Queen-Mother tolerates you now because you entertain her trials. Fail her test, and even your iron will be buried beneath the weight of our armies."
Raghavendra stepped forward, fists clenched, but again Shaurya's calm hand restrained him.
Shaurya's gaze did not waver. His voice, low and steady, filled the chamber.
"Threats are like shadows, Rudrapal. Loud in the dark, but banished by dawn. Tomorrow, let the banners rise as they may. If they fall against me, then let steel decide what words cannot."
Rudrapal froze for a moment under that gaze, then sneered, masking unease. With a swirl of his robe, he left.
Varun exhaled, shaking his head. "You've won no allies tonight, Maharaj — only revealed the wolves in their skins."
Shaurya turned toward the window, watching the banners of Nandigram flutter in the moonlight.
"Better a wolf revealed than a snake hidden."
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The Third Approach — The Queen-Mother's Envoy
It was past midnight when the most dangerous visitor came. A slender figure entered, cloaked, face hidden by a veil. When she spoke, her voice was smooth, serpentine.
"My lady sends word," she said softly. "The Queen-Mother bids you remember: tomorrow's trial is not about iron, not about gold, but about fealty. Should you overstep… you may find the banners raised against you en masse."
Shaurya regarded her for a long time.
"And if I do not overstep?"
The envoy's lips curved faintly beneath the veil.
"Then perhaps… a marriage alliance may secure your place."
The chamber stilled. Varun's eyes narrowed. Acharya Govind's prayer beads froze in his hand. Raghavendra's grip on his sword hilt tightened.
Shaurya's face remained unreadable. His tone was quiet, firm.
"Tell your mistress this: Ashval does not beg for alliances, nor does it buy them with marriage. Loyalty is not a transaction — it is earned. If the Queen-Mother wishes to test me, let her do so openly."
The envoy inclined her head, veil trembling, then slipped away into the night.
---
The Ministers' Debate
When she was gone, Varun broke the silence.
"Maharaj — a marriage proposal, veiled or not. That is no small move. It means the Queen-Mother both fears and seeks to bind you."
Raghavendra slammed his fist on the table. "It is a trap! A way to tie Ashval into her web and bind us under Nandigram's rule."
Acharya Govind spoke softly, yet his words carried weight. "But it is also acknowledgment, Maharaj. The Queen-Mother tests you not merely as a guest, but as a rival throne."
Shaurya walked to the window again, looking out over the city. Fires burned in the forges below, while the banners of noble houses swayed in the wind.
"Tomorrow," he said quietly, "those banners will rise or fall. And with them, the shape of power in this land."
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The Quiet Hour
As the night deepened, the palace grew silent. One by one, the ministers retired, though unease lingered in their eyes. Only Shaurya remained awake, standing by the window, his silhouette etched by moonlight.
The System of Adhipatya whispered in his mind:
[Third Trial Approaches]
[Rite of Banners: Outcome will shape political allegiance across Nandigram.]
[Warning: Hidden factions at play.]
Shaurya closed his eyes. His calm was unbroken.
Hearts may waver, banners may sway. But tomorrow, I will not.
---
Closing Scene
The moon slid behind clouds, plunging the city into darkness. Somewhere in the distance, a conch shell sounded — a deep, mournful note announcing the approach of dawn.
And as the palace slept uneasily, Shaurya stood alone, waiting for the storm that would break with sunrise.
The Trial of Loyalty would begin.
And in that trial, no gold, no iron, no sword — only hearts would decide.
To be continued....