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A Court in Shadows
Dawn broke over Nandigram, but the palace halls were dim, heavy with unease. Ministers, generals, and nobles crowded into the Queen-Mother's court, their silks rustling, their eyes sharpened with fear and suspicion.
Whispers ran like rats between pillars:
"Assassins within the palace!"
"Even the prisoner was struck under guard!"
"Is the Queen-Mother's throne safe?"
At the high dais, Queen-Mother Pratima Devi sat tall, veiled in crimson silk, her silver bangles gleaming faintly in the torchlight. Her face was composed, but her eyes betrayed the storm within.
At her side stood Shaurya, calm as ever, his hands folded behind his back. To his left, Rajnandini paced like a lioness caged, hand on her sword hilt.
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The Accusations
Minister Kautilyan, voice sharp as flint, stepped forward.
"My Queen-Mother, this is proof that our enemy is not at the gates, but in our very bones. The Serpent Circle coils within Nandigram itself. Devadatt was not a lone conspirator—he was one scale of a serpent that festers in the dark."
Others nodded grimly, some whispering of purges, others calling for blood.
General Rudra Varma slammed his fist on his knee. "Give me fifty men, and I will scour every shrine, every alley. I will burn the Circle out, root and fang!"
But another voice rose, sharp with doubt. "What if this danger is not from serpents alone? What if…" The noble's eyes darted toward Shaurya. "…the very throne invites these trials? Perhaps the omens of the Silent Storm are catching us."
The court murmured, suspicion seeping like venom.
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The Queen-Mother's Question
The Queen-Mother raised her hand, and silence fell. Her gaze turned to Shaurya.
"Prince Shaurya," she said, her voice slow and weighted, "the assassins sought Devadatt, and through him, our throne. He is dead. The Circle remains alive. Tell us, then—what must Nandigram do?"
All eyes fixed upon him. Ministers leaned forward, nobles held their breath.
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Shaurya's Calm
Shaurya stepped forward, his voice calm but carrying, every word like the toll of a temple bell.
"The Circle thrives on fear. Already it slithers among us—turning friend to foe, suspicion to poison. If we lash blindly, we do their work for them. If we stay idle, their venom spreads."
He lifted the serpent amulet in his hand, its cruel curve glinting.
"Devadatt's last breath revealed their nest: the tunnels beneath the Temple of Shesha. An ancient place, older than this city, older even than some thrones. That is where the Circle coils. That is where we must strike."
A ripple passed through the court—fear, awe, doubt.
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The Queen-Mother's Verdict
Pratima Devi studied her son long and hard. His calm unnerved some, inspired others. Finally, she rose, her bangles chiming.
"Then it is decided. The throne will sanction this hunt. But hear me, ministers, generals, nobles—" her voice rose, sharp and commanding, "—this is not a purge of the people. This is a war against shadows, not citizens. Anyone who uses this fear to settle old rivalries will answer to me."
Her eyes swept across the hall like a blade. None dared meet them.
"Prince Shaurya shall lead the strike. Rajnandini and General Rudra Varma will stand at his side. And may the gods witness: Nandigram will not bow to serpents."
The court thundered with reluctant approval, some voices strong, some hollow.
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The Private Exchange
As the court dispersed, Rajnandini leaned close to Shaurya, whispering.
"You realize what you've done, don't you? If you fail, they'll say you led us into the serpent's jaws. If you succeed…" She smirked faintly. "…they'll fear you even more."
Shaurya's expression did not change. "Fear is not the burden. The Circle is."
From the throne, the Queen-Mother watched them, her gaze unreadable. A mother's pride? Or a ruler's suspicion? No one could tell.
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Foreshadowing
That night, while the city trembled with rumor, torches burned deep in the Temple of Shesha.
The Circle's high priest, hooded in emerald silk, knelt before a colossal serpent idol carved into the stone. His voice was a hiss in the hollow dark.
"They come to our nest. Good. Let the prey crawl willingly into the serpent's mouth. The ritual shall be ready."
Behind him, the assassins who had escaped Nandigram's dungeon bent low, their voices chanting in unison. The tunnels shook faintly, as though something old and waiting stirred within the stone.
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Shaurya, staring out from the palace balcony at the temple's distant spire, whispered to the stormless sky:
"The serpent thinks the storm is blind. But it forgets—the storm strikes where it chooses."
To be continued....