A ripple of intrigue washed over the assembled lords and ladies at her words. "Miraculous Boy?" the Prime Minister mused aloud, casually tossing the name into the conversation, yet it felt like a pebble dropped into still water, sending ripples of curiosity throughout the room.
"Yes, that very same boy!" the princess affirmed. "The one hailed from merchant square, known for brewing that peculiar, yet invigorating drink!"
A hush fell, followed by a shift in the seating as nobles leaned in closer, eager to discern the effects of this mysterious concoction.
The Defense Minister, a stout man adorned with a sapphire on his turban, raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You mean that lad? The one who hawks what seems to be water but is reputed to be nectar from the gods?"
A knowing chuckle erupted from the Treasurer, his fingers drumming distractedly on his jeweled abacus. "I tasted it once during an inspection. A single sip, and I felt transported back to my youth! Truly something unearthly about that drink."
The Royal Physician, typically engrossed in scrolls of diagnosis and remedies, adjusted his spectacles and added, "I've scrutinized that beverage carefully. No poison, no opiate—nothing I could identify as harmful. Yet it carries a calming quality and enhances clarity. It's medicinal, yet its origin is elusive."
The General of the Southern Guard, who often spoke only when battle strategies demanded it, allowed a smile to grace his otherwise stoic features. "My men stumbled upon his stall after a grueling march in the desert. They bought the drink out of sheer desperation, and by dawn, they moved with the swiftness of jackals. We could market this to our army and emerge victorious in battle."
The Head of Commerce, a round figure bedecked in gold rings and anxious energy, fanned himself fiercely. "I proposed a contract to him initially. He turned me down outright! Insisted he prefers to work alone, seemingly impervious to monetary temptations. Yet, astonishingly, his stocks always sell out before the sun sets."
Finally, the Maharaja, still ensconced upon his lion-throne, tilted his head slightly, breaking his long silence with a note of curiosity. "What did you say his name was again?"
Finally, the moment Veer had been anticipating with both trepidation and excitement arrived as he made his way toward the illustrious court. The sunlight danced around him, casting shadows that flickered like fleeting thoughts, while his loyal servants trailed behind, dutifully clutching a large, intricately designed pot filled with mysterious elixirs that were a product of his artistry. With each step, he walked with an air of authenticity, devoid of any pomp and circumstance.
There was no entourage by his side, no grand family crest emblazoned upon his chest, and certainly no silk umbrella shielding him from the sun's rays. Instead, he wore his customary obsidian tunic, threadbare yet clean—a tapestry of resilience and simplicity that spoke of his humble origins. A bandolier of clay pots, each inlaid with silver designs, was slung across his shoulder like the sash of a respected warrior, echoing stories of battles fought and won.
Dust clung to the hem of his garment, evidence of his journey from the bustling market streets, and his sandals bore the marks of long hours spent traversing staunch stones. Yet, despite his unassuming appearance, there was something ethereal about him, as if he were a mythical figure stepping forth from legends whispered in the winds.
As he approached the grandiose court, a hush fell over the room, not from intimidation but like the quiet before a storm descends upon a tranquil forest—an unshakeable stillness that held everyone in its thrall.
Whispers surged like the wind at the fringes of the assembly.
> "Is that truly him?"
> "The water seller they spoke of?"
The atmosphere grew thicker, charged with anticipation, as Veer approached the Maharaja seated at the far end of the dais, surrounded by ministers adorned in luxurious robes. He didn't bow in the usual courtly manner; instead, he offered a long, respectful gesture, joining his hands in reverence toward the king, his gaze steadfast and unyielding. There was no trace of arrogance in his posture, nor was there a hint of excessive humility. No, he was simply grounded—rooted in his purpose, aware of the significance of this moment.
A few ministers bristled at his unconventional entrance, their expressions shifting from skepticism to scrutiny, as the Defense Minister narrowed his gaze and stepped forward, challenging him.
> "You stand before the court of Malwa. State your name."
With grace and poise that belied his youth, Veer's voice emerged, low and smooth like water cascading over warm stone.
> "I am Veer. Seller of drink. Your Majesty's humble servant. I am here, only at your call."
His words flowed effortlessly, devoid of any stammer or hesitation. There was a clarity to his speech that cut through the tension in the room.
The Treasurer murmured under his breath, "He speaks as if he already anticipates the outcome of this gathering."
As Veer stood there, an inscrutable gaze met the scrutinizing eyes of the Rajguru, who seemed to have consulted the annals of time itself.
> "Your drink has captured the attention of soldiers, merchants, scholars... even royalty," the Minister of Commerce ventured, a hint of curiosity mingling with skepticism in his tone. "What sorcery lies within?"
In response, Veer offered a subtle smile, a ghostly expression that hinted at deeper mysteries.
> "Only what the earth provides freely: water, herbs, and a dash of perfect timing."
Some courtiers chuckled, thinking his words no more than riddles, but the physician observed him intently, leaning forward, captivated by an earnest curiosity.
> "So, do you brew it daily?"
> "No," Veer replied thoughtfully. "The finest batches emerge when the silence envelops the space. When people yearn for something more significant in their lives."
People living in the ancient loves to talk in poetry and who talk and walk in riddles is considered as the wise person. At last i am here now , in my own element and everything i had done, every publicity stunt every sugar words was for this moment.