As he stood there in the stillness of the night, his heart pounded with anticipation. There was a heavy quiet until he suddenly heard the delicate sound of anklets, a soft clinking that cut through the silence like a whisper of fate.
From behind a grand marble pillar, she appeared—Princess Devyani. Draped in a simple indigo shawl, she had chosen to forgo her royal trappings, trading her ornate jewelry for delicate glass bangles that caught the moon's light in playful glimmers. Still, no disguise could diminish the undeniable aura of nobility that surrounded her; she resembled a goddess in disguise, attempting to conceal the fierce fire that sparkled in her intelligent eyes.
"You summoned me to a temple?" she inquired, her arms crossed defiantly, a mix of disbelief and curiosity dancing on her features.
Veer met her gaze and smiled gently, bowing slightly, hands pressed together in reverence. "No, princess," he replied, his voice carrying a respectful weight, "I requested an audience with the gods. It is they who have granted me your esteemed company."
She let out an exasperated sigh, the corners of her mouth twitching as if willing to smile at his audacity. "I should have you whipped for that line," she shot back playfully.
His laughter was soft, echoing against the ancient stones as he settled beside her, brushing a layer of dust off the temple steps. They sat in a careful proximity, close enough to share whispers but still mindful of the invisible walls that court society had built around them.
A silence enveloped them, punctuated only by the gentle rustle of leaves stirred by the night breeze. In that peaceful moment, Veer broke the stillness, his tone shifting from playful banter to deep seriousness.
"You've heard of the rising tensions, haven't you?" he asked, leaning closer. "The scouts gathering at our borders? The merchants too frightened to travel east?"
Devyani nodded slowly, her expression growing grave. "Yes, the neighboring kingdom has been... difficult. My father is weary from the strain."
"And your ministers, eager for war," he added, a hint of understanding passing between them.
She shot him a sidelong glance, her brows furrowing slightly. "You speak boldly."
"I drink truth daily," he replied, a slight smirk creeping onto his face. "After all, I make it."
The air thickened with unspoken concern as he turned fully toward her, his eyes now filled with steely determination. "What if I told you I plan to travel there?"
Her brow furrowed in confusion. "To the enemy kingdom?"
"Not as a spy. Not as a soldier. But as a merchant. To open a stall."
The weight of his words landed heavily in the night air, reverberating like a drumbeat in her ears.
"You're mad," she murmured, her voice laced with disbelief.
"Perhaps. Or maybe I'm the only sane man in a court teeming with zealots," he replied, a daring edge to his tone.
Devyani's grip tightened on the edge of her shawl, her pulse quickening. "Do you realize what this could mean? They'll think you've betrayed Malwa. You'll be killed."
"Unless," he whispered intensely, "I make them welcome me."
"Welcome you? A water-seller without weapons, banners, or riches? Just peace?" she questioned, incredulous yet intrigued. "You'll let them believe they've won by allowing you in, but while you sell your drink... you'll listen. Watch. Learn. And then, when you return, you'll present not just profits, but undeniable proof."
Her expression shifted, the light-hearted amusement fading into seriousness. "You risk everything... for a gamble."
Leaning in slightly, Veer lowered his voice, imparting a tone that felt almost conspiratorial. "You know your kingdom is being poisoned from within its own walls. But you cannot act without solid proof. I can uncover it. Because no one suspects the boy with the ladle. No one fears the water-seller."
A thick silence loomed between them, each breath heavy with the weight of the moment.
Finally, she broke the tension with a quiet question, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you telling me this?"
Veer held her gaze with a quiet intensity that conveyed the depth of his resolve. "Because when I return… I'll need someone brave enough to listen. To believe me. To act."
The princess turned her attention towards the shrine of Vishnu, her inner turmoil etched on her face. "And what if you don't return?"
He smiled gently, an expression that blended hope with a touch of resignation. "Then remember this night… and what I tried to do."
As if on cue, a gust of wind swept through the temple, the oil lamps flickering wildly in its wake. She felt an electric charge in the air, an unbreakable bond forming in the shared uncertainty.
Without hesitation, she reached out and placed her hand over his, her palm warm and firm. "Return. I command it," she whispered, her tone resolute.
Veer nodded solemnly, reverberating with her command's weight. "Then I have no choice."
And in that quiet temple, under the watchful eyes of Lord Vishnu and the gentle embrace of the moonlight, destinies intertwined within a single moment of brave uncertainty, echoing through the corridors of time.
After a long, fateful meeting with The Princess, Veer felt the weight of destiny upon his shoulders. Time was of the essence, and his thoughts raced as he began to gather the essential items for his journey to the rival kingdom. With each item he packed, a mixture of excitement and trepidation coursed through him. He carefully folded his clothes — sturdy enough to endure the rigors of travel yet light enough to allow swift movement. He included an assortment of vibrant herbs, their scents promising health and vitality, along with a small stash of money to help smooth any rough edges he might encounter on his quest. Above all, he ensured to carry enough food to sustain him, knowing full well that the distance between Malwa and the Sultan's Kingdom spanned hundreds of kilometers. He had no intention of going hungry while chasing his ambitious goal.
As dawn broke the following day, Veer, accompanied by a handful of loyal servants and the four bandits turned bodyguard, climbed into the caravan that would transport them swiftly toward the heart of the enemy kingdom. The morning air was filled with a sense of impending adventure as they set off on their journey.
The journey was long and it took them about 3 days to reach the border.
Upon reaching the border of the Sultan's Kingdom, east of Malwa, they found a landscape marked by not only physical barriers but also an atmosphere thick with tension and potential betrayal. The border was entwined with thornbrush, a wild, untamed symbol of the strife that separated the two kingdoms. As they approached, the caravans were scrutinized with hawkish intensity by the sharp-eyed guards whose posturing made it clear that any hint of treachery would not be taken lightly.
Every bundle, every whispered word, and even every breath was treated with suspicion, as if the very air was fraught with the potential for treason. Yet amidst this watchful scrutiny, Veer moved with an air of calm determination.
A wooden cart trailed behind him, with a pair of simple clay pots swaying gently from either side, giving the impression of a humble merchant rather than a more ambitious operative. He had no guards flanking him, no banners fluttering to declare his intentions, just a dusty young boy, with a crooked yet confident smile, and a ladle tucked into the waistband of his garment.
Suddenly, a border guard stepped forward, his voice sharp and commanding. "You! What's your purpose crossing here?"
Veer bowed low, the humility in his posture matching the sincerity in his voice. "A humble drink-seller, my good sir. My pots carry only cool water and simple herbs."
The guard raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched on his face. "Water? From Malwa?"
"Water is water, soldier," Veer replied in a gentle yet firm tone. "And heat knows no borders."
A ripple of amusement spread among the other guards, momentarily diffusing the tension in the air. The officer, still narrowed-eyed but losing a fraction of his initial suspicion, decided to let Veer pass.
"Fine. But should you even hint at loyalty to Bhoj the Just, I'll have your tongue served with the evening wine."
As Veer and his caravan slowly moved beyond the guards, he felt the glances of the people around him — some wary and others curious. But he chose to ignore their scrutiny, his focus entirely on the grand plan that loomed ahead.
By midday, Veer found himself amidst the bustling heart of the enemy kingdom's capital market. His stall was remarkably modest — a simple patch of fabric stretched overhead for shade, two clay pots perched upon a plank, a worn-out mat beneath him, and a set of copper cups waiting to be filled. The liquid inside his pots shimmered like liquid gold: a tantalizing blend made from boiled herbs, scented with sandalwood, and infused with the delicate essence of dried rose petals. 'Hmm, so let the tale of besieging the sultanate begin' Veer thought while looking at the market