Chapter 2: The Shore of Two Worlds
The journey to the southern shore was a thunder of hooves and silent tension. Prince Aarav rode on a smaller, steady beast, his ten-year-old sister Ananya riding protectively by his side. A full contingent of the Royal Guard, led by Captain Jayan, surrounded them.
"Are you afraid, little brother?" Ananya asked, her voice a low murmur that only he could hear.
Aarav looked at his sister. In her eyes, he saw not fear, but a sharp, analytical curiosity that mirrored his own. "No," he replied honestly. "I am... curious." Inside, the ghost of Rohan the engineer was buzzing with a thousand questions.
"Good," Ananya said with a small, approving smile. "Fear is the enemy of strategy. Remember that."
As they broke through the final stretch of jungle, the sight that greeted them was a violation of nature itself. The shimmering Veil of Mists was torn, a ragged wound in reality. Beached on the white sand was a monstrous metal beast, bleeding rust and smoke into the pristine air. It was a ship, just as the reports had said, a thing of brutal angles and crude power, utterly alien to Hindustan's elegant, flowing architecture.
Near the wreck, a small group of survivors huddled together, their strange, drab clothing a stark contrast to the guards' vibrant silks and polished armour.
"Halt!" Captain Jayan commanded, his men fanning out to form an impenetrable wall of spears. "Do not approach!"
Just as the perimeter was established, another rider burst from the trees. It was Vikram, his eight-year-old face flushed with defiance, his practice sword in hand. "I will not let you and Ananya face this alone!" he shouted, maneuvering his mount beside his siblings.
"Vikram, you were told to stay at the palace!" Ananya scolded, though a flicker of pride showed in her eyes.
The strangers, seeing the armed children and the wall of spears, grew even more agitated. A blonde woman, clearly their leader, began shouting in a language that was harsh and meaningless to the guards, but crystal clear to Aarav.
She was pleading. "We mean no harm! We are shipwrecked! Does anyone understand me?"
The guards gripped their spears tighter. Captain Jayan was about to give the order to subdue them.
"Now, little brother," Ananya whispered, placing a reassuring hand on Aarav's shoulder.
Aarav nodded. He slid from his mount and, with Ananya a step behind him, walked past the line of guards. The sight of the two small royal children approaching stopped everyone, friend and foe alike, in their tracks.
Aarav stopped a respectful distance away and looked at the foreign captain. He tilted his head, his six-year-old face a mask of unnerving calm. He activated the knowledge of his past life, the English language flowing as easily as his mother tongue.
"Your vessel is bleeding oil into the sand," he said, his child's voice clear and steady. "What is your power source? Steam, or internal combustion?"
The question was so bizarre, so technically specific, that it completely disarmed Captain Eva Rostova. She stared at the small boy, her mind struggling to process the situation. A child, dressed like a prince from a fairy tale, had just asked her a question worthy of a naval engineer.
"Internal... combustion," she finally stammered. "Diesel. Who... what are you?"
"I am Prince Aarav of this land, Hindustan. This is my sister, Princess Ananya." He gestured to the guards. "And they will not harm you, provided you prove you are not a threat. Surrender your weapons."
The sheer, unbelievable authority in his voice was compelling. Eva looked from the tiny, serious boy to the intelligent, watchful girl beside him, and made a decision. She gave a sharp order, and her weary crew placed their rifles on the sand.
Ananya then stepped forward, her voice taking on the commanding tone of the elder royal. "Captain Jayan," she said in her own language. "The Prince has established that they are survivors, not invaders. Their intentions appear peaceful. We will treat them as shipwrecked guests, as is our custom, until our father the Maharaja passes judgment."
Captain Jayan, though bewildered, saw the united front of the two royal children and bowed. "As you command, Your Highness."
Vikram watched the entire exchange, his hand still on his sword, his expression a storm of pride, confusion, and frustration. His younger siblings had just averted a crisis with a power he didn't understand, leaving him on the sidelines.
Aarav looked at the strangers, then back at his family. The first touch between their two worlds had not ended in blood, but in a quiet, profound sense of wonder and disbelief. As the guards began to peacefully escort the survivors, he glanced at his status board, a familiar, private comfort. It was clean and simple, showing only the skills he possessed, a quiet testament to the ghost within. The future was a terrifying unknown, but for the first time in his second life, he felt he had the tools to face it.