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Chapter 39 - Chapter 39 – The City of Merchants

Ten long years had passed since Karna had last stood with his companions of the Merchant Guild. When he departed, they were ambitious men, carrying ledgers and dreams upon their backs, following his vision across the rivers and roads of Bharat. Now, as he returned, the land itself seemed transformed.

What had once been a humble trade hub was now a city of glittering streets. Caravan bells rang like music in every corner, warehouses towered like fortresses, and market squares thrummed with the voices of thousands. Silks from Kashi, spices from the South, gems from Gandhara, and perfumes from the deserts of the West—all flowed into this place.

At its gates fluttered a banner of golden cloth, bearing the sigil Karna himself had once drawn in youth: a rising sun, symbol of endless prosperity.

The Reunion

As Karna entered the city, people whispered his name. Some knew him as the warrior who had fought Indra, others remembered him as the young merchant who once distributed food freely in their villages. To them, he was not only a fighter, but a giver.

His friends, now leaders of the vast guild, came forth to greet him. Their hair was touched with age, their clothes rich with silk and jewels, but their eyes glimmered with the same brotherhood as in their youth.

"Karna!" cried Udayan, the stout-hearted treasurer. "Ten years, and you return not as the lad who dreamed of trade, but as a legend sung in every inn!"

Another, lean and sharp-eyed, clasped his hands. "The city you once planted as a seed has grown into a banyan tree, brother. Merchants from the four corners of Bharat bow their heads here. But it is still yours. Without you, none of this could have begun."

Karna smiled softly, his gaze sweeping the streets. "No, brothers. It was not mine—it was ours. You carried the dream when I wandered in search of knowledge. You built these walls when I was away. This city belongs to the sweat of your brows."

A Feast of Brotherhood

That night, the guild held a feast in Karna's honor. The great hall, lit with a thousand lamps, echoed with laughter and the clinking of cups.

Stories were exchanged—of long journeys through deserts, of caravans attacked by bandits, of great bargains struck with kings and princes. Yet every tale circled back to one truth: the Merchant Guild was now a power in Bharat, not beneath thrones, but beside them.

"You should lead us once more, Karna," said one elder, raising a cup. "With your wisdom and your valor, this city will outshine even Hastinapura!"

Karna shook his head. His voice was calm, but resolute."My path is not here anymore, brothers. The road still calls to me, the bow still weighs upon my hands. I came not to reign, but to see the fruits of your labor, to know that what we began has not been lost. You are kings of trade now—you need no crown upon me."

The hall fell silent, then erupted with respect. They understood. Karna was no longer merely a merchant or a warrior; he was a soul forged by destiny, forever walking between paths others could not tread.

The Morning After

At dawn, Karna stood upon the balcony of the guild hall, overlooking the city. Children ran in the streets, traders shouted their wares, and temples rose where once there had been dust.

A friend stood beside him, whispering, "Do you see, Karna? This city breathes your spirit. Even if you leave again, your name will live here, in every stone, in every coin that passes hand to hand."

Karna's gaze softened. "Then let it live in their prosperity. For what is the worth of a man if his name does not bring peace and sustenance to others?"

The sun rose, gilding the city with fire, and Karna knew his journey was not over. This was but a resting place, a reminder of what bonds could build. Ahead lay trials greater than merchants or wealth—trials that would pit him against fate itself.

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