The horseman spurred his mount into a gallop and disappeared into the city streets. The captain respectfully gestured toward the open gates. "Please, Maharaja."
Karna gave a slight nod before stepping forward. The divine horses followed quietly behind him while a small escort of soldiers formed around the procession.
As they entered Champa, the city's rhythm gradually slowed. Merchants paused midway through arranging their goods. Blacksmiths stopped hammering glowing steel. Women looked down from balconies. Children abandoned their games and ran toward the main street.
"What happened?"
"Why are the soldiers marching?"
"It looks important."
An elderly fruit seller shaded his eyes. "Has another royal envoy arrived?"
A passing merchant lowered his voice. "No… I heard Hastinapura has sent our new king."
"New king?"
"Who?"
Another traveler answered before anyone else could. "Maharaja Karna."
The name spread almost immediately.
"Karna? Who?"
"The Suryaputra?"
"The king of Dakshina Kalinga?"
Several people craned their necks to catch a glimpse.
Another whispered, "They say his kingdom prospers more with every passing year."
Not everyone sounded convinced. A cloth merchant folded his arms. "Hmph. Kings always arrive with exaggerated, glorious stories."
His neighbor shrugged. "Yeah, indeed. Whose wealth are they enjoying with? These kings are all the same. They just squeeze our hard work in the form of taxes and provide nothing in return."
"I heard he defeated Jarasandha and married his daughter."
"But I heard he fought Balarama and married his sister."
"He married a lot of princesses, Elder Brother. Dvarika, Mathura, Kashi, Magadha, and now Hastinapur. Imagine how powerful this warrior would have been if powers like Hastinapur and Magadha actually gave their princesses to him in marriage?"
An old woman quietly added, "I heard that he actually has tens of lovers, the common-born who act as the maids of his queens. And some of them bore his children as well, and they have been enjoying the riches of Dakshina Kalinga."
A younger woman chuckled. "Perhaps he might choose someone from Anga as well… Even if he has thousands of wives, if someone like him chose me, I would gladly give up heart and soul..."
"Quit dreaming. Someone as divine as him wouldn't even spare a glance at you."
Nearby, a grey-haired farmer shook his head. "Enough gossip. If he truly protects his people, Anga may finally see better days."
Several children squeezed through the crowd until they reached the front.
"There!"
"Look!"
"So handsome and radiant…"
"Doesn't he look like a deva?"
"He shines like Suryanarayana…"
As Karna walked calmly through the avenue, the conversations gradually softened. His presence alone seemed to quiet the street. His expression remained composed. Neither pride nor arrogance could be found upon his face. Every step carried quiet dignity.
One elderly priest instinctively joined his palms. "Such radiance."
Another citizen murmured, "He doesn't look like an ordinary man."
Still another replied, "Radiance alone does not make a good king. Even our former Maharaj has radiance, but he is a merciless ruler. We shall know with time whether this one is different or the same."
Karna neither acknowledged the whispers nor reacted to the countless curious gazes. His eyes simply observed the city—bustling markets, well-maintained roads, disciplined patrols. The administration left behind by Hastinapura had preserved Champa well.
Meanwhile, deep inside the royal palace, a soldier burst through the audience hall and dropped onto one knee.
"My Lord!"
Acting Governor Viraj Sena lowered the wine goblet halfway toward his lips. "What is it?"
"Maharaja Karna has entered Champa."
Silence. The goblet remained suspended for only a heartbeat. Then—
CRACK!
The bronze cup crumpled within his grip. Crimson wine dripped through his fingers onto the marble floor.
"So." His voice was frighteningly calm. "He is here at last, quite impatient is he that he didn't wait a few months?"
The attendant standing nearby remained silent.
Viraj Sena slowly stood and walked toward the large window overlooking the city. "I still remember Rajkumar Duryodhana's words after Raja Dhundharaj fell under my sword. 'Govern Anga well until the proper time arrives, and you will have the appropriate reward.'"
His jaw tightened. He gave a bitter laugh.
"I believed that the proper time to receive the appropriate reward meant the throne would become mine, and he would elevate my status as a vassal king. I gave my blood and sweat to take down the past king and hand it over to Hastinapur, but Maharaj Dritarastra just gave it away to his son-in-law, who is not even an ally."
The attendant hesitated before speaking carefully. "My Lord… Maharaja Karna is not someone even Hastinapura can afford to offend. I have heard he openly threatened Gandhar Naresh Shakuni before even Mahamahim Bhishma. And despite everything… Princess Dushala herself was given in marriage to him."
The governor suddenly slammed what remained of the broken goblet onto a nearby table. "I KNOW!"
His roar echoed through the chamber. The attendants immediately lowered their heads.
Several moments passed before Viraj Sena finally regained his composure. He exhaled deeply. "Let him have the throne."
His eyes slowly moved toward the enormous map of Anga hanging across the chamber wall. His finger rested upon Champa. Then it drifted farther outward—across mountains, forests, border provinces, scattered territories.
"The throne…" A faint smile appeared upon his face. "is only a chair." His finger tapped the western forests. "The kingdom…" Another tap. "is another matter entirely."
He turned toward his attendant. "Until Dakshina Kalinga's army marches here… he still has to depend on our army to protect the capital city."
The attendant quietly bowed. "My Lord… shall I postpone the welcoming ceremony with some excuses?"
Viraj Sena slowly shook his head. "No." He walked back toward the table. "Prepare the ceremony as early as possible."
The attendant looked confused. "My Lord?"
Viraj Sena smiled coldly. "We shall welcome our new Maharaja with every honor befitting his station, and we coronate him as the King of Anga." He paused. "And afterward… you have to go and meet someone to carry my letter."
"To whom, My Lord?"
Viraj Sena answered without hesitation. "Rithudhaman Ji."
The attendant bowed deeply. "As you command."