Hamsa's Chamber
"Rajkumar, the Mahadevi will meet you this evening before dinner," Gopal said.
"Very well. You are dismissed. Leave those records there—I will review them shortly," Hamsa replied, lying back on his bed face first and pointing toward the stack of documents near his desk.
"As you command, Rajkumar."
Gopal placed the records carefully and withdrew.
A moment of silence followed.
Kid, why were you so determined to have that man publicly executed? Adi asked. You argued for nearly half the day.
Hamsa exhaled slowly.
Instead of asking me, why don't you access the parts of my memories where I studied history? That would answer your question.
That sounds painfully dull. Just explain it.
Hamsa sighed as he rose and walked toward the balcony, letting the late afternoon sun fall across his face.
Fine. But next time, study for once, you lazy snake.
He rested his hands on the railing.
In my previous world, the culture of the land I came from almost uncannily resembles this one. Originally, it was more a way of life than a rigid religion. Over time, however, it hardened into something boxed and labeled as religion. The reason are nuanced.
He continued, voice steady.
Internal betrayal was common like nothing and succession struggles were practically tradition. Even figures remembered as "Great" were not untouched by bloodshed. Ashoka eliminated several of his brothers before securing the throne. Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj laid the foundations for a formidable empire, yet even him, fuck the later on even his own son suffered political sabotage at the hands of their own court factions.
The people the invaded and stayed were also not immune to this, ask the last Navab of Bengal.
Adi remained quiet.
Those fractures made invasions easier. If I recall correctly, early Islamic incursions began around the 8th century and were firmly established by the 11th and 12th centuries. They expanded steadily. Later came the Europeans, who maintained dominance for roughly two centuries.
Hamsa's gaze hardened slightly.
During occupation, not only the land but cultural centers—especially temples—were repeatedly targeted. By the time independence was achieved, the civilization was fractured in nearly every way imaginable, though it still was standing. Broek but standing.
A breeze turned colder. Hamsa stepped back inside just as Chotu nudged at his feet. He picked up the cub and walked to his desk.
And then came what I consider the final blow and the great irony came after independence, political decisions often worked against the indigenous culture. Temple control shifted. And the Institutions that replaced them and their functions, fell under extreme left ideological hands hostile to tradition. Over time, what was once open and expansive began to be treated as inferior. Its best elements were appropriated, repackaged, or mocked.
He settled into his chair, Chotu curling in his lap.
It took more than a century and half after independence for people to openly reclaim cultural confidence—often despite politicians exploiting it for votes or elites lecturing from comfortable distance.
Adi spoke. And that connects to today… how?
Hamsa began reviewing the documents as he answered.
In that world, with widespread media access and no shortage of opportunists and idiots, individuals who exploited religious authority became powerful propaganda tools among, though they were their favorite. Every corrupt priest, every scandal, was amplified to discredit the entire tradition. It justified interference, regulation, ridicule.
He flipped a page.
When sacred authority becomes easy to impersonate or abuse, the damage spreads beyond the individual crime. It corrodes institutional trust. And once trust erodes, external pressure does the rest.
So you executed him to prevent erosion?
To prevent normalization, Hamsa corrected. When a civilization is thriving, decisive action may seem unnecessary but when it becomes necessary, you cannot do it.
Adi let out a breath.
That was still a lot. Can't you explain it in a more simpler way. Without all the details.
Then access the memories and analyze them yourself. I do not have time to educate you.
He glanced down at the cub, then back to the parchment.
You told me you were intelligent and a fast learner. Prove it. And if you want tutoring, manifest a version of me in that inner space and have him teach you.
There was a pause.
I am beginning to understand why people might dislike you, Adi muttered.
Hamsa did not look up.
I told you before—stop commenting on my past life or my personality.
The only response was the soft rustle of parchment and the quiet hum of a prince who had already decided what kind of ruler he intended to become.
_________________
Palace: Mahadevi Bhadra's Office
Late afternoon —
The fading light of the sun filtered through carved stone latticework, casting long geometric shadows across the chamber floor. The hour before sunset was often Mahadevi Bhadra's most productive. Petitions had been reviewed, urgent matters addressed, and what remained were reports requiring measured decisions rather than swift ones.
Mahadevi Bhadra sat at her desk, examining documents while issuing instructions with quiet precision.
"Lata," she said without lifting her gaze from the parchment, "at what hour is Hamsa expected?"
"He should arrive within the minute, Mahadevi," Lata replied. After a brief pause, she added, "You seem concerned. I would have thought you would be pleased that he requested to meet you."
"I am pleased," Mahadevi Bhadra answered calmly, finally looking up. "However, he requested a formal audience. That suggests a matter of intent, not sentiment."
Before Lata could respond, the guard stationed outside entered and bowed.
"Mahadevi, Rajkumar Hamsa has arrived."
"Send him in."
Moments later, Hamsa entered the chamber. He bowed properly, posture straight, expression composed. Mahadevi motioned for him to sit.
"Let us dispense with formalities," she said. "State your purpose, Hamsa."
Hamsa inclined his head slightly before speaking.
"Mahadevi, I seek information regarding an individual. The boy known as Kavad. He claims to be the illegitimate son of the Grand Vizier of Parthia. I have reason to doubt that assertion."
Mahadevi Bhadra sighed faintly.
"So you have met him," she said. "I trust you have not created any unnecessary complications."
"No, Mahadevi. I conversed with him and extended an invitation to spar during his stay. Nothing beyond that."
"Good."
She leaned back slightly.
"I assume you attempted to verify his identity independently and were unsuccessful. Hence your presence here."
"That is correct."
Mahadevi studied her son for a moment. There was calculation in his request—not curiosity.
"You will not accept ignorance as an answer," she said at last. "Very well."
She folded her hands atop the desk.
"The boy is Otanes. He is the first prince of Parthian Empire and first in line to their throne."
Hamsa's expression did not change, though his eyes sharpened almost imperceptibly.
"As for why he is here under an assumed identity," she continued, "we believe it relates to his sister's impending marriage. It is reasonable to assume he wishes to observe the man who may become her husband."
A measured pause followed.
"He is intelligent enough not to provoke instability. I expect the same restraint from you. If he errs, you will not escalate matters."
"Understood," Hamsa replied evenly. "You may rest assured, Mahadevi. I have no intention of creating diplomatic strain."
Mahadevi nodded once.
"If that concludes your inquiry, we shall proceed to the royal residence. Your father has invited the Grand Vizier for dinner this evening."
She began to rise.
"One matter remains, Mother," Hamsa said quietly, though his tone carried a subtle firmness.
Mahadevi paused mid-step.
"Speak."
For a brief moment, her expression softened as she looked at him.
"What is it? Do you wish to spend some time with your mother? Perhaps a game of Shatranj before dinner?" she asked, a faint warmth entering her voice.
"If that is your wish, I would gladly oblige," Hamsa replied evenly. "However, I have come with a formal request—as Rajkumar."
The warmth in her expression faded, replaced by mild disappointment.
"It seems I was presumptuous," she murmured. Then, regaining composure, she added, "Very well. What is it you require?"
"I request the privileges of Yuvraj," Hamsa said without hesitation. "And, if deemed appropriate, the accompanying responsibilities. I bring this request to you because I anticipate that the Raja may refuse it outright."
Mahadevi Bhadra exhaled slowly.
"It has already been decided that you will succeed your father," she said. "That does not mean you must immerse yourself in the burdens of Yuvraj at your age. There is no urgency."
"I understand your concern, Mahadevi," Hamsa replied. "Nevertheless, I ask that you reconsider."
There was no impatience in his tone.
She studied him carefully.
"What am I to do with you…" she muttered under her breath.
After a moment, she relented.
"You will not receive the full authority of Yuvraj. However, I will persuade His Majesty to grant you expanded access to state records and certain administrative facilities. I suspect that is what you truly seek."
Hamsa inclined his head slightly.
"It is."
"But," she continued, "this comes with conditions."
"Thank you, Mother. I will fulfill whatever conditions you require."
"First, you will set aside time for us—regularly. Not for policy, not for reform. Simply as mother and son. You may also accompany your brother when he seeks you. You will not isolate yourself."
Hamsa gave a slight nod.
"Second, you will not overwork yourself. And you will cultivate a social life."
He hesitated.
"If I may ask, what precisely do you mean by that?"
Mahadevi allowed herself a faint smile.
"I mean you will form friendships. One or two individuals you trust—whom you may speak to without calculation. In your case, I would advise caution regarding young women." Her gaze sharpened slightly. "I know you will do what is necessary for your future role as Raja. But personal bonds are not weaknesses. They are stabilizers."
She paused before adding one final condition.
"And from now on, if you intend to propose legislation or significant policy changes in court—as you did today—you will consult with me, your father, and the Mahamanthri beforehand. No more what you did today."
"Very well, Mother," Hamsa replied. "I accept."
A faint glint of calculation passed through his eyes.
"As for consultation—that arrangement is ideal. I have several reforms in mind. I had intended to wait until next year, upon formal recognition as Yuvraj, before introducing them. With this access, I can begin preliminary work immediately."
Mahadevi Bhadra regarded him with a mixture of pride and unease.
What am I to do with this child? she thought.
With that the two left to attend the formal dinner. And in fact where the first to show up and played some board games as they waited for the others to arrive.
__________________
Night — Royal Chambers
The palace had quieted.
Most servants had withdrawn, magi stone along the corridors glowed lower, and the night air carried a sharper chill. Moonlight filtered through carved windows, silvering the marble floors. Outside, leaves rustled softly in the wind, accompanied by the steady rhythm of insects in the gardens.
Within their private chambers, the Raja and Mahadevi had changed into their night attire. The formal weight of the court had given way to the quieter burdens of parenthood.
"Is it true?" Raja Indra asked, reclining against the cushions. "That Hamsa requested expanded authority?"
"Yes," Mahadevi Bhadra replied, removing her earrings and setting them carefully aside. "To be precise he asked for the privileges of Yuvraj."
Indra let out a slow breath.
"And?"
"I denied him the title," she said. "But I did give him access to state records and administrative facilities."
Indra nodded faintly. "That sounds like what he truly wanted."
Bhadra nodded as she sat beside him.
"I am less concerned about what he asked for," she admitted quietly, "and more about what he did not."
Indra glanced at her.
"He does not seek companionship. He does not seek leisure. He seeks structure, access, control. With the way he conducts himself… I fear he may isolate himself. I do not see him forming friendships easily. Nor do I see him fostering a healthy relationship with his future wives."
Indra leaned back, thoughtful.
"He is still young. Perhaps he simply does not yet value closeness. And it is our responsibility as his parents to ensure he does not suffer because of that."
Bhadra remained silent for a moment before speaking again.
"Acharya Ram says he is destined for greatness," she said. "That he will bring forth a revolution of some kind."
Indra's brow lifted slightly.
"His actions do suggest his name will be etched into history," Bhadra continued. "But the Acharya speaks as though his path extends beyond mere kingship. As though he is meant to alter the course of the realm."
Indra turned toward her.
"Is that a cause for concern? That our son may achieve greatness?"
Bhadra's voice softened.
"I do not care whether he is destined for greatness," she said. "I care that he lives well. That he is content. That he rules justly and remains whole. I do not want greatness if it demands his happiness or wellbeing are payment."
Indra studied her for a long moment.
"You worry too much," he said gently. "He isn't fragile and he carries himself with clarity far beyond his years. And if he strays too far in any direction, we will correct him."
Bhadra looked toward the window where moonlight spilled across the floor.
"I hope," she murmured, "that when the time comes, he still allows us to."
The wind stirred again outside, as the palace settled further into the quiet of night.