Outside the Capital — One Day Later.
It was afternoon, and the sun stood high at its zenith. Though a steady wind swept across the plains, the heat remained oppressive.
Beyond the capital—far enough that the city walls and roads had faded into the horizon—a large cavalry force was training across the open fields.
These were the Royal Guards, drilling under the direct supervision of their Yuvraj.
They were already elite cavalrymen, veterans of countless campaigns. Yet the abilities they now possessed were something neither the strategists of the present nor those of ancient times could have predicted.
The reason was simple.
The Royal Guard now had access to far larger mana reserves than they would have ever possessed in their entire lives.
Their control had improved as well, granting them the ability to use that power in ways previously thought impossible.
Though they were nowhere near Hamsa's level—after all, he was such an anomaly that he existed on a plane of his own with just the sheer amount of mana he possessed—they were still far beyond anything the world currently had to offer.
Because of this, they had moved outside the boundaries of conventional military thinking. Traditional tactics were no longer enough.
And so they trained directly under Hamsa's methods—methods he had developed using knowledge from both this world and his previous one, combined with a deep understanding of the soldiers' new capabilities.
Across the field, cavalry formations moved in wide circles. Lines shifted and reformed whenever signals were given, the riders adjusting their positions with practiced discipline.
Inside Hamsa's mind, however, a different conversation was taking place.
Kid… what exactly are you making them do? Adi asked. They're just riding around.
I'm letting them get used to the new saddles I introduced, Hamsa replied calmly.
Once that's done, we'll start practicing linking their mana with their horses. After that comes channeling mana through their weapons, along with all the above.
So they're still not strong enough to fight without some kind of medium, huh? Adi commented.
In this world, aside from rare exceptions like Hamsa—who had been an outlier since birth—and a handful of ancient, well-trained gurus, most people could not release mana in a controlled manner.
At best, they could throw it outward like loose sand shaped into crude forms, hoping it held together long enough to reach its target. It was much like the display Hamsa had once seen from his grandfather, the Raja of the Ranga dynasty, when they first met.
Because of this limitation, most practitioners relied on mediums.
High-quality magi stones were the most common. Wealthier individuals sometimes used magi crystals. These were embedded into weapons—staffs, swords, spears—and allowed the wielder to channel mana through them in a stable form.
Recently, however, a new group of outliers had begun to emerge.
These were individuals whose mana circuits had been altered by Hamsa.
The Royal Guard had not undergone full modification, except Naga and Gopala, but even partial changes had allowed them to channel mana through ordinary, non-specialized weapons—something previously unheard of.
Hamsa was still working on developing entirely new equipment suited to their abilities.
For now, however, they continued using their traditional gear.
The guards wore standard battle garments: soft cotton clothing suited for long rides and harsh weather. Their upper garments resembled shorter versions of a modern kurta, designed with extra space for movement and airflow. Their lower clothing consisted of dhotis—practical and common attire even out of combat.
Over these, they wore armor.
Chainmail formed the primary protection, reinforced by plate segments over the chest and back, as well as the shoulders and knees.
Each rider carried a long spear, a medium-sized metal shield, and a sword. When necessary, they also carried javelins, which served both as throwable projectiles and as backup spears.
The horses themselves were no less impressive.
Most of the Royal Guard rode special warhorses imported from the western lands of the Parthian Empire. However, Hamsa had already begun efforts to breed similar stock within his own kingdom.
The animals wore protective armor of their own—a combination of light chainmail and plate.
Enough to shield them in battle.
But not so heavy that they would be considered true shock cavalry, like the famous Parthian Cataphracts.[1]
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Royal District
Temple District
The temples were alive with their usual buzz. Classes were underway throughout the complex—some practical, others theoretical. Bells rang regularly as priests conducted the afternoon poojas, their echoes drifting through the courtyards along with the faint scent of incense.
In the central library hall, Padmavathi sat surrounded by scrolls and manuscripts.
These were the materials the Yuvraj had given her.
Page after page of unfamiliar diagrams, concepts, and notes.
As she studied, several students and even a few gurus occasionally stopped to help her understand certain passages. Though the work was difficult, she listened carefully and absorbed everything she could.
After some time, when the afternoon poojas concluded, the students gathered for lunch.
Once the meal was finished, a few of them invited Padmavathi to sit with them in one of the courtyards.
Soon she found herself among a small group of students casually discussing their day and the subjects they had studied.
The temple in the Royal District mainly focused on administrative education—governance, accounting, logistics, law, and other skills required to run the kingdom. Students were also given the basics of many other fields, while Dharmic and Vedic studies remained standard parts of the curriculum.
As the conversation continued, Padmavathi finally asked something that had been bothering her.
"May I ask something?"
The others nodded.
"Why is almost everyone here so supportive of me being here?" she asked. "I assumed there would be hostility… or that people would simply ignore me. After all, it was the Yuvraj himself who brought me here, and I have no qualifications of my own."
For a moment the group stared at her.
Then several of them burst into laughter.
Padmavathi blinked in confusion.
"Padmavathi," one of the girls said once the laughter died down, "first of all, just because you don't have prior qualifications doesn't mean you can't study."
"And we don't see your class as a problem here either."
Padmavathi frowned slightly.
"Why is that?"
Her shock was justified.
This world had the same Varna and Jati system as in Hamsa's old world. Though, much like in his old world, it had gradually become rigid over time.
One's Jati, or what would later come to be known more commonly as caste, referred to the specific group or community a person belonged to—such as weavers, potters, soldiers, and countless other occupational communities.
The Varna system, however, was meant to classify people based on the kind of work they performed in society.
In terms of population distribution, the four varnas roughly formed a pyramid.
At the top, and usually the smallest in number, were the Brahmins—priests, scholars, and teachers responsible for spiritual guidance, ritual authority, and the preservation of knowledge.
After them came the Kshatriyas—warriors, rulers, and administrators responsible for protection, governance, and maintaining order.
After them were the Vaishyas—merchants, traders, agriculturists, and pastoralists who handled most of the economic activity.
And finally there were the Shudras—laborers, artisans, craftsmen, and service providers who supported the functioning of society through skilled and manual work.
Originally, however, the system was believed to be more fluid.
In earlier periods it was less strictly tied to birth and more connected to a person's occupation or role in society. In that sense it functioned more as a description of what someone did rather than a permanent label assigned at birth.
For example, the child of a ruler might not remain a Kshatriya if he abandoned warfare or governance and chose another life. Likewise, someone born into a lower social position could theoretically rise through learning, service, or changing professions.
Over time, however, the system gradually became more rigid and hereditary. Social groups became increasingly tied to birth, and movement between them became rare.
Centuries later, during British colonial rule, the system was further formalized and hardened. Colonial censuses and bureaucratic classifications attempted to force the enormous variety of Indian communities into rigid administrative categories. In doing so, they reinforced and solidified boundaries that had previously been far more flexible.
But this world was still at a stage where, if the right precedent was set, much of that damage could be avoided.
Though it was not entirely avoidable, as it was human nature to form groups, take pride in them, and try to preserve the advantages that came with them.
Hamsa understood this very well.
As such while he still frequently participated in debates at the temple, he had practically drilled into the students' minds why the system should remain fluid, and why such flexibility would benefit society as a whole without necessarily removing the advantages someone might receive from being born into a particular class.
He even went so far as to incorporate this idea into the census system, adding occupation as an official classification.
As part of his plans, Hamsa ensured that a person would not be classified as anything more than a child and a student during their formative years. Only later, once they entered society, would they receive further classification based on the work they chose to pursue.
"Well," the same girl as before finally answered, "a few years ago, when the Yuvraj used to visit here more often and participate in debates, he drilled it into us that just because you were born into a particular jati or varna doesn't mean that is all you can ever be. According to the scriptures, that's how it was originally meant to work anyway."
She continued,
"At the same time, he made sure to present it in a way where people wouldn't lose the opportunities that might come from being born into certain families. Because of that, people here don't really place much importance on those things anymore."
She shrugged slightly.
"The way he spoke wasn't particularly charismatic or anything… but he was so intense about it that it left an impression on all of us."
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Training Grounds.
It was an unusual sight for the training grounds to be as empty as they were.
Half of the Royal Guards were outside the city conducting cavalry drills under Hamsa, while only those stationed in the guard house within the district and those currently on duty remained in the capital.
Because of that, the grounds were quiet for the most part.
Near the barracks, two men sat resting, sweat flowing from them like water down a river.
They were Gopala and Ranapala.
They had just finished a duel, which ended in Gopala's victory—largely due to the advantage of age and the experience that came with it.
"Not bad, kid," Gopala said while drinking from a water flask. "With the level of skill you just showed, half a year of intense training should bring you up to the level of the regular rookies."
"You honor me, Mr. Gopala, with such high praise," Ranapala replied respectfully.
"Like I said earlier, just call me Gopala," he answered with visible irritation.
"Well, if you insist," Ranapala said. "But may I ask you something, Gopala?"
"Go ahead."
Ranapala hesitated for a moment before asking.
"How skilled is the Yuvraj? I know that when it comes to mana, he exists on a completely different plane from the rest of us… but what about his other abilities?"
Gopala thought about it for a moment.
"Well…" he began slowly.
"When it comes to pure martial skill, the Yuvraj is above average. Nothing extraordinary."
He took another drink of water.
"But when he starts using mana, that changes things. The way he applies it allows him to punch far above his natural weight."
He paused again.
"As for strategy… the Yuvraj hasn't actually been in a real war yet, so it's difficult to say."
Gopala leaned back slightly.
"Still, from what I know of him, he'd likely make a good strategist."
He shrugged.
"Maybe not the kind of commander history remembers as a military genius… but someone who could still carve his name into the annals of history nonetheless."
"Is that so? Then… may I ask you one more thing?" Ranapala replied.
"What is it?" Gopala asked, placing the flask back on the table and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Ranapala hesitated longer this time, but eventually spoke.
"Well… don't you think the Yuvraj sometimes looks down on everyone?"
Gopala raised an eyebrow but said nothing, allowing him to continue.
"I mean… when he says something, he acts like it's already a done deal. Not that he comes off as boastful or arrogant," Ranapala added quickly. "But when I first saw him and spoke to him… it felt like he was looking at me the way someone might look at an ant from the top of a hill."
Gopala thought about that for a moment before answering.
"Well, simply put… in some ways, the Yuvraj really is that high up."
He stood up slowly as he spoke.
"With how intelligent and strong he is, that kind of gap is bound to exist."
He stretched his shoulders before continuing.
"But I don't think it's him looking down on everyone else."
Gopala glanced toward the palace walls in the distance.
"I think it's more that the people around him keep putting him on that hill themselves… and then stand there staring up at him."
Ranapala remained silent, thinking about those words.
Gopala chuckled slightly.
"But trust me—while you might feel like your neck hurts from looking up at him, he probably sees you standing on the same ground as him. He's just a few steps ahead of everyone else."
He picked up the flask again.
"And besides, the Yuvraj has his flaws too."
Ranapala looked up.
"Like what?"
Gopala smirked.
"For one, his social skills are atrocious. And for another," he added with a hint of amusement, "I once saw a kid who'd barely spent a year in a gurukul beat him in a philosophical debate."
"I knew he had poor social skills," Ranapala said, remembering his first interaction with the Yuvraj—how he had simply said everything as it was, without wrapping it in fancy words. "But he lost to a kid in a philosophical debate? That's hard to believe."
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[1] This isn't what the Parthains themselves called it, but I am going with the most common names. If I go too deep to make them accurate, it would make my life much harder to write.