The royal court shimmered with torchlight. Gold-lined pillars reflected the flicker of flames, and the air carried a strange mix of whispers and jealousy emotions that were impossible to hide here.
Then the great doors opened.
Senapati Shunga stepped in, his armor still gleaming from battle. The chatter faded as his boots echoed across the marble floor. He stopped a few steps away from the throne, bowed his head, and greeted,"Long live His Majesty."
His tone was calm, almost respectful but confident, too, the kind of confidence only earned through victory.
Satya watched him closely. So this is the man who, in another time, would raise his sword against me, he thought. His expression stayed neutral, but his mind raced.
Snapping back to the moment, Satya stood and said, "Senapati, your victory brings pride to Magadh. The empire stands taller today because of you."
A few courtiers nodded halfheartedly, but most barely looked up. To them, praise was just politics.
Soon after, the court was dismissed. Ministers dispersed, and Satya retired to his private chambers though his thoughts stayed restless.
Hours later...
Inside the dimly lit training hall, the clang of steel echoed. Satya swung his orange-bladed sword again and again, his body slick with sweat. This was his sanctuary a place where no ministers, no guards, no politics could intrude.
Until a voice did.
"Maharaj ki jai ho," a servant called nervously from the doorway. "Senapati Shunga requests an audience. He says it's urgent."
Satya froze mid-swing. The sword stopped inches from the dummy's neck. For a second, he didn't move the silence was sharp enough to cut through.
Then, slowly, he lowered the blade and said, "Send him in."
The doors creaked open.
Shunga entered the training room, his boots tapping lightly against the stone floor. His face glowed faintly in the torchlight calm, unreadable, yet proud.
As he stepped closer, Satya noticed something unsettling in his eyes. Not arrogance... but intensity.
Then, without a word, Shunga drew his sword in one swift motion.
The sound of steel leaving its sheath filled the room clear, cold, and final.
Satya's grip tightened around his own weapon. The air between them turned heavy, both men staring at each other in silence.