Satya walked through the crowded bazaar with the steady ease of a common man. No guards. No royal seal. Just a simple cotton dhoti, a loose shawl on one shoulder, and dust clinging to his feet like he'd walked these streets his whole life.
The capital wasn't what the ministers described.It was louder, rougher, and way angrier.
Vendors shouted to sell stale grains. Children chased each other barefoot, their ribs sharper than their laughter. Everywhere he looked, people whispered about rising prices and shrinking rations.
"Do you think the king even cares?" a woman near a well muttered.
"King?" an old man scoffed. "The ministers rule this place. The king is just decoration."
The words hit Satya like a blade.This was the real kingdom he inherited, not the polished lie inside palace walls.
He wanted to ask more, but a small tug on his sleeve pulled him back. A boy, maybe twelve, stared up with curious eyes.
"Bhaiya, you're new here, right? Don't go too deep into the north inner market. Bad people roam there. They take money… sometimes people."
Satya crouched to his level. "Does no one stop them?"
"Who will?" The boy shrugged. "Soldiers don't come here. Ministers don't care. King…" He paused, lowering his voice. "People say he is useless."
Satya forced a soft smile. "What's your name?"
"Bhanu."
"Bhanu… thank you. You helped me."
The boy nodded and ran off into the crowd.
Satya continued walking. The deeper he went, the uglier the truth became. Broken roads. Empty shops. People arguing with shopkeepers who were forced to raise prices because someone above them demanded bribes. Every corner echoed with frustration.
The more he listened, the more painful it became.
People weren't just suffering.They were angry at him.
Not because he failed them directly, but because he never stopped the corruption swallowing their lives. To them, he wasn't a king. He was a puppet on golden strings, held by corrupt ministers who drained the kingdom for their own gain.
Satya stopped in the middle of a narrow street and let the noise fade around him.For a long moment, he just stood there.
He wasn't angry at the people. He couldn't be.He was angry at himself.
He had lived in the palace for years, protected, pampered, and blind. He never saw the rot growing beneath his throne. He never imagined the ministers' greed had choked the kingdom this badly.
His hands curled into fists.
This ends now.He wasn't going to be a silent king anymore.