The morning sun poured into the royal chamber, bright and golden, but the air inside was tight with tension. Satya sat on the edge of his large circular bed, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing. His mind had been turning nonstop since last night, piecing fragments together, trying to shape a path forward.
Just then, the door creaked.
A guard entered, carrying a spear, dressed in a crimson waist cloth and white dhoti. Satya looked up, and something clicked in his mind. His eyes sharpened. A slow smile spread across his face.
"You came at the perfect time," Satya said. "Thanks."
The guard blinked, confused. Why was the king thanking him? But he swallowed the question and bowed slightly.
"Your Majesty, Senapati Shunga has arrived to meet you."
At that, Satya shot to his feet with sudden energy, almost electric. It felt like lightning had passed through him. He stormed out of the room with such speed that the guard stepped back in shock.
In the long corridor lined with red carpets and gold-tinted pillars, Shunga stood waiting calmly. The moment he saw Satya charging toward him, he lowered his head to greet his king.
He didn't even finish the bow.
A strong hand grabbed his arm, and in the blink of an eye, Shunga found himself being pulled down the hall at alarming speed.
"What ? Your Majesty?!"
Before he could gather his senses, Satya dragged him into a dim chamber. Torches burned along the stone columns, throwing long shadows across the room and giving it an eerie, almost sinister atmosphere.
At the center stood a heavy wooden table.
Satya planted both palms on the surface, leaning forward. Shunga sat across from him, still trying to understand what he had been teleported into.
"Your Majesty," he said slowly, "what is it that requires such urgency?"
Satya didn't waste time.
"I have a plan," he said. "A plan to bring down the Prime Minister."
The air froze.
Even the torches seemed to pause their flickering.
Shunga straightened, eyes wide. Satya continued, voice low and sharp.
"Tomorrow is the annual ritual at the Shiv Temple. Every year, the king must go and offer milk. This tradition has existed since the time of my ancestor, Chandragupta Maurya."
Shunga nodded cautiously. "Yes… but how does that help us?"
Satya's lips twisted into a determined smile.
"When I return from the ritual, there will be an attack on me. An assassination attempt."
Shunga stiffened. "What?! Who "
"Our own man," Satya cut in. "Someone loyal to us. He will fake the attack, get caught on purpose, and then he will reveal the Prime Minister's name as the one who ordered my assassination."
"And once we have that confession…" Shunga whispered.
"We execute the Prime Minister publicly," Satya finished. "In front of the entire capital. No more corruption. No more puppet king."
Shunga leaned back, stunned. The boldness. The risk. The brilliance.
For the first time in years, he looked at his king and didn't see a sheltered boy sitting on a golden throne.
He saw a ruler.
A real one.