Arjuna walked closer, each step measured, though the tightness in his chest betrayed the calm he tried to wear.
"No," he said at last, voice controlled, almost too controlled. "I'm here to practice."
Karna turned his head slightly, eyes settling on him with quiet clarity, as though he had already read the answer long before the words were spoken.
"The anger is clear on your face, Prince Arjuna," he said, tone calm, neither provoking nor softening. "Your brother will be crowned in three days. Yet you were the one who captured King Drupada. Are you unhappy that your contribution has been credited to your eldest brother? Did you fight with him?"
The question did not land gently.
Arjuna's fingers tightened around the bow, the leather grip pressing into his palm as his breath hitched for the smallest fraction of a moment before he steadied it. His jaw clenched, the muscle along it tightening visibly as he drew in a slow breath through his nose.
"Everything we do is credited to my eldest brother," he replied, voice sharper now, the restraint beginning to crack at its edges. "And he was the commander. It is within his rights as a general… and as my elder."
He paused, then added, the edge in his tone hardening.
"We are not like the Kauravas, who rely on deceit. None of our brothers would be unhappy to give our contributions to another sibling. We weren't raised that way."
The words lingered.
Karna did not react immediately.
Instead, he watched him for a moment.
"I asked you a question," he said after a brief silence, "yet your anger turned toward the Kaurava princes instead of me. And you haven't even given me a proper answer."
Another pause.
"It means the root of your anger lies with them… not with what I said."
His gaze remained steady, unblinking.
"Is that correct?"
Arjuna did not answer.
The silence between them stretched, filled only by the distant hum of the night and the faint whisper of wind brushing past the torches.
Karna's voice softened slightly, though it did not lose its clarity.
"Do you wish to speak about it?" he asked. "As a stranger… I can offer a neutral perspective."
Then, after a brief pause, his lips curved just enough to suggest something between observation and challenge.
"Or are you still held by your defeat in the arena?"
That landed differently.
Arjuna's eyes flickered, a flash of irritation passing through them before he forced it down, swallowing the immediate reaction with a slow, deliberate breath. He did not like this man… not his tone, not his presence, not the unsettling way he seemed to peel through layers without effort.
And yet…
His Eldest brother respected this King.
Praised him.
Trusted his sense of dharma.
That thought lingered longer than Arjuna wanted.
He exhaled, longer this time, the tension in his shoulders loosening just slightly as he stepped forward and came to stand beside Karna, the distance between them now reduced to little more than an arm's length.
The quiver at his back shifted softly as he reached for an arrow, the feathered end brushing lightly against his fingers. He nocked it, lifted the bow, and aimed, the familiar alignment of sight and breath grounding him, if only a little.
The string drew back.
Released.
The arrow cut cleanly through the air and struck the target with a sharp, satisfying thud.
"Briefly speaking," Arjuna said, eyes still on the target, voice steadier now, "Maharaj Dhritarashtra wants my brother to give up the crown and hand it to Duryodhana."
He drew another breath, slower this time.
"And my brother is willing… because we are indebted to Maharaj."
The word lingered heavier than the rest.
He lowered the bow slightly, turning his head just enough to glance at Karna.
"People call my brother the epitome of dharma, but my brother calls you the epitome of justice. He says no word of you, no action of you can give injustice to someone," he said. "So tell me, Kalinga Raja… is Maharaj Dhritarashtra not wrong to use such emotional pressure?"
Karna's response came without delay, almost as though it had already been formed the moment the question existed.
"Go and tell Prince Yudhisthira," he said, "that Maharaj Dhritarashtra is within his rights to ask such a favor."
Arjuna's brows knit slightly.
"From his perspective, he is not wrong," Karna continued. "He is not committing adharma."
The next words came slower.
"The one who is wrong… is your brother."
The arrow slipped from Arjuna's fingers before he could steady his reaction.
"What?"
The string released prematurely, the arrow veering off course and striking the edge of the target with a dull scrape instead of a clean impact.
At the same moment, Karna lifted his bow.
Three arrows rested between his fingers again, aligned with practiced ease.
He drew.
Released.
The arrows flew in perfect harmony, striking the center of the target in rapid succession, the sound crisp, controlled, final.
"Yudhisthira earned the position of Crown Prince through rightful means," Karna said, lowering the bow slightly. "If he gives it away… it should be because he believes Duryodhana is the rightful ruler."
He turned his gaze toward Arjuna.
"Not because he feels indebted."
The words settled slowly, like stones sinking into still water.
"Only if he believes that Duryodhana's rule will be just… should he step aside."
Arjuna stood still.
The torchlight flickered across his face as the meaning began to unfold within him.
Karna continued, his tone measured, carrying no force yet impossible to ignore.
"Arjuna, sitting on a throne is never about ruling people," he said. "It is about serving them… protecting them… standing as their guardian. A King will become people's father… their guardian… he even does Seet yajna to take farmers' sins upon his head and choose the path of hell."
His gaze shifted briefly toward the distant darkness beyond the training ground, as though the idea extended far beyond this moment.
"The people are what make the kingdom," he added quietly. "Not the rulers."
He paused, then spoke again, this time with a faint analogy woven into his words.
"It is like performing tapasya and then granting the boon to someone else," he said. "If that person is righteous, the world benefits. If that person is not… the world suffers."
A brief silence followed.
"And the one who gave away his boon… would have to carry that regret."
The night seemed to be still around them.
"Remind your brother of this," Karna finished. "Let him think again."
For a moment, nothing moved.
Then, slowly, something shifted in Arjuna's expression.
The tension in his brow eased, replaced by something sharper… clearer… like a blade being drawn from fog. The frustration that had clouded his thoughts began to thin, replaced by a realization that settled into place with quiet certainty.
His earlier perception of Karna… shifted.
Not entirely.
But enough.
He lowered his bow fully now, the weight of it no longer feeling like an outlet for anger, but simply a weapon once more.
Without another word, he stepped back, then bowed slightly.
"Thank you," he said.
The words were brief… but genuine.
Then he turned and left, his footsteps quickening as urgency replaced confusion, the need to return and speak to his brother driving him forward.
Karna watched him go, the faint sound of his retreat fading into the night.
A small smile touched his lips, more thoughtful than amused.
He lifted his bow again, placing the arrows between his fingers with the same practiced ease, drawing the string back as the leather brushed softly against his grip.
"I came here for a simple trade," he murmured under his breath, releasing the arrows into the darkness with precise calm, "and to leave."
The arrows struck.
Clean.
Unwavering.
"But it seems…"
Another draw.
Another release.
"I will be drawn into far more before I return."
The torches flickered.
And the night listened.