Royal Residence.
Hamsa's Chamber.
It was early morning—an hour Hamsa would ordinarily still be at rest, even with the discipline of his routine.
But not today. Today, he was awake.
There were preparations to be completed.
His departure for Takshashila[1] could no longer be delayed.
By royal decree, he had been appointed governor of the northern territories of the kingdom.
Hamsa sat alone in his chamber, the faint glow of Mana Crystal casting long shadows across stacks of palm-leaf manuscripts. Reports, ledgers, intelligence briefings—each one detailing the vast and volatile lands he was soon to command. His eyes moved steadily across the etched script, absorbing every detail without pause.
He did not light the whole room as Chotu was still sleeping and even a second without a tiger being right next to... attached to him was a second he would not waste.
The northern territories were no minor assignment.
They stretched from the jagged heights of the Hindu Kush in the ancient region of Gandhar[2], down through river-cut plains to the fertile expanse of Panchanada.[3] But prosperity was not what defined the region.
And near it's south and eastern parts lay the anomaly.
The Great Mana Dead Zone.
A scar upon the land—vast, unstable, and long considered untouchable. It marked the shifting frontier of Valangar's north-eastern borders, a place where natural laws bent under the weight of uncontrolled mana. Crops withered or mutated. Beasts grew monstrous. Entire settlements had vanished in earlier centuries when its boundaries had surged outward without warning.
Now, for the first time in recorded history—It was shrinking.
Hamsa's finger paused over a line in the report.
Then, without looking up, he spoke.
"Report."
The air shifted as Mina appeared to his right, kneeling the instant she materialized, her head bowed.
"Nothing escapes you, Yuvraj," she said.
"I trained you," Hamsa replied evenly. "You expected otherwise?"
"My apologies."
He said nothing. Silence was permission enough.
Mina continued, her tone precise and controlled.
"The Mana Dead Zone has receded further since the last survey. Several outer regions have stabilized—land once considered lethal is now viable for controlled activity. However…" she hesitated briefly, "ambient mana density remains too high for civilian habitation."
Hamsa turned a leaf.
"Continue."
"Resource extraction is now feasible on a larger scale," Mina said. "Mana crystal veins have surfaced in newly exposed strata, and early tests indicate that mana-infused crops can be cultivated with proper containment protocols."
"And the creatures?"
Even now, Hamsa's eyes did not leave the manuscript.
Mina's voice hardened slightly.
"Increasing in number outside the Zone. As its boundaries contract, the native entities are being displaced. Local forces have managed containment so far, but reports indicate rising casualties in frontier villages. Without intervention, the situation will escalate."
Hamsa closed the manuscript.
Finally, he looked at her.
"Very well," he said. "Prepare a full operational lockdown."
Mina's head lifted slightly.
"I will deal with it personally during transit."
A brief pause—just enough for the weight of that statement to settle.
"I want every village, every town, every city along the perimeter sealed before I arrive. No civilians within proximity. Not one."
"As you command, Yuvraj."
"One more thing."
This time, his gaze held hers.
"When you come north, bring instructors. Not soldiers—trainers. And the best in your group as well."
Mina hesitated.
"As you command… though, if I may ask—why?"
Hamsa did not answer immediately. He just though for a moment before turning his gaze to meet Mina's eyes.
"You are aware," he said at last, "that over a hundred orphanages operate under my patronage."
"Yes, Yuvraj."
"I have invested in them for years—food, shelter, education."
He turned back to his work, his expression unreadable.
"It is time I saw the first returns. They were never meant merely to fill administrative posts or support expansion."[4]
A brief pause.
"Young minds, once shaped, do not waver. Secure their loyalty early, and they will hold it unto death. And that is why they must be trained. Properly."
"Anything else you want to know." Hamsa added after changing the leaf he was using.
Mina lowered her head. "No, Yuvraj."
"Good. See that it is done... Oh! One final thing, of people you gather, make sure they are the one's who's Mana Circuits have been altered by me and are loyal to ME."
Afterward he dismissed her with a slight motion of his hand.
Mina bowed—and vanished, her presence dissolving as if it had never been.
Silence returned.
Hamsa resumed his seat, but the reports no longer held his attention.
After some time, he spoke again—this time inwardly.
Can you estimate how small the Zone will become?
The response came with a faint trace of irritation.
[How should I know?]
You lived there, Hamsa replied. And you understand mana better than anyone I know.
A pause followed by a reluctant exhale.
[I cannot be precise…] Adi said. [But if the contraction continues at this rate… about three fourth the size of your old world's NCR.[5]]
Hamsa frowned slightly.
Numbers didn't translate cleanly across worlds.
Still… even as a rough estimate, three-fourths the size of NCR was far too large to sit comfortably along a border.
Where exactly would that fall? Hamsa asked.
[Hard to pin down exactly,] Adi replied. [But most of it should land inside the Dharmaraj Empire. You're not going to lose territory over it, if that's what you're worried about.]
A brief pause, as Adi who was laying on a sofa turns to a screen showing Hamsa POV and spoke.
[What are you planning to do with it anyway?]
Hamsa leaned back slightly, thinking it through.
Can't really build cities there, he said. Not yet, at least. Farming's a mess too—anything with that much mana ends up overloaded. Regular people won't even be able to eat most of it without side effects.
He tapped the edge of the manuscript absently.
So… I'm thinking a temple dedicated to producing just mages.
Adi didn't respond immediately.
High mana density, controlled environment, Hamsa continued. Perfect place to train people who can actually handle it. And if we can stabilize the zone—maybe even control its size and composition—then it becomes an asset instead of a problem.
There was a short silence. Then—
[You know you could just control it yourself, right?]
Hamsa stilled.
…What?
[Yeah.] Adi sounded almost bored. [Mix enough of your mana into it, and it'll start behaving like your own Mana Zone. After that, it more or less sustains itself naturally.]
Hamsa frowned.
I can do that?
Adi paused, searching for an analogy.
[Think of it like this…] he said. [You're creating an artificial sea, but it's connected to an ocean. The ocean keeps things stable. You just adjust the flow—add or take away—depending on what you need.]
Hamsa considered that.
…That actually makes sense.
A faint smile touched his lips.
Alright. We'll try it when we get there.
He picked up another report, his focus already shifting as time slipped by unnoticed, the steady glow of mana crystals slowly dimming while dawn crept in, soft sunlight replacing their pale radiance without him ever marking the moment the night had ended.
And soon, Chotu was awake.
It took the tiger a few moments to realize it, blinking slowly, stretching slightly, its mind catching up to its body—and then, the instant recognition struck, it bolted straight toward Hamsa with unrestrained enthusiasm.
Hamsa noticed, of course; a barrier formed out of instinct more than intent, thin but sufficient to stop the charge. But he paused almost immediately, already knowing better than to deny something clingy access to what it clung to. With a small exhale, he let the barrier fall and instead redirected his mana elsewhere.
First Chotu was floating and then...
The water in the basins around the room lifted at his command, gathering midair before flowing toward the tiger, wrapping around it in a controlled current. What followed was routine—quick, efficient, practiced. The fur was cleaned thoroughly, the movement precise enough to avoid any struggle, and then herbs—kept specifically for this purpose—were worked in, freshening its breath and cleaning its teeth with the same ease. Within moments it was done, the water dispersing back into place as though nothing had been disturbed. As it was replaced with fast blowing wind. And ended.
Chotu shook himself once and then, without hesitation, closed the remaining distance and pressed against Hamsa, settling in with a low, content rumble.
Hamsa didn't mind it in the slightest.
In fact, he welcomed it [6]to where—the back of his seat had no traditional rest, replaced instead by a raised platform designed specifically for the tiger to lie on, allowing it to stay close while he worked. When needed, he simply leaned back against it, as if it were nothing more than an extension of the chair. With that, and with Chotu now settled, he returned to his reports, his attention slipping back into numbers, territories, and projections as though nothing had interrupted him at all.
Time passed like that, quietly, until a low, insistent rumble broke through—not his own, but from behind him.
Hamsa paused, glancing slightly back.
"…Right."
He set the report aside and rose, already knowing what came next, and as he made his way out, Chotu followed without needing to be called.
Outside, as always, Gopal stood waiting just beyond the inner section of his chambers, exactly where he was expected to be—alert, composed, functioning as both secretary and guard with unwavering consistency. Hamsa regarded him briefly as they began walking.
When does this man even sleep? he wondered, though the thought passed just as quickly as it came.
They moved in silence until they reached the dining area, at which point Hamsa stopped and spoke only turning his head, "You're dismissed until morning court. No need to remain at my back and call."
Gopal bowed at once. "As you command."
Hamsa entered, Chotu close behind, and took his seat while the tiger settled beside him without fuss.
Food arrived soon after, beginning with the usual—balanced, measured, meant more for sustenance than enjoyment. He ate it out of habit, barely registering the taste, and only when that was done did the main dish arrive.
A dose.
That, at least, held his attention.
It was something he had ensured this world now possessed—one among several additions, though those could wait for another time. The dose was well made, crisp and golden, paired with coconut chutney set neatly to the side.
He stared at it for a moment.
A faint, almost annoyed exhale followed.
Groundnuts were still unavailable.
A genuine loss. A tragedy even.
Not that the coconut chutney was bad—it wasn't—but it wasn't what he preferred. Still, there was little to be done about it for now, and so, with mild resignation, he dipped the dosa and ate.
As he continued with his food, a large serving of meat was brought in—cooked, seasoned, and placed in what could only be described as a frankly comically oversized silver plate set down in front of Chotu. The tiger didn't hesitate for even a moment and immediately dug in, eating as if there were a real risk of his meal being taken away forever. Hamsa watched this briefly, noting the almost barbaric enthusiasm with which his companion tore into the food, but ultimately chose to ignore it. In his view, food was food, and how one chose to eat it was their own matter—so long as nothing was wasted.
The meal continued like that, steadily and without interruption, and by the time Hamsa was on his third dosa, another presence entered the hall.
"Namaste,[7] elder brother."
Garuda's voice carried just enough warmth to announce him without breaking the calm of the space. Hamsa glanced up, quickly finishing what was in his mouth before responding with a nod of acknowledgment, and Garuda, without ceremony, took the seat opposite him.
Food was brought for him as well, and soon he too was eating, though unlike Hamsa, he seemed perfectly content with the coconut chutney. Hamsa noted that silently, and in his mind remained convinced that one day—eventually—his younger brother, along with everyone else in this world, would come to understand the superiority of groundnut chutney. Until then, however, he tolerated their preferences.
Before long, both brothers were nearing the end of their meal. Hamsa finished first—as expected, given he had started earlier—and after washing his hands, he rose from his seat. Chotu, having finished as well, lifted his head, and Hamsa once again used a small application of mana to clean the tiger's mouth with practiced ease before stepping aside to wait.
Garuda did not take much longer.
Once he was done, he rose as well, and together the two brothers stepped out, Chotu falling into place beside them as they began walking toward the temple complex.
The path there was familiar, and for a while, they walked in silence.
Then Hamsa spoke.
"Garuda."
He walked a step ahead, Garuda to his left, Chotu to his right.
"Yes, brother?" Garuda turned his head slightly as he replied.
"We will be leaving within the next few days," Hamsa said. "Are you prepared?"
Garuda didn't hesitate.
"Yes, brother. I am."
"Good," Hamsa said. "On our way north, I want you to take command of the troops alongside Gopala. Work with him. Learn from him."
Garuda inclined his head slightly. "As you wish, brother." There was a touch more energy in his voice than usual.
They continued walking, the rhythm of their steps steady against the stone path, Chotu moving alongside them without straying.
After a moment, Garuda spoke again.
"Will we be heading straight to Taksasila, or are we taking detours?"
Hamsa didn't slow. "We'll be taking detours," he said.
Garuda nodded and spoke.
"May I ask where these detours will take us?"
"To the towns and villages along the route where reports lean more negative than positive," Hamsa replied. "The orphanages under my patronage as well. And finally—" he paused slightly, "the Great Mana Dead Zone."
That caught Garuda's attention.
"Why the last one?"
Hamsa did not answer immediately. His gaze remained forward, his expression unchanged, as if weighing how much needed to be said.
After a few moments, he spoke.
"Hunting."
Garuda frowned faintly at first, the answer seeming too brief—until the reports he had heard resurfaced in his mind. The shrinking Zone. The displaced creatures. The attacks along the borders.
Understanding settled in.
And with it came something less clear—an uneasy mix of anticipation, concern, and a lingering tension he couldn't quite put into words.
He said nothing more.
_________________________________
Before Their Departure
Preparations were underway for the Yuvraj and Rajkumar to leave the capital and journey north, and as news spread through the city, the entire capital seemed to fall into motion. Messengers moved constantly through the streets, supply caravans rolled toward the outer districts, smiths worked without pause, and soldiers could be seen assembling across training grounds and staging areas. Even among the common people there was a sense of anticipation in the air.
The Royal District was no quieter.
There, the sound of preparation was even greater. Orders were shouted across courtyards, armor was inspected in long rows, horses were fitted for travel, and supply manifests were checked and rechecked as detachments of the Royal Guard organized themselves for departure.
Of the Royal Guard, five thousand were being mobilized.
Four thousand of them, alongside fifteen thousand regular troops, would take the western route toward Bactria. The city sat near the border shared by both states, and since the signing of the treaty, it had become a jointly administered settlement—part fortress, part trade hub, and now the primary forward base for northern operations. The army would establish itself there first before pushing farther west or north depending on the enemy's movements and the political situation beyond the frontier.
The remaining thousand Royal Guards would accompany the royals on their journey to Taksasila, along with a small elephant contingent numbering around twenty in total. Though few in number, the elephants were still enough to command attention wherever they passed. However, they would not continue all the way to Taksasila itself and were instead scheduled to be separated from the main royal procession before the final leg of the journey north, while the royal party and accompanying guard continued onward.
Hamsa spent the better part of the day inspecting the troops and supplies assembled for the northern expedition. As Supreme Commander of the operation, he intended to personally review as much as possible before departure, and so from dawn onward he had moved across the capital—from the crowded lower districts where the regular troops had gathered, to the fortified compounds of the Royal District where the Royal Guards prepared separately from the rest of the army.
The regular forces were important, certainly, but the Royal Guard demanded closer attention.
He had trained many of them personally over the years, shaping their discipline, overseeing their combat instruction, and more recently supervising the integration of newer equipment and formations into their ranks. Because of that, Hamsa let nothing pass—nothing escaped his notice. He inspected weapons, supply wagons, cavalry equipment, travel formations, and even the condition of the draft animals themselves. If there was a flaw, he intended to find it before the march began.
Elsewhere within the palace, Garuda remained occupied with an entirely different set of responsibilities.
Though the boy had only turned twelve not long ago, and despite still behaving his age more often than not, the influence of Hamsa—and his near unwavering admiration for his elder brother—had forced him to mature far earlier than most would have expected. He was still young, certainly, but not incapable.
At that very moment, Garuda sat within one of the administrative chambers drafting letters intended for every settlement where the royal procession planned to remain for more than a single day. Each document detailed the expected preparations to be made before their arrival—housing, supplies, security arrangements, stables, provisions, and the obligations expected from local authorities and populations during the stay.
At the same time, preparations were also being organized for the containment measures surrounding the Great Mana Dead Zone.
Large sections of settlements near the Zone were to be temporarily restricted or evacuated during Hamsa's operations there, and coordinating such an effort required extensive planning. Mina oversaw intelligence concerns while Gopala remained present to assist Garuda with the rest where necessary—though both were technical working under Garuda, in truth, Hamsa had placed them there just as much to correct mistakes as to offer support whenever the younger Rajkumar's inexperience showed itself.
Even so, Garuda performed well.
By the time the final documents had been completed, sealed, and sorted, the sun had already begun shifting westward.
Garuda rose from his seat, gathering the prepared letters before pressing Hamsa's personal seal into the wax one by one—a stylized face of Ganapathi marked into crimson wax with practiced care. Once done, he handed the documents off to Mina and Gopala for dispatch before finally leaving the chamber himself, the work complete for the day.
Garuda stood along an open balcony corridor on the first floor of the palace, looking out over the inner courtyards below. As his gaze drifted across the movement of guards and attendants, something caught his eye—flags he recognized immediately. They bore the markings of his mother's side of the family.
For a moment, he froze.
Then, without a second thought, he turned and rushed off, his pace quickening as he made his way down toward the lower levels, a rare burst of enthusiasm breaking through his otherwise composed demeanor. But by the time he reached the ground floor and stepped out into the courtyard, the entourage had already departed.
He slowed.
A flicker of disappointment crossed his face, brief but unmistakable.
It was there, as he turned back, that he ran into his mother—Mahadevi Bhadra.
"Who was it, Mother?" Garuda asked as he fell into step beside her, walking just half a step behind out of habit.
"Your uncle," Mahadevi Bhadra replied, her tone composed as they began ascending the stairs together. "He is departing alongside a friend from his gurukul days. Before leaving, he came to inform us that your grandfather will speak with your brother in his place—as the representative of the guilds."
"I see," Garuda said, the earlier disappointment still faintly present in his voice. He had hoped to see him off, at the very least.
After a brief pause, he spoke again, his tone shifting slightly.
"That aside… are you certain you should be walking around like this?"
Mahadevi slowed for just a moment before continuing, letting out a quiet breath.
"Why are you beginning to sound like your brother and father?" she said, not displeased, merely amused.
They continued upward in silence for a while, eventually reaching the upper levels of the palace.
"How are the preparations progressing?" she asked.
"They are proceeding according to plan," Garuda replied. "Brother should be finishing his inspections soon as well."
"Good," she said. Then, after a moment, she glanced at him. "And you?"
Garuda met her gaze briefly before looking ahead again.
"I am as prepared as I can be."
A silence followed.
Then Garuda made a small motion as if to take his leave, but Mahadevi stopped him, and before long they found themselves seated within her chamber.
A large map was spread across the table with sand on its edges and some on the map itself—manipulated and used as markers for locations, structures and movements across the map.
The map was of the Panchanada region and more specifically depicted the Great Mana Dead Zone.
Garuda began explaining his work, outlining the gathering points, the movement control, and the containment measures he had planned over the past few weeks.
Mahadevi listened without interruption, her attention fixed on the map.
Only when he finished did she speak.
"So, after gathering them all into the same general area… how do you intend to eliminate them?"
Garuda hesitated.
"I do not know," he admitted. "Throughout the planning, elder brother never mentioned how we are to proceed with that stage."
There was a faint edge to his voice now—subtle, but unmistakable.
Mahadevi's gaze remained on the map as she murmured, almost to herself, "So… he intends to handle it personally."
She then looked up at her son.
"You did well," she said, her voice calm, carrying a quiet sincerity.
Garuda's expression brightened at once—but only for a moment. The change did not go unnoticed.
Bhadra studied him briefly.
"What is it?" she asked, her tone shifting, softer now, though not without concern.
Garuda hesitated, uncertain whether to dismiss it or give voice to the thought. In the end, he chose the latter.
"Mother… do you think elder brother entrusted this to me out of pity?"
The words came slower than usual.
"I have been… persistent," he continued, his gaze lowering slightly. "About taking on responsibility. About attending court. So I wondered if perhaps—"
He stopped short of finishing the thought.
Bhadra exhaled quietly, as though the question had been expected.
"What do you think?" she asked. "Do you believe Hamsa would act in such a manner?"
Garuda did not answer immediately.
He knew his brother well—or at least, as well as anyone could in these matters.
Hamsa was not one to act without purpose. Not in training, not in governance, not even in the smallest of decisions. Whether it had been physical training, mana control, or the teachings he had begun imparting more formally over the past year—even taking Padmavathi as his student—there had always been intent behind it.
He was not someone who handed out hollow victories, nor did he indulge others simply to satisfy them.
Like giving a child an easy win at chaturanga, was typically something rare to see from the Yuvraj of Valangar.
"No," Garuda said at last.
Bhadra regarded him steadily.
"Then why do you feel otherwise?" she asked.
Garuda did not respond.
He knew the answer, even if he could not bring himself to say it.
And Bhadra knew it as well.
Garuda had grown in the shadow of his elder brother—a shadow cast not by neglect, but by brilliance. From a young age, he had been compared, often unconsciously, always unfavorably. His name was spoken alongside Hamsa's, rarely on its own, and expectations had followed him long before he had the means to meet them.
It was not that he lacked ability. He was a prodigy in his own right.
But it was that he measured himself against someone who treated a rope suspended in the open air as though it were unshakable ground.
Bhadra knew, too, that Hamsa had never intended this. If anything, he had tried—quietly, in his own way—to prevent such comparisons from taking root.
But there were limits to what even he could control.
No matter how careful a prodigy might be, those around him would still feel the difference.
It was inevitable.
And that, perhaps, troubled her most.
Because while she understood Garuda's struggle—
She could not say with certainty whether Hamsa even saw it as one.
Or whether he was aware of it at all.
Another concern, added to the long and growing list she carried for her sons.
-----------
Temple Complex; Acharya Ram's House.
Yuvraj Hamsa and Acharya Ram sat within the familiar, modest chamber of the Acharya's residence. It was the Acharya who had sent for him.
Hamsa had come without question. He had little else demanding his attention, and refusing the Acharya was not something he would entertain lightly. More than that, the summons itself carried weight—the Acharya was not one to call upon others without purpose. If he had asked for Hamsa directly, then it was both urgent and important.
The two men spoke quietly.
One had lived for over a century and a half. The other, even accounting for a past life, had barely crossed three and a half decades.
"…are the ones I need to be aware of?" Hamsa asked.
"Yes," the Acharya replied. "My students are of little concern. But the Gurus…" He exhaled faintly. "They are an… eccentric lot."
His tone carried a trace of fatigue, as though recalling them alone was enough to weary him.
"Very well. I will keep that in mind," Hamsa said. Then, after a brief pause, he continued, "Acharya, there is something I wished to ask of you. I had intended to do so a few days before my departure—but this will suffice."
The Acharya lifted his gaze to meet his.
Hamsa's eyes were dark—unnaturally so. Not merely black, but devoid of reflection, as though light itself found no purchase within them. To hold that gaze for too long felt… unsettling.
"I want you," Hamsa said, his voice calm and measured, "to keep everyone you know away from the Mana Dead Zone."
A pause.
"And ensure that no one causes a disturbance. No matter what they may see or hear or feel."
The tone did not rise. It did not harden.
Yet beneath it lay something cold. Absolute.
The Acharya stilled.
For a moment, he could not respond.
His eyes remained fixed on Hamsa, yet it felt as though something behind that gaze was pulling at him—slowly, steadily, like a depth without end. Instinct stirred before thought could follow.
Run.
The impulse came sudden and sharp.
Run. Now.
The mana in the room had not changed—he knew that. There had been no surge, no fluctuation. And yet, as his senses sharpened under strain, and he became aware of it.
Hamsa's aura.[8]
It was not vast. [As Hamsa actively suppressed his aura.]
In fact, compared to his own, it was small—contained, almost restrained.
But it was dense.
Oppressively so.
It felt as though it had weight. As though, if it moved, it would not spread—but collapse inward, crushing everything caught within it.
The Acharya's breath hitched.
Sweat began to gather at his temples, then down his back.
And beneath that—Something deeper.
A tightness gripped his chest, not like pain, but like something pressing inward from all sides. His lungs drew air, yet it felt insufficient, shallow, as though the space around him had grown thinner. His heart beat faster—not in panic alone, but in resistance, as if trying to force life through a body that had begun to hesitate.
His stomach churned, hollow and heavy at once, a sinking sensation as though the ground beneath him had given way.
It was not merely fear.
It was the body's refusal.
An instinct older than thought, older than reason—a quiet, undeniable certainty that standing here, before this presence—was wrong.
The Acharya composed himself quickly.
By the time Hamsa began to wonder at the delay—just as he was about to speak—the moment had passed.
"Very well," the Acharya said, his voice steady once more, though delivered a touch too quickly. "I will inform the temples across the region—on all sides—to keep their distance. The few students and Gurus present there will be withdrawn as well."
He paused only briefly before continuing.
"You may proceed as you wish. Though…" his gaze lingered for the faintest moment, "…I would advise caution. Keep your wits about you, and your actions measured."
Hamsa regarded him for a moment, faintly puzzled by the tone, but did not press the matter. The conversation moved on—briefly touching upon contingencies, possible outcomes, and what little could be predicted.
Not long after, he took his leave.
The room fell silent.
The Acharya remained seated, unmoving, his gaze fixed somewhere distant as his thoughts began to settle into place.
What… was that?
He exhaled slowly.
The boy did not intend it. I am certain of that.
And yet—
The memory lingered.
That sensation.
Why did it feel as though I was looking upon something that should not be here…?
His fingers tightened slightly against the armrest.
Strange…
He had, on occasion, managed to enter that state himself—the same heightened clarity he had once observed in Hamsa. A sharpened awareness of mana, of thought, of perception. He had studied it, attempted to replicate it, even found some success.
Could it be that?
A side effect of pushing his mind too far, too often?
He frowned.
Or… has fatigue dulled my judgment?
The thought did not sit well with him.
He raised a hand and stroked his white beard slowly, grounding himself.
No.
Whatever it was—
It had been real.
Subtle, controlled… but unmistakable.
His gaze lowered slightly.
Regardless…
Precaution was necessary.
"I should send word," he muttered under his breath. "No interference. No resistance… No provocation."
Because if that moment had revealed even a fraction of the truth he now came to fully believe in after seeing it twice—
Then opposing that boy blindly would not be caution.
It would be folly.
With that, the Acharya rose, already turning his thoughts toward how best to phrase the message—what to say, what to leave unsaid, and how to ensure that those who read it understood the weight behind it without ever being told directly.
___________________
Hamsa walked back toward the palace, his pace unhurried as his mind moved through the final preparations. By this time tomorrow, he would already be on the road.
Oi… what was that back there with the Acharya?
Adi, currently dressed in an absurdly expensive-looking modern golf outfit—clean lines, branded cap, polished shoes—paused mid-swing, inspecting an imaginary ball as though the answer could wait.
[Wow… took you long enough to ask,] he said, casually adjusting his stance.
He gave the air a light tap with his club.
[He's getting better. That whole "mental space" thing? Yeah, he's been picking it up from watching you. Not perfectly, obviously—but enough to get himself into trouble.]
Adi rolled his shoulders slightly, like someone loosening up before a game.
[Here's what probably happened—his senses spiked for a second. Happens when you start getting the hang of it. And in that exact moment…] he glanced sideways, a faint smirk forming, […he caught your mana properly.]
A pause.
[Not the watered-down version you usually walk around with. The dense core.]
He straightened, resting the club over his shoulder.
[Honestly? He handled it pretty well, even taking his age into account. Most people would've folded on the spot.]
Hamsa gave a small nod.
That was enough.
He didn't slow, didn't question it further—just kept walking, his focus already shifting back to what needed to be done.
----
It was that quiet hour when both palace and city began to wind down, as people returned to their homes and families.
Hamsa, having found himself ahead of schedule, chose to spend the extra time in his chambers.
He stood upon his balcony, gazing out over the palace grounds and the gardens that stretched beside it. Below, life moved in its evening rhythm—palace staff finishing their duties, closing off what work remained before departing either for the city beyond or, for the fortunate few, their assigned quarters within the Royal District.
Students from the temple who resided in the district could be seen wandering through the courtyards. Some trailed behind their gurus, others moved in clusters of friends, a few walked alongside their partners, and, as always, there were those who walked alone.
For a while, Hamsa simply looked around.
Though occasionally, he let his attention drift toward passing conversations. Most were mundane, some held fleeting interest—but through this quiet and somewhat improper habit, he came to a realization.
He was spoken of. Often.
Uncomfortably often.
Boys either admired him or resented him, their words laced with envy or jealousy. Girls whispered and giggled—about his appearance, his demeanor, or merely his presence. The adults spoke in longer tones, speculating about his abilities and future, some even joking that they would not object if he chose their daughters as concubines—an idea he found neither amusing nor acceptable.
By all outward appearances, he was regarded favorably.
But Hamsa knew better than to trust appearances.
Each day, he could feel it—the subtle tension in those around him, the unease they tried to conceal. Beneath polite words and courteous gestures, there lingered a quiet fear. It revealed itself in ways most would never notice, but he could—through the faint, involuntary hostility in their mana, reacting to his presence and the aura he could never fully suppress.
As he was finally feeling a little hungry he got ready to step out for dinner.
Though as he was about to leave, Adi called out.
[Hey I will be out for a while. You cool with that?] Adi asked in a calm tone.
Where are you going and why? Answer that and you can go. Hamsa answered as he made he way out. Gopal straddling behind him on que.
[Nothing much, just wanted to visit some old acquaintances.] Adi answered.
Hamsa though for a moment before speaking again.
Okay, go but relinquish control of that barrier to me. I don't want to deal with it in an emergency.
[Okay, I will leave tomorrow.] Adi answered.
[1] I know I used Taxila in the last few CH and Vol in general. It was more of a typing thing. From now one this will be fixed as it is now.
[2] Afghanistan and regions around it. To the west it goes till the plains, to the east the Kashmir Valley, and again till the plains to the south like Panjab and to the north the desert and plains.
[3] Basically modern Panjab on both sides and extending a little to the east and south, to the west till the mountains there.
[4] He means for the new thing he will introduce like from taking surveys to accounting and everything else that needs a properly educated work force. More will be given once he reaches that part.
[5] NATIONAL CAPITAL REGION.
[6] I know it contradicts that above statement of not wanting to waste time. But Hamsa likes it, but when left alone he wants to work as he will take more time off in case Chotu is clinging to him. I hope that made sense.
[7] This is more of a greeting used to say hello and ask if the other person needs any assistance in the book. But in acutal use it more like saying HELLO.
[8] A little explanation is need here. Though the Acharya has seen pretty much the full extent of Hamsa's mana well/capacity. He had not felt it. It's like the vast emptyness of the sea. You have heard about it and seen it on videos and photos, but feeling it was a different thing all together. The Acharya is experiencing something similar.