Day Of Departure.
Capital of Valangar — Vala.
Time: A few hours before midday.
The capital was awake long before the sun had reached its height.
By midmorning, Vala no longer resembled a city preparing for routine governance—it had taken on the air of celebration. Banners bearing the royal insignia hung from balconies and archways, bright fabrics stretched across streets, and garlands of flowers lined the main thoroughfares leading toward the palace district. Merchants had abandoned subtlety entirely, setting up stalls not just for trade but for spectacle, while musicians and performers filled the open spaces with sound and movement.
It was, by all appearances, a festival.
And in a weird way, it was one for the residence.
Hamsa was leaving.
For the first time, the Yuvraj of Valangar would depart the capital not as a student, not as an observer, but as a commander—entrusted with his first campaign and the governorship of the northern territories. It was no short journey, nor a brief assignment. The north would be his domain now, his responsibility, and though he would return at intervals for matters of state, Vala would no longer be where he lived and worked.
For the people, that was reason enough.
Crowds gathered along the main routes in growing numbers, voices rising in excitement, speculation, and pride. Children ran between adults, waving small flags; elders stood watching with quieter expressions, speaking in low tones of what this departure meant. Even those who had no direct stake in court affairs had come out in numbers.
They wished to see him off.
Not out of obligation.
But because they wanted to.
Because, in a way that was rare for one in his position—the Yuvraj was theirs.
That affection had not come easily, nor had it been inherited.
If anything, it had been built.
-----
Vala, for all its grandeur as the capital, had long been a city of contradictions. Its size and political importance far outpaced its planning. Districts had been constructed in haste across generations, responding to immediate needs rather than long-term design. Nowhere was this more evident than in its basic infrastructure.
Its water systems were inconsistent. Its sewage management—worse.
Smaller towns across the sub-continent, with fewer resources and less significance, often possessed more reliable and efficient systems than the capital itself. It was an irony that had persisted for decades.
Until Hamsa.
One of his earliest undertakings as Yuvraj, had been to address this very flaw—not through temporary fixes, but through complete reconstruction. The existing systems were dismantled, redesigned, and rebuilt with methods and technologies were understood but they were unfamiliar to the people of this world.
Channels were redirected, underground systems expanded, and filtration processes introduced that few could fully understand—but all could see the results of.
Clean water became consistent.
Waste no longer lingered.
For the first time in living memory, Vala functioned as a capital should.
And that was only the beginning.
Beyond the city, the surrounding regions—long neglected in favor of central administration—were brought into focus. Canals were dug to redirect water flow, dams constructed to regulate supply, roads extended and reinforced to improve movement of goods and people alike. Bridges replaced makeshift crossings, connecting areas that had remained isolated for years.
Trade improved.
Movement improved.
Life, in measurable ways, improved. Like setting foot into a completely different world when entering the capital region.
But it was not merely what he did.
It was how he did it.
Where previous efforts had relied heavily on forced labor or external contractors, Hamsa's approach had been different. Local labor was prioritized—intentionally, systematically. Entire sections of the population that had struggled with declining work found themselves employed in these projects, their efforts directly tied to the transformation around them.
The economy, which had shown signs of stagnation, began to recover.
And where disruption occurred—as it inevitably did with large-scale development—compensation followed. Not selectively, not sparingly, but as policy. Even the lowest among the citizenry, those who would ordinarily be overlooked, were accounted for when losses arose.
It was not generosity.
It was design, one which this world hadn't seen.
Order, too, had changed.
From the army, Hamsa had formed a dedicated force—permanently assigned to the capital and its immediate regions. They were not deployed for war, but for stability. Their purpose was clear: maintain order, respond to disturbances, and ensure that law was not merely declared—but upheld.
Alongside them came reforms.
New laws—structured, consistent, and in many ways unfamiliar—were introduced. To an outsider from the modern age, they might have seemed almost modern in their intent. Clear accountability, defined responsibilities, and mechanisms.
It resembled what one might call a police force and a structured system of justice, though no such terms existed in this world.
For the people, the effect was simple.
The city felt safer.
It was not that this world lacked such systems, but the one Hamsa went about making was reflective of a modern police force, everything from the organisation to the pay structure to the heiring process and training as well.
And then there was food.
Vala's location, set against mountainous terrain, had always made it vulnerable. Supply chains were strained, storage unreliable, and during poor harvests, the capital felt the effects more sharply than most.
Hamsa changed that as well.
Granaries were constructed—not merely larger, but different. Built using designs and methods introduced by him, they preserved grain with an efficiency that bordered on the unbelievable. Losses reduced to near insignificance. Spoilage, once expected, became something that could be accounted for with accuracy not seen before.
Reserves grew.
And when the subcontinent faced a failed harvest just a year prior—when regions across the land struggled—Vala did not and even supplied a quarter of the kingdom with enough food to make the casualty rates look like statistical errors when comparing with other regions of the Kingdom and neighbouring states.
For over three years now, famine and malnutrition had not touched the capital or its surrounding regions.
Not once.
It was this achievement, more than any other, that had forced even the highest authorities to act. The court—and the Raja himself—who on regular days let the Yuvraj do what he intends to and council him in matters which came about due to him—but now they were pressing him for more.
From information on what he had done and even planned to do as well.
He had agreed, though reluctance was evident.
Combined with this all the other miner improvements brought upon by him from food habits to laws which sounded alien, had even bumped up the live expectancy by three years.
Though that last detail was lost on most citizens who were just satisfied with the improved living conditions.
Though the details of that would unfold in time.
All in all his improvements had boasted the life expectancy by two years. Though no one except him saw this statistic.
So yes—
There were those who opposed him.
Those who questioned his methods, his influence, or the speed at which change had come.
But among the general populace—he was loved unconditionally even.
_________________________
Outside The City.
Gopala and Naga were to lead the troops for the short part out of the capital.
Naga would accompany the Yuvraj north, while Gopala would take a contingent of the Royal Guard numbering four thousand along with all of the regular army and march toward Bactria.
Ranapala was present as well, though his position was somewhat… elevated.
Seated atop an elephant, he was surrounded by what could only be described as a frankly ridiculous volume of tablets and palm-leaf records, all carefully packed and arranged and were now under his supervision. In fact, counting the one he rode, four elephants had been assigned solely for this purpose. The two others carried not only additional records but also a number of experimental items—too heavy or too delicate to be entrusted to horses or ordinary pack animals. The forth was a reserve for items they want to take which they might find along the road.
From where they stood, just outside the city gates, the noise from within carried clearly. The gates had been thrown open, and though they could not see everything, glimpses of the celebration were visible—color, movement, crowds.
The city was alive.
"They really do love him, don't they?" Ranapala said, shifting slightly atop the elephant as he looked toward the gates.
"Yeah," Gopala replied from horseback, positioned slightly behind and to the right of Naga. "What else did you expect, after everything he's done?"
Ranapala hummed softly, then glanced down at the two men.
"Are either of you bringing your families along?"
"I don't have one," Naga said, his tone flat, offering nothing further.
Gopala answered after a brief pause.
"I have a son. My wife passed some years ago." His voice remained steady. "The boy won't be coming. As he wants to join the Royal Guards someday, he is joining the army this year."
Ranapala shifted uncomfortably.
He had not meant to turn the conversation that way. For all the time he had spent around them, he realized he knew very little of the men he worked with.
Naga, however, did not let it rest.
"And yours?" he asked, glancing upward.
Ranapala straightened slightly.
"She's coming," he said. "With the Yuvraj's staff."
His tone dipped just enough to be noticeable.
Gopala chuckled a little as he spoke.
"I told you," he said, not unkindly, "don't get too carried away around the Yuvraj. He may allow a familiarity, but at the end of the day, he is our lord—and we are his servants."
Ranapala did not respond just slumping his shoulders down and sulking.
And though they were right in the cause, which was basically Ranapala talking too much.
----
The march was to the north now.
Gopala, having been appointed Senapathi by the Yuvraj before the assembled men, had already detached and ridden ahead toward Bactria. Hamsa remained with the main body—one thousand Royal Guards on horseback, over a dozen elephants not counting those burdened with documents, materials, and assorted items.
Alongside them moved a sprawling train: cooks, servents, entertainers, pack animals—and finally, last but probably the most important short of the two Royals and their personal escorts, the new general staff trained personally by Yuvraj Hamsa.
They had been tasked with a wide range of responsibilities, from collecting data to processing it, training new staff, and primarily assisting in bureaucratic functions. For now, however, their role was singular—data collection. An absolute shit ton by the standerds of this world, but by Hamsa's, it was just the bare minimal.
Some of it was basic—population counts and demographic details. But there was more: a rudimentary income servey, assessments of land and wealth. Ownership records, however, were only partially taken, sufficient for imediet tax calculations, as Hamsa intended to establish at least a semi-accurate metric system of measurments with the help of the scolers at Takshashila—and then later collect more complete data related to ownership of land and resources.
Then there were the more specefic inquiries—cataloging what each region produced, mapping trade flows, noting when and where goods originated, even speaking directly with traders to understand their problems. Alongside this, they asked a general list of questions regarding local administration and nobility, putting them to everyone from wealthy merchants down to poor homeless citizens.
Most did not refuse. The servaries carried scrolls bearing the personal seal of the Yuvraj, stating that these men and women were carrying out orders in his name. And as the Yuvraj had built up a rather stern image of himself in the public eye, most people answered.
The march itself followed a simple pattern. Survey units moved ahead of the main column, spreading out to gather and process data. When the column halted at a settlement for more than a day and night, they would return, filing reports and flagging anything unusual or noteworthy under their protocol.
Once collected, the information was organized, then stored atop designated elephants. Each of these was guarded by no fewer than fifty men at all times. Hamsa valued this data so highly that even the small treasury he had brought with him had fewer guards—though Rajkumar Garuda was almost always near it, so it wasn't defence less exactly.
-----
A Town; Rampur.
They had stopped at a small town named Rampur as per the schedule and had begun to set up camp, as this was one of the few stops where they staied for more than a few days.
Naga was responsable for supervising the task, while the Yuvraj and Rajkumar went into the town to meet with local reprecentatives and nobles from all across the region, many seeking an audiance with the Yuvraj.
The sun began its decent into the horizon as the camp was finally set up, and the Royals began to make their way back.
Several horses moved at a slow pase out of the town—two royal brothers at the center, with a circule of Royal Guards around them.
"You seem to be in a foul mood. Everything went well enough—so what troubles you, brother?" Garuda asked.
Hamsa rode beside him on a white horse, his face composed on the surface. But to those who had known him long enough, it was obvious—he was not pleased.
"Nothing much," Hamsa replied. "Just a little miffed, I suppose."
Garuda glanced at him. "And what, may I ask, has managed that?"
Hamsa exhaled softly, eyes fixed ahead. "It's… confusing. They don't object to walking the same roads, or sending their children to the same gurukuls. They'll even stand side by side in a temple and pray." He paused briefly. "But when it comes to something as simple as food—they suddenly draw the line."
His tone was calm, but the irritation beneath it was hard to miss.
Earlier, in the town, the proceedings had gone smoothly enough. The nobles and wealthy citizens had gathered in assembly. Greetings were offered to their sovigrens, small disputes were heard, complaints listened to, and judgments passed.
Then came the feast.
The Yuvraj had declined wine. He did not know this body's tolerance for alchocal, and he had no intention of embarrassing himself as he once had in his past life. Garuda, too, had been quietly forbidden from drinking.
When the food was brought forth, the mood had shifted. What began as polite murmurs quickly turned into visible discomfort. The nobles—along with others of high birth—were clearly miffed upon learning that the cooks and servers were of low birth.
"You're not wrong," Garuda said after a moment. "But you forget—even there, discrimination exists. Just… in different forms."
A few of the Royal Guards riding nearby gave small nods, having seen as much themselves.
Silence followed.
Hamsa said nothing further, and Garuda did not press. The rest of the escort kept their distance from the conversation—no one particularly eager to test any waters.
After a few minutes, they finally returned to the now fully prepared camp.
Music drifted through the evening air. Within the camp, the musicians and actors Hamsa had hired [BOUGHT] from Ratnavathi had already begun their performances.
They had been instructed to perform for the children Hamsa had personally selected—those who had shown excellence in academics, or those in whom he had seen an unseen potential to become Mana Users.
They passed the makeshift stage and made their way toward the central tent, the largest in the camp. Dismounting, they handed their horses over to the stable hands without a word.
They had barely stepped inside when they were ambushed—Chotu rushing at them, having been left behind to avoid causing unease inside the town.
After indulging him for a moment, they changed into more comfortable cloths—a simple dothi, leaving the upper body mostly bare, with only a shalya draped over it.
Soon after, they made their way to the main tent.
At its center stood a large oval-shaped table. Sand, stones, and wooden figurines had already been arranged across its surface, ready to be shifted and manipulated for whatever purpose required.
Yuvraj Hamsa took the head seat, while Rajkumar Garuda settled to his right. Chotu padded in after them and settled beside Hamsa, the giant tiger letting out a low rumble of contentment as Hamsa absentmindedly patted his head, much to the beast's obvious delight.
With the two seated, they waited for the others to arrive. In the meantime, the Dasis brought forth drinks and food.
Silence lingered as Hamsa began going through the latest reports and collected data.
Garuda, meanwhile, picked at a few dates and fruits before speaking.
"Brother, why did you order Padmavathi to travel with Sarivasthi and the rest of the staff? You know the new elephant carriages are comfortable enough."
"Huh. Nothing much," Hamsa replied without looking up. "I was just pissed off that he talked too much about his relationship with Padmavathi."
Garuda let out a small chuckle. "You were the one who listened to him, answered his questions, even advised him. Though where you get that advice from is beyond me."
Hamsa finally looked up, fixing his younger brother with a flat stare. "What kind of man do you people take me for?"
"Why are you looking at me?" Garuda replied, unfazed, popping another date into his mouth. "I'm only stating what I see."
"And what exactly do you see?"
Garuda smirked slightly. "I see a man who works past the first sleep[1] like it doesn't exist, then collapses halfway through the second like he's been struck down."
He leaned back a little, clearly enjoying himself. "For Ganasha's sake, take some time off and step outside once in a while. At this rate, with how much you bury yourself in work and knowledge, people might just start praying to you instead of Ganasha or Sarasawati."
Hamsa opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Mina entered.
She walked in, offered a salute to the Yuvraj, then stood at ease.
"Good to see you at least you didn't just appear out of nowhere," Hamsa said, gesturing for her to take a seat.
Mina, knowing better than to refuse, sat down.
"Yuvraj, I know better. Besides, you would have sensed me regardless," she replied.
"Don't humble yourself," Hamsa said. "There are very few, aside from me or this idiot here, who can sense you coming."
"You think too highly of me, Yuvraj," Mina answered calmly.
Almost on cue, Naga, Ranapala, and Gopal entered. All but Gopal offered a salute before taking their seats.
As for the salute—it was something Hamsa had carried over from his old world. Most famously associated with a certain dictator from the middle of the 20th century with a rather funny mustash. What had started as a private jock for himself had, over time, become standard practice among the Royal Guard and his secret service, with the regular army slowly adopting it as well.
[1] Basically people of this world sleep in two phases. First one of four hours in the late evening till early mid night like anywhere from 6 to like 12, then they wake up for a while usually an hour or two at max and then off for another 4 hours. This is actually a historically accurate thing, recent discoveries over the past year or so have proven such for all the civilisations. The reason it went away is because of the industrail revolution followed by the invention and mass implimentation of lights. I will have more on this in future CHs. I know this sounds like an add on but trust me this was how the story is and intended I am just really bad at writing this kind of stuff in in a subtal way without outright mentioning it.