Town: Rampur.
Inside the tent, they gathered around the table.
Yuvraj Hamsa sat at the head, Rajkumar Garuda to his right. Opposite him sat Mina, with Naga beside her. Ranapala took his place beside the Rajkumar, while Gopal—somewhat reluctant—sat next to him.
Mina began.
"Yuvraj. As ordered, I looked into the nobles and tax offices across the north. It is as we suspected—corruption is more rampant than we estimated. As for the citizens… things are calm, for now. Too calm. They seem afraid to even speak when asked."
"Why?" Hamsa asked.
Mina nodded slightly. "With the past famines—made worse by the roads being blocked during the crisis caused by the GMZ—they were left at the mercy of nobles and merchants who controlled the grain supply."
Garuda frowned. "Where on earth did they get grain up here if the roads were blocked?"
"From the east and west," Mina replied. "They seem well connected."
"West, I can understand. But east?" Hamsa leaned forward slightly. "Didn't those Dharmaraj bastards ban all trade? The south is locked down by their guards and our men, and nothing is coming through the GMZ. So what—are they using the valley[1]?"
"We cannot confirm it yet," Mina said. "But that is our suspicion. And… this is the concerning part—it seems armed forces from Dharmaraj may be involved."
"Hm." Hamsa leaned back slightly, one hand absentmindedly patting Chotu. A low rumble came in response.
"Fine. Once we set up in the north, start gathering intel. Build a proper case—evidence, names, everything. And when we're ready…" His gaze hardened. "We start rolling heads."
Silence fell across the tent.
"What?" Hamsa glanced around. "I'm not opening a slaughter house. Kill the biggest offenders—instill fear in the rest."
The silence lingered, still a bit too heavy.
"Anyway," he continued, waving it off, "Naga, Ranapala—I hope your reports sound better to my ears."
Mina took her seat as the two men stood.
"Yuvraj," Naga began, "the cities and villages around the MDZ have been notified. And as of today, a full ban on travel into the MDZ is in effect. The army is enforcing it."
"So the evacuations are complete, I presume?" Hamsa asked.
Naga hesitated. "Yuvraj… I am ashamed to report that there have been issues. Even with the promise of payment, some refuse to leave."
"Use force then," Hamsa said flatly.
"Ranapala—take a few men and move ahead. Make sure the areas near our campsite is cleared. Naga, coordinate with the rest. If they resist, post a few centuries. Arrange transport—carriages, chariots, horses, elephants. I don't care what it costs."
He paused briefly.
"And when the time comes—use my name. Use the family name. Keep it subtle… but make sure they know who it was that helped them."
A moment passed as Naga took note of the orders and sat down. Then Ranapala stepped forward.
"Yuvraj," he said, placing his hand upon the table. The sand, stones, and wooden figurines shifted as he began to illustrate.
"Out of all the sites we have identified, this one—the largest—is the one we were searching for. The ruins date back to before the Great War… likely much older. If local accounts are to be believed, over three thousand years. It appears to have been both a temple dedicated to Ganisha and a library."
The sand gathered into a raised point.
"It lies on our route," Hamsa said.
"A little over one yojana from our final campsite," Ranapala replied.
Garuda leaned forward slightly. "Do we halt there first, or set up camp and return? By horse, we can cover it within a day."
"We proceed as planned," Hamsa said without pause. "At the ruins, I remain with a detachment. The rest move ahead and confirm preparations."
"As you wish," Garuda said. "Though there is no concern there. Everything is ahead of schedule. The mana crystiles are delivered. The men are already in position."
"Good."
Silence followed.
"If that is all, you are dismissed," Hamsa said, rising slightly from his seat.
"Brother," Garuda spoke.
Hamsa stopped, but did not turn fully.
"Reconsider informing the other side."
Hamsa looked at him then—calm, unreadable.
"You believe they would extend us the same courtesy?" he asked. "They do not recognize our father's rule. To them, we are already in rebellion."
"This is not about courtesy," Garuda replied. "If the animals break eastward, we will face a refugee crisis. There will be losses—civilian losses."
Hamsa held his gaze.
"Then they will face them," he said.
Garuda frowned. "That is not an answer."
"It is the only one that matters."
A brief pause.
"We are not here to manage their problems," Hamsa continued, voice even. "If pressure shifts east, their strength weakens. Ours holds. Fewer men on the border. Fewer resources spent on defense."
"But—"
"Enough."
The word cut cleanly.
"They do not see us as equals," Hamsa went on, quieter now, but harder. "To them, we are a breakaway province. If we speak, it will be as subjects asking their lord for aid. They will not listen otherwise." A slight pause. "And even then, they would prefer our heads."
Silence settled between them.
Garuda did not press further.
After a moment, Hamsa turned away, his attention shifting to Mina.
"Is what Mother said true?"
"Yes, Yuvraj."
"Then proceed," Hamsa said. "Use your connections. Confirm whether they intend to honor their part."
"As you command." Mina spoke.
With that they dismissed, the brothers did not eat together that night.
-----
Past Midnight.
Hamsa was awake, walking through the camp.
So was almost everyone else.
This was not unusual.
The night here did not belong to sleep alone. It came in two parts—as did rest. The first sleep had begun in the late evening and ended in the deeper hours of the night. Now, in this middle stretch, the camp had come alive again.
Men moved about freely, speaking in low voices, tending to small tasks, sharpening tools, checking equipment. Guards rotated, some taking their ease while others took their posts. The women of the camp sat in groups, talking softly, sharing stories, or simply passing the time. Even the children, some of them at least, stirred or woke briefly under watchful eyes.
Beyond the camp, Rampur was no different. Faint lights burned in homes, and the distant murmur of life carried through the night air.
This waking interval would last for another hour, perhaps two.
Then, as naturally as it had risen, the camp would quiet once more, and the second sleep would begin—lasting until dawn.
(A/N: Biphasic Sleep)
Hamsa walked alone through it.
Mostly by choice.
He had no desire to disturb the others—or to invite the kind of attention that followed him wherever he went.
"Brother."
Garuda's voice came from behind.
"What is it?" Hamsa asked, turning slightly. "Why are you here instead of with the others?"
Garuda almost replied I could ask you the same, but held it back. He knew the answer.
Instead, he spoke.
"I want to apologize for this evening."
"Don't worry about it," Hamsa said, turning forward again as Garuda fell into step beside him.
"No. I was in the wrong," Garuda continued. "I shouldn't have questioned you like that… not there."
A few steps passed.
"I know you will say it does not matter," he went on, "and perhaps it does not—not there, not today. But if I make a habit of it, I will make the same mistake somewhere less forgiving."
Hamsa glanced at him briefly, then ahead again.
"It's good you think like that," he said. "But don't overcorrect. If I go too far, someone should be there to say it."
Garuda said nothing.
They walked in silence for a while.
Then—
"Brother… may I ask something?"
"You just did."
Garuda ignored that. "Why was Lady Ratnavali at the palace the day before we left?"
Hamsa's expression did not change. "Why do you ask? She was father's courtesan before I was even born. Who knows what business she had."
Garuda shook his head slightly. "Don't lie. I know she met you before she even went to father or mother."
A brief pause.
"Oh. That." Hamsa exhaled lightly. "You know I brought some of her girls and boys with us."
"Sarasvathi and the others?"
"Yes. She came to see them before we left. It may be years before she sees them again."
Garuda studied him. "I thought she had business with you."
"Why would you think that?"
Garuda hesitated. "I know the kind of work she deals in. So I thought you might…"
"I might what?"
"…Nothing. Leave it."
Silence returned.
A few more steps.
"Garuda."
Hamsa snapped his fingers.
Mana spread outward, subtle but precise. The air shifted—sealed. A circle formed around them, cutting them off from the rest of the camp. No sound would pass beyond it.
Garuda's posture straightened slightly. "What is it?"
"Once we reach Takshashila," Hamsa said, "and my work begins in earnest, I want you to start working with that faction."
Garuda frowned. "What faction?"
"The one that wants my head rolling down the road."
Garuda stopped walking for half a step before catching up. "Why?"
"Because I do not intend to leave things as they are," Hamsa said calmly. "I intend to change them."
"Explain."
Hamsa's gaze remained forward.
"You know how things function now. Deeds and appointments are hereditary in all but name. Merchants buy their way into influence. And who governs the people?" He let out a quiet breath. "These same men and women—granted authority to collect taxes, pass judgment, and rule in our name."
He paused briefly.
"Yes, the highest offices are still ours to appoint," he continued. "But for how long? Eventually even those slip. And when they do, we spend our time scheming and playing politics to no end."
His tone sharpened slightly.
"At that point, governance becomes a game of cat and mouse. Invasions become easier. And once a foreign power gains enough support inside… they won't hesitate to burn the land with its own people."
Garuda listened in silence.
"Once I begin making these changes," Hamsa continued, "the opposition against me will only grow. Wider. Louder."
A brief pause.
"So I want to give them something."
Garuda frowned slightly.
"A point to rally around," Hamsa said. "Someone they can look to—to remove the tyrant, in their eyes, and preserve the status quo."
Garuda's steps slowed.
"You want me to raise my sword against you?"
Hamsa did not answer immediately.
"Before I do," he said instead, turning to face him, "tell me, Garuda—does it frustrate you? That I will take the throne. Do you believe it should be yours?"
"What are you saying?" Garuda replied, taken aback. "Why would I ever—"
"Answer me."
Hamsa's voice was calm, but absolute.
Garuda met his gaze.
"No. I do not."
A breath.
"Why would you even ask me that? I would not take the throne—not in thought, not in dream. If not for dharma, then for the simple fact that I am not worthy of it in the way you are."
Hamsa watched him, unmoving.
"And why do you believe that?"
Garuda let out a short breath. "Are you joking, brother? I cannot match you—in governance, in leadership, in… whatever it is you do to change things the way you do."
Hamsa's expression did not shift.
"The people love you more than me," he said. "Strip away the improvements in their lives, and we both know who they would stand with. To them, I am something to be respected… and feared."
A pause.
"You are human to them."
Garuda hesitated. "…That may be true."
"But it changes nothing. It is in everyone's best interest that you take the throne."
"Even if I see people as numbers more than as individuals?" Hamsa asked quietly.
Garuda's jaw tightened. The question unsettled him—but not enough.
"Even then," he said. "I will stand with you. I will support your rule. I will never seek that seat for myself."
Silence followed.
They stood facing one another.
Garuda looked into Hamsa's eyes—dark, still, difficult to read. There was something in them that felt… distant. Measured.
Hamsa, in turn, saw something far simpler—fire, conviction… and above all, unwavering trust, admiration and loyalty.
"…Very well," Garuda said at last. "What would you have me do?"
"Like I said," Hamsa replied. "I want you to be what they need."
"A pillar."
"A light at the end of the tunnel."
His tone remained even.
"I am not asking you to take up arms. Not now. Not openly. Keep it subtle. Controlled."
He stepped past Garuda, continuing his walk.
"In private, you give them hope. You listen. You let them believe change is possible through you."
A pause.
"In public—you stand by me."
The mana barrier around them held steady.
"Do you intend to tell Father and Mother about this?" Garuda asked.
Hamsa let out a faint breath, a slight smile forming.
"You accept. Good."
He glanced at him briefly before looking ahead again.
"As for your question—no. This conversation never happened. Not for the world… not even for us. Father may question things. He always does." His tone remained even. "But Mother…"
A faint exhale.
"She will see through this ruse from the very beginning."
[1] Kashmir Valley.