Chapter 33: Shadows [1]

Nayakas Mansion, Thanjavur

The first light of dawn broke over the horizon, painting the sky in soft hues of gold. The air was crisp and fresh, carrying the sweet scent of dew-kissed grass. A gentle breeze rustled through the leaves, creating a soothing whisper that seemed to wake the world. The sun, still low in the sky, cast long shadows across the landscape, bathing everything in a soft, golden glow.

In a clearing near the edge of the forest, three young men were training. The ground was a mix of dirt and grass, trampled and worn from their rigorous exercises. Viswa lay on the ground, covered in sweat and mud, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.

"Haaa!!! I can't feel my legs!" Viswa exclaimed, his voice filled with exhaustion.

Varun, standing nearby with a smirk on his face, shook his head. "Tsk tsk... Viswa, you didn't even do half the exercises that we did," he teased, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Narayana, who was jogging with sandbags on his shoulders, paused to look down at Viswa. "Get up, and start running again," he commanded, his voice firm but not unkind.

Viswa groaned, trying to sit up. "Brothers, you've been training for a long time, unlike me," he said, his voice strained with effort.

Narayana offered him a hand. "That's true, but if you want to get stronger, you have to push yourself. We are here to help partly because of the Prince though,"

Viswa took Narayana's hand and pulled himself up, wobbling slightly as he regained his balance. "I know, I know. It's just... hard," he admitted, brushing off some of the dirt from his clothes.

Varun clapped Viswa on the back. "Hard work pays off, Viswa. You'll see the results soon enough. At least you've been lucky since the Prince hasn't joined us for training the past few days."

For the past few days, Harsha had been roaming around the town and accompanying the Patriarch, who took him around personally to various places. Meanwhile, Viswa was entrusted to Varun and Narayana to train and look after. The strict order, coupled with a tinge of fear, ensured that they did not discriminate against Viswa and instead helped him with training and basic manners as instructed.

During their few days together, the duo had come to like Viswa and began treating him like their little brother. Viswa was an eager child, and to their surprise, as much as he was hardworking, he had the talent to back it up. He grasped basic reading and writing within a few days, and his body gradually began to keep up with some of their daily training.

"Is the prince's training that bad? You say that like it's harder than what we have been doing," Viswa asked, curiosity piqued.

"The youngest prince is a unique individual," Varun said, a hint of admiration in his voice.

"Even we cannot keep up with his training. His martial prowess is levels above us, despite being the same age as you."

"Brothers can't keep up?" Viswa's eyes widened in astonishment.

"But can't Narayana beat the Prince? He is so tall and big compared to the Prince," Viswa asked innocently.

"HAHAHAHA," Varun let out a hearty laugh at the statement, pointing mockingly at Narayana. "Him? HAHAHA."

Narayana looked at him with an indifferent face, clearly done with this banter.

"This idiot got beaten so badly by the Prince, he was in the clinic for two days straight," Varun said, still chuckling.

Viswa's eyes widened. "Really? What happened?"

Narayana sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It was during one of our sparring sessions. I thought I could take him on because of my size and strength. Let's keep that story for some other time. Quit slacking and start training."

"Sure," both of them said in unison and began their drills again.

"Haaa! That's it, I can't," Viswa said, collapsing to the ground once more.

"Your dedication is impressive, Viswa," Narayana said, giving him an encouraging nod. "You're showing the true spirit of a warrior."

Viswa managed a tired smile, grateful for the support. "Thank you, brothers. I want to become stronger and be of help to the Prince,"

Meanwhile, peeking through the cover of the wall was a young woman dressed in maid clothing, watching their training intently. It was Rukmini, who had been Harsha's "Personal" maid before being dismissed.

'Why is the prince here, and who is that guy he picked up from the street?' she wondered, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Rukmini had been assigned to gather information by infiltrating the Nayaka Mansion as a maid. This mission was her last chance to redeem herself in the eyes of her master.

Her only problem was that the Prince might recognize her from a previous bedroom incident. She had donned a bit of a disguise when she entered, hoping it would be enough to fool him. She knew the stakes were high, and failure was not an option. Determined to make this mission a success, she resolved to stay hidden and gather as much information as possible, proving her worth to her master. Sёarch* The nôvel_Fire.ηet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

'I should inform the team leader about this,' she resolved, her determination steeling her nerves.

Over the past few days, Rukmini had observed the close relationship between the Patriarch and the youngest prince. This was crucial information; if the Patriarch pledged his support to the youngest prince, it could significantly alter the balance of power in the race to the throne.

Slipping out of the mansion under the pretense of going to town to buy some items, Rukmini made her way through the bustling marketplace. She navigated the maze of back alleys until she reached a small, inconspicuous house. Knocking in a coded pattern, she waited for the door to open.

Inside the dimly lit room was a person sitting, going through documents. The room was sparsely furnished, and the table was cluttered with papers. He ran his hand through his messy hair and asked, "What happened?" His voice was commanding, his eyes never leaving the papers.

"I have some information to report about the Patriarch," she said, closing the door behind her and entering the room.

"Report," he commanded, his voice a low growl.

Rukmini bowed slightly before speaking. "I've observed a significant development. The Patriarch appears to be closely aligned with the youngest prince. If he pledges his support, it could tip the scales in the prince's favor for the throne."

The team leader's eyes narrowed. "This is valuable information. Well done, Rukmini. Continue your observation,"

Rukmini nodded, a sense of relief washing over her. As she turned to leave, the team leader added, "And Rukmini, ensure the prince does not recognize you."

"I understand," she replied with a final nod and slipped back into the shadows, ready to continue her mission.

Meanwhile, in the town, Harsha was being taken around by the Old Patriarch, who had dragged him out despite Harsha's desire to continue his training. Resigned to the elder's insistence, Harsha complied with the old man's request.

As they strolled through the bustling streets, Harsha observed the Patriarch's demeanour. The old man didn't act like a typical noble; instead, he exuded a welcoming aura and greeted many shopkeepers by name, indicating a deep connection with the townspeople. It was clear to Harsha why the Patriarch was so beloved.

The old man had dedicated years of his life to improving the lives of the city's residents.

"Patriarch, this is becoming too overbearing. You treat me like your grandson," Harsha remarked, a hint of irritation in his voice.

"HAHAHA, you can say that," the Patriarch replied with a hearty laugh. "It's important to connect with the people, Young Prince. If you don't connect with people around you. Life will be a lonely mess,"

"Hmm.. That's not a problem for me," Harsha mumbled, his voice barely audible as he glanced at the ground.

"Did you say something, Young Prince?" The Patriarch asked with a curious tilt of his head, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Harsha.

"No, but I will be leaving," Harsha replied, his tone edged with irritation. He turned on his heel, his robe flaring as he walked away.

The Old man, however, was having none of it. He reached out and grabbed Harsha's robe, pulling him back gently but firmly. Despite his old age, the old man was very strong and a good fighter. "Come on, Young Prince. This is the last shop," he said with a warm, almost grandfatherly insistence, a smile playing on his lips as he continued to drag Harsha along despite his reluctance.

As they neared the final shop, a woman around the corner caught his eye. Harsha's gaze was drawn to her. She looked oddly familiar. Even though people could change their appearances, wear disguises, and alter their voices, certain things remained constant—such as their manner of walking and posture.

Harsha turned his head to look back at the woman, his brow furrowing in concentration. He focused intently on her stride, her posture, trying to recall where he had seen her before.

'I think I have seen her somewhere,' he thought to himself, his mind racing through fragments of memory. He continued to observe her until she rounded a corner and vanished from view.

Harsha's eyes widened as recognition struck him. "GOT IT! It's the bitch who snuck into my room, Rukmini," he thought,

'What the hell is she doing here?' He wondered, stroking his chin.