Swarpa Kingdom

  Gupa smiled at me with visible relief.

  “Thank God you are alive, my prince!”

  I suddenly became aware of the throbbing pain in my leg. A herbal patch bandage had been carefully applied to my wound. A medic was still inspecting it. She hushed Gupa firmly.

  “You need to rest for three days, my Prince. A word has already been sent to our King. He is on his way.”

  She left the hut, and I turned to Gupa.

  “Was it really necessary to tell everyone that I’m the prince, merchant?”

  He scratched his head and gave a sheepish grin.

  “It’s the easiest way to get things done in Kilar, my prince.”

  “Kilar…” I muttered, realizing how far I had diverted. “And where is Thelan?”

  “He’s safe, my prince. I spotted him before I saw you. The miners noticed you first and started shouting while I was negotiating with their boss for a lower price on a large ruby stone. Everyone gathered around you.”

  “Ruby stone again… for Amirtha?” I sighed. “Fine. Thank you. I need to leave this kingdom as soon as possible.”

  “But the medic said you need three days of rest,” Gupa replied quietly.

  “Never mind!” I tried to sit up straight and immediately winced in pain, breathing heavily.

  “…I think I should listen to her after all. Looks like I’m stuck with you for three days.” I gave him a tired smile. “But I hate this place.”

  “This place gives me my livelihood, my prince. I can’t blame it.”

  “The only kingdom where slavery still exists and commoners are treated like dogs.”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Gupa shrugged. “The mines don’t mine themselves, right? A small price to pay for the gold and rubies we get in return.”

  Exhaustion overtook me again. I closed my eyes and drifted back to sleep.

  A few hours later, I awoke to the gentle touch of Queen Chandra’s hand on my forehead. She was surprisingly young—early twenties at most—married to the aging King of Swapara.

  “Apologies, my prince. Our King couldn’t travel due to his age.”

  I tried to sit up. Two guards stood inside the tent, dressed in bright red leather jackets and dhotis, wearing helmets and holding long spear shafts. At her glance, they bowed and stepped outside, returning moments later with a bag.

  “We followed your blood trail and recovered these from your would-be assassins,” she explained.

  Inside were the scroll from Sikala, my belongings, a throwing knife, and the palm-leaf books I had kept beside me. Then I noticed another scroll bearing the Sathyera seal.

  Queen Chandra continued, “They were not mere assassins, my prince. They were high-ranking military commanders from Sathyera. This is a decree ordering your death. The leader commands an entire regiment, according to our sources.”

  I gently took her hands.

  “No one should know about this—not even your King. I will handle it.”

  Her cheeks flushed slightly. She struggled to maintain eye contact, lowered her gaze, and gave a small nod.

  As she stood to leave, she paused.

  “I hope you and your King will attend my prince’s coronation.”

  She smiled shyly, pulled the edge of her saree over her face, and walked out.

  It was nearly nightfall. I drank some poppy-seed water and fell back into a deep sleep.

  In the middle of the night, the sound of clanging steel startled me awake. My leg still hurt, but I could move it with less agony. I limped outside. Gupa was sleeping peacefully on the front porch. I gave him a light punch to wake him. It took him a few startled moments to remember where he was.

  The town was alive even at this hour. Blacksmiths hammered blades, goldsmiths worked on jewels, and women carried large bronze vessels of food on their heads, selling to night workers.

  A woman offered me warm appam, a rice-based sweet. I took a bite and glanced at Gupa, who immediately began negotiating the price. I smiled and walked past him toward the blacksmiths beating metal into long swords. Clay pots of water stood everywhere for cooling.

  “So this is Kilar,” I said. “The town that never sleeps.”

  We stopped near a sword merchant. I lifted a beautifully balanced long sword, its handle shaped like a fish—the symbol of the Swarpa Kingdom.

  “Is this for your king?” I asked.

  “Yes, for our king!” he replied proudly.

  “It feels almost weightless. Is it Wutz steel?”

  The merchant laughed. “Ha! All the blacksmiths skilled enough to work Wutz are in the empire’s capital.” He glanced at the young slave boy beside him.

  The boy blurted out, “But Gaurav works on Wutz—”

  A sharp slap silenced the boy.

  I exchanged a look with Gupa and walked away.

  “Tell me about this Gaurav, Gupa.”

  “Prince…” He scratched his head again.

  “You’re not going to tell me about a potential problem?”

  “I don’t know much. He was the bastard son of the old chieftain of Kilar. After his father died, they threw him out when he was only ten. He grew up on these streets, learned sword-making just by watching. Eventually he forged the famous sword Viduthalai—yes, people name their swords here. Then he was accused of stealing Wutz steel from the King. They sentenced him to have his fingers cut off. He escaped the day before the execution. No one has seen him since.”

  I stopped walking. “So you’re telling me there’s a young blacksmith who knows how to work Wutz steel… and he could be moving freely during wartime? I need to find him. Soon.”

  As the sun began to rise, a grand chariot pushed through the morning crowd and stopped in front of us. The silk curtains parted, and Queen Chandra stepped out.

  I offered my hand to help her down.

  “Our King would be deeply honored by your presence in the capital palace,” she said softly. “He asked us to bring you with the utmost care.”

  I glanced at Gupa. “Do you have room for one more? And someone needs to fetch my horse—it should be somewhere nearby.”

  Queen Chandra smiled—a rare, genuine smile for a queen. Beneath the royal poise, she still seemed like a young, innocent girl.