In the throne room,
Knight Aabir, with a sword loosely hanging at his waist, stood beside Prince Chandra before Chogyal Desma, who sat upon a wooden throne adorned with intricate golden carvings—long since dulled by time.
Aabir respectfully bowed and greeted the King.
"Please, be at ease, Sir Aabir," Desma said gently. "This isn't a formal summon. I've called for you as I have a request."
"Chandra!" Turning to his son, he continued. "You know that this year you will turn fifteen and will start formal training as a warrior. But before that a ritual must be held to seek blessings from the gods and our ancestors."
"Yes, Father. Mother told me about it." Chandra replied, clueless of why his father is stating the obvious.
Desma continued, "For that, I wish for your uncle to be present with us on this auspicious occasion."
Chandra's face lit up at those words as Desma continued speaking.
"I would have gone myself, if I weren't needed here for the festival preparations. I hope you can go to the mountain castle and invite Hi'um. Surely, he won't turn you away."
"Really?! I can go see Uncle Hi'um?" the boy blurted out, barely able to contain his excitement.
Chandra's eyes narrowed slightly, the excitement turning to uncertainty.
"But you haven't allowed me to go there... not once in the past ten years," he murmured.
Desma hesitated, caught off guard by the boy's words.
"It… it was due to an increase in wild beasts along the way," he said after a pause. "The danger still remains, which is why Sir Aabir will be accompanying you."
He turned to Knight Aabir.
Aabir slightly nodded as he replied,
"Understood."
"Oh! Umm... Father—"
"Yes?"
"Since Brother Aabir is going, may I take Ipsha and Aniket along too?"
Desma hesitated again, but then smiled faintly. "Fine. But first, ask their parents for permission, and inform your mother before you leave. She'd worry if you departed without seeing her."
He added, "You may go for now. I have things to discuss with Sir Aabir."
With a subtle smile, Chogyal Desma watched as the young prince left. After a few moments, Desma took a deep inhale and turned to Aabir.
"Sir Aabir."
As he spoke, the atmosphere turned serious.
"Yes, Your Highness?!" Aabir replied, reading the mood.
"Escorting Chandra and the kids is one thing, but I have another request—a mission for you."
Aabir stood silently, hearing the command of his King.
"The recent incidents where the soldiers went missing near the waterfall. I want you to look into it."
Aabir bowed low as he replied, "Understood!"
"Thanks—" the king slightly nodded, lost in thought.
He sighed before continuing, "While Sir Divankar and I suspect it might be the work of some wild beast that comes there to drink water, I still request you look into—"
Desma stopped as a voice echoed from the corridor, sharp and bitter.
"Wild beast, you say?"
It stepped closer.
The voice continued, "It wasn't wild beasts that killed our soldiers, but those bastards from the mountains. Or are you implying our men were so weak they fell to some animal?"
An old man, around the age of over eighty, with a strong build, walked through the dark corridor.
"No—! That… that's not what I meant, Uncle Tenzing!" Desma blurted, taken aback by the accusation.
He exhaled slowly, pulling himself together.
"When did you arrive? You seem angry. Were there troublemakers among the soldiers?"
The old man sighed.
"I wish it was a soldier. It would have been much easier to teach him a lesson. But unfortunately—it's you," his voice laced with disappointment. "Not only are you doing nothing about the deaths of our soldiers, but you didn't even tell Chandra the truth. You do realize he is going to be the king someday, right?"
"Uncle, I understand why you're annoyed, but I'm also trying my best to find out why our soldiers died. As for Prince Chandra, I don't want to drag kids into this. And we still don't know whether it was an ambush or an accident," the king tried to explain.
"ACCIDENT?! You're still asking this? That idiot Hi'um let himself be Dhritiman's puppet. He's the reason they died. He might be blinded by someone else's influence, but you, King—you've blinded yourself out of love for him!" Commander Tenzing said, raising his voice.
"Uncle—I understand what you mean, and I know how heavy their deaths weigh on us. But I'm doing everything I can—that's why I asked Sir Aabir to investigate," Desma blurted.
"You say you're trying, but it's been more than five months with no results. Do you really unde—"
Before Tenzing could finish, a familiar voice cut him off.
"Commander Tenzing is surely right," came a calm voice from ahead.
Divankar entered the room and gave Tenzing a respectful bow.
Turning to Chogyal Desma, he continued, "I also believe that His Majesty needs to take action, otherwise it will dishonor both the dead and the trust their families have placed in us."
He paused, then shifted his gaze toward Tenzing.
"But, Commander—to act without any evidence would inevitably result in a civil war. Many more lives would be lost—not just soldiers, but innocent civilians. I assume—not even you wish for that to happen, do you?"
Beneath his calm expression, a hint of mockery surfaced.
The room fell into silence. Tenzing hadn't expected Divankar to appear.
Narrowing his eyes, the old commander growled, "Divankar! You really are good with your words. But know one thing—I will never trust you or that brother of yours. I have my eyes on you."
Without another word, he turned and stormed out, his heavy steps echoing behind him.
Desma, contemplating what he had done wrong, remained standing. After a while, he turned to Aabir.
"Sir Aabir, you may also leave. I hope you look into this matter," Desma said, his voice tired.
With a final bow, Aabir too left.
The silent abyss of the throne room drained Desma. He sat down on a seat near him.
"I—I still can't understand why Uncle doesn't trust you, Sir Divankar. You've done so much for our family, and yet he never trusted you."
He spoke, to escape being drowned in the silence—yet his thoughts kept pulling him back in.
"It's alright, my liege. Commander Tenzing's temperament doesn't bother me. Anyone would have done the same, given the events that occurred right after my brother and I came to Shailantara," Divankar replied.
Chogyal Desma did not hear a thing. With his head lowered, he was lost in his own worries.
"Maybe—Uncle is right. It...is my fault. If only I weren't king... If he, or even Sir Aabir, had been king; maybe... maybe all those soldiers would still be alive, living happily with their families."
Realizing how far Desma had drowned himself, Divankar approached and placed a warm, gentle hand on his shoulder.
"My Lord, you're doing well in the position you hold—just as Commander Tenzing and Sir Aabir are in theirs. As humans, we must learn from our mistakes and face them, rather than running away. You're putting a burden on yourself by expecting too much. For now, I sincerely advise you to rest and think with a calm mind."
The king—no, Desma—let out a slow breath, lifting his head slightly, though his eyes still seemed distant.
"You're right, Sir Divankar... I should try to rest. Though I wonder if I'll be able to."
His voice was soft, heavy—not just with exhaustion, but with guilt.
Divankar stepped back respectfully and bowed slightly.
"Even so, you need rest, even if only to gather strength for the future."
Desma gave a faint nod and began walking toward the corridor. His footsteps echoed softly and slowly disappeared.
As the echo of his footsteps faded, Divankar remained standing in the throne room, his gaze fixed on the long corridor.
***
Next morning;
The morning sun climbed higher, piercing through the fog's veil as its rays dyed the valley in soft reds and blues. Along a narrow, winding path, four figures moved—Chandra, Aniket, Aabir, and Ipsha, her head resting peacefully as she slept on Aabir's back.
Yawn!
"Brother, can you pick me up too?" Aniket said, stretching his arms as he yawned again.
With a faint chuckle, Aabir replied," Just walk a little longer. You can rest once we reach the waterfall."
"You've been saying that forever, and I still don't see any waterfall! I'm tired—ugh!" Aniket pouted as his legs grew tired.
Turning to Chandra, he reached out and grabbed his hand.
"Chandra!" Aniket said, his eyes lighting up. "You give me a piggyback ride!"
"Shut up. I'm tired too. I couldn't even sleep properly because I was excited." Shaking his hand off, Chandra whined.
Slowly, the four of them continued toward the castle standing tall atop the mountain.