The morning sun cast a soft golden glow over the stone halls of the Kiranti palace, each beam slipping through the tall windows and painting warm streaks on the cold floor. Servants moved quietly along the corridors, their footsteps muffled by thick woolen rugs, while distant horns signaled the start of another day in the capital.
Inside the study, the air buzzed with quiet urgency. A large map, its surface worn from years of handling, lay spread across the main table. Tiny carved tokens representing the various clans and kingdoms surrounding Kiranti were carefully arranged across its surface. Some stood clustered in tight groups; others were set far apart, like lonely sentinels. Yalamber sat nearby, leaning over the map with his chin resting lightly on his hand. His finger traced the twisting lines of mountain passes and river valleys, as if by touching them he could somehow understand the tangled web of alliances, grudges, and rivalries that defined his world.
His tutor, Bhavik, stood beside him, speaking in low tones to King Balambha and the gathered ministers. "The southern clans have sent envoys," Bhavik said, his voice measured. "They seek an alliance fearful of the growing unrest to the north and east. They believe only unity can withstand the coming storms."
The words seemed to hang in the room, heavy and uncertain.
Yalamber's heart beat a little faster. The idea of clans beyond the mountains seeking friendship was both hopeful and worrying. He had grown up hearing stories of the southern peoples proud, stubborn, and fiercely protective of their own ways. To hear they were reaching out now meant something was shifting, perhaps dangerously so.
King Balambha folded his arms, his brows knit in thought as he paced slowly before the table. "The southern clans have long been proud and fiercely independent," he said at last. "To seek alliance now suggests a fear we cannot ignore."
Minister Pemba, the kingdom's chief diplomat, leaned forward, his voice calm but edged with caution. "An alliance would strengthen our position but it could also invite new enemies closer to our borders. We must weigh the benefits against the risks. The wrong promise could cost us more than we gain."
The ministers murmured among themselves, the low hum of their debate like the far-off growl of approaching thunder. Yalamber watched them closely, realizing for the first time how much power and danger could hide in a simple agreement of words.
The doors to the study swung open and Lhakar entered, his breathing quick and uneven from running. His travel cloak was still damp from morning dew. "More news from the envoys," he announced, drawing every eye in the room. "Not all southern clans agree. Some push for war rather than peace. Their leaders are divided."
The room fell into uneasy silence.
Bhavik moved to Yalamber's side and placed a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder. "A ruler must learn patience," he said softly, his tone almost fatherly. "Not every battle is fought with swords sometimes it is with words and waiting. Decisions made too soon can ruin even the strongest kingdom."
Yalamber nodded, though his gaze lingered on the map. He could almost feel the invisible lines of tension stretching across the land, ready to snap if pulled too hard. Though he was not yet ready to lead, he sensed that the world outside was changing faster than anyone wished to admit. The whispers carried on the wind were growing louder, and soon they would reach even his small corner of the mountains.
Outside, the breeze stirred the branches of the towering cedars, carrying with it the scent of pine, damp earth, and distant rain. It was a reminder that beneath the calm beauty of Kiranti, the land was restless and Yalamber's journey had only just begun.