The encounter on the training ground clung to Anal like a stubborn scent of smoke. For days, he found his focus fractured. The perfect, orderly lines of his mind had been smudged by a pair of laughing blue eyes and a phantom feeling of loss that made no sense. He threw himself into his studies and practice with a renewed, almost violent intensity, trying to scour the memory away with sweat and ritual.
His efforts were in vain. The Gurukul, once a sanctuary of disciplined solitude, now seemed to be perpetually echoing with Neel's presence.
It was during the afternoon scripture class with Acharya Manu that the tension found its voice. The topic was Raj-Dharma—the duty of a king.
"A king must be the unwavering pillar of justice," Acharya Manu's voice boomed, his gaze sweeping over the seated disciples. "His heart must be firm, his judgment clear, unclouded by personal attachment. Prince Anal, if a Brahmin, seemingly pious, is proven to be a traitor, what should be the king's course?"
Anal stood, his posture ramrod straight. "The king's duty is to the truth, not to the man's title," he declared, his voice cutting through the quiet hall. "If the Brahmin is proven guilty, he must be punished according to the Dharmashastras, irrespective of his Varna. To do otherwise is to weaken the very foundation of justice."
A soft, derisive snort came from the row behind him.
Acharya Manu's sharp eyes snapped towards the sound. "Prince Neel. You seem to have an opinion. Stand and share it."
Neel rose, not with Anal's rigid formality, but with a relaxed grace that seemed to mock the seriousness of the occasion. "Forgive me, Acharya," he began, though his tone held no apology. "But is justice merely the blind application of rules? If the Brahmin is innocent, but evidence is stacked against him by clever enemies, should the king not seek a path of exile or investigation, rather than outright punishment? A king's job is to protect, is it not? Even from a flawed system. Shouldn't he look with his heart as well as his eyes?"
The class held its breath. It was a direct challenge to Anal's black-and-white worldview.
"Your answer is emotional, Prince Neel," Acharya Manu said, shaking his head. "A king ruled by his heart is a kingdom led to ruin. Anal's answer was correct, grounded in duty and law." He fixed his gaze on Neel. "Your conduct during the lesson was also improper. For your disruption, you will clean the entire library before sunset. Prince Anal, you will supervise. Ensure there is no negligence."
Anal gave a curt nod. "As you command, Acharya."
Neel simply smiled, as if he had been given a reward, not a punishment.
---
The library was a vast, silent cavern, smelling of old parchment and sandalwood. Dust motes danced in the slants of evening light. For a long time, the only sounds were the soft swish of Neel's broom and the occasional rustle as Anal turned a page of a text he wasn't really reading.
The silence was a battleground.
Finally, Neel stopped, leaning on his broom. His voice, when it came, was softer than Anal had ever heard it, stripped of its usual mockery.
"Now tell me," Neel said, his eyes fixed on the dust at his feet. "Was my answer truly wrong? Shouldn't a person, king or commoner, consider the feelings and circumstances of others from the heart?"
Anal said nothing. He just stood, a statue of discipline, his eyes fixed on Neel's face. He wanted to answer with a dozen sharp arguments about duty and order, but the words felt like ash in his mouth.
Neer looked up, a faint, tired smile on his lips. "Well... the library is clean. I'll go and rest now."
He turned to leave, and something in Anal twitched. A strange, involuntary impulse to speak, to break the silence that felt heavier than any punishment.
Just then, Neel spun around. "Wait!"
Anal froze. He slowly turned to face him. Their gazes met again, and the air in the library grew thick. In Anal's eyes was a steely resolve; in Neel's, a brewing storm.
Neel's expression was pained, a slight sneer twisting his lips. "You think you're so superior, don't you? Was my answer so flawed that it deserved this?" He let out a light, hollow laugh. "Anyway... what would you understand? You're just your teacher's pet. His every word is a sacred verse to you. Have you ever understood anyone's feelings? Do you even have a heart? Do you ever smile? Do you ever laugh? No, right... because you are made only of rules... not emotions."
He gently freed his hand from where he had grabbed Anal's wrist, a touch Anal hadn't even registered. For a few moments, Anal just stared into his eyes, a torrent of unformed words caught in his throat. He wanted to say that rules were what kept the world from chaos, that emotions were a luxury a prince couldn't afford. But he couldn't form the sentences.
Neel turned his face away. "Alright... get out of here."
He walked away, his footsteps echoing in the silent hall. Anal watched him go, a pang of something sharp and unfamiliar—an unspoken, incomprehensible relationship—piercing through his chest. Then, without a word, he turned and strode towards his own room, the ghost of Neel's words haunting him more effectively than any spirit.
Later that night, sleep eluded Anal. The image of Neel's hurt, angry face swam behind his closed eyelids. Frustrated, he rose from his bed and stepped out into the Gurukul's moonlit gardens, hoping the cool night air would calm his turbulent thoughts.
It was then he saw it.
A figure, cloaked in shadow, moving with a predator's grace, slipped past the drowsy guards and vanished beyond the Gurukul's boundary wall into the dense, dark forest. The figure was little more than a silhouette, but Anal would recognize that fluid, effortless gait anywhere.
It was Neel.
And he was not alone. A second, taller shadow detached itself from the trees and fell into step beside him, a silent, ominous companion in the dead of night.
---