Chapter 6: Royal Friendship — Part 1

Chapter 6: Royal Friendship — Part 1

The morning sun had not yet fully breached the horizon, but the sky was already a canvas of bruised purple and anticipating gold. At Kondayya’s Satram, the air was cool and smelled of wet earth and hay. Vīra looked at the sky, the beauty cold, a grand stage for what he feared was a final performance.

Vīra, Tim’mayya, and Rangayya stood by the red sandalwood chariot. They were dressed in their absolute best. Vīra wore a fresh white cotton tunic, simple but clean. Tim’mayya had borrowed a shawl. Rangayya, naturally, was dressed in silk, trying to look every bit the son of a Chief.

Vīra patted the neck of his white bull. The animal huffed, its breath misting in the morning air. Vīra’s face was pale, but his hands were steady.

Vīra asked, "Are you ready?"

Tim’mayya swallowed hard. Rangayya adjusted his sash, looking grim.

"As ready as men walking to their own funeral can be," Rangayya said. "Let's go."

They climbed onto the chariot. Vīra took the reins.

"Hah!"

The bulls surged forward. As they rolled out of the courtyard, Rangayya’s servants stood by the gate watching them leave. Kēsavu, the skinny servant, watched with wide eyes, silently praying that his master and his friends would return with their heads still attached to their shoulders.

The Journey of Ascension

The chariot moved through the waking streets of the Lower City. Usually, these gates were clogged with traffic, but today, the soldiers at the partition wall saw the royal seal Rangayya held up—the Summoning Order.

A soldier barked, "Royal Order! Clear the way!"

The heavy iron gates groaned open.

They passed from the Lower City into the Middle City.

The change was instant and jarring. The noise of the common folk faded. The streets here were wider, paved not with cobblestones but with smooth, cut granite. The buildings were no longer made of red brick and timber; they were constructed of limestone and white plaster, rising three or four stories high with carved balconies.

Vīra’s eyes widened. "Tim'ma... look."

Tim’mayya nodded, speechless. "It is a completely new world, Vīra."

This was where the wealthy merchants, the army generals, and the master artisans lived. There was no mud here. There were fountains on street corners. The people walked slower, dressed in bright dyes.

But the journey was not over.

They approached the formidable inner walls of the Higher City. These walls were thirty feet of solid white stone, guarded by soldiers in polished bronze cuirasses who didn't look like they ever smiled.

This area was strictly forbidden to commoners. A farmer entering the Higher City was as rare as snow in summer.

But again, the Royal Order opened the path.

As the gates swung inward, the three men gasped in unison.

The Higher City was blinding. The streets were lined with trees that bloomed with flowers Vīra had never seen. The mansions of the Ministers and the High Elites were like small palaces themselves, adorned with gold leaf and silver filigree.

But looming over it all, crushing them with its sheer scale, was the Grand Royal Palace.

It sat on the highest peak of the natural hill, a structure so vast it seemed to defy gravity. Its spires pierced the low-hanging morning clouds. The walls were not just stone; they were coated in a golden finish that caught the first rays of the sun, making the entire structure glow like a sun on earth.

From the highest tower, huge flags snapped in the wind: a deep Royal Blue field, emblazoned with the Golden Sun.

Vīra felt a knot tighten in his stomach. "It shines..."

They approached the final Golden Gateway of the palace. The Royal Soldiers, the elite of the elite, looked at the approaching vehicle. They exchanged glances—a bull-drawn chariot in the court of kings? It was absurd. Yet, they opened the gates.

Vīra guided the bulls to the side of the vast courtyard, parking beside chariots inlaid with gems and horses that looked more expensive than Vīra’s entire village.

Rangayya jumped down first. He turned to the others, his face sweating despite the cool air.

"Listen to me closely. Both of you," Rangayya commanded.

He grabbed Vīra’s shoulder.

"Don't act weird. Don't look around like village idiots. And for the love of the gods, don't lose your composure, Vīra!"

Vīra nodded slowly.

"And don't dare to look at anyone's eyes. We are going to the Royal Court! Not to a relative's house for lunch! Got it!"

Tim’mayya, trembling as he removed his sandals, whispered, "Alright, Rangayya. But... how do you know all this? Have you ever visited a court before?"

Rangayya wiped his brow. "Not at all. This is my first time going to a royal court."

Tim’mayya stared at him. "What?"

Rangayya hissed. "That is not the problem! The main problem is you guys. I might die along with you because of your foolishness."

He grabbed Vīra’s hand, squeezing it hard.

"Just reply to any questions they ask. And look down while answering. Got it, Vīra?"

"Got it," Vīra replied.

Inside the Palace Halls

They walked.

The entrance hall was large enough to fit the entire marketplace of Manūru inside it. The floor was white marble, polished to a mirror finish so that Vīra felt like he was walking on clouds.

Servants in silk robes glided towards them.

A servant asked, "Names?"

"Rangayya of Manūru," Rangayya said. "And Vīra and Tim’mayya."

The servant checked a scroll. "The Summoned. Follow me."

They were guided through hall after hall. It felt like walking through a dream. They passed massive statues of previous God-Kings, their stone eyes staring down in judgment. They passed portraits of the royal lineage, centuries of power captured in paint.

Vīra felt the weight of it. Every step echoed. Every heartbeat felt like a drum. Execution, his mind whispered. Painful punishment.

Finally, the walk ended. They stood before a set of double doors that were three times the height of a man, covered in gold relief depicting the ten rivers.

The doors groaned open.

The Grand Royal Court

The Royal Court was a cavern of power.

Rows of Ministers, Generals, and Scholars sat on elevated benches on either side, their robes a sea of rich colors. They fell silent as the three village men entered.

Across the hall, on a raised dais reached by nine steps, sat the source of all authority.

The Golden Jeweled Throne.

Upon it sat His Mighty Divinity, King Manirāja Dīrākṣa. He was terrifying. His presence filled the room, heavy and suffocating.

To his left, on a slightly smaller but equally magnificent throne, sat the Divine Queen Rathnavallī Ādiyammādevi, radiating a calm, majestic grace.

To his right, looking bored and dangerously powerful, sat Crown Prince Raghavendra.

Vīra risked a quick glance. There was an empty throne beside the Queen.

The Princess is not here, Vīra thought. She didn't come. A mix of relief and crushing disappointment washed over him.

They walked to the center of the room and prostrated themselves, foreheads touching the cold floor.

King Manirāja’s voice boomed, echoing off the vaulted ceiling.

"So. You arrived," King Manirāja said.

They rose to their knees, keeping their heads bowed.

"Pride of Manūru... Vīra? Is it?" the King asked.

Rangayya spoke up, his voice shaking slightly but audible. "Yes... Yes, Your Divineship. I am Rangayya, son of..."

Manirāja interrupted, his tone sharp. "You brought your friends too? As far as I know, I only ordered you to appear."

The silence in the court was deafening. Vīra felt his throat close up. He couldn't speak.

Tim’mayya, driven by loyalty and fear, squeaked, "Lord... my cousin was afraid."

The King blinked. He looked at his wife, then at his son. He looked back at the three trembling men.

"Afraid? Of what?" King Manirāja asked.

Rangayya bowed lower. "It... it was his first time appearing in a Royal Court, Your Divineship. The grandeur... it would have overwhelmed him."

Queen Rathnavallī leaned forward. Her voice was softer, like a cooling breeze.

"There is no need to be afraid," the Queen assured him. "No one is going to do anything to you here, in the court of the Great King. Speak freely."

Crown Prince Raghavendra, who had been leaning on his fist, sat up. He looked at his father.

"Father. Can I talk with Vīra?" the Prince asked.

King Manirāja nodded. "Of course you can."

Raghavendra stood up and walked down a few steps of the dais. He looked down at Vīra with intense curiosity.

"Vīra. We heard a lot about your deeds in your village. We heard about how you win every single yearly contest. About how you defeated the champions of four villages," Prince Raghavendra said.

He paused, smiling.

"And about the creation of that chariot. And how you saved the pride of your Village, becoming the 'Pride of Manūru'."

Vīra, Tim’mayya, and Rangayya lifted their heads slightly, looking at each other in utter confusion. How?

Raghavendra saw their confusion and laughed softly.

"You wonder how we got to know about you in just a few days? Vīra, you don't know... but you are quite famous."

He descended another step.

"You thought you were just 'Vīra the farmer.' But we got to know about you by the recent settlers of Manūru."

Vīra and Tim’mayya looked stunned.

"Why those shocking faces?" Prince Raghavendra continued. "There are people from your village who migrated here, settled in the Lower City. They talk. And after that temple incident day before yesterday... the rumors flew. They told us about the boy Vīra."

King Manirāja leaned forward, his blue eyes narrowing.

"Tell me, boy. How did you have those divine symbols on both of your shoulders? The Horned Horse and Elephant?" King Manirāja asked.

Vīra finally found his voice. It was quiet, but steady.

"They have been with me since I was born, Lord. They are my birthmarks," Vīra answered.

The King, the Queen, and the Prince exchanged a heavy, meaningful look. A whisper, The Twin Mark, rippled faintly among the Ministers.

Vīra continued, "They... they glow sometimes. And I feel something. Not pain... but something I can't explain."

A murmur rippled through the Ministers. Glowing marks? Birthmarks of the divine symbols?

"Do you know the reason you got summoned?" King Manirāja asked.

Vīra braced himself. Here it comes. The punishment.

Crown Prince Raghavendra walked down the final steps. He crossed the marble floor and stood directly in front of Vīra.

He reached out and placed his hand firmly on Vīra’s shoulder.

Vīra flinched. Tim’mayya gasped. Rangayya stopped breathing.

"We got to know about your deeds in your village, for sure," the Prince said. "But we also found out about your life. About your financial condition. Your father and mother are aging. And you are the one carrying the responsibility of your entire family on these shoulders."

The Prince looked Vīra in the eye.

"We offer you our help. And I... I offer you my friendship."

Vīra’s jaw dropped.

Raghavendra turned to the court, his voice ringing out.

"From this day on, I declare him the Royal Friend!"

The court erupted in whispers. A farmer? A Royal Friend?

Vīra was in shock. The world was spinning.

Then, he heard it. A voice that made his heart skip a beat.

"Vīra."

He turned.

Entering from a side chamber, dressed in silks of deep azure, was Princess Nīlavēṇi.

She walked up to him, ignoring the Ministers.

"I heard everything," Princess Nīlavēṇi said. "'Royal Friend', ha? I wasn't wrong about you! You are indeed something  special."

She looked at her father.

"Father, can I show him the palace? I wish to give him a tour."

King Manirāja smiled—a genuine smile this time—and nodded.

Prince Raghavendra grinned. "Go on. I will join too... with Vīra's friend and cousin!"

Princess Nīlavēṇi reached out. In front of the entire court, she held Vīra's hand.

Vīra looked at her hand holding his. It was real.

She pulled him gently. "Come."

She led him out of the courtroom. Every Minister stared, mouths agape.

Raghavendra walked over to Tim’mayya and Rangayya, slapping them on the backs.

"Let's go! I will show you both something special too. The armory, perhaps?" Prince Raghavendra offered.

Tim’mayya looked at Rangayya, his face a mask of pure shock.

"Rangayya... what just happened?" Tim'mayya whispered. "Friends with Divine Royals?"

Rangayya hissed back, though he was grinning like a maniac. "Shut your mouth and listen! Either it is luck or something else, we don't know. But it is a Royal Order! We have to follow it without questions!"

Prince Raghavendra looked back. "What are you guys waiting for? Come!"

They bowed frantically and rushed after the Prince.

The Courtroom, moments later

The doors closed behind the young people. The silence in the court was heavy.

Then, the dam broke.

A senior Minister rose from his seat, his face red.

"Lord! What is this? Friendship with the son of a farmer? And with your agreement? What will happen to the honor of the Divine Lineage?" the Minister challenged.

Another Minister stood. "It is unheard of! A peasant walking the halls as an equal to the Crown Prince?"

King Manirāja Dīrākṣa stood up. The movement silenced the room instantly.

"Enough!" His voice was like a whip crack.

"Since when has the court started doubting my orders?" He looked around the room, his eyes cold.

"I will take decisions which are in the interests of the Maniyanūru Kingdom! You see a peasant. I see opportunity."

He walked down to the edge of the dais.

"On the matter of friendship with a farmer’s son... this action secures the loyalty of the rural lands. It will show the people that we do not see social class, but character."

He paused, his voice dropping lower, more intense.

"And about Vīra... You only see his status. But after hearing what deeds he has done in his village... and seeing the Divine Symbols he bears..."

The King looked at the doors where Vīra had exited.

"No. He is not a normal son of a farmer. He is more than that. I sense it."

He turned back to his throne.

"The Royal Coronation of Prince Raghavendra is just a few days away. Trust my decisions!"

The ministers looked at one another, humbled and cowed. They bowed in unison. "Yes, Your Divineship."

Grandfather’s Voiceover:

"And that is how, my boy, a young man from our village—a son of a farmer—became a friend of the Divine Royals. It happened for the first time in the history of Maniyanūru.Even the Great King Manirāja understood that Vīra was something special.

(End of Chapter 6, Part 1)