Chapter 6: Royal Friendship — Part 2: Every day order

Paradise Empire: The Land of Ten Rivers

Chapter 6: Royal Friendship — Part 2:  Every day order 

(Scene opens: The Royal Palace Gardens. Mid-morning. Sunlight filters through the leaves of ancient trees, dappling the marble paths.)

Princess Nīlavēṇi walked with purpose, her silk sari rustling softly. Beside her, Vīra walked in a daze. He felt as though he were floating, his feet barely touching the ground. Just a few days ago, she was a distant figure on a golden chariot, a goddess he dared not look at. Today, she was walking beside him, her hand occasionally brushing his arm as she pointed out the wonders of her home.

The Prince, Raghavendra, had declared him a "Royal Friend." The words still echoed in Vīra’s mind, surreal and impossible.

Princess Nīlavēṇi: "This is the Hall of Ancestors. My great-grandfather built it. And over there, the Lotus Pond, where the sacred white turtles live."

She spoke with enthusiasm, her blue eyes bright. But Vīra barely heard her. The architecture, the gold leaf, the sheer scale of the palace—it all blurred together. His entire world had shrunk to the woman walking next to him. Her voice was the only sound; her presence was the only reality. Panic and happiness fought a war in his chest. Panic, because he was a farmer walking with a princess. Happiness, because she was here.

Suddenly, Nīlavēṇi stopped to point at a carved frieze of a dancing peacock. Vīra, lost in her eyes, didn't stop in time.

Bump.

He walked right into her. His forehead met hers with a soft thud.

She gasped and stepped back. Vīra froze.

They were inches apart. She opened her eyes, and there he was—his dark brown eyes wide with shock, right in front of hers.

A flash of memory hit Nīlavēṇi. The dream. In the dream, he had been this close. He had held her just like this. The scent of him—earth, sandalwood, and nervousness—was exactly the same.

She quickly took a step back, her heart fluttering in a way that had nothing to do with royal decorum. She tried to regain her composure, smoothing her sari.

Princess Nīlavēṇi: "Did you even hear what I was saying, Vīra?"

Vīra blinked, snapping back to the present. He looked around frantically—at the guards, at the trees—before his gaze landed back on her, filled with shame.

Vīra: "S... so... sorry, Princess. I was... lost in something."

Nīlavēṇi tilted her head, a playful glint returning to her eyes.

Princess Nīlavēṇi: "Lost? You are seeing a palace for the first time. I asked my father’s permission—against every protocol—to show you around myself. And you are lost in 'something else'? What was that something?"

Vīra’s face turned a deep, burning red. He looked at his feet, then, surprisingly, he looked up and met her gaze.

Vīra: "I never saw a palace before, that's true. But... I also never saw a beautiful blue-eyed full moon so close to me."

The words hung in the air. Nīlavēṇi’s breath hitched. It was a simple, clumsy compliment, but it was spoken with such raw honesty that it disarmed her completely.

She smiled, a genuine, soft smile that made Vīra’s knees weak.

Princess Nīlavēṇi: "You are not only talented at riding chariots or making clay dolls, Vīra. You have a talent for words, too."

Vīra looked down again, embarrassed by his own boldness.

Nīlavēṇi (thinking): "He is shy. He is terrified. He is not at all like the bold spirit in my dream. And yet..."

Princess Nīlavēṇi: "Shall I continue showing you? Or are you still lost in the moon?"

Vīra couldn't speak. He simply nodded.

She smiled again. Vīra smiled back, a hesitant, hopeful thing.

They continued their walk. The palace soldiers and servants watched from the shadows, their mouths agape. A Princess and a peasant, walking and smiling like old friends? It was unheard of.

They arrived at a secluded part of the gardens, beneath a sprawling tree with roots that formed natural benches.

Princess Nīlavēṇi: "We can sit here if you are tired."

She sat gracefully on a smooth rock bench. Vīra remained standing, keeping a respectful distance.

She looked up at him, patting the stone beside her. "Come. Sit."

Vīra shook his head. "No... I can't, Princess. I still remember my place."

Nīlavēṇi’s expression grew serious.

Princess Nīlavēṇi: "Yes. Your place is here. Did you forget what my brother declared? You are the Royal Friend. That is not a title we give lightly. Come. Now."

It was a command, softened by kindness. Vīra obeyed. He sat on the edge of the bench, leaving a respectable gap between them.

She turned to him. "If you want to say something, I am listening."

Vīra took a deep breath. He had to know.

Vīra: "Can you tell me... why you are interested in me?"

The question hit her hard. It was direct. It cut through all the royal politeness. She looked straight into his eyes.

Princess Nīlavēṇi: "What did you just...?"

Vīra felt his heart stop under her piercing blue gaze. The fear returned—had he crossed a line? But he mustered his courage.

Vīra: "Divine Princess... I meant... why does the Royal Family show me their grace? What did this son of a farmer do to earn the title of Royal Friend? There are many heroes. Many rich merchants. Why me?"

Nīlavēṇi relaxed. She smiled again, a rehearsed, diplomatic smile this time.

Princess Nīlavēṇi: "Oh, you meant that. It is nothing special, Vīra. Our Divine Royal Family has done something like this many times. Our ancestors did the same before. We are continuing their legacy—the legacy of supporting people like you."

She gestured vaguely.

Princess Nīlavēṇi: "Your deeds are heroic. But your family is struggling. As the Divine Royal Family, we have a duty to support talent. That is what we did. Do you think we did something wrong?"

Vīra looked at her. He didn't believe it was just duty. And looking into her eyes, he knew she didn't believe it either.

Their eyes met again in that silence. The air between them crackled with unspoken words, with the memory of a dream she hadn't told him about, and a destiny he didn't understand.

"Vīra!"

The moment shattered.

They both turned. Coming down the garden path were Prince Raghavendra, Tim’mayya, and Rangayya.

Raghavendra was laughing, his arm draped casually over Tim’mayya’s shoulders. Rangayya looked dazed but pleased.

Prince Raghavendra: "Nīlavēṇi! Did you show our new friend Vīra the palace?"

Nīlavēṇi stood up smoothly. "I did, Raghavendra."

Raghavendra beamed. "Good! I showed Tim’mayya and Rangayya the other side—the armory and the stables!"

Tim’mayya and Rangayya looked at the bench where Vīra and the Princess had been sitting. They saw the proximity. They felt the lingering tension. They looked at each other, feeling their souls leave their bodies. He was sitting with her.

Prince Raghavendra: "You all can leave now. But listen well—you should come to our palace every day. Is that clear? We have much to discuss. History, strategy... life."

Tim’mayya, Rangayya, and Vīra were stunned. Every day?

They nodded in agreement. "Yes, Your Divine Grace."

Vīra looked at the Princess one last time. She looked back and smiled. It was a promise.

(Scene shifts: Kondayya’s Satram. Night.)

The room was dim, lit only by the flickering oil lamp. The mood was heavy with shock and exhaustion.

Vīra sat on his cot, staring at the wall, still in a stunned state.

Tim’mayya was pacing back and forth, muttering to himself. "Every day... every day..."

Kēsavu and the other servants sat on the floor in the corner, watching their master and his friends with wide, fearful eyes.

Tim’mayya stopped pacing. He threw his hands up.

Tim’mayya: "Can you explain to me what is going on here, Rangayya?! Are we all dreaming? Or was that the truth? We expected death because of that doll... but we got the opposite of death! Friendship? Royal Friendship?!"

He looked Vīra in the eye, his voice serious.

Rangayya sighed deeply. "I have seen many village politics. I have seen decisions made by my father, Venkatayya. But this... this came completely out of nowhere."

He stood up and walked over to Vīra.

Rangayya: "I don't know why the Royal Family wants to be friends with you, Vīra. I don't know what game they are playing. But I will tell you one thing."

He looked Vīra in the eye, his voice serious.

Rangayya: "I always felt as though you were stealing my glory. My fame. I resented you for it. But now... seeing you there... I understand. Your character, your deeds... they have made you the Royal Friend. My father was right. I took too long to realize it. You are indeed the Pride of Manūru. Indeed, you are the Pride of our village."

Vīra looked up, his eyes misty. To hear this from Rangayya, his lifelong rival, meant almost as much as the royal decree.

Rangayya turned to include Tim’mayya.

Rangayya: "Tim’mayya... Vīra... our lives are going to change because of this. We don't know what we are going to face. The nobles will hate us. The city will watch us. But we will face it together. Do you understand?"

Vīra and Tim’mayya looked at each other, then at Rangayya. A silent pact was formed in that small, dim room.

They nodded. "Together."

(End of Chapter 6, Part 2)