“Our men were only upholding the order of the universe!” rang a voice from the Hall of Public Audience.

Param marched towards the source. It was the fourth straight day that Kashaari priests were yelling at Aabna to release the men from their community. One of them even had the gall to call her a—

Best not to think about it. After Bhagat’s letter of a religious riot in Gahkhpur, it seemed they would all have to walk a fine thread. Yet Bhagat didn’t think that at all, instead ordering the detention of the men for another year. What exactly does Bhagat hope to achieve? He shook his head. He’d still need to speak with Aabna to understand it all.

Param entered the room, making sure not to disturb the petitions which at this point had drowned into needless bickering. Light pierced the room from above, a symbol of the Creator’s ability to see all from heaven.

“I cannot act further in this matter.”

Aabna shot a quick glance at Param and, exchanging quiet nods, he kept himself to a corner of the room while her own cold gaze returned back to the priests.

“Release those men, you can’t arrest them for upholding order!”

“I cannot indulge in your demands,” Aabna said, unfettered by their yells. “Maybe you should’ve told your boys not to murder innocents on the street.” She then waived a hand, interrupting the men’s barks again. “And cease issuing these threats! Do you think I’ll be cowered by a few men? I’ll have you jailed for inciting violence!”

“Hah!” retorted one of the priests. “You? Jail us? You’d be unwise to pursue such an action.”

“Oh? Truly?” replied Aabna, the embroidery on her indigo dress sparkling. “So you say you have enough influence to rock an entire city? Oh dear.”

She folded her hands. “But who’ll answer your call? The Sudhist priests made sure and have ensured all their folk didn’t kill the wrong people and they’ve punished the wrongdoers accordingly. Furthermore, the Taals and other lower-caste groups aren’t on your side. One would have to wonder why. The Haraans who’re left are definitely not on your side, not after the needless slaughter you could have prevented with your influence. That leaves you with the upper-caste, who’re already scared enough after the arrest of their men that they don’t even have the gall to come before me. So, tell me? Who is it that’s on your side?”

A few of the men gulped.

They’d been caught by the viper.

“Well… We’re only concerned for the families whose mothers yearn for their husbands and sons, nothing more…”

The taste in Param’s mouth turned sour. What about the Taal boys he met the last week? Huddling for warmth on a downtrodden street? Did the priests bother to consider their lives or any of the other Taal orphans?

“Ah, you’re only concerned for the mothers then?” Aabna’s voice sounded sarcastic. “I’m afraid the law trumps a mother’s love, especially if that love is sullied with blood.”

“Bu—

She raised a hand. “No more. I’m afraid Lord Gahkhar has even instructed me to keep them locked in their cells.”

“What? L-lord Gahkhar? But why?”

“He is the Lord of the land, he doesn’t need to give a reason.” She shrugged. “He is planning for the trials to be held in due time, so worry not. It’s not like your boys will rot in their cells… unless they don’t do the work they’re assigned.” Those last few words she emphasized quite clearly. “Now please. I have matters to attend to that require exceptional expediency.”

“Bu—

“She said leave.” Param grit his teeth. How could they be so shameless, especially if they had apparently attained enlightenment from the Rakshaan mountains. “Get out of here! We have no time for your needless petitions!”

Aabna wasn’t the least fazed by his shouts, yet they managed to startle the men. Perhaps they never expected him to get involved? Either way, they quickly filed out of the room, cursing under their breaths. The guards followed them out.

A quick slam rattled the air.

“Come Param.” Aabna got off her blue-cushioned seat, denoting her governorship. “Let’s go to the study.”

Param nodded. Together they left the hall through a side door and traveled through the sandstone corridor, the few torchlights radiating the halls.

“The governor of the city apparently hated the torches so much, he had them all removed.”

“Really? Aren’t the Afraaris supposed to be acclimated to the heat and sun?”

Aabna shrugged and then turned the corner, a stairway in front of them. “Some people hate the light perhaps.”

“But this place still looks a bit dark though.”

“Really?” She waved her hand. “Perhaps it’s a preference then. I think less lights gives the interior more character. With all the shadows and the like.”

“Huh.” Param looked around, trying to notice what Aabna meant. He passed light for darkness and back to light, but nothing of the character Aabna mentioned. I don’t really see it. Do women really think that way?

“What do you think about the priests and their petitioning?”

“Their fools Aabna…” whispered Param, returning his gaze back to the next floor. “You should’ve had them arrested as soon as they insulted you the other day. Why didn’t you?”

Aabna stopped and opened a door, revealing shelves of books and a desk inside. She motioned him to enter first.

“No, no. You first.”

“Truly?” Aabna revealed a curt smile. “Well, at least the women you went out with taught you some class.”

A firecracker went off in his head, eliciting a few grumbles. Why… every damn time.

“Don’t just stand there!”

Param entered, closing the door and quietly taking his seat opposite of Aabna’s.

“Well, you wanted to know why I didn’t arrest them, yes?”

Param nodded.

“Well I’d just become the Simbaq if I had,” she began, leaning on her chair. “And I got quite curious about their daily routines. After all, since when did priests have the time to leave their temple and petition me for three hours straight? On a daily basis too?” She leaned in. “So I had my men tag them.”

Param’s jaw dropped. “You what?”

She leaned back, smiling. “Did you know that two of the men had been spreading lies about my origins in the upper-caste gatherings within temple grounds?”

His eyes widened. “They… were?”

“Yes.” She rose from her chair. “And it seems the higher castes are in league with them too. I don’t know what they’re planning, Param, but it isn’t good. It’s been four days and they’ve been using pressure-tactics to bend us to their will. Since it’s not working, they’ll try something else.”

“This isn’t good Aabna. If the threat is clearly real, I’ll need to expand recruitment beyond the Sudhists, I’ll probably have to start recruiting Taals as well but it’ll only aggravate them more.”

She turned to gave to the window.

“When I first arrived here, I tried my best to gauge the atmosphere. I knew the Sudhists here longed for a return to Sudhist rule, so I hired a few orphans and had them trained into spies,” she closed her eyes. “I had them distribute the weapons grandfather gave me before I left this city and told them to give it to the most able of Sudhists and Kashaaris, but…” She lifted her gold-bordered indigo head scarf to cover her curly hair. “I never expected them to attack the Taals…”

“I don’t mean to be so blunt, but how did you not expect this to happen?” Param crossed his arms. “Every higher caste hides their disgust for the lower-castes under a superficial mask and the Suhliqs managed it all perfectly. It was like they were born for this sole purpose. They’d keep the upper-castes away from opportunities that they’d give freely to the Taals, just because they were a cheaper source of labor. If the higher-castes got too angry they’d crush them. And these priests. They’re doing these petitions to assert their hierarchy —the one the Suhliqs broke down from favoring the Taals— and on top of that they might be working with the higher-castes too? I’ve seen these things play out Aabna. I come from the villages. It’s not something a Sudhist noblewoman like yourself would know, since you’re already at the top of the hierarchy, you can’t see the rotten mess below.”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Param scratched his head. It was harsh but it was the truth, he thought. People who’d been acclimated to their status expected many things simply because they were privileged, yet a sudden reversal in the pyramid for 20 long years turned them into opportunistic tigers, lying in wait to violently usurp back what had been stolen from them.

And that’s exactly what had happened, especially in the city where Kashaaris resided in an overwhelming majority.

“Now we need to consider how best to bridge the animosity.” Param leaned on the chair. “But to do so we need to somehow appease both the higher-castes and the Taals...”

“I… don’t know Param. I really don’t know what to do,” she admitted, her voice quiet and a bit distracted. “Have you seen the bodies lined along the back of the Sudhist temple?”

Param blinked. “Not all of them… just some.”

“I saw it…” Her voice felt faint to his ears. “I saw heads smashed, intestines ripped out… I saw it all. I felt powerless when I saw a boy whose bloodied body stained the funeral cloth red… How? How can men become wolves to men? Of the same creed too? Is it not wrong? And then these priests… it’s a nightmare Param.” Her hands shook. “And I feel responsible. I let this happen and yet I don’t know what the ultimate answer could be.”

Her last sentence gave him chills.

“I misread the situation… the blood on my hands can’t be washed off,” she whispered. “It feels like I’m in the same situation as the Mahabsas in a way… it’s almost poetic.”

Param rose up, the sharp screech of his chair making his objection known. “But you didn’t want to kill a whole people Aabna! And the two situations aren’t alike. The Mahabsas willingly fought their own people, whereas the people here willingly slaughtered their own.”

“And yet I provided the weapons!” She yelled, her gripped hands shaking. “I let this happen… it’s too much. I’ve dishonored my family name, I—

“Aabna!” Param raised his palms, catching her attention. “Relax.”

She opened her mouth, then shut it. She closed her eyes and let out a subdued breath. “I’m sorry for speaking to you like that… it’s been… a busy few weeks. I haven’t had the best sleep in a while.”

She sat back down.

“Bhagat wanted those men detained for another year in order to put them under trial with a new legal code.”

“What? He said that?”

Aabna nodded. “I don’t know what he’s planning; however, if it can bring the justice that this section of Lohaan needs, then I’ll accept it. The tensions now are subdued thanks to the new Sudhist army regiments you’re training, but as soon as we remove these restrictions the tensions could flare up again, especially any violence coming from the high-castes.”

“So you’re saying that Bhagat’s code of law might be able to dampen the tensions?”

She nodded. “It’s the only way. We can’t apply Sudhist laws, that’d just cause outrage amongst the Kaasharis scattered throughout the city —even the Suhliqs didn’t impose Haraan law on them. But if we let the Kashaaris follow their own laws, they’d let the perpetrators off the hook.”

A silence rolled between the pair. Param leaned back. Bhagat’s finally starting to use that knowledge, huh… A smile broke though before hardening back into a frown. Why does it remind me of the pillar?

It seemed Aabna caught his expression. “What’s wrong?”

Param waved his hand. “Apologies, just reminiscing.”

“Of what?”

“Well… Have you ever heard of the stone pillar?”

She shook her head. “No. I never have. Why?”

“Well…” he frowned. He glanced down to his hands. “It was a pillar from my village —By the Creator, it must’ve reached for the sky— and on-top of it was a stone lion. What Bhagat said… about justice, it just reminded me of that pillar and it’s message.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” she said. “Now I’m intrigued.”

Really? Not even a word? Param scratched his head. “It’s base was thick, with the engravings of an upside-down lotus and several animals like elephants and eagles engraved around the base. Above that was a simple paragraph that our village heads always made sure to properly maintain. I still remember it to this day.”

“Well? What did it say?”

A sweat ran down his cheek. “Do you… really want me to?”

“Of course Param, if it’s words engraved in stone then it has to be a wise statement, or else no one in your village would be maintaining it.”

Damnit. He cleared his throat and closed his eyes, drawing the image in his mind. “‘What is justice? He who murders must be punished by my hands. He who revolts must meet me on the field, my war-elephants ready to smash their heads open. But what of a thief? Or a family-man who can’t pay tribute to me? Do I cut off their hands?’ Cut off their tongues? No. For the thief might’ve stolen to feed his family and the husband might’ve withheld food to feed his famished children, his wife ailing in the charpoy bed. If anything, they who go against the force of the law to ensure their families are well-fed, deserve my admiration and even my support. That is why I have ordered my subordinates to ensure all fields generate high yields for distribution to the most famished of families. That is why I ask of my subordinates to treat each prisoner with the humane respect they deserve. If either a thief or an objector goes against even my authority for the sake of their families, then they should be freed and helped. For they are the future of this land. They are my successors.”

In a flash the words he uttered painted the scene from his village in the east, near the endless bounds of wheat stretching across Lord Phulkiar’s domains. It was like he was in a completely different realm. In front of him was the stone pillar —still as beautiful as when it had been placed all those hundreds of years ago— standing unopposed from the center of the square where he and the other children were taught daily. The first thing they did was recite Sudhist prayers, the next a recitation of the words engraved into the stone.

This is as much a part of our traditions as the Sudhist scripts, he’d hear his teacher say. The old scholar —who only God knew if he was still alive— was kind, his voice soft but reassuring, his teachings simple yet profound.

Seeing his village in his dreams was so beautiful, like it hadn’t changed from that day.

He raised his head, catching a glimpse of something rising into the sky.

It was smoke.

“Run!” He heard a boy shout. “They’re here! Run! Hide!”

Suddenly, a fire broke out and horses screeched from all sides.

The smell of burnt wheat re-entered his mind, the fires from the fields burning high into the sky.

“No!”

“Please! No!”

“He is my only son!”

Doors were ripped apart, the shrieks of mothers ringing in his ears as their pleas fell silent amidst gags and shouts. Param’s senses heightened, circling all around, resting his eyes back on the stone pillar stood tall, the blood staining it’s greatness as it retreated further and further from him.

Distant from the horrors it preached against.

“Justice is neither black nor white, nor right nor wrong. It isn’t the result of Karma nor Dharma. It is justice, what a people see as necessary.”

Those words felt like shivers latching his feet to the ground, the sight of the village bursting into flames before his eyes.

His eyes.

The ones that had seen the same sight unfold in his dreams, his nightmares.

“Param?”

A voice called, echoing around him. He frantically searched, only for the black smoke to fog the village path.

Where are they?

He twisted and turned, trying to choose the correct path.

He heard a shriek.

And he ran.

He ran against the flow of blood staining the dirt path.

A wet sound crept up to his ears.

He looked down.

Puddles of blood, the thick liquid crawling up his grey pants.

Beside him were loose arms and legs, left for the roaches on the ground.

“Param?”

The voice asked again.

Up ahead!

He continued on, his feet splashing into the bloody puddles as he turned right and left and right again, desperately searching for someone.

“Param!”

“Yes!” shouted Param, his eyes wide open. He placed a hand to his forehead, feeling the sweat clinging to his skin. “Sorry. I’m so sorry.” He tried controlling his breathing but his heart thought otherwise, racing like he’d seen a demon.

“Are you… alright?” asked Aabna, her hand gently resting on his arm with a glass of water in the other.

“Huh? Yes. Of course I am. I am completely fi—

“You should go get some rest,” she said. Their eyes locking for a moment. Param got a glimpse of the concern in her eyes, a concern he couldn’t easily dismiss. “You were holding your fists so tightly… and your face is sweating. I’m sorry I asked you such a thing.”

“No, I’m just fine Aab—”

“Param.” She said, “go get some rest. You blanked out after you’d said those words and then… you started mumbling. And your eyes have such dark bags under them… please Param…”

She extended a glass of water to him and he accepted with his shaking hand.

Has it always been this bad?

He gulped the water down and rose from his seat.

“I’ll tell you the plan I’ll have assembled tomorrow morning.”

“Alright.” Param placed his hand on the door. “I’m sorry Aabna. I’m very sorry.”

----------------------------------------

“Are you certain?” spoke Faran. He wore courtly clothing, consisting of a black dress, a green sash around his waist and donning the Afraari turban, the loose end of it hanging to the side. Zander then examined the crowd of warriors gathered at the main grounds of the Rajkot. Many of these same men had either deserted the Suhliqs or fled the villages under Suhliq’s control almost two weeks ago.

“Please, Lord Shaahi!” pleaded the deserter. “Those Lohaanis… those Sudhists… they must be stopped! Or the salt mine and revenue from the wheat will no longer be within our control!”

The rest of the kneeling men pled the same thing, beseeching his uncle to take immediate action.

“I thought it was all rumors, but these men say it and the letter I had received a few days back says it too.”

Faran cursed under his tongue. “Why didn’t the news spread faster! It’s already been a good two weeks!” He turned to Suhliqs men. “Why didn’t you come here faster!”

Faran’s yell made the men shake with fear. “S-s-sir, they had dozens of horsemen hunting us for the next few days after that battle… there’s only a dozen of us left from the escape.”

“Also if I may add uncle, it seems the Sudhists deliberately kept the information under wraps.”

“Curse their God!” shouted Faran, clenching his fists. “How did they even have the men to take the city in the first place?”

“Well…” spoke the deserter. “I overheard the rumors sir. It seemed like Suhliq had sent 300 men to take down that Gahkhar child and the neighboring lord had sent another 3000 of mostly rookie fighters…”

“Curse that Vhaddawalia fool!”

Faran crossed his arms, pacing the open grounds.

“I never expected them to get involved directly. I thought he was soft.”

“It wasn’t him My Lord,” replied a man.

Faran turned. “Then who led 3000 villagers to take our two cities?”

“Well sir… it was his son, Dunda Vhaddawalia.”

“His son! He had a son!” he shouted, his voice incredibly hoarse.

Zander could see his uncle’s nerves popping from his arms.

“Uncle,” whispered Zander. “Calm down please. Or else we’ll make a terrible decision.”

Faran looked at him and Zander gulped. He’d never seen the man so angered. His face was visibly pink and even the nerves on his neck were showing themselves.

“Calm breaths uncle.”

Faran did just that, turning his gaze away and breathing slowly.

“Thank you nephew.” Faran regained his composure and glanced at the men. “Well, no matter. They’re probably down a lot of men, no?”

The deserters nodded.

“We’ll have to be quick then. We need to retake Gahkhpur and then Oodpur before the monsoon in two months. I’ll draw up a plan and I shall personally lead you all. We need that land for the Sundran war effort as soon as the monsoons come.”

He waved his hand. “You’re all dismissed.”

“Yes sir!”

He turned and began marching back towards the Rajkot. Zander followed suite.

“Uncle, are you going to—

“Yes nephew,” replied Faran. “I’m going to use what we’ve received from the capital. Get your subordinate ready, because she will be very useful.”

“Yes uncle.” Zander stopped in his tracks, watching his uncle disappear into the indigo garden.

“Bhagat,” he whispered softly. “I’ll rip your tongue from your throat. Just watch.”