The traitor sat in the prison like a dead clock, no longer a creature admired by songbirds and serpents, utterly abashed of his core self and unwilling to blood for sunshine.

"Secrets of untold gems, served on a silver platter, are deceptive treasures that serve the server," he remarked. "The server is a dimmest star who has the shiniest ambitions; do not trust them. Instead be the patient one and dally with a ho-hum hobby."

He tilted his head and furrowed his brow, "You can take up angling—a perfect ho-hum hobby—and master it to perfection. Then, employ the training to dangle the bait. Once it takes, it takes its own life."

Arshia stared at him, blank as an uninked parchment. "Go on. Say your piece. The sooner you spew your nonsense, the sooner I can resume the chronicle."

Indra let his disappointment be known through a tongue clucking sound . "I am parting Indispensable knowledge before I begin my tale. Lend your ear and you might learn something."

Arshia gave him a disdainful look as he continued. "I was." He shook his head and his gaze assumed darkness that repulses the night itself. "Inside me, there are two creatures who only exist because of each other. They both are creatures with tails, but one is a cat and the other is a mouse. Their war and compromise made the man your kind fear."

His gaze turned pensive. "What I am telling you will entail the inception of creatures within. It is a tragedy in three parts. You've already heard the beginning of the first. Let us delve into it thoroughly before I proceed to the second part, where I experienced the fondest memories that would be stained by my villainy in the third part."

His chronicler held the pen ready to write but he signaled her to stop with a wave. "What?" She asked impatiently.

"Do you remember the first man you've killed?"

To his surprise she hesitated. "Too Harrowing to recall?" He asked.

"No," she said more sharply than intended and then spoke in a calmer tone. "It was many years ago. I don't wan-" She gritted her teeth and looked at his inquisitive eyes and continued.

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“My father insisted that I serve alongside the hard sons of bitches from the peasant caste." She began with a slight annoyance in her tone.

"They had nothing but malicious lies to say about me and my family. They were convinced they had to babysit a castle-bred lass who was in over her head."

She went on with a subtle, smug smirk. "They ignored me, treated me as a hindrance, avoided sitting beside me in the eatery, and were reluctant to involve me in their discussions."

She shifted in her seat, sitting as proud as a cat. "One day, while on patrol duty, our group fell victim to an ambush set by a ruthless band of outlaws. They took down two of us, but I managed to take down four of them. Ever since that day, the soldiers have held a deep respect for me.

"Did you feel accepted then?" He asked.

A trace of irritation creased her forehead. "What?"

"You craved for it, didn't you? You wanted them to praise your name,"

"Why on Earth should I seek approval from those wretched peasants!"

"I am sure you don't," he said, leaning back and smirking. "I've heard a line or two about it in songs that tell of your heroics in curbing the Pandava conspiracy. Do you want to hear it?"

"No," She uttered acidly.

"I'm relieved that you don't. I don't recall it vividly, and I've always despised the untruthfulness within those songs."

She frowned. "Are you denying my achievements?"

"Oh, do not misunderstand," he said, smiling placidly. "I am not denying your achievements."

He paused, locking her gaze with his. "If I were to deny them, how could mine be the truth? I got to meet the usurper because of you. He told me about you, said how fierce you were."

Leaning back, he shifted to a reflective tone. "I don't doubt your achievement; I doubt the glory in the songs."

His dark gaze turned distant like floating stars in sable sea. "They never tell you about the savagery it takes to be a hero; they don't tell you how your bowels empty as your enemies stare at you. I've seen it many times,"

A dramatic sigh escaped his lips as he donned the facade, his eyes widening dramatically for effect. "'I-I just wanted to sate my hunger! How did it all come to this?' he cried—that foolish little boy who couldn't go hungry for a day more or had the better sense to steal a safer purse than a Kshatriya's."

"Tell me, Arshia," His tone was heavy and accusatory, "How did it feel when you butchered those bandits? Did it make you feel courageous as you slew the desperate men who turned to life of crime because your father starved them with his policies?"

"You ask me to pen your tale without judgment, yet here you are, wearing on my patience with your judgmental and smug, satisfied demeanor. I've already mentioned it once, and I hate repeating myself—never besmirch my father's name with your filthy, sullied tongue." She said it with such acid that it could gnaw at the skin and melt the bones.

Indra raised his hands in surrender. "I apologize for my transgressions, my lady. Mayhaps we need to set forth with our deal and continue this tale of mine."