Under the desert moon, in a dryland forest, a little boy sat on a large mound, playing with a round object. It was half the size of his palm and made of solid gold. The silver light of the moon reflected off of it completely as if their natures were polar opposites and it would rather not be touched by this mortal affliction called wealth.
Tossing the medallion into the air, the boy caught it again deftly in his little palm. In the silent night, the boy's beautiful facial features stood prominently under the moonlight. But unlike the little prince's narrow, pensive face, this boy's face was round and expressive. When he smiled, he showed his entire set of teeth. He had a lot of baby fat which made people want to pinch his cheeks. His eyes were like luminous gems, holding an abundance of curiosity and mischief. However, if one were to catch him in a serious time, like when he actually dressed like the little prince to lead away some pursuers, one would see steely grit and strong determination in those eyes. It was unknown what kind of thoughts run through his mind when he takes risks like that. The little prince never asked him to do those kinds of things for him. This was entirely this child's initiative. Unknown to Vajradandaka, this child had a spirit that was unmatched in the world.
No matter how you look at it, he was not…an empty vessel.
"Teacher…if one day I were to become a royal….would I be hunted like that too?" he asked, his voice light, as though musing.
If an onlooker were to see this, they would think he was talking to himself. There was nobody there! But the minute the question was asked, a form materialized nearby.
It was as if she had always been there…
This was a type of phenomenon that no one would be able to explain in the western drylands. But if you ask an experienced person from the central plateau, they would tell you this woman has reached the state of one with the world. If you look close enough…she had always been there! But none of us actually do.
Surprisingly, this boy who was no older than Little Prince Vajradandaka was able to feel her presence at nearly all times. You couldn't just write it off as his familiarity with her either…It only half works that way. If the child didn't have sharp enough senses, it wouldn't have mattered no matter how familiar he was with the woman. He wouldn't have been able to sense her.
"Hmm." Her voice was like the lilting whistle of snow. It sounded far away, yet incredibly near. It was very mild though, as if exerting a little pressure on her vocal chords would disturb tens of ecosystems. Indeed, there was so much inner energy within her that a light exertion would change the balance of the world. It was exactly what Vajradandaka's guru named the immortal's flame. This woman was as though she was made of it!
"A royal family is the reflection of the state of its citizens' minds," her voice was calm and without ripple as she explained indifferently. "There will always be struggle because there is no truly peaceful state in the entire world."
The boy studied the royal seal with even more interest now. The thunderbolt represented Indra and Vajradandaka's identity as the son of Indra.
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"But what story should I tell him now…?" the boy said, a contrastingly pensive expression adorning his usually cheerful face. Sitting on this tall mound, he could faintly hear the labored breath of the prince in a distance. He was asleep for now, but the boy knew that the slightest noise will wake him up. Even until his dying breath, he wanted to serve as a distraction for his elder brother. After all, the Patr-dal clan will shift their focus if they finished assassinating the little prince. So like a dog that wouldn't release the bone even if it was kicked to death, he was adamant in having his way.
The foreign boy didn't understand why this was. He thought the royal families were cold and heartless. Isn't that why they were hunting each other down? What's so great about his brother that he would go to this extent?
The boy remembered his own older brother, his face automatically scrunching up in distaste. He would sooner forget ever having one!
"I don't think I have a story to tell," he decided. "I should give this back."
Though the greedy look in his eye never went away, he was resolute about what he must do. Before he moved however, the tall woman said in the same ethereal voice. "I think whatever you wish to tell is exactly the truth he is seeking."
The boy tilted his head towards his teacher with a questioning glance. He tried to figure out what the best question would be to ask. Ever since he knew her, his teacher appeared as though she came from a different world. He couldn't argue with her, couldn't reason with her. He could only listen to her. And for her to speak, he should ask the right question. If not, she would be around, like a wallflower, but she would never willingly participate in his life. Everything was up to him, she was only there to guide.
Even his ambition to become king…He foolishly made it when he was six years old and she made not a peep, simply nodding her head as if it was the most reasonable thing. She began to guide him accordingly, so that he knew how to plan his life in order to reach the goal. It had already been four years since he's been on the path and it took him quite a few bitter lessons to realise how childish his dream was! And now he was witnessing one of the darkest sides of being a royal and couldn't stop those questions anymore.
Why the hell do I want to be king? Just where did that ridiculous thought come from?
One must know that the boy's family was actually one of the poorest of poor in a downtrodden village in a remote part of the Northern Highlands. On the day that his teacher found him, he was actually fighting with his mother, begging her not to sell him off to the slave trader!
He never met nor seen a royal in his entire life. Even the tales he heard about them were scanty and without substance. Just where do my thoughts come from…he often wondered. Especially since his teacher took them so seriously. He never felt himself to be special, so why are my thoughts important to her?
He watched his teacher now with a probing gaze, but her proud visage never changes. Like an ever flowing stream whose nature is gentle and lifegiving.
"Teacher, why would that boy be interested in me?" he asked sensitively.
"Are you not interested in the boy?" his teacher asked in return.
The boy didn't think about it until then. But now that he did, there was indeed something he was interested in.
"I want to know why he wants to give his life to his elder brother…"
He frowned ruminating about his own elder brother who was squeezing him out of his mother's embrace that day, saying all kinds of hurtful things about how he was born to be just a slave. He was only two years older, merely eight at the time. Yet, incredibly mean!
"Are elder brothers…really that great?" he mumbled to himself.
"You misunderstood the boy…" the woman shook her head, looking as beautiful and emotionless as the moon. "I am not certain to what extent the child loves his brother. I'm sure he does, but that's not why he's doing this."
"Then why is he doing this?" the boy asked uncertainly.
The faintest traces of a smile lit the woman's lips, much to the boy's surprise. His teacher never showed emotions for anything. He could count the occasions on his fingertips!
"Why? He's doing it to win, of course."
"To win?" the boy asked dazed, quite unprepared for the answer. What part of him looks like he was winning?!
The woman smiled. "Chandra Kush, one day when you become king, you will understand the pride of a royal. This boy…he is filled to the bone with it. The pride of a royal, the pride of Kshatriya and the pride of an Aditya…I cannot find a finer specimen who embodies this quality…He simply cannot lose! That's why he's doing this. As long as his brother lives, the boy will not lose."
The woman quietly sighed to herself after speaking.
But he's still immature. He underestimated the efficiency of Dhija assassins. They might not even need reinforcements from their co-conspirators in Rthadhra capital to defeat Vajradhaara's troops.