After the evening dinner, the servants hoisted up thick ornamental drapes in one of the spacious enclosures within the palace and converted it into a cozy evening parlor. Dozens of delicate bronze diyas (traditional oil lamps) were lit with multi-layered aesthetics around the room while the vigorous mahshals (torches) stood dignifiedly on the walls like their male counterparts. The floor was littered with cushions with satin and wool covers. Elaborately woven carpets lay in the middle depicting scenes from unknown cultures. Twin archways facing the lakeside had not been covered in drapes to let the soft evening breeze in. The rising silver moon could be seen framed by the lotus petal shaped arch with its soft rays falling on a platform. There an isolated performer melded into the background while strumming strings softly into the wind.

Seated on a luxurious mat, facing a floor table were an old man and a child. The old man's proud nose and deep, lonely eyes showed the vicissitudes of life while the young child was characterized by flushed cheeks, keen, lively eyes and an adorable countenance. The flickering light of the diyas danced on his soft complexion, bringing a hypnotic edge to his intent eyes.

By now, the impatient little boy had long smuggled himself into his grandfather's lap, using the shoulder blades on his skinny back to dig sharply into the old man's loose chest. He yawned a few times, tired out after the day's exhaustive activities.

"Grandfather, I passed the test, right?" he pinched and burrowed, wriggling his butt to get into a more comfortable position. "I've learn three of your forms. It should count as accomplishment, right?"

"An accomplishment?" the old man scoffed. "Those teachers in the palace are spoiling you rotten. How does this little advancement count as anything? You should practice more and you should be able produce your own theme using one of these forms. Then it will count as an accomplishment."

"Right, right, my own theme." The little fellow's eyes flashed excitedly as he looked at his grandfather, "Like the cowherd fighting monsters with his flute!"

Looking down at the evil doer, his grandfather once again felt the oncoming of a headache between his eyebrows. However, the next instant, he caught a cunning glint in the evildoer's eyes.

"Little twerp! Dare to make fun of your grandfather!"

"Ha ha ha ha!" the boy squealed in his grandfather's arms delightfully, kicking his legs up in triumph. "I gotcha!"

The old man sighed helplessly and once again reminded the naughty boy, "A theme should be something that concretizes a real life ideal or idea. You cannot take a random rumor and wastefully apply your mind and spirit to reproduce it."

"Hmm hmm…I know. I know grandfather!" he dug his furry skull into his grandfather's collar impatiently, his little paws making their way stealthily to the folder in front. The folder contained his grandfather's precious art collection from his travels. It was indeed a sizeable collection for his grandfather's travels lasted nearly ten years, with him returning only after the little prince was born. Of course, not everyone was qualified to see said collection and even the princes and princesses born to the king could only get to see a few paintings after they've applied themselves aesthetically and gained some recognition. Naturally, the little prince was an exception as he was studying his grandfather's self-created art form and would succeed him in developing and propagating the style. But still, even he didn't get to see some of the more precious paintings which would most likely be classified as national treasures once his grandfather passes away. After all, his grandfather's name was known far and wide in the world not for the power he once held, but the revolutionary art form that he created, the likes of which hadn't been seen for three hundred years! Pandits of aesthetic sciences come from far off places to study, appraise and integrate grandfather's style into the sixty-four arts. The style had already been applied to various mediums like sculpture, wood carving, dance and even architecture! There is also much scope for integrating it into theatre because the minimalistic style provides much room for brevity and conciseness which the colorful stages need for setting scenes in large contexts.

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Today, the little prince might get to see some of the paintings that brought grandfather is great renown. How could he not be excited?

The wise old regent Shwetasura caught his sneaky paws in time though and arrested them in his two big fists. "Let's talk for a moment," he said, his voice a low hum that seemed to embrace the boy like a woolen blanket.

"Hmm," the child said hypnotized.

"Did you really ask Nihapriya to cut down the subsidies for the Ha'gya clan of Naadi province?" Nihapriya was the boy's father. The king of the realm!

"Of course!" the boy said proudly, "Why wouldn't I, after uncovering their dirty secrets?!"

"By dirty secrets, you mean the thing about the divine sanction behind their clan."

"Yes, what else could I mean," Vajradandaka asked, his eyelashes casting long shadows as he blinked his eyes innocently.

Shwetasura smiled lightly and rubbed the boy's head. As though very unimportant, he asked casually, "And who helped you uncover this 'dirty secret'?"

The boy thought for a moment, as the information came to him in stages. "Of course it's second queen mother who told me a little about it when I went to play with little sister Kavya-guari some time ago. But the rest, I uncovered myself!"

"How nice of her to enlighten you."

The trace of sarcasm in the old man's tone was very mild, but the little prince wouldn't be worthy of his reputation if he didn't catch it. He immediately realised his mistake. The Ha'gya tribe had been vassals of their Rtadhara kingdom for tens of generations. They are capable traders who supply the country with several necessary goods which the arid lands are unable to produce in sufficient quantities. However, when four of the six major kingdoms in the western drylands entered a trade coalition a decade ago, the trading clan of Ha'gya refused to take part in it despite the fact that their caravans travelled all over the arid lands, not just their home country. It's decision naturally came from the fact that the clan's lord, Rtadhara didn't take part in the coalition either.

On the other hand, it was said that the second queen who had just married over around the time the coalition was drawn was part of the gifts given to the country for allowing their coalition to form peacefully. A royal first princess of the northwest Dhija kingdom, she was indeed not a casual gift. Although Rtadhara didn't take part in the trade treaty, she had since influenced several clans in the country to take part in trade with those four countries in the coalition.

The little prince only remembered now that the one clan she had not been able to influence was….indeed it was the Ha'gyas.

His face burned red, knowing he had been used. He suddenly didn't know where to look or where to put his hands. In his memory, all those sweets his stepmother gave him back then when he was playing with Kavya-gauri tasted very bitter. Feeling restless, he cast a gaze behind him at the large chest, panicked that he would be cast away from the cozy space. The little prince was clever, but not old. Even if she betrays, he wished she loved him. Even if he judges, he wished his grandfather wouldn't cast him away.

His grandfather enclosed him instead in a tight embrace, rubbing his arms to make him warm and comfortable. That space within his grandfather's wide arms was like the safest place he can ever be in.

But it only served to cushion the impact when Shwetasura said , "Little Cactus, I'm going to tell your father to evict you from the royal study…until there comes a time when you have proven your merit through contributions to the vansh. If not that, you will naturally return back when your big brother takes the throne."

The little boy shivered despite how warm it was. All the words that he could've said got stuck in his throat. In the end he couldn't say anything. Making irresponsible remarks in front of the monarch was not a minor crime. A muted moan escaped his throat as, he stare frozenly at the desk in front of him. His grandfather comforted him from behind, but it didn't help.

After what seemed like a long while a sniffling sound was heard, followed by another one and then another.

Old Shwetasura rubbed and kissed his grandchild's head, "Good Little Cactus, you will only become smarter after this. The royal study is your dad's playground. You will find your own, child."

Prince Vajradandaka only shivered more, using his fist to noisily wipe his snot as he cried without a word.

"Good Little Cactus, beautiful Little Cactus, don't cry anymore," the old man rocked him gently, using the boy's angavastra (topcloth) to help wipe his nose and eyes. "Don't you want to learn about the various cultures in the world? Didn't you ask me about it last week?"

The boy froze suddenly. He whipped his head around to see if grandfather was serious. Leaping off the old man's lap, he stood and accused with a ruined face, "Grandfather, you distracted me! You were supposed to introduce the nine cultures to me tonight!"

"Ha ha ha ha!" the old man laughed heartily. "Alright. Go, ask your maid to clean your face and change your angavastra. Quickly freshen up and come back!" He sent away the child quickly. Inwardly though he was thinking, this works too? His dad would've surely picked a fight with me if he knew I made him so sad. Thank god, I distracted him easily.

"Alright!" the child shouted and ran, "I'll be back in a jiffy. Don't you go anywhere grandfather!"

But of course, how would the old regent know? This was just like the time when the little prince spun around quickly from when the captain of the guards hurt him. He was a boy who doesn't like to let others see his moods. He is destined to grow up lonely and misunderstood.