The Yamsabha meeting had spiraled out of control. Heated arguments turned to threats, and the tension in the chamber reached its peak when Dhanudanda rose, eyes blazing with fury. He lunged forward, his hand reaching for his blade, but before he could strike, Sharvas intervened. His grip was firm, his presence commanding, as he forced Dhanudanda back into his seat.
"Enough," Sharvas said, his voice like steel. "This meeting is over. We adjourn with no conclusion."
Arya did not wait for further deliberations. He turned and left, his steps measured, his mind sharper than ever. He had not won the war of words, but he had planted the seeds of division. As he exited the chamber, Savignya and Parashar followed, their expressions grim but contemplative.
While walking past the guards stationed outside, Arya's gaze landed on their weapons. Black handles with intricate silver decorations. Precisely cut steel blades. His breath slowed as realization struck him. He had heard this description before—Raghav had spoken of these very swords when detailing the mystery men transporting the smuggled goods.
A knowing smile played on Arya's lips. The puzzle was falling into place.
Raktapasu paced restlessly in his chambers. His business, his power—it all relied on a steady supply of slaves. Without them, how would he continue providing trained soldiers to the warlords? Not everyone sought the life of a warrior. His men were bred from hardship, molded into disciplined fighters through years of rigorous training. Now, that foundation was crumbling.
As the night fell, frustration drove him back to the Yamsabha chambers. He stormed inside, his voice sharp with anger.
"I warned you about him! I told you this boy would cause problems for us! And now look where we stand. How do you plan to deal with him?"
Sharvas sat in his chair, unshaken. He regarded Raktapasu with a quiet intensity before speaking. "Unlike Dhanudanda, you have patience, Raktapasu. Do you really think I would let him rest?"
Raktapasu was still angry. "I don't doubt you, but we need to act. I have already lost good men because of these disruptions."
Sharvas nodded slowly. "I agree. Yatnish and Marketu's deaths have cost us more than anticipated. And we still don't know who is killing our men in the forests. Spies I sent have not returned. This is bigger than we thought. I may have to seek assistance from above. But we cannot reveal everything—not yet."
A pause. Then, a calculated smile crossed Sharvas's face. "However, all is not lost. We still have one man—someone who has worked silently for Yatnish all these years. It's time we bring him out."
Back in Arya's prison, he walked through the dimly lit corridors toward a special cell—one reserved for the most dangerous criminals. The guards hesitated before unlocking the door, but Arya gave them a firm nod. Inside, sitting on the cold stone floor with his hands resting on his knees, was Kalanemi.
The older man looked up. There was no fear, no remorse—just the steady gaze of a man who had already accepted his fate.
Arya stepped forward. His voice was calm, yet laced with something colder. "Why did you do it? What did you hope to gain?"
Kalanemi exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "I served Upendra for years. I watched him rule this place with an iron fist. He had my loyalty because he understood power. But then came Yatnish. Smart, ambitious, and ruthless in a way Upendra never was. He didn't need force—he had wealth, connections. He made me an offer I couldn't refuse."
Arya's eyes narrowed. "And what was that?"
Kalanemi smirked faintly. "If you hadn't killed Upendra that day, I would have in a few days. That was the deal. Yatnish was preparing to take over, and I was to help him from the inside. But you... you complicated things. You weren't ruthless like Upendra, nor predictable like Yatnish. I couldn't control you."
He let out a dry chuckle. "So I had to change my plan. You were desperate to escape, and I gave you that chance. Opened your cell, knowing you'd go straight for Yatnish. I thought the guards and Ashvapati would finish you off. Your death would have been convenient for everyone. The guards would capture more prisoners, the pit would thrive, and I would have fulfilled my promise."
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady. "But I was wrong. You survived. And now, here we are."
Arya studied him for a long moment. The betrayal, the deception—it should have angered him. But what unsettled him more was Kalanemi's composure.
"So, what now?" Kalanemi asked, his tone almost amused. "Do I die here? Do I rot in this cell? I've accepted either fate. But let me give you one last piece of advice, Arya—" he leaned in, lowering his voice.
"The longer you wait, the more problems will come your way. You think Yatnish and Marketu were the only ones? You think the smuggling was just business? You haven't even uncovered the real players yet."