The maid Chandra when she lifted and tasted the drink. At first, there was a perplexing stillness, an impassive calm settling over her features. Her lips were pressed into a firm, determined line, as if she were engaged in a delicate analysis of every intricate nuance of flavor from the beverage before her. Her posture was rigid and composed, evoking an air of formality that felt almost regal. But then, the tension began to dissipate. Her fingers, which had initially been tense and poised like a conductor's baton, gradually relaxed. Her shoulders eased down from their lofty perch, and the deep crease between her brows, which had lent her an expression of concentration, began to smooth out.
As she lifted her gaze to meet mine, I was struck by the transformation that unfolded in her expression. It was not one of curiosity or disdain, as I might have expected, but a flicker of genuine surprise. I could see the slight flare of her nostrils as the rich, earthy aroma of cardamom and tulsi enveloped her senses. With almost reverent anticipation, she took a longer sip of the concoction.
This time, her eyes widened just a touch—enough for me to know that she was not merely pretending to be impressed. I noticed the way her throat moved as she swallowed, a visible testament to her appreciation, punctuated by a thoughtful pause.
For the very first time, she exhaled softly through her nose, an unspoken affirmation of her approval. I watched as she subtly shifted her weight from one leg to the other, her once impenetrable royal demeanor now softened. Her fingers began to drum lightly against the brass, her spine no longer as rigid as the ancient fort walls; the tension that had once defined her posture seemed to dissolve.
'Hit the jackpot' thought Veer as he was antiicipating her expressions.
Then, with an air of newfound excitement, she spoke.
"This... is not peasant water," she declared, her voice rich with awe. "It feels like… monsoon rain remembered in summer."
Turning toward her guards and attendants, her voice took on a commanding tone. "Inform the princesses of this discovery. And be sure to relay this message to the royal kitchen: they've met their match." With a decisive flick of her wrist, she signaled her intention to take a generous supply of this extraordinary brew back to the palace, eager to present it to the princess. I caught the twinkle of ambition in her eye—this was her target, and she intended to seize it with both hands.
"Oh, but of course, my lady! You must take this," I replied earnestly, my heart swelling with pride at her words, "and please convey my warmest wishes to the princess. I am forever in her debt." The maid accompanying her beamed with delight, vowing, "Rest assured, I shall share the story of this miraculous drink with the princess." Her joyful smile mirrored my own, and for a moment, all seemed right in the world.
As the regal figures departed, laden with the precious pot of my creation, I could feel a ripple of excitement spread through my shop. Other travelers and curious folk began to flock to my establishment, lured by tales of this miraculous elixir. This influx of interest sparked an idea within me—a golden opportunity to expand my business beyond the borders of this part of the kingdom. If I could successfully increase my revenue, perhaps I could elevate my status to become a worthy potential suitor for the princess herself.
Yet, with ambition came the sobering realization that those who shine the brightest often attract the fiercest shadows. In my quest for growth and influence, I understood the necessity of protection. I needed allies—loyal individuals who would be bound to me by the threads of convenience and trust, people who had little choice but to lean on my promises, especially when the storms of misfortune rolled in.
Thus, I resolved to seek out my friend Rahul, whose knowledge of the kingdom was unparalleled. So i left the shop with the servants who were working whole heartedly as they now got a way to earn their livelihood. After walking for about 10 min I approached his shop, where he and his father were deeply engaged in a debate over the best colors for their vibrant silks, seeking to make them appealing not just to everyday folks but also to the royal family. Stepping into their bustling space, I greeted them with a respectful "Pranam, Shriman," addressing his father, and nodded towards Rahul.
"Ah, Pranam!" they both replied, Rahul turning to me with a smile that faded as I revealed my intent. "How is business treating you?" his father inquired, still busy at work.
"Business is thriving on my end, but I have a pressing matter at hand. I find myself in need of unconventional protection," I admitted.
"Protection?" Rahul echoed, intrigued. "What kind of protection do you seek?"
"Given my aspirations, I need to ensure the safe transport of my goods across the kingdom. That's why I came to you. You have your ear to the ground; you know this kingdom inside out. I need the names and locations of the most dangerous bandits lurking out there," I explained, my earnestness palpable.
Rahul looked at me, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "To protect your goods with the very people who might steal them? Is that what you're suggesting?"
"Yes, precisely! Just tell me where these brigands make their lairs or where they are known to strike," I urged.
Rahul was surprised at first but when he recall the incident of the greedy shaahukaar and the fabrication of the king's favour he now know that he is not dealing with a normal fella.
He stared at me for a moment, contemplating my unusual request. With a deep sigh, he reluctantly revealed, "Head northeast, past the royal stables. Follow the trail that is worn not by the footsteps of merchants, but by the whispers of fear. When the trees close in and the air carries an uncanny stillness, you will know you're in their territory. That's where they operate, where they bleed kings and rob pride."
His words etched a vivid picture in my mind, a foreboding testament to the risks I was willing to take in the pursuit of my dreams.