The palace grounds were alive with whispers that evening. No one neither the ministers nor the common people had ever expected what had happened earlier in the royal court. Until yesterday, King Brihadratha had been nothing more than a puppet in their eyes, a doll to be moved at the will of the council. But today… today the doll had torn its strings.
The ministers gathered in secret clusters, their voices hushed but sharp.
"Did you see how he humiliated the elder minister? The cruelty in his eyes?" one murmured. "Cruel? Hah. About time someone taught that old vulture a lesson," another replied. Still others only shook their heads, stunned that the king they thought weak had shown such ruthless fire.
Meanwhile, the common people in the bazaars(market) had their own story. Word had spread quickly that the king had struck down the elder minister the same man who had bled them dry with unjust taxes. Where the ministers whispered in fear, the people cheered in delight. For the first time in years, they felt the winds of change.
Yet one question burned on every tongue What will the king announce tomorrow? Excitement buzzed in the streets. Some hoped for relief, others feared disaster. But no one would dare to ignore the gathering.
Far away, in a grand mansion, the Prime Minister sat in his chamber, drenched in unease. His hand trembled as he poured wine into a cup, spilling it on the carpet. "How did the puppet cut his strings? How?" he muttered to himself. His carefully built image the loyal mentor, the fatherly guide was at risk. What if Brihadratha had discovered the truth? What if the king knew it was he who had ordered the attack that nearly killed him?
His face, always calm, now looked pale and broken. "If the mask falls," he whispered, "I'm finished."
Back in the palace, a very different scene unfolded. Satya Brihadratha reborn sat on a velvet-draped bed, his chamber glowing with lamplight. Across from him knelt two venerable Buddhist masters, their robes flowing, their eyes steady and calm.
The room felt heavy, as though the fate of an empire was perched on the king's next words.