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LVII Rejection After Rejection
Last Updated:
2025-05-01 13:42:11
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The Rule LVIII Tonight, We Mourn
Night draped the kingdom in a hush of solemnity. Only the watchful glint of spears, the shifting shadows of torches, and the disciplined tread of soldiers stood guard against the encroaching silence. In the secluded wing of the citadel, hidden deep beneath the eastern ramparts, the flickering lamplight cast trembling shadows over the carved stone walls of the healing chamber.Here, lay Aakash.The young soldier’s chest rose and fell faintly, his breathing slow, shallow, steady. His wounds — once deep gashes of crimson — were dressed in layers of salve and linen. His face was still pale, touched by sleep too deep to stir. Around him, guards stood in a firm semicircle. Their spears faced outward. Their gazes flicked from door to shadow to each other. At the center of them, seated but never still, was Commander Veer.It was he who had stationed the guards. He who had demanded Aakash’s wounds be treated in this hidden place. It was he who had stood watch since the moment the king had left
Last Updated : 2025-05-01The Rule LIX Farewell Of The Bold
The night had fallen heavy upon the kingdom. A hush lay over the land, broken only by the muffled sound of hooves pounding against the earth. Samarth, the King, rode hard beneath the darkened sky, the wind pressing against his cloak like the breath of fate itself. He had been summoned not to council, nor to war — but to farewell.At the rear wing of the palace, beyond the rosewood courtyard and down the corridor lined with flickering oil lamps, a chamber had been prepared. It was the room of transition, where the departed were honored before being returned to the soil. Within its walls, the scent of myrrh floated with dignity, rising like soft incense toward the rafters. A solemn stillness blanketed the air.Aakash, a humble ship-guard and devoted servant of the crown, lay upon the ceremonial table. His body had been bathed with care — water warmed and scented with lavender and sandalwood. His wounds, harsh and unrelenting in life, had been gently tended as though love could unmake d
Last Updated : 2025-05-02The Rule LX The Call Of A Feast
Pale light filtered in through narrow windows of the council chamber, casting long shadows across the mosaic floor. The large round table, polished by time and tempered by centuries of counsel, held goblets of spiced wine and sealed scrolls — evidence of discussion, persuasion, and subtle war.It had been fifteen days since the burial of Aakash, and though the court still moved with respectful silence, the rhythm of palace life was slowly returning. Mourning had been dignified, as befitting a soldier who died with honor — but time moved forward, indifferent to loss.Lord William stood with his hands folded behind his back, a deep maroon cloak draped across his shoulders, clasped with the sigil — a serpent coiled around a crown. His white hair was oiled and combed neatly, his expression unreadable. Around the table sat the chief officials — Ministers of Trade, War, Culture, and Lineage. These were men seasoned in statecraft, loyal to the realm, and loyal — perhaps more cautiously — to
Last Updated : 2025-05-02The Rule LXI “Let Them Wonder.”
The sun had barely risen above the sandstone ridges of Tziyonia when the first trumpet call rang through the eastern gates. A long, golden note, echoing down into the city’s heart, stirred the air like prophecy. With it came heralds in royal blue and silver, their steeds dusted with travel, banners gleaming under morning light.By mid-morning, the kingdom had shifted. Market women paused their counting; armorers stood straight at their anvils. The very stones of the streets seemed to hum with the weight of announcement. At every intersection and courtly corridor, voices rang loud and jubilant:“By royal decree, a feast in the king’s honor!”“All noble houses are summoned to prepare their fairest daughters!”“Let the daughters of Tziyonia and distant lands present themselves in splendor — for the eye of the king shall look among them.”The city’s pulse quickened. Seamstresses were summoned before breakfast had settled. Silk merchants saw their stalls stormed. Jewels were polished until
Last Updated : 2025-05-02The Rule LXII And Then, She Arrived
The palace was a theatre of gold that evening. Every arch glistened with lamps set into flowered niches, every corridor ran with the fragrance of sandalwood and saffron. The royal courtyard had been transformed into a haven of grandeur — drapes of silk, lanterns that hovered like floating stars, petals scattered across the floor in intricate patterns. Music thrummed faintly from a corner pavilion, played by veiled musicians whose fingers plucked notes as if they were weaving spells.It was the night of the feast.Guests had begun arriving early. Royals from allied kingdoms, merchants wrapped in the scent of foreign lands, nobles clad in arrogance and ambition. Women — young, bright, desperate — glided through the crowd like restless butterflies, their eyes scanning the space, lips curved in prepared smiles.Tonight, every girl wore hope. For he would be here.King Samarth.Whispers surged like tidewater.“They say he walks like a lion but speaks like a sage.” “I heard the moon dims
Last Updated : 2025-05-03The Rule LXIII The True Feast
Night draped itself over the palace like a velvet shawl, the corridors hushed in reverence for the hour. In Inayat’s chamber, silence reigned — gentle and untouched — as if the stars themselves held their breath. The breeze of the waning year slipped through the open lattice, stirring the gossamer curtains and dancing with the perfume of sandalwood and rose that lingered faintly in the air.Inayat sat before her mirror, quietly unclasping her bangles. Each one gave a soft chime as it slid down her wrist, stacking beside the others on a silk cloth. Her golden blouse clung to her frame, the dark green of her saree pooling softly around her like a garden at twilight. There was no rush in her hands, no nervous tremble — just the quiet contentment of a long evening finally put to rest.The door creaked open behind her.She didn’t turn immediately. She knew the sound of that step — the measured, sure rhythm that carried the weight of a king and the heart of a man. Samarth entered, closin
Last Updated : 2025-05-03The Rule LXIV All That I Am
He did not speak, not right away. His gaze held hers in the quiet flicker of the chamber’s low lantern light, a stare so heavy it seemed to press against her skin. He lifted her in his arms with a reverence that belied the hunger in his eyes, carrying her across the marble floor and laying her down gently upon the silk-draped bed.Inayat’s breath was shallow as he hovered above her, the weight of the moment pulling time taut. She looked up at him, mischief curling at the corner of her mouth.“So,” she murmured, “is the punishment over now? You kept me standing when I begged to fall.”The corner of his mouth curved, not into a smile, but something far more dangerous — half-amused, half-devouring.“For that question,” he said softly, “I believe another sentence must be passed.”She blinked, curious, uncertain.“Turn,” he commanded. “Lay on your front. Like the obedient one you’ve always been.”The smile faded from her lips, but not from her eyes. She obeyed without a word, her silence l
Last Updated : 2025-05-03The Rule LXV Debt Of The Homeland
Night had woven its silken veil across the kingdom, and within the warm amber light of the palace’s grand dining hall, King Samarth sat at the head of a long, embellished table. Gold-rimmed goblets gleamed under the chandeliers’ soft flicker, and silver plates reflected the glow of brass oil lamps. Servants moved noiselessly, placing the last courses before the royals and ministers gathered.Tonight, Inayat was absent. Again. So was Aabroo, Samarth’s young sister, who had sweetly requested to dine with Inayat instead. The king, as usual, had smiled and nodded, indulgent of her affection.Now the chairs were filled with the prominent officials of the court, their murmurs gentle under the clinking of cutlery. Among them sat Lord William, the man who had orchestrated the grand feast just days ago — a spectacle of splendour that had drawn noble houses, princesses from neighbouring lands, and esteemed merchants under one roof.Samarth leaned slightly forward in his seat, his voice calm,
Last Updated : 2025-05-04
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The Rule LXXIV Trembling When The Lion Has Awakened
The air in the palace was no longer heavy.Whispers of his awakening rippled through marble corridors like sacred hymns carried by the breeze. A hush of disbelief lingered in the corners, but joy had begun its return. Light flooded chambers that had, for days, sunk in gloom. In every street, among every mouth that moved, a single name throbbed like a pulse: Samarth.In the royal chamber, the king sat upright, propped by cushions embroidered in gold, eyes still partially bandaged, the cloth stained faintly with the green of crushed neem and turmeric — an ancient concoction brewed with sandalwood and healing camphor to soothe his sight.Gathered before him were three men — Raj, stalwart and loyal; Veer, the commander whose gaze missed nothing; and the High Priest, clad in robes that whispered of wisdom.But Aabroo? Aabroo was silent. Kneeling by her brother's side, her arms wrapped delicately around his waist, her face buried in the folds of his loose linen shirt, she breathed him in. H
The Rule LXXIII A Serpentess Indeed
The chamber was drowned in silence, broken only by the soft flicker of the candles placed in rows upon rows across the stone-carved alcoves. Their flames quivered in rhythm with the wind sighing through the terrace. Samarth lay still, motionless, a shadow of the man he once was. Seven days had passed since the prophet’s word was spoken, and still, no flicker of consciousness stirred behind the king's closed eyelids. He was dressed in simple garments now, as was required during the long healing process. No silks, no embroidered robes. Just a loose, pale cloth wound about him, leaving his chest partially exposed. His eyes were covered in a dark herb-dyed cloth — coarse yet soft — held in place by a physician's careful knot. The poison, which had accidentally touched his left eye during the night of his collapse, had caused inflammation. Thus, they had shrouded his vision to treat it with delicate balm.Priests moved about the room like shadows themselves. The physicians, bleary-eyed b
The Rule LXXII A Thunder Against Pride
In the eastern reaches of Tziyonia, where the hills rose like silent watchmen and the olive groves glistened in the warm breath of spring, lay the estate of Lord William. Unlike the palace cloaked in mourning, his estate breathed ease. The scent of roasted meats, ripened dates, and golden wine floated from the kitchens like indulgent incense. Birds sang in the arbors. Children ran across the stone terraces. And in the study chamber, cloaked in fragrant cedarwood and lit by soft oil lamps, William reclined in his carved chair, draped in silks, a cup of honeyed wine poised between his fingers.He was not fasting.He was not praying.The storm that shook the palace had not yet arrived to trouble the skies over his home.He sipped the wine slowly. A platter of seasoned meats and fruit lay untouched before him. Scrolls and maps unfurled across the oakwood desk beside him. A candle flickered lazily, casting his sharp profile in gold and shadow. His robes hung loose, a comfort only the rich
The Rule LXXI You Shall Live
Three days had passed since the sun last rose over a kingdom at ease. Since the moment the king's breath had grown shallow, and the poison sank deep into his bones, the kingdom stood suspended — like a harp-string drawn taut, waiting for either song or severance.In those three days, the palace became a temple. Courtyards where laughter once echoed now bore solemn prayers. The bustling halls were hushed, lined with bowed heads and fasting mouths. Messengers arrived like doves with letters folded in velvet and bearing seals from every corner of the known world — kings, sultans, emperors, and chieftains — each sending their goodwill, their gifts, their golden offerings for the beloved king who once unified their quarrels with a word and a gesture.But Samarth — King of the Flame-Borne Throne — remained still.Upon his great bed, where woven silks once told tales of victory, now lay dull linens of rough-hewn weave. No ornament adorned him; no gem kissed his brow. His garments were plain,
The Rule LXX Will The Lionheart Rise Again?
The morning sun had risen, casting golden light across the earth, but within the palace, a hush lingered. The air hung heavy, taut with fear and fasting. Though the world outside stirred with life, the walls of the royal estate held their breath.For three days, the kingdom was called for fasting, clinging to prayer like a lifeline, pleading for the life of the king. No bread had been broken, no wine poured. Even children knew to whisper their play. It was not a command born of authority, but one born of love — each soul offered silence and hunger for Samarth, the Lionheart. And now, as the final thread of sunlight stretched across the sky and kissed the palace roofs, a soft stir moved through the halls. From behind the tall doors of the king’s chamber emerged the chief physician — aged and stooped, yet upright in spirit, his presence commanding reverence.His beard flowed like threads of moonlight; his hair was tied back neatly, white as river foam. His fingers were stained with med
The Rule LXIX Fast Proclaimed
The night had settled heavily over the palace, its stillness pierced only by the flickering torches and the whispers of dread carried by the wind. Inside, silence did not bring calm — it brought fear. The court still buzzed with unanswered questions and shadowed glances, and beyond the walls of the king's private chamber, a storm of hearts waited in despair.From the far end of the corridor came the sound of hurried steps. Aabroo — little, tender, and shaken — burst through the hallway, her sobs echoing against the marble. Her hair fell loose from its braid, her cheeks flushed and wet with tears."Move aside!" she cried out, pushing through the startled guards and ministers. "Let me through! I want to see my brother! Please! I want to see him!"Gasps fell from the lips of many present, and the crowd parted like the tide before her broken wail. But before she could press past the heavy doors of Samarth’s chamber, Raj appeared. His expression bore both sorrow and patience, and he knelt
The Rule LXVIII Tainted Loyalty
The clank of iron rang loud in the dark, damp air as the cell door was thrust open. Inayat stumbled forward, her bare feet scraping against the cold stone floor as the guards pushed her in with careless hands. She tried to keep her balance, but the suddenness of the fall and the heaviness in her heart made her knees buckle. She reached out to the bars, trying to steady herself, and as she did, the door slammed shut with a shuddering finality.The clang echoed like a thunderclap in her soul.She rose slowly, fingers gripping the bars that now held her captive. Her wide, tearful eyes searched for the one man standing beyond them.“William…” she whispered, breathless, a broken plea in her voice.He stood before her, tall, composed, devoid of all softness. His expression was carved in marble — cold and unmoved.“Please,” she begged, her voice quivering, “I didn’t do anything. I swear upon all I hold dear — I did not poison the king. Why would I? Why would I ever harm the one who gave me a
The Rule LXVII "The King has been poisoned."
The world around her shimmered with an unfamiliar hue — neither memory nor waking reality. Inayat stood in a place she had never known, yet something in her soul felt tethered to it, as though she had been summoned not by accident but by love. The sky above her stretched vast and unbroken, blue like the lapis of old scriptures, brushed lightly with golden sun. The ground beneath her was velvet with grass, speckled in wildflowers that danced gently in the breeze. It was not the palace garden. It was not anywhere she could name. But it was beautiful.And there, under the shimmer of light and shade, was a child. He ran barefoot, chasing butterflies. His laugh was high, innocent, the very sound of joy unfettered. His golden curls bounced on his head as he stumbled across the grass, cheeks flushed, lips parting in a delighted gasp every time he came close to catching one of the winged creatures.Inayat watched, her lips curling into a smile. Her hands clasped softly before her, but her
The Rule LXVI A Gift
The evening had settled softly upon the palace, its golden limbs retreating beyond the spires as dusk began to wash the corridors in hues of lavender and smoke. Lamps had been lit, their mellow flames trembling in the breeze that slipped through carved jharokhas, and the faint scent of rose and jasmine perfumed the air, winding through every marble column like a forgotten lullaby.In the music chamber, a hush of gentleness reigned. Here, time moved slower.Inayat sat upon the velvet cushion, her fingers lightly resting upon the strings of the harp, a crescent-shaped thing of carved ivory and silver-leaf, as ethereal in tone as it was in form. Beside her sat Aabroo, cross-legged and bright-eyed, her small fingers mimicking the placement Inayat had shown her moments ago.“You mustn’t force it,” Inayat said softly, her voice a feather in the quiet. “Let your fingers fall like petals, not like soldiers. The harp responds to grace, not command.”Aabroo giggled. “So, I must be a flower?”In
