The sun's golden rays stretched across the rugged terrain as Raja Vishvavarma's convoy pressed onward. The banners of Mandsaur fluttered in the crisp breeze, their royal blue and gold glinting like jewels against the backdrop of arid plains and jagged hills. Seven noble lords from Mandsaur rode alongside him, their expressions a mix of curiosity and pride. Soldiers marched in disciplined lines, their spears glinting in the sunlight, while the creak of wooden carts laden with provisions added rhythm to the procession.
Each evening, the convoy halted to rest, setting up camps or seeking refuge in bustling inns along trade routes. On the tenth day, as the first light of dawn broke, Vishvavarma stood at the edge of a rocky outcrop. In the distance, the mighty Mandore Fort loomed, perched atop its hill like a guardian of ancient secrets. Its stone walls shimmered in hues of gold and crimson under the morning sun, a sight that stole the breath of every man in the convoy.
"Behold Mandore," Vishvavarma declared, his voice resonant with admiration. "A testament to the glory of the Suryavanshi Empire."
As they descended toward the town at the fort's base, the scene shifted from awe to wonder. The town was alive with vibrant activity: merchants calling out their wares, the aroma of spices mingling with the metallic tang of forged tools, and the chatter of townsfolk blending into a lively symphony. Among the countless stalls, one caught Vishvavarma's eye—a small shop displaying bundles of what appeared to be sheets for writing.
"What are these?" he asked, dismounting his horse and approaching the merchant.
"Paper, my lord," the merchant replied, his voice tinged with pride. "Crafted with care, blessed to trade with the royal family's permission. Easier to use than palm leaves or cloth."
Vishvavarma examined a sheet, marveling at its smooth texture and light weight. "The possibilities..." he murmured, his mind already racing with ideas.
His nobles and soldiers, equally fascinated, began exploring the market, their expressions mirroring his wonder. For a moment, the group forgot their noble demeanor, swept up in the vibrant energy of Mandore's thriving trade.
By noon, the convoy reached the gates of Mandore Fort. There, Prince Harsha awaited, flanked by the royal butler Sanjay and the revered rajpurohit, Guru Vatsal. Harsha, tall and poised, greeted Vishvavarma with a warm smile. "Raja Vishvavarma, you are the last to arrive. Welcome."
As the gates opened, Vishvavarma could see nobles and envoys gathered in the courtyards, their banners marking their origins. Harsha leaned closer and whispered, "All the nobles of Rajputana and from vassals are here, along with an envoy from Magadh and merchants of great renown. My father awaits you in the royal palace."
The group moved through the fort, past bustling courtyards and training fields where two kings, Bhoja of Kannauj and Vikramaditya of Gwalior, demonstrated their mastery of sword and spear. The clashing of weapons rang out like music, drawing the admiration of onlookers.
Finally, they reached the royal hall, where Emperor Harishchandra stood, his regal presence commanding the room. The nobles knelt in unison, their voices ringing out: "Long live the Emperor!"
Harishchandra smiled and beckoned Vishvavarma forward. "My friend, it has been too long."
Vishvavarma rose and approached, his voice steady. "Your Highness, your invitation is an honor. I would not have missed this for the world."
The emperor embraced him warmly. "Rest now, my friend. Tomorrow, you shall meet your peers, and the day after, the royal court will convene."
In Chambers
Sanjay led Vishvavarma to his chambers, a suite of opulence and refinement. The air was perfumed with the scent of jasmine, and the walls were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting the Suryavanshi lineage. A group of maids and attendants awaited him, their hands carrying trays laden with soap and bottles of exotic perfumes.
One of the maids stepped forward, her voice gentle but clear. "My lord, we shall prepare you for the evening. This soap and perfume are crafted using rare herbs and oils brought from distant lands."
Vishvavarma allowed himself to be guided, marveling at the softness of the soap and the richness of the perfume. Afterward, a meal was presented—a feast of delicacies paired with a new alcoholic beverage, its taste unlike anything he had ever experienced. The combination of flavors danced on his tongue, leaving him astounded by the sophistication of the trade flourishing within the empire.
"The Suryavanshi royal family truly knows the art of luxury," when these time trade going to start ,he thought as he reclined, awaiting the opening of the royal court.
The Royal Court (Harsha's POV)
The great hall of Mandore Fort was a sight to behold, a masterpiece of architectural grandeur. Emperor Harishchandra sat on the throne, an imposing figure radiating authority and wisdom. Below him, on a slightly lower dais, sat Prince Harsha, flanked by his mentor Guru Vatsal. The air buzzed with anticipation as the hall filled with nobles, society elites, and representatives from various provinces.
Among the attendees were the empire's most prominent figures: King Shurasena Suryavanshi of Mathura, Raja Vikramaditya Scindia of Gwalior, Raja Bhoja Varman of Kannauj, Raja Vishvavarma of Mandsaur, and King Gurhsena of Maitraka. Smaller nobles and representatives of the people stood in respectful silence, their eyes fixed on the emperor.
Emperor Harishchandra rose, his voice commanding yet warm. "Thank you all for gathering here today. Your presence is a testament to the unity of our empire."
The hall fell silent as the emperor continued, his gaze sweeping across the assembly. "Today, I announce a matter of great significance. Witnessing the excellence and capability of my son, Prince Harsha, I hereby declare him the crown prince of the Suryavanshi Empire."
The room erupted in cheers. Cries of "Long live Crown Prince Harsha! Long live the Suryavanshi Empire! Long live Emperor Harishchandra!" echoed through the hall, filling it with a wave of collective joy.
Guru Vatsal stepped forward, carrying a crown studded with precious jewels. He placed it on Harsha's head with reverence, performing traditional rituals and a ceremonial pooja to sanctify the occasion. Harsha bowed low before his father, the weight of responsibility and honor settling on his shoulders.
The Tournament Announcement
The emperor raised his hand, and the hall quieted once more. "To celebrate this momentous occasion, I announce a tournament in honor of Crown Prince Harsha. The festivities will begin with a royal hunt the day after tomorrow. Nobles may form teams of equal numbers, whether by province or across territories. The winner shall be awarded four Arabian horses, prized for their lineage and unparalleled quality." One of the most expensive horse breeds available, especially for high-quality specimens with excellent bloodlines, Which is brought here by this fine merchant group from Arab. Suryavanshi family always traded with them.
Excitement rippled through the crowd as he continued. "Each following day will feature competitions: wrestling with a prize of 1,000 gold coins, archery with another 1,000 gold coins, a chariot race awarding 5,000 gold coins, and a horse race with 500 gold coins. These contests are open only to everyone, except chariot race and hunt. Each event is a testament to skill, courage, and camaraderie."
He smiled warmly. "Now, let us feast in celebration of our unity and the future of our empire!"
The announcement was met with thunderous applause as the nobles prepared to indulge in a feast that promised to rival the grandeur of the empire itself.
End of Chapter .
to be continued ...