Permission

Asking for permission 

The throne room of Mandore Palace was a sight to behold. Golden lamps hung from carved wooden beams, their warm light reflecting off marble floors and ornate pillars. The walls were adorned with colorful tapestries showing the glorious history of the Sooryavanshi dynasty. The faint scent of sandalwood filled the air, adding to the regal atmosphere. Courtiers stood along the edges of the hall, their whispers hushed as Prince Harsha entered.

Harsha, dressed in ceremonial armor that gleamed with gold and silver accents, walked steadily toward the towering throne where Emperor Harishchandra sat. His father, draped in royal robes, watched him with a calm yet piercing gaze. Harsha stopped at the base of the dais and bowed deeply, his voice clear and steady as he spoke.

"Father, I have come to ask your permission to leave Mandore palace . My training is complete, and I am ready to serve our people and the empire. With your blessing, I wish to take my first steps into the world beyond these palace walls."

The emperor leaned forward slightly, his expression a mix of pride and concern. His deep voice resonated in the vast hall. "Harsha, my son, you have shown great promise. Your wisdom and strength have earned you respect among the nobles and warriors of our court. But the path you wish to take is not an easy one. It will test your courage, your judgment, and your loyalty. Are you certain you are ready to bear this burden?"

Harsha stood tall, meeting his father's gaze with unwavering determination. "Yes, Father," he said firmly. "I carry the lessons you and my teachers have imparted to me. I am ready to honor our family and protect our people."

The emperor remained silent for a moment, his sharp eyes studying his son. Then, he rose from the throne, his movements deliberate and commanding. The courtiers immediately quieted, their eyes fixed on the ruler of Mandore. Harishchandra gestured to an attendant, who stepped forward holding a scroll sealed with the royal insignia.

"This," the emperor said, holding the scroll aloft, "is a royal edict. It bears my decree that wherever you go, you will be treated as my representative. My allies and subjects will recognize your authority and offer you their support. Take it, Harsha, and carry it with the weight it deserves."

Harsha stepped forward and accepted the scroll with both hands, bowing deeply once more. "Thank you, Father. I promise to use this trust wisely and to make you proud."

Harishchandra then turned to the palace butler, Sanjay, a man of advanced age but steady in his duties. "Sanjay," the emperor commanded, "see to it that Harsha has everything he needs. Provide him with the finest horses, provisions, and an escort worthy of his rank. Ensure that his journey reflects the honor of this palace and our dynasty."

The butler bowed deeply, his voice calm and assured. "It shall be done, Maharaj. The prince's needs will be met without fail."

After issuing the command, the emperor stepped down from the dais. He approached his son, placing a firm hand on Harsha's shoulder. "Remember, my son," he said, his tone both fatherly and authoritative, "a ruler's strength is not just in his sword or his strategies. True strength lies in wisdom, compassion, and the ability to inspire others. Lead with these qualities, and you will be a leader your people will follow with pride."

Harsha nodded, his heart swelling with gratitude and resolve. "I will carry your words with me, Father. I will not let you down."

The hall was silent as Harsha turned to leave, the scroll in his hand and a determined expression on his face. Then, as he crossed the threshold, the courtiers erupted in cheers and blessings, their voices echoing in the grand chamber.

The young prince walked away from the throne room, his mind focused and his heart steadfast. His journey had begun, not just to prove his worth but to fulfill the legacy of his ancestors and secure the future of the empire.

Seeking Blessings from the Queens

After leaving the throne room, Harsha made his way through the royal gardens, heading toward the queens' palace. The gentle rustle of the wind and the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers filled the air, calming his thoughts. He knew the importance of this moment—before embarking on his journey, he had to seek the blessings of the women who had shaped his life.

As he walked, memories from his past life surfaced in his mind. In that life, his focus had always been on academics and his relentless pursuit of knowledge. While he had provided for his family and supported his sister through her struggles, he had never truly allowed himself to connect with them. His research and ambitions had consumed him, often shutting out those who cared for him. But this life was different. In this life, he had experienced the warmth and unconditional love of his mothers. Queen Sanyogita had raised him with devotion, instilling in him the importance of tradition and family. Ratanavati had cared for him as her own, filling his world with kindness and support. Their love had shown him the value of emotional connections—a bond he had missed in his previous existence.

Meeting Queen Sanyogita

The first chamber belonged to Queen Sanyogita, his mother, the first queen of Mandore. Her room was serene, lit by the soft glow of oil lamps and adorned with intricate tapestries. She sat on a low divan, embroidering a silk shawl, but when she saw Harsha enter, her face brightened with a loving smile.

"Harsha, my son," she said, setting her work aside and rising to greet him. "You've come to see your mother before leaving. I knew you wouldn't forget."

Harsha stepped forward and knelt before her, bowing his head low. "How could I ever leave without your blessings, Mother? You have been my guide and strength. Please, bless me so I may honor our family's name."

Sanyogita cupped her son's face gently, her eyes filled with pride and tenderness. "You have grown into a fine young man, Harsha. I know your father has high expectations of you, and so do I. You carry not just our family's legacy but the hopes of all our people."

She reached for a silver tray placed nearby, which held a small bowl of red roli powder. Taking a pinch, she applied a tika on Harsha's forehead, murmuring a blessing.

"May you have the courage of our ancestors, the wisdom to lead with justice, and the strength to overcome all challenges. My prayers will always be with you."

Harsha touched her feet respectfully, his voice soft with emotion. "Thank you, Mother. Your love has taught me more than any lesson or teacher could. I will carry your blessings with me always."

As Sanyogita embraced him, Harsha felt a wave of warmth and belonging. In his last life, he had never allowed himself to feel this close to anyone. But now, he understood the true value of family.

Visiting Queen Ratanavati

From Sanyogita's chamber, Harsha walked to the second queen's quarters. Queen Ratanavati's room was alive with cheerful sounds as his two younger brothers, Rajendra and Aryanendra, sparred with wooden swords by the open balcony.

Ratanavati, dressed in a vibrant silk sari, sat on a swing, gently rocking it back and forth. She rose gracefully as Harsha entered, her face lighting up at the sight of him.

"Harsha," she said warmly, "come here, my child. What brings you to my chamber?"

Harsha approached and bowed respectfully. "I have come to seek your blessings, Mother Ratanavati, before I leave on my journey. Your guidance and support have always been a part of my life, and I cannot leave without it."

Her smile softened, and she placed her hands lightly on his shoulders. "Harsha, you have always been thoughtful and kind. You've been an inspiration not just to your brothers but to all who know you. Of course, you have my blessings."

She motioned for Rajendra and Aryanendra to join them. "Your elder brother is leaving on an important mission. Come, give him your wishes too."

Rajendra stepped forward confidently. "Bhaiya, I will train hard and make you proud while you're away. When you return, I'll show you everything I've learned!"

Harsha smiled, ruffling Rajendra's hair. "I know you will, Rajendra. I'm counting on you to grow strong."

Aryanendra, the youngest, ran up and hugged Harsha tightly. "Bhaiya, please don't take too long. I'll miss you!"

Harsha knelt and looked into Aryanendra's eager eyes. "I'll miss you too, Aryan. But while I'm gone, promise me you'll take care of Mother Ratanavati and listen to your teachers."

Aryanendra nodded earnestly. "I promise, Bhaiya!"

Ratanavati placed her hand over Harsha's head and gave her blessing. "Harsha, may the gods protect you on your journey. Lead with honor and return to us safely. Your brothers and I will be waiting for the day we see you again."

Harsha bowed low, touching her feet as he felt the weight of her love and trust. As he rose, he glanced at his brothers, who looked at him with admiration and affection.

In that moment, Harsha realized how deeply these bonds had shaped him. His mothers' unwavering care, his brothers' innocent devotion—this was the family he had never allowed himself to cherish in his last life. Now, he understood the true meaning of love, not just as an abstract feeling but as something that gave him purpose.

As Harsha left the queens' palace, he glanced back one last time, committing the image of his family to memory. Their blessings and love were now a part of him, a strength he would carry as he stepped into the world to fulfill his destiny.

End of Chapter

to be continued....