Journey

A Night by the Campfire

The flames of the campfire crackled, their golden glow warding off the cool night near Merta village. The hunting party had paused for the evening, a modest camp set up after a fruitful day. Crown Prince Harsha sat with Veerendra and Samundra, the three men savoring freshly roasted game while their horses grazed nearby. The scents of spice and smoke mingled with the crisp night air.

Harsha tore a piece of meat from his skewer and glanced at Veerendra, a sly grin creeping across his face. "Veerendra, you've become quite the accomplished swordsman in these past two years. But tell me, was it the drills that honed your focus—or Mahadevi's watchful eyes during training?"

Veerendra froze, nearly dropping his skewer. "Your Highness!" he protested, his voice flustered. "It was the drills, of course! Mahadevi has nothing to do with it."

Samundra burst into laughter, clapping Veerendra on the shoulder. "Don't be modest, my friend. Everyone noticed how she'd correct your stance more often than the others. Even the teachers whispered about it."

"That was her duty as our watcher at that time ," Veerendra shot back, his tone defensive, though his reddened ears betrayed his embarrassment.

Harsha leaned forward, his grin widening. "Her duty, was it? Then what about those glances you kept stealing? Or how you suddenly became twice as diligent whenever she was watching?"

Veerendra opened his mouth to respond but shut it again, shaking his head with an exasperated sigh. "You're relentless, Your Highness."

Samundra smirked, setting down his plate. "Speaking of your relentless nature, Crown Prince, word of your achievements in training is spreading. Queen Sanyogita might already be searching for a suitable match for you. A prince of your caliber—brave, wise, and now an expert hunter—is bound to catch the attention of many kingdoms."

Harsha rolled his eyes, leaning back with a wry smile. "You make it sound like I'm a trophy to be paraded. The prospect of marriage feels more daunting than all the training sessions combined. What if I'd rather spend my time ensuring our kingdom's future instead of entertaining court politics?"

Samundra chuckled softly. "Your future queen might help you in that endeavor, prince . A strong alliance forged through marriage could secure peace and prosperity for our people."

The firelight reflected in Harsha's thoughtful eyes as he gazed into the distance. "Perhaps. But duty or not, I'd hope for a match that brings more than politics—a partnership built on trust and understanding."

A comfortable silence fell over the group as they finished their meal. Above them, the stars gleamed in the vast expanse of the night sky, as if bearing witness to the bonds forged through years of shared trials and dreams yet to come.

Veerendra's POV: A Journey of Transformation

The flicker of the campfire mirrored the thoughts swirling in Veerendra's mind. As he stared into the flames, he remembered the boy he used to be, the one who had arrived at the training grounds near Mandore seven years ago. He had been just nine years old, the eldest of three siblings, and the weight of his family's struggles pressed heavily on his young shoulders.

"Veer, you're the strongest," his father had said, his voice firm but filled with unspoken pain. "Go. Learn. Make something of yourself. The prince is recruiting, and it's a chance we can't afford to lose. Your mother and I will manage here."

Veerendra had hugged his younger siblings one last time before leaving his village behind. The journey to the training camp felt endless, and the future ahead seemed as uncertain as the horizon.

When he arrived, he wasn't greeted by the grandeur of a royal camp but by a dusty field, a group of boys his age looking as lost as he felt. And at the center of it all stood a child, barely five years old, who seemed to hold everyone's attention.

"This is Crown Prince Harsha," announced Guru Vatsal, the chief advisor . "He will train alongside you, lead you, and learn with you."

Veerendra had felt a surge of doubt. A boy younger than him? What could this child know of hardship, of discipline? He had exchanged skeptical glances with the other recruits, whispering his disbelief. But over time, those doubts began to fade.

The Transformation

The first few months were grueling. Training began at dawn and ended long after the sun had set. The prince was not just present—he was at the forefront. Harsha fell, bled, and endured just as much as the rest of them, never once demanding special treatment. His laughter and encouragement during their failures felt strangely genuine.

But it wasn't just the physical training that changed Veerendra's life. Before coming to the camp, he couldn't read or write more than his own name. Now, under the prince's insistence, every recruit was taught letters, numbers, and the art of strategy.

At first, Veerendra resisted. "Why do we need this?" he had grumbled to Harsha one evening.

Harsha had smiled, his voice calm but firm. "Strength alone isn't enough, Veer. A sword can't win a war without a hand to wield it and a mind to guide that hand. If you don't learn to think, you'll be nothing but a tool in someone else's fight."

Those words had stayed with him. Veerendra threw himself into his studies with the same fervor he applied to his combat training. He learned not just how to wield a blade but how to lead men into battle, how to manage supplies and morale, and how to read the subtle signs of a battlefield.

The Warrior He Became

Seven years later, Veerendra barely recognized the boy he had once been. His shoulders were broad from years of wielding a sword, his mind sharp from lessons in strategy and logistics. He could now read ancient texts and draft supply plans for an army. He had learned to inspire men with words and deeds, to lead them not just with authority but with respect.

Harsha, too, had changed. No longer just a child, the prince had grown into a leader who commanded loyalty through his actions. He had transformed the ragtag group of recruits into a disciplined force, united by shared hardship and a belief in something greater.

Veerendra owed him everything—his skills, his confidence, and his purpose. He thought of his family often, of the boy he used to be, and of how far he had come.

"Veerendra!" Harsha's voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. The prince's grin was playful as he teased, "Don't burn your dinner staring at the fire. We'll need you sharp tomorrow."

Veerendra smiled, his doubts long gone. "Yes, Your Highness," he replied, his tone filled with respect and camaraderie.

As the campfire crackled and the stars spread across the vast night sky, Veerendra felt a quiet sense of pride. He was no longer the uncertain boy who had left his village. He was a warrior, a leader, and a loyal friend to the prince who had transformed his life.

End of Chapter 

to be continued .....