Chapter 25 Mundra

The royal court of Mundra was as grand as the prestige of the emperor of Jambudweep. It was held in the throne room of the royal palace. The entrance of the court, large enough to accommodate a thousand people at once, was towering. The wide doorway, draped with red curtains, was so vast that two massive chariots could easily pass through side by side.

At the far end of the room, directly opposite the entrance, stood the golden throne, placed on a three-foot-high platform attached to the wall. The throne, adorned with a lion's face engraved on its backrest, was a seat of ultimate luxury. Sitting upon it, Siddharth experienced the greatest pleasure in the world. Covered in soft bear skin, the throne boasted exquisite craftsmanship, with colorful gemstones embedded in its intricate designs. Above the lion's face, a large red gem gleamed from the throne's backrest. The armrests, carved with lion heads facing left and right, added to its regal presence.

When sunlight streamed through the skylights, it passed through a semi-transparent stone chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. The light, refracted by the embedded gems, made the entire throne shimmer with a mesmerizing radiance.

A broad, carpeted pathway led from the entrance to the platform, dividing the throne room into two sections. On either side, sixty silver seats were arranged for the royal court members, each intricately adorned with gemstones. Behind every seat, a beautiful lady stood motionless like a statue. Behind the emperor's golden throne, two elegant women stood, adding to the grandeur.

The attendants, elegant women standing side by side, waved fans gracefully.

Along the walls, muscular wrestlers clad in red loincloths stood guard. Their prominent muscles and protruding bellies gave them an imposing presence, and they wore matching red turbans tied firmly around their heads.

Among those seated in the court were sixty dignitaries, including kings of vassal kingdoms, the minister of currency, chief advisor Prashant, the emperor's special advisor Vasuki from the Asura kingdom, and army chief Nanak. Each sat on a silver seat in accordance with their rank and prestige. They wore gold-studded turbans, gem-studded necklaces, and rings that sparkled under the chandeliers. Their voices hummed in hushed conversation as they awaited the emperor's arrival.

Suddenly, the bards standing outside the grand entrance announced the emperor's arrival by blowing conches. A hush fell over the room as everyone turned their gaze toward the entrance.

Today marked the first royal court session of the season after three months. As the curtains at the entrance were drawn aside, the emperor appeared, seated atop a magnificent elephant adorned with gold ornaments. The elephant moved slowly across the threshold, its trunk swaying rhythmically, while the tiny bells tied to it jingled in harmony.

The entire court rose in silent respect, much like a classroom standing at the arrival of a teacher. Upon reaching the platform, the elephant knelt on command. Emperor Siddharth, exuding a commanding presence, dismounted gracefully, carrying a sword in an ornate sheath in his left hand. He ascended the platform with steady steps, pausing at the throne to survey the court with an air of authority. His gaze, heavy with power, swept over the assembly before he finally took his seat upon the golden throne.

As soon as the emperor sat down, a sudden explosion of light erupted behind the throne, igniting a fire whose flames soared twice the height of the throne's backrest. The fragrance of sandalwood and ghee spread throughout the royal court, filling the air with a rich, sacred aroma.

The emperor placed his sword, still in its sheath, into a slot carved into the left armrest of the throne. Instantly, a faint red-hued, fragrant smoke began to waft from the mouths of the lions engraved on either side of the throne's handles.

Meanwhile, the elephant seated in the center of the court rose to its feet, turned around, and swayed slowly toward the exit. Its bells jingled softly as it departed, as if mocking the courtiers with its deliberate, unhurried steps.

Raising his hand with an air of pride, the emperor signaled for the court to be seated. The entire assembly obeyed in unison. The moment they sat, the beautiful women standing behind them sprang into action, gracefully swinging their fans in perfect rhythm. On the emperor's command, the proceedings of the royal court commenced.

The Finance Minister was the first to speak, presenting a detailed report of tax collections over the past three months, complete with figures. The Food Minister followed, unveiling a map of various agricultural lands across Mundra. Next, the Horseshed Minister spoke about enhancing the strength and stamina of the cavalry by using grain powder. The chief architect reported on the completion of the new Raj Bhavan in Manda. One by one, each minister presented the progress of their respective departments.

But the emperor had little interest in these reports. Seated on his throne, he cast suspicious glances at those in attendance, silently weighing their sentiments. His focus was not on his ministers but on the kings he had recently conquered.

He scrutinized them carefully, his mind filled with doubt. They had once bowed before me in defeat, but how long before they reveal their true colors? How long before they turn into snakes in the grass?

The royal court was filled with sycophants. One after another, the ministers detailed their achievements, each ensuring that their success was somehow attributed to the emperor's greatness and bravery. Most of the time, the emperor was pleased by such flattery, but at times, excessive praise felt more like mockery. Do you fools take me for an idiot? he would growl inwardly.

Then, the Agriculture Minister took flattery to a ridiculous extreme.

"O mighty emperor," he declared, "by the sheer power of your name and the strength of your unparalleled bravery—the sole ruler of this vast, immovable world—both the quantity and taste of cow's milk have miraculously improved!"

The emperor's expression darkened. What does my bravery have to do with the quantity of milk? His temper flared. A part of him wanted to leap from his throne and chase this cunning flatterer down, striking him for his foolishness. But he restrained himself.

Noticing the emperor's displeasure, the other courtiers quickly adjusted their praise, choosing their words with greater caution. Slowly, a faint smile returned to the emperor's face.

Just as the flattery subsided, a figure stood up— Prashant.

Tall and lean, Prashant led a simple life, untouched by extravagance. The moment the emperor saw him, his smile vanished. Straightening his posture, he sat at attention, his focus shifting entirely.

"Speak!"

"Emperor, my opinion differs from a decision you made a few days ago," Prashant said.

The emperor felt a familiar twinge of irritation. Has there ever been a decision where his opinion didn't differ from mine? How will he even digest his food without finding fault in everything? Among all the opponents I seek in this court, my greatest adversary is my own brother.

Siddharth's eyes narrowed as he studied Prashant. What a hypocrite. The emperor's brother and chief advisor—yet he pretends to live a simple life, just so people will see me as indulgent in comparison. But I am not just anyone. I became emperor through my own strength. If an emperor does not embrace luxury, what becomes of his prestige? What is the allure of the throne without grandeur?

…Who became emperor through his own strength?A voice echoed in his mind—his own reflection, his shadowed conscience spoke, Be careful what you say. If not for Prashant, do you truly believe you would have ever risen to power? Your heart has never been able to accept his significance.

"Shut up!" the emperor snapped inwardly at his own thoughts.

His face remained expressionless as he spoke aloud. "Which decision do you object to?" His voice was flat, giving nothing away.

"The decision to end the annual fair," Prashant said casually.

Siddharth scoffed. "And what is the issue with that? People from other states attend the fair. Under their cover, enemy spies slip in, conspiring with traitors…" His voice grew louder, his irritation spilling into his words. "Because of such conspirators, Ayodhya was lost ten years ago! And now, rebellion brews in Manda. Does the emperor's chief advisor not care for the security and integrity of this empire?"

Prashant was accustomed to ignoring Siddharth's outbursts. He knew that, outside matters of war, the emperor seldom heeded his counsel. But as chief advisor, it was his duty to offer wisdom, whether or not it was welcome. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"Emperor, fairs have significant economic importance. The annual fair takes place after the harvest, encouraging farmers and traders. Tourists purchase textiles, boosting the industry. The high demand for sweets and food creates opportunities for dairy and grain suppliers. Entertainers earn enough from this fair to survive the entire year. The wealthy purchase artwork, supporting craftsmen and sculptors. Actors rely entirely on these fairs for their livelihood. Large numbers of animals are traded. Cultural exchange flourishes. Wealth circulates. Fairs are the backbone of the economy."

"These are essential components that sustain the natural flow of money—"

"Enough. The decision is made," the emperor interrupted, dismissing him without a second thought.

Prashant sighed inwardly. He had expected this response. Siddharth was willing to empty the treasury to purchase modern weapons from the demons, yet he found the cost of maintaining the annual fair unworthy of even a second glance. Shaking his head, Prashant returned to his seat.

Siddharth's gaze shifted toward Vasuki, seated in the seventh seat from the left. His face was unreadable, betraying neither satisfaction nor concern.

The emperor frowned. Why is he not pleased?

His jaw tightened. Perhaps the task is still unfinished.

Annoyance flared within him. Without another word, he abruptly adjourned the meeting.