Chapter 404 - 372: Prestige At The Stake...

(A/N):

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Meanwhile, at the royal palace of Trivenivrata, Devara was seated in the royal assembly hall, listening to a report from one of his ministers, when a soldier hurried inside and bowed before the throne.

The urgency in the man’s movements immediately caught the attention of the assembled courtiers, and Devara raised his hand, signalling the minister to pause.

"Your Majesty, I bring an urgent report from the northern border. An Ashvamedha horse bearing the bull emblem of Vrishabhapura has arrived at the banks of the three sacred rivers. When the horse crossed into our territory,"

"Acharya Dronacharya ordered the guards to restrain it and cut down its banner. The horse is now under our custody."

Devara’s expression changed the instant he heard those words.

The relaxed composure with which he had been listening to the earlier report vanished, replaced by a deep frown as he leaned back against his throne, considering the implications of the news.

"An Ashvamedha horse?"

he repeated, his voice quieter than before.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

For several moments, Devara remained silent.

His fingers tapped slowly against the armrest as his thoughts travelled back to the ancient tales he knew so well.

An Ashvamedha was never merely a religious ceremony performed for blessings or prosperity.

It was also a declaration of royal supremacy, a statement that the king conducting the sacrifice possessed the strength and authority to claim dominion over the lands through which his horse wandered.

Any ruler who allowed the horse to pass unchallenged effectively acknowledged that claim, while stopping it amounted to an open rejection of the authority behind the ritual.

And now, that challenge had occurred on his own borders.

Devara closed his eyes briefly, remembering another Ashvamedha from an age of legends, when Lord Rama had performed the sacred sacrifice and his sons, Lava and Kusha, had stopped the sacrificial horse.

What had begun as a declaration of sovereignty had nearly led to a terrible confrontation between a father and the sons he had never truly known.

It had taken extraordinary circumstances for the conflict to be resolved before it descended into an even greater tragedy.

The memory made Devara’s frown deepen.

Back then, the situation had been complicated by the fact that Rama’s own sons had challenged the horse without knowing the full truth of their parentage.

Even so, the matter had nearly escalated into war.

But this situation is different.

His gaze shifted towards the soldier standing before him.

Vrishabhapura’s horse has entered my kingdom, my guards have restrained it, and its banner has been cut down.

From their king’s perspective, this will not simply be a rejection of his claim.

It will be an insult delivered openly, before the eyes of his own people and the kingdoms that have been watching his Ashvamedha.

Devara knew how rulers thought. Royal pride, once challenged before witnesses, could be more difficult to manage than an army on the battlefield.

The king of Vrishabhapura might have been willing to accept a diplomatic refusal if the horse had been stopped peacefully at the border, but the destruction of his banner had transformed the incident into something far more serious.

It was a public declaration that Trivenivrata would not recognise his authority, accompanied by an unmistakable challenge to defend his claim.

And if the ruler of Vrishabhapura chose to answer that challenge with weapons, Devara’s kingdom would have little choice but to prepare for war.

He opened his eyes and looked towards the ministers gathered in the assembly hall.

"Where is Acharya Dronacharya now?"

"Your Majesty, he remains at the border and has ordered that the horse be kept under guard until further instructions arrive from the palace."

Devara nodded slowly. At least Dronacharya had ensured that the animal itself remained unharmed.

That was important, for the horse was sacred to the ritual, and any injury inflicted upon it could make an already delicate situation even more difficult to resolve.

Yet the severed banner could not be restored by a simple apology, nor could the kingdom pretend that nothing had happened.

"Send word to Acharya Dronacharya that he has my permission to maintain custody of the horse,"

Devara instructed.

"It must be treated properly, and nobody is to harm it. I want the border guards to remain vigilant, but they are not to provoke any approaching party from Vrishabhapura. If their warriors arrive, they are to be informed that the matter will be addressed by the king himself."

The soldier bowed.

"As you command, Your Majesty."

"Also, dispatch scouts to observe the roads leading towards our borders. I want to know whether Vrishabhapura has already sent an escort to retrieve its horse or whether its king has yet to receive the news."

"Do not approach their forces or interfere with their movements. I simply want accurate information before making my next decision."

The soldier bowed once more before withdrawing from the assembly hall.

Devara remained seated, his expression thoughtful and troubled.

He had returned home after four years of training with Lord Vishnu, hoping to devote himself to his family and the prosperity of his kingdom.

Instead, a matter involving an ancient royal sacrifice had arrived at his doorstep, threatening to turn the peace he had worked to preserve into a confrontation with a neighbouring realm.

He could hardly blame Dronacharya for following the principles of sovereignty.

The acharya had acted to defend Trivenivrata’s independence, and allowing the Ashvamedha horse to wander freely through their territory could have been interpreted as accepting Vrishabhapura’s supremacy.

Nevertheless, Devara understood that the manner in which the challenge had been delivered would carry consequences beyond the immediate border incident.

He exhaled slowly and rose from his throne.

"Summon Mahamantri Shakuni and the senior commanders," he ordered.

"We shall discuss our response before rumours and wounded pride decide the course of events for us."

As the attendants hurried to carry out his instructions, Devara looked towards the great doors of the assembly hall, his thoughts already turning to the ruler of Vrishabhapura.

Let us hope their king possesses enough wisdom to understand that a challenge to his claim need not become a war between our kingdoms.

Yet even as he entertained that hope, Devara knew he could not afford to rely upon it.

The horse had crossed the border, the banner had fallen into the river, and the message had been delivered.

Now he had to prepare for whatever answer came in return.

It did not take long for Mahamantri Shakuni to arrive at the royal assembly hall, having been informed that Devara intended to visit the northern borders personally.

Finding the king already prepared to depart, Shakuni wasted no time in exchanging the usual formalities and accompanied him out of the palace.

A small escort of royal guards followed them, while the two men made their way towards the border where the Ashvamedha horse of Vrishabhapura had been detained.

Throughout the journey, Shakuni remained unusually quiet, his mind occupied with the political implications of the incident.

He was an experienced statesman who understood the significance of the Ashvamedha, and he knew that the cutting down of a sacrificial banner was no trivial matter.

Even if the action had been taken to defend Trivenivrata’s sovereignty, Vrishabhapura’s ruler might interpret it as a deliberate humiliation, particularly if word of the incident spread among the neighbouring kingdoms before a diplomatic explanation could be offered.

Devara, meanwhile, rode with a thoughtful expression, occasionally glancing towards the distant horizon as the three sacred rivers drew nearer.

He had already considered several possible responses, but he wanted to see the situation for himself before deciding how to proceed.

Reports could convey facts, yet they could not always communicate the atmosphere surrounding an incident or reveal details that an observer might have overlooked.

By the time they reached the border outpost, the sun had climbed higher in the sky, and the soldiers stationed along the fortifications were keeping a close watch over the captured stallion.

The white horse had been secured within a guarded enclosure near the riverbank, where it could be provided with water and food while remaining under observation.

Although it had grown calmer since its initial struggle, it still occasionally tossed its head and stamped its hooves, clearly displeased with its unfamiliar surroundings.

Beyond the enclosure, near the edge of the river, Dronacharya stood examining the severed banner that had been carried back towards the bank by the current.

The fabric was partially soaked, and the embroidered bull emblem had become muddied by the water, but its identity remained unmistakable.

The acharya held one end of the banner carefully, studying the cut where it had been separated from its attachment, his expression revealing the seriousness with which he regarded the consequences of the day’s events.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he did not immediately notice the approaching royal party.

It was one of the guards stationed near the entrance who first spotted Devara.

The soldier straightened at once and struck his fist against his chest in a formal salute, prompting the others to turn towards the arriving king.

Within moments, the guards had lined up along the path, bowing respectfully as Devara and Shakuni approached.

"Your Majesty!"

the commander greeted them, lowering his head.

"Welcome to the northern border."

The remaining soldiers echoed his greeting before stepping aside to clear the way.

Dronacharya heard their voices and turned around.

Upon seeing Devara, he immediately set the wet banner aside and approached the king, bowing respectfully.

"Your Majesty. I had hoped to provide you with a complete report before your arrival, but I see that the news has reached the palace already."

Devara returned his greeting with a nod.

"The messenger informed me of what happened, Acharya. I thought it best to inspect the situation personally before deciding how we should proceed. After all, this is not an ordinary border dispute."

"Indeed, Your Majesty,"

Dronacharya replied gravely.

Devara’s gaze moved towards the severed banner resting beside the river, then towards the white stallion standing under guard.

For several moments, he said nothing, carefully observing both the animal and the emblem that had once proclaimed Vrishabhapura’s authority.

Shakuni, standing beside him, followed his gaze and let out a quiet breath.

"So," the Mahamantri remarked, his tone measured,

"this is the horse that has managed to bring the affairs of two kingdoms to a standstill without a single warrior raising his weapon against another."

"Not quite, Mahamantri," Dronacharya replied.

"The horse crossed our border, and we stopped it. Its banner was cut down to make our refusal unmistakable. Although no blood has been spilled, the challenge itself has already been issued."

Devara glanced at his acharya.

"Tell me everything from the beginning. I want to know precisely how the horse arrived, what it did, and how the situation developed before the banner was cut."

Dronacharya inclined his head, prepared to recount the events in detail.

As the three men stood beside the sacred river, the captured Ashvamedha horse shifted restlessly within its enclosure, its white coat gleaming beneath the sunlight.

The severed bull banner lay beside the flowing water, a silent reminder of the challenge that had brought them all to the border.

For Devara, the most important question was no longer whether Trivenivrata had rejected Vrishabhapura’s claim. That much was already clear.

What mattered now was how the other kingdom would respond, and whether the king could still find a path that defended his realm’s independence without plunging both kingdoms into war.

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(Author note:)

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