(A/N):
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Guys with this Volu 9 Starts...
Focusing on Devara’s adventure to et Sage Veenadhara... Who had strayed from his Dharma Path...
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Two days later...
Far away from Trivenivrata.
Far away from royal courts, ministers, queens, and palace affairs.
A simple bullock cart slowly rolled along a dusty village road.
The cart was loaded with pottery.
Clay pots.
Water jars.
Storage containers.
Decorative lamps.
Cooking vessels.
Everything one would expect from travelling rchants.
The two n sitting atop the cart looked completely ordinary.
In fact, they looked so ordinary that nobody would have imagined they were among the most influential n in the region.
One of them was King Devaratha himself.
The other was Mahamantri Shakuni.
Both had disguised themselves thoroughly.
Devara had grown magically an enormous curled moustache that almost seed to have its own personality.
His normally royal appearance had vanished beneath sun-darkened skin, rough village clothing, and a rchant’s turban.
Even his speech had changed.
His usual refined manner of speaking was gone.
In its place was the accent of a wandering trader who had spent years travelling from village to village.
Beside him sat Shakuni.
His disguise was equally ridiculous.
"...."
A large moustache covered half his face.
His beard had been altered.
His expensive royal clothing had been replaced with rough cotton garnts.
Even his posture had changed.
No longer did he sit like a royal minister.
Instead he lounged lazily like a man whose greatest concern was whether soone would buy his clay pots.
The two had entered the Kingdom of Pushkaranya.
A fertile kingdom famous for its flower cultivation and botanical trade.
Its ruler was King Padmanabha Varman, a monarch known for encouraging agriculture and flower cultivation throughout his lands.
And the village they had just entered was called Mallikavana.
A village nad after the fragrant jasmine flowers that grew there in astonishing numbers.
The na suited it perfectly.
Fields stretched in every direction.
White jasmine flowers swayed gently in the breeze.
Rows of marigolds painted portions of the landscape gold.
Pink lotuses blood in nearby ponds.
Colorful butterflies danced above flowerbeds.
The air itself carried a sweet fragrance.
Even Shakuni had to admit the village was beautiful.
"...."
The bullock cart slowly entered the marketplace.
Imdiately villagers noticed the newcors.
Within minutes several people had gathered around the cart.
Won inspected the pottery.
Farrs examined the storage jars.
Children pointed excitedly at the decorative clay toys hanging from the side.
Devara imdiately slipped into character.
"Look here!"
He lifted a large storage pot.
"Strong enough to survive three generations of children!"
The villagers laughed hearing his dramatic tone.
An elderly farr folded his arms.
"And if it breaks tomorrow?"
Devara slapped the pot dramatically.
"If it breaks tomorrow, I’ll personally co back and apologize to your grandchildren."
The crowd burst into laughter.
Even Shakuni struggled to keep a straight face.
Just imagining the reaction these people will make when they ca to know they were interacting with a king.
The old farr laughed.
"-Ohohoh..."
"That’s quite a promise."
Devara leaned forward.
"My pots are honest."
"Unlike so rchants."
That imdiately started another round of bargaining.
anwhile Shakuni smoothly joined the conversation.
Before long both n were selling pottery while simultaneously observing everything around them.
The condition of roads.
The quality of irrigation channels.
The state of hos.
The villagers’ mood.
Trade activity.
Agricultural productivity.
Everything they could get a intel on.
A king travelling openly would never see such things.
People hid problems from kings.
People prepared for royal visits.
People showed only what they wanted rulers to see.
But ordinary rchants?
Nobody cared about ordinary rchants.
Which was exactly why Devara preferred this thod.
Several hours passed peacefully.
The sun slowly began descending.
The village remained lively.
Farrs returned from fields.
Won completed their shopping.
Children played in open spaces.
Then suddenly—
-DONG!
A bell rang.
The sound echoed throughout the village.
Devara imdiately looked up.
The bell had co from sowhere near the center of the settlent.
-DONG!
The sound ca again.
This ti longer. Louder.
The reaction was imdiate.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The cheerful atmosphere vanished.
Almost instantly.
The smiling villagers beca serious.
Conversations stopped.
People exchanged worried glances.
Children were hurriedly called back.
rchants began packing their goods.
The elderly farr who had been bargaining monts earlier suddenly stood up.
His face had gone pale.
Without another word, he started walking away.
Then another bell sounded.
-DONG!
-DONG!
The entire village erupted into activity.
Not panic.
Sothing worse.
Fear mixed with routine.
The kind of behavior people develop when facing the sa danger repeatedly.
Mothers grabbed children.
Shopkeepers closed stalls.
Farrs abandoned conversations.
Doors slamd shut.
Windows were barred.
Within minutes the marketplace that had been crowded monts ago beca nearly empty.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Devara and Shakuni watched the transformation in astonishnt.
One woman hurried past carrying her young daughter.
Devara called out.
"Sister, what happened?"
The woman didn’t even stop.
"Get inside!"
Then she rushed away.
Another villager hurried past.
"What’s going on?"
Shakuni asked him with the sa confusion.
The man looked terrified.
"You’re outsiders."
"You should leave."
Then he too disappeared into a nearby house.
Door shut.
Bolt locked.
Silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Within minutes the entire village looked abandoned.
Every door closed.
Every window barred.
Even the livestock had been brought inside fenced compounds.
Only Devara and Shakuni remained standing near their cart.
The bullocks shifted uneasily.
Even the animals seed nervous.
The two n exchanged a glance.
The bell finally stopped ringing.
An eerie silence settled over Mallikavana.
No children.
No conversations.
No marketplace sounds.
Nothing.
Only the distant rustling of flowers swaying in the evening breeze.
Shakuni slowly adjusted his fake moustache.
"I don’t like this."
Devara nodded his head.
Neither did he.
The king looked around the empty village.
"...."
Monts ago it had been full of life.
Now it resembled a ghost settlent.
Sothing had frightened these people badly.
And judging by their reactions... Whatever it was wasn’t new.
The villagers had expected it.
Prepared for it. Lived with it.
Shakuni quietly moved closer.
"What do you think?"
Devara’s eyes scanned the silent streets.
The closed hos.
The abandoned market.
The bell tower standing in the distance.
Then he smiled slightly.
The kind of smile Shakuni recognized imdiately.
The smile that appeared whenever Devara found a mystery.
"I think, brother-in-law..."
Devara adjusted his rchant’s turban.
"...we just discovered why Guru Durvasa wanted us to co here."
As if responding to those words...
A strange sound echoed from sowhere beyond the flower fields surrounding the village.
A sound neither man could imdiately identify.
And judging by the way the bullocks suddenly beca restless...
Whatever was making that sound was exactly what the villagers feared.
The streets of Mallikavana had beco eerily silent.
Only a short while ago, the village had been filled with life.
Children had been running through the flower-lined roads.
Won had been bargaining over vegetables and grains.
Farrs had been returning from the fields carrying baskets of jasmine and marigolds.
Now...
Nothing.
Every door was shut.
Every window closed.
The entire village looked abandoned.
Devara slowly guided the bullock cart through the empty road while Shakuni sat beside him, occasionally glancing toward the silent houses.
The silence itself was strange.
It wasn’t the silence of nightti.
It wasn’t the silence of a deserted settlent.
It was the silence of people hiding.
People waiting for sothing unpleasant to pass.
Then suddenly—A loud laugh echoed through the village.
"Hahahahahaha!"
The sound bounced from house to house.
An old man’s laughter.
Yet there was sothing irritating about it.
Sothing arrogant.
Sothing that imdiately made Shakuni frown.
The laugh ca again.
Louder this ti.
"Hahahaha!"
Then a voice followed.
A powerful voice amplified by years of practice in recitation and singing.
"Why are you all hiding?!"
The shout echoed through the village.
Several windows visibly trembled.
Inside their hos, villagers imdiately held their breath.
The voice continued.
"Co out!"
"Co out and face !"
"If none of you can defeat , then admit your inferiority openly!"
The voice was filled with pride.
No. Not pride. Arrogance.
Pure arrogance.
Devara and Shakuni exchanged a glance.
"...."
"...."
Then they heard another shout.
"If nobody cos out today, I shall assu all of Mallikavana accepts defeat!"
The old man laughed loudly again.
"Hahahahaha!"
Shakuni’s eyebrow twitched.
He had already begun disliking whoever this person was.
The voice continued.
"What happened to your courage?"
"Have all of you beco cowards?"
"I am offering you a chance to challenge greatness itself!"
The old man sounded genuinely offended.
As though the villagers had committed so grave insult against him.
The bullock cart slowly turned a corner.
And finally... They saw him.
Standing in the center of a crossroads.
A lone elderly sage.
His long white hair flowed behind him.
His beard reached nearly to his chest.
Rich robes covered his body.
A beautifully crafted veena rested against his shoulder.
Several scrolls hung from his waist.
His posture was proud. Too proud.
Like a king surveying his kingdom.
No.
More than a king.
Like a man who believed himself superior to kings.
This was none other than Sage Veenadhara Kashyap.
The very man Guru Durvasa had sent Devara to et.
The sage was currently glaring at the nearby houses.
His face was filled with irritation.
Months ago he had arrived in Mallikavana.
Originally, he had intended to stay only a few days.
That had been his habit for years.
Travel.
Challenge people.
Defeat them.
Humiliate them.
Then move on.
Sage Veenadhara possessed genuine talent.
Nobody could deny it.
His mastery of music was extraordinary.
His veena performances could captivate entire crowds.
His singing could move people to tears.
His poetry was admired even in royal courts.
And his riddles... His riddles were infamous.
Each one contained layers upon layers of hidden aning.
So scholars spent weeks attempting to solve them.
Most failed.
And there in lay the problem.
Success had poisoned him.
Every victory fed his ego.
Every defeated opponent convinced him further of his superiority.
Eventually he stopped viewing people as equals.
Then stopped viewing them as worthy rivals.
And finally...
Stopped viewing them as people at all.
To Sage Veenadhara, ordinary humans had beco insects.
Creatures existing only to admire his brilliance.
And if they failed to do so?
They deserved humiliation.
Mallikavana had suffered under this behavior for months.
Every morning he challenged villagers.
Every afternoon he challenged travellers.
Every evening he challenged scholars.
Riddles.
Poetry contests.
Singing competitions.
Veena performances.
Anything that showcased his talents.
Nobody ever won.
And every defeat beca another opportunity for him to boast.
Eventually the villagers stopped participating.
That had only made things worse.
Because before settling in the village, Veenadhara had made a declaration.
A declaration born from arrogance.
"If soone looks directly upon my face..."
The sage had proclaid.
"...then I shall consider them my challenger."
At the ti he believed it was a grand gesture.
Now it had beco his prison.
Because nobody wanted to challenge him anymore.
The villagers had learned a simple solution.
Avoid him.
Ignore him.
Hide.
If nobody looked at him, then technically nobody accepted his challenge.
And because of his own words, Sage Veenadhara couldn’t force the issue.
Not without admitting his declaration was aningless.
Not without damaging his pride.
Unfortunately for everyone involved...
His pride mattered more to him than reason.
The sage suddenly pointed toward one of the houses.
"I know you’re in there!"
Silence answered him.
"...."
Veenadhara’s eye twitched. Then he shouted again.
"Co out!"
Nothing.
Another twitch.
His face darkened further.
The sage looked around the village.
At the closed windows.
The locked doors.
The empty streets.
And sohow beca even angrier.
"They ignore !"
He sounded genuinely offended.
"As though I am unworthy of their attention!"
Devara nearly laughed.
"-Pfft!"
Shakuni looked ready to throw a clay pot at the sage.
Then Sage Veenadhara crossed his arms dramatically.
"Fine!"
His voice echoed across the village.
"If nobody erges today..."
"I shall compose a poem about the cowardice of Mallikavana!"
Inside their hos, several villagers silently groaned.
The threat clearly wasn’t new.
Shakuni leaned closer to Devara.
His fake moustache twitched.
"I finally understand why the village empties whenever the bell rings."
Devara nodded his head as he looked at the sage Veenadhara amused.
"So do I."
The king’s eyes remained fixed on the sage.
Observing.
Studying.
Listening.
Guru Durvasa had been right.
Veenadhara was not evil.
Not cruel. Not malicious.
The problem was sothing far more difficult.
The sage had beco intoxicated by his own brilliance.
So intoxicated that he could no longer see how ridiculous he had beco.
anwhile, Veenadhara continued staring at the empty houses.
Completely unaware that two new rchants had arrived.
And completely unaware that one of those rchants might be the first person in a very long ti who wasn’t impressed by him.
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(Author note:)
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Don’t forget to review guys...
Guys I have a new fic which nad: Karuppan: King of Openings.
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