Chapter 81: Chapter 79: Building A New Kingdom...
(A/N):
Drop a
here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
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The afternoon sun leaned golden—As Gandhara prepared not for war—But for farewell for their princess who was going to her married husband to his land.
The gates of the royal palace opened once more—But this ti—Not to welco the guest.
But To let go of their princess.
While the groom Devara and the bride Gandhari
Sat within the carriage—Newly bound.
Not just by ritual—But by everything they had already faced together.
The procession moved. Slow at first.
As the residence were bidding their farewell to their princess. Daughter of their land.
As if the city itself resisted the mont.
People gathered along the roads—So were silent—So were smiling excitedly—So wiping away tears they didn’t expect.
Flowers fell again—But softer now.
Less of a celebration. More of a blessing.
Behind them—Sothing unexpected happened.
The people followed the procession.
Not because commanded. Not because summoned.
They simply... walked.
The news of a new Kingdom which is going to be established in few days it spread like a wild fire after being officially announced by Kingdom itself.
So so decided to follow the couple to the new kingdom.
Because sowhere between battle and peace—Devara had earned sothing rare—Not loyalty. Trust of those who had witnessed him.
Among them—Soldiers too joined—Those who had seen him in war—Who had watched him stand where others would fall and turn to his Divine presence which was witnessed by them.
Ahead—The road stretched.
Long. Two days long.
Exactly as promised by Lord Vishwakarma.
Inside the moving circle of destiny—Familiar faces remained close.
Crown Prince Dhritarashtra, Rajmata Satyavati, Ambika, Ambalika, Madri, Mahamantri Vidura, Bhishma, Drona and Ashwatthama
Not as court. As family. Who were accompanying Devara to his new Kingdom.
Where so much work will be. Which they could help him settle in.
And sowhere in that moving tide—Prince Shakuni walked along with a casual ease raiding his horse—Though his eyes—Never strayed far from his sister.
Because even amidst destiny—So bonds remained stubbornly human.
He had decided to accompany his sister.
Inside the carriage—Silence wasn’t empty.
It was... shared between the two people.
Devara looked ahead—Toward a kingdom that did not yet exist—But already waited.
Beside him—Gandhari glanced at him—Then at the road—Then back again.
She could see her husband didn’t show in his face but little bit restless to go to the kingdom which has been being build.
A faint smile touched her lips.
"...."
Not because the path was certain—But because she had chosen it.
With him.
And as the procession moved farther from Gandhara—It was no longer just a departure.
It was a migration—Of hope—Of belief—Toward sothing that had never existed before today—But soon—Would stand—At the eting of rivers—As a kingdom born not from inheritance from the lineage—
But from choice of the fate which had chosen him.
Two Days Passed...
Two days of road, dust, and quiet anticipation—And then—The horizon changed.
What first appeared as mist—Beca shape as they moved forward.
What seed like distant light—Beca a kingdom before their eyes.
It rose where three sacred currents embraced—A land cradled by the flowing arms of Ganga River, Yamuna River, and the unseen yet ever-present Saraswati River.
From afar—It looked like a jewel placed upon those scared waters.
Up close—It felt like sothing alive.
The outer walls stood first—Colossal. Not crude stone—But layered with precision.
White marble veins shimred under sunlight.
Red sandstone lines ran like veins of strength.
Blue-tinted crystal inlays caught the sky—Making the walls seem as if they breathed with the heavens.
Guard towers rose at perfect intervals—Not just for defense—But as watchful sentinels of symtry.
The gates—Massive yet elegant—Carved with brilliance Of creation. Of balance. Of protection.
Inside—The city unfolded like a living mandala.
Wide avenues stretched in geotric perfection—Each road aligned with purpose.
Water channels flowed beside them—Fed directly from the sacred rivers—Keeping the land fertile and alive—The air cool—The city... breathing with life.
Gardens blood everywhere with beautiful flowers.
Not ornantal alone—But abundant. Of Fruit trees. dicinal herbs.
Flowering vines that climbed pillars like poetry.
At the heart—The royal palace stood.
Not towering to intimidate—But rising to harmonize.
White marble dominated—Symbol of purity.
Red accents marked strength and sovereignty.
Blue dos reflected the sky—Binding heaven and earth.
Pillars lined with carvings—Not of conquest—But of law, balance, and unity.
Open courtyards allowed light to flood in—No shadow lingered too long here.
Even the wind moved differently—Carrying the scent of river water and blooming earth.
The entire kingdom felt... Protected. Like a unbreakable wall.
Not just by walls—But by intention.
The procession slowed taking in the view.
No one spoke.
Because words felt smaller than what stood before them.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Bhishma exhaled quietly.
-Sigh!
Mahamantri Vidura observed every detail—Already understanding its brilliance on each stone the kingdom was builded.
Even Drona and Ashwatthama stood still—Rarely this silent.
"...."
"...."
Impressed by the beauty of the Kingdom before them.
Beside Devara—Gandhari leaned closer.
Her voice barely a whisper—Carried only to him. As she too was stunned by the marvelous of the kingdom before her.
And curiosity took over her.
"What is its na...?"
The question lingered. Soft. But profound.
Because a kingdom like this—Did not just need a na.
It needed identity.
Devara looked ahead—At the rivers. At the land.
At what had been created—Not inherited But made for him.
His mind turned—Not searching for a word—But for sothing that could contain aning.
A place born from convergence.
From balance. From will of the fate itself.
And for the first ti—Even he paused hearing his wife question.
Because naming this—Was not simple.
It was the beginning of history itself.
He need to choose the right na for it.
Devara’s thoughts were still weaving a na—When the air itself shimred again.
-Flash!
Gold—soft at first—Then radiant. Which got everyone’s attention.
Vishwakarma stood before the halted procession.
The world paused.
Not out of fear—But with reverence.
Devara rose from the carriage.
Gandhari beside him—Both bowing in respect greeting him.
Vishwakarma inclined his head—Acknowledging them.
Then he turned—Gesturing toward the kingdom as he proudly introduced it to Devara which he build.
"This is not rely a Kingdom,"
He began—
His voice carried like a craftsman unveiling a masterpiece.
"It is a living design."
He walked a step forward—And as he spoke—It felt as if the kingdom itself responded.
"The outer walls—layered with resonance stone—can absorb and disperse impact. No siege weapon will break them easily."
"The waterways—drawn directly from Ganga River, Yamuna River, and the unseen flow ofSaraswati River—ensure the land never dries, never weakens."
His hand moved slightly—And the gardens shimred in the sunlight. Showing its artistic beauty around.
"Every structure aligns with cosmic geotry. Positive Energy flows evenly—preventing decay, imbalance, or corruption."
He glanced at Devara his suspected brother.
"This kingdom will not just stand... It will endure."
A pause.
"And more importantly—"
His eyes sharpened faintly this ti he turned serious.
"It will reflect its ruler. So who rules it will impact the Kingdom."
Silence followed.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Not empty—But full of realization of what type of kingdom is standing before them.
Because this was not just architecture.
This was a mirror.
Vishwakarma stepped back. Satisfied.
"Two days,"
He said simply with a smile.
"As promised."
Then—Without flourish—Without delay a second—He dissolved back into golden light.
Gone. Vanishing before their eyes taking his departure back to his domain ruled by him.
The world exhaled softly.
"...."
"...."
"...."
For a mont—No one moved. Then—A deep rumble.
-RUMBLE! -RUMBLE!
The gates opened slowly.
Not with noise—With authority it carried as it descend.
A bridge extended—Seamlessly connecting the outer land to the kingdom’s heart.
The path was ready for them to enter the land which Devara was about to rule.
Devara stepped forward. Not alone.
The procession followed.
Warriors. Family. Peoples who decided to follow him. All entering together.
The gates had opened—But a kingdom is not made by stone alone and not with this grand structure too.
It breathes through people who lives there.
And right now—That breath was... light. Even through many had decided to follow Devara.
It was not enough for the grand structure before them.
The grandeur stood ready—But the life within it—Had only begun to gather.
Which they need to take into consideration and address it.
At the midset of the street.
Mahamantri Vidura stepped forward naturally—Like a man who had been waiting for this mont.
No ceremony. No hesitation in his words. Just action.
"Water routes first,"
He instructed calmly to the servants to move things around to make the peoples settle.
"Food distribution must follow the channels."
While Devara gave him the only requirent he had.
"Shelter must be assigned by skill, not status."
His voice didn’t rise—But it carried the weight behind it.
While Mahamantri Vidura moved forward with the instructions.
Because experience spoke louder than authority.
People began moving. Order ford where emptiness once lingered.
Not rushed—But precise for the first ti for a kingdom to breath.
Nearby—Bhishma took command of a different front.
The soldiers. Who had decided to follow Devara.
Who previously served the armies From Gandhara. And From Hastinapur.
Different banners once—Now standing under one.
They will be now be comrades in arms who would be fighting and protecting the new nation which is raising before their eyes.
Bhishma moved among them—Not as a distant general—But as a foundation.
"Form divisions. Mixed units. No old loyalties. Only one command."
The n listened without any compliant or delay.
Because Bhishma did not demand discipline—He embodied it.
And slowly—A new army began to take shape.
Back at the central courtyard—Devara stood silently.
Listening to the advice’s directed at them. Not interrupting. Not imposing his thought and arguing with them.
Because this—Was the part many rulers misunderstood.
Victory wins land.
But governance—Builds it. And make the land developed.
Mahamantri Vidura returned to him.
"The population is too small."
Direct with his words not hiding it.
"Such a vast kingdom cannot sustain itself like this."
A pause.
"We must bring people."
His gaze steady as his brain was clinking coming with the ways he suitable for it.
"From both Gandhara and Hastinapura. Voluntary migration. Farrs. Artisans. Scholars. The roots must be planted early."
Bhishma nodded in agreent hearing Mahamantri Vidura’s suggestion.
-Nod!
"Strength is not walls,"
He added his point of view Calmly.
"It is people who choose to stand within them."
The suggestion settled.
Not as pressure—As necessity for the kingdom to take root.
Devara looked out across the city.
"...."
At its empty avenues. Its waiting hos which was still empty.
Its silent promise of good life.
Then back at them. And listened. Truly listened. To every advice. So it could be a valuable lesson on Governance of a nation of this structure and the little population it currently has.
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(Author note:)
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