Chapter 84: Chapter 82: Fishern Communities Arrives... Shocking Settlents...
(A/N):
Drop a
here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
Guys I hope you put more comnts and power stones... Which will encourage ...
I was thinking about adding local deities too to the story. Any thought about This idea.
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After Two Days...
Two days after the preparations for the coronation had begun still the date and ti had not yet chosen, the first major migration reached the borders of Trivenivrata.
The fishing communities of the Yamuna had arrived.
Led by their chieftain, Dashraj, long lines of carts, boats repurposed for transport, families, nets, supplies, and livestock slowly approached the kingdom that had already begun to spread through stories across the land.
And when they finally saw it—They stopped.
The walls alone were enough to silence conversation.
Massive and elegant, they stood like guardians between river and civilization, their white and red stone catching the sunlight while the flowing waters surrounding the kingdom reflected the sky beneath them.
On every side, the sacred rivers ford a natural barrier, making the city feel less like sothing built by n and more like a place chosen by destiny itself.
Because there was no threat or ergency, the great gates remained open, the enormous bridge connected across the waters like an invitation rather than a defence.
After the guards perford their inspections and welcod them through, the fishern and their families entered the kingdom properly.
And the mont they crossed the walls—A wave of stunned silence spread through the group.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The city before them was unlike anything they had imagined.
The roads were broad and impossibly clean, lined with flowing water channels and carefully planted greenery.
Marble structures reflected soft shades of white and blue beneath the daylight, while crimson banners carrying the crowned lion emblem moved gently with the wind.
Even though the kingdom was still sparsely populated, the scale of it made that emptiness feel intentional rather than abandoned.
It was not hollow.
It was waiting for the people who would arrive by their choice to serve them.
Dashraj himself stared quietly for several monts,
While beside him his wife looked around with visible disbelief.
"This..." she murmured softly, "...this is a kingdom?"
Even she found it difficult to believe.
Even through this was the first ti visiting a kingdom.
Before they could take in more, the sound of approaching wheels echoed across the avenue.
A royal chariot approached, escorted by soldiers dressed in the colors of Trivenivrata.
Which got their attention of the whole communities.
And standing upon it—Was Satyavati.
Who had ca to t her adoptive father and mother and the communities where she grew under.
The mont she stepped down, her formal bearing softened completely.
For an instant, she was no longer Rajmata.
She was simply a daughter seeing her parents again.
She embraced them warmly, smiling in a way rarely seen within political halls.
mories clearly lingered behind her eyes—days spent near the Yamuna, muddy feet, river winds, fishing nets, laughter from a simpler life before kingdoms and dynasties had claid her.
Her father rested a hand gently on her head, pride and emotion mixing quietly in his expression.
Then Satyavati turned slightly.
"There’s soone I want you to et."
Only then did Dashraj notice the young man who had been driving the chariot.
He stepped down calmly.
Simple in manner despite the royal attire.
Young—far younger than they expected.
Barely in his mid-teens.
And yet—The mont his face beca clear, recognition struck.
Not personal recognition. But a guess by looking at his face which was very radiance.
Stories. Rumors. Which he and his communities were hearing for the past few years about the prince from Hastinapur.
But it took a new turn a few days before when they heard about his transformation.
Whispers that had spread from kingdom to kingdom.
The prince who defeated Kamsa.
The one said to have taken the form of Lord Narasimha itself.
The ruler under whom a new kingdom was rising.
Dashraj stared for a mont longer than intended.
This was him? This calm young man? This boy?
It felt difficult to reconcile the image before him with the legends already spreading across the lands.
Satyavati smiled faintly at their expressions. She could tell they had guessed who was standing before them.
"This is Devaratha."
Before either elder could react further, Devara stepped forward respectfully—And bowed.
Then, without hesitation, he bent and touched their feet.
Both Dashraj and his wife froze.
"...."
"...."
Completely stunned caught off guard by the response.
A prince.
Soon to be crowned king.
Touching the feet of fishern for blessings.
For a mont, neither knew how to respond.
Then reality caught up to them.
Quickly, almost awkwardly, they placed their hands over his head and blessed him.
Not because he was royalty.
But because the sincerity in that gesture made it impossible not to.
And as Dashraj looked at the young man standing before him, one thought settled firmly in his heart.
’Perhaps coming to Trivenivrata had not been a gamble after all.’
Perhaps—They had arrived exactly where they were ant to be by the guidance of fate.
The curious stares from the fishing communities did not escape Devara’s notice.
"...."
"...."
"...."
n who had spent most of their lives on riverbanks and boats now stood inside a kingdom for a first ti that too looked like sothing from the stories sung by wandering bards.
Children peeked from behind carts, elders whispered among themselves, and many looked at Devara with a mixture of caution, awe, and uncertainty.
But there is also the reverence in their eyes.
Devara simply smiled at them. Then he nodded toward them warmly.
Nod!
"Welco to Trivenivrata."
The words were simple, but the way he said them carried sincerity rather than authority.
The tension among the people eased little by little.
Now that introductions were complete, Devara began addressing practical matters imdiately.
"I’ve already prepared a settlent for your communities,"
He explained to Dashraj and the others.
"It is close to the river channels and designed so fishing and trade can continue without difficulty."
The scale of the migration itself was not small.
Nearly three thousand people had arrived together, bringing with them their lives in motion—
Over fifteen hundred carts carrying supplies, nets, tools, livestock, household items, and large fishing boats carefully secured over the tops of the wagons.
The arrangent itself showed generations of experience travelling alongside rivers;
The boats doubled as protection against rain and rough weather during the journey.
Satyavati insisted that her parents ride with her in the royal chariot so they could properly speak after so many years apart.
Dashraj resisted at first out of habit more than refusal,
But eventually both he and his wife agreed after their daughter continued insisting with visible affection.
To their surprise, Devara himself took the sarathi’s seat.
He held the reins casually, guiding the chariot through the roads of Trivenivrata while the long procession followed behind them.
As they moved deeper into the kingdom, the fishern continued looking around in disbelief.
Even unfinished, the city carried a sense of order they had never experienced before.
Roads were wide enough for carts to pass comfortably beside one another.
Water channels flowed neatly along the sides, carrying clean river water through carefully designed canals.
Trees had already been planted along sections of the streets, offering shade for the future.
After so ti, they reached the settlent area prepared for them.
And once again—Silence spread through the group.
"...."
"...."
"...."
They were expecting huts like those they had previously had stayed.
The houses waiting for them were modest compared to the grand palace districts of the kingdom, but to the fishing communities, they looked extraordinary.
Rows of sturdy stone hos stood neatly organized beside flowing canals and river access routes.
Each structure had tiled roofing, proper storage space for fishing equipnt, and enough room for families to live comfortably.
More importantly—They were permanent.
Not temporary huts vulnerable to storms and flooding.
Actual hos where they could feel safe.
Even the wells had been carefully placed,
Ensuring drinking water could be reached from every section of the settlent without difficulty.
Dashraj slowly stepped out of the chariot, looking around carefully.
His wife touched the stone wall of one of the hos almost hesitantly, as if afraid it might not be real.
For most of their lives, they had lived in fragile river huts made from wood, reeds, and cloth—structures rebuilt again and again whenever floods or storms destroyed them.
But these...
These were built to last for many years.
Devara imdiately began organizing the relocation with the help of the soldiers.
Families were grouped carefully, carts unloaded systematically, and hos assigned in a way that kept familiar communities together rather than scattering them randomly.
There was no arrogance in the process.
Only preparation to satisfy.
By the ti Dashraj and his wife were shown the house allocated to them, both had fallen quiet.
"...."
"...."
They don’t know how to react to all this.
The ho itself was not luxurious, but it was spacious, clean, and secure.
A canal ran nearby, and the river routes were easily accessible for their work.
Dashraj turned toward Devara slowly.
For a mont, the old fisherman seed unable to find words.
Finally, he spoke quietly.
"We never imagined..."
His wife completed the thought softly beside him.
"...that our people would live in stone houses."
Not just them. All of them. All of their peoples had received the stone house.
That was what struck hardest.
This was not a reward for status.
Not favoritism. Not charity given to a chosen few.
Their entire community had been given dignity.
Dashraj bowed his head deeply. He knew a king with this kind of ntality is very rare.
"...."
And this ti, when he thanked Devara—It carried the full weight of a man realizing that his people’s future might finally beco more stable than their past.
About an hour later...,
Once the fishing communities had settled their belongings and rested from the long journey,
They were gathered once more near the southern side of the kingdom.
This ti, Devara himself had called for them.
Beside him stood Satyavati, who remained unusually quiet as she observed everything unfolding around her.
"...."
Earlier that day,
She had asked Vidura whether preparations for the fishern’s settlent had been completed properly.
Vidura had simply smiled and replied.
"Devara handled this personally."
At the ti, she had assud he ant supervision.
Now, seeing everything with her own eyes,
She understood what Vidura had truly ant.
Every canal placent.
Every well.
Every road leading toward the river access points.
Every storage structure for nets and boats.
None of it felt random.
It had been thought through carefully—by soone who had genuinely considered how these people lived.
And unexpectedly, that realization touched her deeply.
As she watched Devara speaking with the fishern as though their work truly mattered, a quiet sense of pride settled in her chest.
It was strange.
She had loved her sons once, in her own complicated way.
But this feeling... this calm pride she felt while watching Devara build sothing with his own hands and thoughts... was sothing she had never experienced before.
Even if he was not born from her blood—At monts like this, he still felt like her son.
Soon, Devara led the gathered communities toward one of Trivenivrata’s harbors.
And the sight before them left many speechless again.
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(Author note:)
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