The Yamsabha table was set to welcome new members. This was the first Yamsabha meeting after the war. Despite the bloodshed, the council had to continue with business. The money had to flow. The economy had to grow.
Ashvapati was present, representing Lohitpuri—and Arya.
Kritipal, Dhanudanda, Parashar, and Savignya were already seated. The air was quiet but charged. Everyone knew that the war had changed the landscape of power, and this meeting would decide how things moved forward.
A few moments later, Kaushan walked in. His robes were expensive, his ornaments subtle yet purposeful. His very presence whispered wealth. In a way, Kaushan was the reason everything had begun. Arya and the twins had robbed one of Kaushan's guarded vaults, and that theft had led them to Upendra's pit. The rest, as they say, was written in fire and blood.
Kaushan was a proud man. Rich, sharp, and always aware of the game being played. Everyone turned to acknowledge his entrance. He smiled courteously and scanned the room, pausing as he spotted someone familiar.
"Kritipal! My old friend," he called out warmly, moving forward to shake his hand.
Kritipal hesitated for a moment. Not long ago, Kaushan used to address men like him and Sharvas as "my lords." Now he used first names. Once, Kritipal had introduced Kaushan to Raktapasu and Sharvas during a business deal. That single connection had drawn Kaushan into the web of politics, and later, he became one of the key financiers behind Raktapasu's war.
But the war had ended. Raktapasu and Sharvas had lost. And with that loss, the hierarchy was broken.
Now, Kaushan stood as an equal at the table. Not a servant, not a sponsor—but a member. A warlord in his own right.
Kritipal wasn't pleased with that change. He offered a warm smile and shook Kaushan's hand, but it was hollow. Then he took his seat, adjusting his robe with deliberate care.
The door opened again. A short, muscular man walked in. His clothes were plain. Scars traced lines across his forearms and neck. His face was serious, calm. He didn't smile, didn't speak. He simply nodded at everyone.
Sarthak.
The room responded with silent nods of respect. He took his seat without a word.
The difference between the two newcomers was immediately clear.
Kaushan was a businessman. He believed in greetings, flattery, and building alliances through words and charm. He understood that survival in the Yamsabha required allies.
Sarthak, on the other hand, believed in action. Words were tools, not weapons. And he only used them when necessary.
Parashar cleared his throat and began the session.
"On behalf of everyone at this table," he said, his voice formal, "I welcome the new members of the Yamsabha. Your cities now carry the burden of leadership. And with leadership comes duty."
He glanced at Kaushan and then at Sarthak. Both nodded.
The meeting officially began.
Discussions unfolded over the division of businesses, lands, and taxes. Most of it followed Rankriti's orders, which she had issued before her departure. There was little room for disagreement. Rankriti had left a structure behind, and for now, the Yamsabha followed it.
Trained soldier supply—one of the most valuable resources—was given to Sarthak. Taxation and levies were handed to Kaushan. Neither man protested. Neither celebrated.
For over two hours, details were discussed, debated, and decided. Despite the shadows of war still clinging to them, the members of Yamsabha understood that the world would not stop spinning.
As the meeting began to wind down, Kaushan stood up.
"My fellow warlords," he said smoothly, adjusting his robe, "I believe the Yamsabha is functioning well. The machinery is in place. But a machine works best when it has a driver."
He looked around, pausing for effect.
"We need to elect a leader for smoother functioning. Someone who can moderate, coordinate, and steer us forward. What do you think?"
There was a silence. Heads nodded slowly.
Three names were proposed: Parashar, Kaushan himself, and Ashvapati.
Ashvapati declined without hesitation. "I am only representing Arya in his stead," he said, his voice calm.
Kaushan took a step forward. "If you are only representing Arya—who, by the way, is now with Rankriti—shouldn't you be standing outside the chambers? The meeting is nearly concluded, and Arya himself is no longer part of this council."
He paused, then added with deliberate weight, "He works for Rankriti now. Outside our circle. Shouldn't we divide his businesses too?"
The silence thickened.
Dhanudanda raised an eyebrow. "Kaushan," he said, slowly rising to his feet, "how long have you been at this table?"
"Long enough to understand that Arya isn't a member anymore. And this man doesn't need to be here," Kaushan snapped.
Ashvapati did not respond. He didn't flinch. He simply stood, unmoving, like a mountain carved in stone.
Dhanudanda walked over, placing a heavy hand on Kaushan's shoulder. His voice was calm, but each word struck like a hammer.
"The man you are referring to is Ashvapati. He has slain multiple Kshoniraajas. He is a warrior of legend. Everyone at this table has witnessed or heard of what he has done."
He leaned slightly closer.
"He has earned his place at this table more than any of us. Choose your next words carefully."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Kaushan looked at Ashvapati again. The man's gaze had not shifted. His hands were still. His breathing calm. But his presence weighed like a storm waiting to break.
Kaushan said nothing. He stepped back and sat down.
Dhanudanda returned to his seat. "If Ashvapati is out, then I vote for Parashar."
Ashvapati nodded and echoed, "Parashar."
Kritipal glanced around. He seemed to weigh his options carefully. Then he nodded, "Parashar."
Savignya, who had been quiet all along, simply said, "Parashar."
Sarthak finally spoke. "It doesn't matter if I vote or not now. The choice is clear. Parashar it is."
He stood, adjusting his cloak. "If we are done discussing business, I will take your leave. If I am needed, send a letter. I will respond."
And with that, Sarthak walked out.
Parashar stood, acknowledging the decision. "Thank you. I will take this responsibility seriously. We have all paid a price to be here. Let us not waste what was built with blood."
The meeting was concluded.
One by one, the warlords left the chamber, returning to their cities, their duties, and their ambitions.
Kaushan lingered for a moment longer. His face betrayed nothing, but his eyes held something else—calculation. Disappointment.
He had lost the vote. But he hadn't left the game.