Meeting and Banquet
Devansh sat on the edge of his bed, lost in thought. Yodhika stood before him, her head bowed.
Devansh looked at Yodhika, his face a mix of anger and worry.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied hesitantly.
“How?”
Yodhika raised her head and met his eyes. “I… I can’t say.”
Devansh’s voice hardened. “Is it a Pranvar?”
Behind her back, Yodhika clenched her fist. “Yes. But I won’t say who.”
Rekha, who had earlier collapsed into a chair in the King’s bedroom, suddenly sprang to her feet and lunged toward Yodhika, her hand raised.
“Rekha!” Devansh shouted.
She froze mid-step.
“You know our rule,” Devansh said coldly. “Don’t you dare touch her.”
Breathing heavily with rage, Rekha turned away and dropped back into the chair.
“So what are you going to do?” she asked.
“I’ll think about it and tell you later.”
Yodhika remained silent.
“You may retire to your bedroom now,” Devansh said.
She turned slowly and walked toward the door.
“And don’t step out of your room until I say so. Got it?”
Yodhika nodded and left.
The moment she was outside, she exhaled sharply. Walking to her bedroom, she placed a hand on her abdomen smiled.
Rudhra rose from the rock on which he had been sitting and surveyed the twenty people gathered before him. They stood in a small clearing deep within the forest that surrounded the town of Avantaveera. The air was tense, heavy with unspoken fear and resolve.
His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword as his gaze found Ranjan standing among the crowd. Ranjan met his eyes and gave a single, firm nod.
Rudhra turned to face them all.
“My fellow Amirthyas,” he began, his voice steady, “as you all know, we will attack the Pranvars and escape from here—along with our fellow Amirthyas—sometime in the near future. And when I say near, I mean it.”
A murmur rippled through the group.
“I know most of us are not trained to face their might,” Rudhra continued. “But we have no choice. They will come for our families.”
Several people clenched their fists. A few lowered their heads, grief etched across their faces.
“We may not share a strong bond among ourselves,” he said, his voice hardening, “and that, too, is their doing. But I know one thing—we all love our families. We never intended to harm the Pranvars. We respected them. We gave them honor.”
He paused.
“They betrayed us.”
The clearing fell silent.
“I will protect my family at any cost,” Rudhra said. “And when I say my family, I mean the entire Amirthya clan.”
Confusion flickered across the faces before him.
“Yes,” he went on, meeting their eyes one by one. “From this moment on, every Amirthya is my family. I will give my life to protect each and every one of you. You don’t have to believe me. I just needed to say it.”
Something shifted in the crowd. Fear gave way to admiration—then to resolve.
“We begin training today,” Rudhra said. “I’ve heard from a friend that we were once a warrior clan. The battle instincts still run in our blood. They think we’ve lost it.”
A faint smile crossed his lips.
“We will prove them wrong.”
He raised his voice. “From now on, gather here every day at this same time. Do you all agree?”
One by one, they nodded.
“Good,” Rudhra said, gripping his sword tighter. “Let us begin.”
The Pranvars murmured among themselves, confusion rippling through the grand courtroom. A surprise banquet was rare—almost unheard of—and curiosity gnawed at them.
“Was there a change in the plan, Sir Ashura?” one of the squad leaders asked. “Are we attacking the Amirthyas sooner?”
Ashura turned sharply, anger flashing in his eyes.
“S-sorry, sir,” the squad leader said quickly, lowering his head. “We were just curious.”
“I don’t know,” Ashura replied, facing forward again. “I’m waiting for news myself.”
Behind him, the squad leaders released silent, heavy breaths of relief.
“I can’t wait for this banquet to be over,” Jeron muttered. “Can’t Devansh make his announcement faster?”
“Can’t wait to get back to your wives, huh, Jeron?” one of the heads of the noble families said dryly.
“Yes,” Jeron replied without shame. “I had plans tonight. Then this banquet notice arrived out of nowhere.”
“You know Devansh doesn’t summon us without reason,” the noble said. “If it’s urgent, we’ll hear it soon. Until then, wait.”
Devansh sat calmly on his throne, his gaze sweeping over the gathering.
“Are you sure about this?” Rekha whispered from beside him, worry etched into her face.
Devansh did not answer. He rose slowly.
Rudraaj and Rudhransh, seated near Rekha, glanced toward Adhrivan in confusion. Adhrivan, now seated beside Devansh’s empty throne, merely shrugged and turned his eyes to Yodhika.
Yodhika stared at the floor, her silence heavy.
“My fellow Pranvars,” Devansh said, his voice carrying across the hall, “lend me your ears.”
The chatter faded instantly.
“I know you are all wondering why I have gathered you here. I will keep this brief.”
Yodhika’s breath caught.
“My daughter,” Devansh continued, “Yodhika… is pregnant.”
The hall plunged into stunned silence. Faces froze—shock, disbelief, confusion spreading like wildfire.
“We are not ready to reveal who the father is,” Devansh said evenly. “And like many of you, I am unsure how to react to this myself.”
Yodhika’s fingers tightened around the arms of her chair.
“But a woman of the clan-head family has conceived,” he went on. “This has not happened in twenty years. I do not need to explain how significant this is.”
He paused.
“Her position now stands above even mine. Her protection is the highest priority of our clan.”
Devansh turned to look at Yodhika.
“Until the child is born—”
Her eyes widened, but she kept her gaze lowered.
Devansh faced the court again. “Since she is a crucial part of our future, the conquest of the Amirthyas will be delayed.”
A wave of surprise swept through the hall.
Yodhika clenched her fists—and slowly released her breath, relief washing over her.
“We will wait for her to give birth,” Devansh said. “After that, we will enslave them and leave this island.”
Silence fell once more.
“That is all,” Devansh concluded. “Enjoy the rest of the banquet.”
He turned back toward his throne and family, walking with measured steps. As he sat, the hall erupted into whispers, questions, and rumors.
Yodhika allowed herself a small smile.
It vanished moments later.
A sudden pain tore through her abdomen. She stiffened, fighting to control her expression.
Then another wave hit—stronger.
She cried out.
Every head in the hall turned toward her.
(To be continued)
Karun G Nath 
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