After a grueling court session in the Kingdom's grand courtroom yesterday, a scene that had become almost customary, the air was thick with formality. The King, along with distinguished officials and affluent merchants, convened as they did once every year, for a tradition that had persisted for generations.
On this occasion, the daughters of noble officials and wealthy merchants were presented before the The King, an annual spectacle where he was expected to appraise them and, if chosen, invite them into his harem as concubines.
Yet, the The King stood apart. Grumpy and withdrawn, he greeted the morning with visible displeasure. The ritual, which forced him to inspect the daughters of the powerful and wealthy, weighed heavily on him.
For a decade, this tradition had been a source of disdain, and for nearly as long, the The King had cleverly evaded the duty, citing his focus on military conquests and the pursuit of glory on the battlefield. He had won countless wars, but never a battle against the annual expectation that always found him unwilling to participate.
The Kingdom buzzed with concern over the King, Rajgardh, now approaching the age of 24 and yet without a concubine or even a fling to his name. His prolonged bachelorhood stirred unease both within and beyond the Kingdom's borders. The neighboring realms, watching closely, saw in him the only true threat from Rajgardh.
This world, where only five great Kingdoms stood- Rajgardh, Suryagardh, Veergardh, Vishalgardh, Shourygardh, Abhagardh-could not afford to ignore the solitary figure of the King. Among them, Abhaygardh was a sworn enemy, while the others, though less hostile, kept watchful eyes upon his every move.
In this world, swords, spears, arrows, and daggers were the weapons of choice-there were no guns, no ammunition, only the sharp edge of metal and the tension of armies poised for battle.
The King emerged from his chambers and made his way to the dining hall. As he descended the stairs, he noticed an elderly figure seated in the living room, sipping tea. A seventy year old man, Mahamantri ( Advisor ) Pandit Gyanendra, rose immediately upon seeing him, bowing deeply with reverence.
"Your Highness," Mahamantri greeted, his tone respectful but laced with a hint of hesitation.
The King spared him only a brief glance, his attention more focused on the dining hall ahead. "What is it, Mahamantriji ?" he inquired, his voice terse as he continued on his path.
Mahamantri, though having served the king for more than a decade, had never grown entirely comfortable with the task before him. As a seasoned counselor, he was used to offering advice on matters of state, but this... this was a different sort of challenge. He knew the King's indifference to such personal matters, but the time had come to address the elephant in the room.
" Ranasa," Mahamatri began cautiously, his voice tinged with reluctance, "I come today to discuss a matter that requires your cooperation. It is... not an easy subject, but it can no longer be ignored."
The King, his brow furrowing, sat at the head of the dining table, understanding immediately the nature of the conversation. He sighed, the annoyance palpable in his voice. "Not you too, Advisor," he muttered, his tone bordering on a growl. "Are we really having this conversation?"
" Ranasa, I understand that you have avoided this topic for years, citing your dedication to military exploits. Yet, I fear we can no longer use that excuse. While you may not be interested in the women paraded before you-nor in using them for political gain-you still need someone to fulfill your personal needs. His Highness will soon find you a bride for a political marriage, but you cannot remain chaste until then."
The King scoffed. "A concubine?" he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. "And where do you propose I find such a woman? Who would dare to be my concubine? Am I Asexual?"
Rajgardh was known far and wide for his ruthless nature. In both the courtroom and on the battlefield, he was feared-his bluntness and cold demeanor made him an intimidating figure, even to the other Kings. Few dared to approach him, and even fewer would willingly offer themselves as a concubine. Among the Princes, only the King was not intimidated by him.
Mahamatri, ever the tactician, paused for a moment, considering his words carefully. Then, his gaze shifted toward the living room, where two young women stood quietly, waiting for any command. These two maids, despite being in their teens, had remained in their positions. In a world where maids were typically married off by the age of sixteen, these two had chosen to devote their lives to serving the King-maintaining their chastity and loyalty in the process.
An idea, though bold, crossed Mahamatri's mind.
"Ranasa," he said, his voice now more tentative but carrying the weight of consideration, "what if you were to take one of them as your concubine?"
The King followed the Mahamatri's gaze toward the two women standing in the living room, waiting patiently. His eyes scanned them for a moment before returning to Mahamatri with a sharp, questioning tone. "Which one?"
For a brief moment, Mahamantri was taken aback by the question. He hadn't expected the The King to entertain the suggestion, let alone ask which one. His mind raced for a moment, then a small smile crept onto his face, an expression of quiet confidence.
"Both, Ranasa," he replied, his voice now filled with certainty, "If you so wish."
The King leaned back in his chair, his gaze never wavering from the Mahamantri. Though the idea was unexpected, it sparked a thought, one that perhaps would fulfill both his personal desires and his need for loyalty-without the constraints of politics and the King's orders.
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