Karikalan: Saviour of the Cholas

Chapter 73: Not By A Long Shot

Valavan looked out if his chariot. Surprisingly, happiness was not what he predominantly felt upon laying his eyes on Urayur.

It was trepidation.

People were thronging the streets, screaming his name out loud. And it was not his birth name.

Yells of 'Hail Karikalan' filled the air. A distant part of him knew enough to find it humourous. For what had initially been an insult was now a... sensation.

Talk of irony.

Well, admittedly, 'King Karikala Cholan' did have a nice ring to it.

He couldn't help but wonder what those two guards would make of this latest turn of events. Sadly, he had no way of knowing about it.

All the way back, he couldn't stop hearing the chants, couldn't stop seeing the people so ecstatic, simply because they saw him.

It was terrifying, to say the least.

Urayur was not just the place he spent his childhood and grew up in anymore.

It was no longer the place he could be carefree.

It had become the place he had to rule.

He looked beside him, eyes apprehensive. Chezhiyan was with him. Poovazhagi and Alli were on the chariot behind theirs. The Nangurvel and Azhundervel were coming as well.

They were all visiting together and planned to stay until the coronation was over.

The prisoners of the war had been sent to Urayur too. In fact, they must have reached there by now. Only the Cheras and Pandyas were held captive.

Presently, Chezhiyan turned to look at him as well. Sensing his inner turmoil, he shot him a reassuring smile. Valavan tried to smile back. It came out a tad smaller, lacking confidence. In an attempt to distract himself, he looked Chezhiyan over.

He appeared well.

Gone was the tight-strung Commander who had been forced to keep himself together for the sake of his army. Except for the bags under his eyes, he looked his normal, usual self.

As normal as he could be, that is.

They had not left right on the day of the war as planned. Instead, they had stayed and performed the funerals.

Yes, he had fulfilled Irungovel's last rites.

However, despite doing everything as per custom, he'd refused to shave off his hair. No one had argued him out of that, thankfully.

Valavan still remembered the slight tremble in his hand as he had lifted the log to light Irungovel's pyre. He couldn't help the tears that burned his eyes. The same hand that he had used to tug Irungovel's dhoti to urge him to lift him up was about to erase him out of existence.

To turn him into nothing but ashes.

He'd quickly blinked them away before anyone could see, setting him on flames.

The irony was not lost on him.

Once the deed was done, he'd stepped back to see Chezhiyan performing the same for Vikraman, his face stoic. He'd shaved his head and was standing there, his face a cold mask.

What had finally broken through his facade was Uttaman's mother's wails. She had been waiting back in the camp for her ailing husband to return from the cremation ground. Valavan couldn't forget the look on Chezhiyan's face when he saw her.

When he saw her seeing her tear-stricken husband return.

When he saw the last vestiges of her hope to see her son alive yet again flickered out to eventually extinguish. She had crumbled down, her husband running to catch her.