Cittaja || Indian Historical Romance

3.

"Welcome, Manjri." Shakra greeted the man, startling him completely.

"Y..yu..Yuvraj???" He stuttered seeing him.

"I came to meet you but you weren't present at your palace, so I made my way here to see you. Sure, a bit of struggle was present on my part having to ask around where you were but it's all worth it since I did get to meet you." Shakra's presence made his bones shake in fear. Especially when the Prince's knife was left naked on the table.

Manjri could tell. Shakra did find out about the betrayal. Manjri could tell that this was his end. Shakra wasn't the compassionate kind to forgive people just like that and give them a second chance. No. He was the kind that made an example out of traitors. No one dared to betray him again.
"Yuv...Yuvraj..." Manjri stuttered.

"Yes. Aren't you happy to see me?" Shakra asked with a arrogant grin. Getting up from the chair he was sitting on, Shakra walked towards Manjari and put his arm around the man.

"I..." Manjari didn't know how to say something in that case. Soon, the arm wrapped itself around Manjari's neck. Manjari struggled to get himself free from the grasp.

"Manjari, I feel so unappreciated that you aren't happy to see me. After all, we both grew up in the same Gurukul and learnt from the same Guru." Manjari struggled hard but the grip only tightened like that of a rock python tightening its grip around its prey to kill the prey. No amount of punching Shakra worked to ease that grip. It just got tighter.

"How fair is it that you hurt such a long association of ours and take advantage of me being nice to you." He added.
Manjari was strongly choked within the grip to say anything at all. The movement was swift by his throat. The knife was quite small but extremely sharp. Cutting through the neck like a hot knife over butter.

Blood spilled over his blue dhoti. Shakra extended his hand, dropping the body down. Blood flowed on the floor. The soldier handed a cloth to his Yuvraj. Shakra cleaned his hands off the blood and then patted his blue dhoti hoping some blood would come off. The precious gemstones studded foot kada was tainted with blood.

He called over Manjari's servant. The boy shook with fear while approaching the prince. "Namaskaram, Yuvaraja." He bowed to the prince.

"What is your name?"

"Mitra, Yuvaraj." He answered.

"Collect your dues from my soldiers. They are moving to the locker room to collect my dues that Manjari had to pay up. Collect your dues from them. Whatever is left and whatever is due to you." Shakra told Mitra.

"As you order, Yuvaraja." The servant bowed and started walking away.

"Mitra, be careful. If I see you with any traitors again, you'll join your old employer." Nodding fearfully, the boy ran away.

Shakra was met with the King the first thing when he returned to the royal palace. The first wing they entered in the royal palace was the King's court. At the top of the stairs was the King. Sitting on a chair and behind him was the woman that Shakra thought resembled Tadaka.

"Look at him, Maharaja, not even a little bit of remorse on his face." She poked the King.

"Remorse? For a traitor?" Shakra chuckled dryly.

"My nephew's cousin was no traitor. Only you doubted him so. It is the King's right to declare anyone traitor." A screech came.

"They would rather be careful not to be doubted by me in such a case."

"It seems that the Crown Prince forgets that he is not the King. I would like to ask in whose orders was the man murdered?" The King asked.

"I'd like to use the word 'narakabhramana'."