Empire of India: Rise of the Ruthless Prince

In the courtyard, Harsha found Viswa waiting, his posture straight and books in his hand. The aide's eyes held a keen look as he approached Harsha, ready to guide him to their destination.

"Your Highness," Viswa said with a respectful bow. "The arrangements are in place. We can depart whenever you're ready."

Harsha gave a brief nod of acknowledgement. "Right."

As they exited the palace, the streets of the capital were beginning to bustle with activity. Merchants set up their stalls, the aroma of fresh goods and spices mingling in the air. The sun, now climbing higher, bathed the city in intense heat. Harsha and Viswa wove through the market, where vibrant colours and lively chatter created a lively backdrop.

Viswa led them through winding streets, past several buildings. The path gradually transitioned from the bustling market to a quieter, more subdued part of the city. The atmosphere changed from the lively clamour of commerce to an almost timeless setting.

Eventually, they arrived at a modest shop nestled among other small businesses. The shop's exterior was unassuming, with simple wooden signs and a neatly kept storefront. It was a contrast to the grandeur of the palace, but it was just practical.

Viswa paused before the entrance, glancing back at Harsha. "We're here, Your Highness. The two individuals you wish to meet are inside."

Harsha took a moment to survey the surroundings. The shop, though plain, was well placed, offering a sense of privacy and seclusion that was crucial.

With a nod to Viswa, Harsha pushed open the door and entered the shop. The interior was modest but well-organized, with various items neatly displayed on wooden shelves. A bell tinkled softly as the door closed behind them, signalling their arrival.

"Follow me, Your Highness," Viswa instructed, closing the shop. He then guided Harsha to a discreet corner of the store, where a small, inconspicuous wooden lid was hidden beneath a stack of crates. With ease, Viswa lifted the lid to reveal a ladder leading down into a basement concealed within the shop.

Harsha descended the ladder with careful steps, his eyes adjusting to the dim light that seeped from a few candles flickering at the base. As he reached the bottom, he found himself in a small, shadowy chamber. The basement was sparse but functional, with rough stone walls and a low ceiling that added to its clandestine atmosphere.

In the centre of the room, two figures were seated at a simple wooden table. The faint light from the candles cast flickering shadows on their faces. They were waiting in silence, their anticipation palpable, as Harsha entered.

Viswa took charge and began the introductions, while Harsha settled into a chair with an air of indifference, listening attentively.

Viswa gestured toward a young man sitting on Harsha's right. "This is Mithun Reddy," he said, his hand sweeping towards the young man with neatly tied long hair and a well-maintained moustache. Mithun's jet-black eyes looked up with cautiousness. "Mithun is in his early twenties. He comes from the influential Reddy family, aligned with the Crown Prince's faction.

However, he was cast out after his mother's death. Because he was the son of a mistress, he was deemed expendable. Now, he survives by taking on various odd jobs around the capital."

Mithun inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment but said nothing. He appeared to be trying to mask his discomfort with a calm expression.

Viswa then moved his hand to the left. "And this is Karna," he said, directing Harsha's attention to the tall man seated with an imposing presence. Karna had an athletic build, short hair, and brown eyes that seemed to take in every detail of the room with keen awareness.

Karna stepped forward, a serious expression on his face. "Your Highness," he said with a respectful nod, "I am Karna. I hail from Gondwana, in the Kasim Sultanate. My family was killed by the Kasim Sultanate. I managed to escape, and now I am training to join the army. I aim to avenge my family if the Empire decides to strike back."

Harsha leaned back, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest of the chair. "Very well. Mithun, Karna. What do you both excel at?" He asked, his voice carrying an edge of authority.

He looked at them with a cold stare. "I don't tolerate incompetence. If you're here to waste my time, be prepared for the consequences."

Mithun, despite his nervousness, stepped forward. "Your Highness, to be honest, I'm not sure why that Mo- *ahem* your aide chose me. I'm not accustomed to such high expectations." He hesitated.

Karna's response was more assertive. "I have trained extensively in martial arts and have focused on techniques specifically to combat the Kasim Sultanate. I am ready to give my soul for revenge." His clenched fist revealed his deep-seated anger.

Harsha glanced at Viswa, who was standing nearby. He gestured for him to come closer. In a low voice, he whispered, "Are you sure Mithun is a skilled negotiator?"

Viswa nodded slightly. "Yes, Your Highness. Mithun is indeed a master negotiator. He can extract an extra penny from even the most tight-fisted customer."

Harsha's gaze shifted to Karna. "And Karna, I can see why you chose him. His physique and discipline are commendable. We can leverage his desire for vengeance to our advantage."

Viswa met Harsha's gaze, a subtle confirmation in his eyes. "Exactly, Your Highness."

Harsha settled back in his chair. "That's enough about me. Now it's your turn," he said. "What do you both desire? A relationship like this should benefit both sides."