It was just three hours after sunrise. Five ministers were already present in the minister's chambers, waiting for Sikala. Each of them wanted something from her.
With a longing face sat Kipla, a royal-born man from the Venn kingdom. He was still thinking about the last time he left Chendurai with his prince—shamed and unable to console his saddened prince back home. The prince had been so enthusiastic about asking for Sikala's hand in marriage, a plan that now seemed utterly foolish.
The chair next to him was empty. It had been assigned to Elaya of Dhira's kingdom, who was now absent
The next chair—the one closest to the Empress—belonged to Yoni, the bastard son of Kash's king. The entire Ankalan empire despised the Kash kingdom; even the people of Kash hated their own rulers and fled as refugees to neighboring kingdoms. The economy of Kash was entirely dependent on aid from the Ankalan Crown. Geographically, it served as a vital shield, protecting the Ankalan mainland from any future Chakran invasion. In the last war, only Kash had suffered under Chakran attacks while the rest of the empire slept peacefully in their grand palaces.
Yoni was the youngest minister, even younger than Sikala, and the first from Kash ever to sit on the Ministers' Council. The previous Emperor had not even allowed anyone from Kash near Chendurai. This made the Kash people respect Sikala even more.
From across the table came a look of disgust from Nuka, Vira's minister—an old man who still clung to ancient rules. He refused to accept Chakran rule as legitimate and had been one of the key influencers who convinced Emperor Aravan to wage war against Chakran and side with Marva of Pathukalas. To him, Kash remained a slave territory: they had lost the battle a hundred years ago, surrendered their god without a fight, and were still begging for scraps.
Next to him sat Thiran, Dana's minister, who always carried the faint smell of fish. Dana's people had been seafarers for centuries and traditionally avoided capital politics. They mainly traded with Mahanad, the vast foreign mainland said to be ten times larger than the island. To this day, most of Mahanad had only encountered people from Dana and still regarded the entire island as little more than a fishing village. Only small boats crossed the long sea, taking days to reach the other side.
Beside him sat a large man with a thick beard, wearing a turban and silk kurta. He always wore a smiling face. This was Johi, the younger brother of the king of Naha. Naha was a fertile plain land rich in mines and the second-richest kingdom in Ankala, after Dhira. Some of Dhira's territory had been ceded to Naha after their rebellion and war against the Ankalan Crown. Many believed this conflict was the primary reason Ankala fell into massive debt. The Dhirans had waited until the Crown weakened, then gradually renegotiated tax terms in their favor, gaining enormous influence over Chendurai.
A tall old man entered the minister's chamber. All five ministers rose in respect. He walked to stand beside the Empress's chair. This was Sagaya, Advisor to the Crown. A master of all known arts, he trained new advisors for the throne. In Ankala, becoming an advisor was an honorable yet austere position—only a handful ever achieved it. They had to master politics, war strategy, and public manipulation, but the power came at a steep price: advisors were forbidden to marry and were required to dedicate their entire lives to the throne.
Sagaya had once failed the throne. It was under his advisory that Emperor Aravan had lost his life. Since then, he had become extremely cautious, maintaining strict order and an extensive spy network.
The Mallari music began. Chendurai guards entered the chamber, followed by the Empress herself.
She arrived wearing a violet silk saree with sixteen pleats, a long shawl draped over her upper body down to her waist, and her hair styled in an elegant bun adorned with jasmine flowers. Traditionally, a violet saree draped in this style with sixteen pleats was worn only by a married empress who had a male heir—but no one dared question Sikala.
She took her seat on the throne, flicked her fingers to signal the Chendurai guards to leave, placed her scepter on the table, and gestured for the ministers to sit.
Sagaya, standing near her, began the meeting.
“We have everyone except Elaya, and his absence was not informed in advance, my Empress.”
She turned her head upward to look at him and nodded. Sagaya kept his eyes lowered.
“What’s his problem?” she asked the ministers, smashing an almond with her scepter.
“It was about the tournament…” Kipla, the minister from Venn, murmured.
She stared at him.
“Even you seem to have some problem, Kipla. Speak up.”
Kipla lowered his head but continued.
“The thousandth tournament was supposed to be a very special event, Empress! But it was ruined by one of these… guard dogs—sorry, your guards.”
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She smiled and leaned back.
“Do you hear yourself, Kipla? Two princes of the great kingdoms of Ankala were defeated by a guard dog, and to satisfy your petty ego, I even executed him.”
Kipla placed his hands on the table.
“But they think—”
Sikala lost her temper.
“You question your Empress’s word?”
Kipla dropped to his knees in an instant.
“Not me, my Empress. It’s the Dhirans—and they even went so far as to ask Sathyeran help to trace the guard dog!”
Sikala looked at Sagaya.
Sagaya, head still lowered, spoke.
“Nakalan personally requested help from Sathyeran Emperor Janath to find his missing golden cloak men, who had gone in search of any man resembling the guard dog.”
Sikala smiled, but her tone turned venomous.
“So tell me, Sagaya—according to the old laws and the oath to the Crown, what is the punishment for betraying the queen?”
Sagaya’s mouth went dry.
“Execution,” he said fearfully.
“The Dhirans have always forced us into uncomfortable decisions. But leave this matter to me. I will take care of it.”
The royal messenger entered, placed all the scrolls, invitations, and messages from various kingdoms on the table, and left with the Empress’s permission.
Sikala turned to Thiran, the minister from Dana who oversaw taxes.
He stood and explained the current tax collections and the debt repayments owed to both Sathyera and Chakra.
Nuka, the minister from Vira, intervened.
“The tournament expenses have taken a heavy toll on this month’s revenue, my Empress. We may need to stop the aid to the Kash kingdom to keep things in order.”
Yoni, the young minister from Kash, trembled and looked at Sikala. She blinked slowly.
Sagaya pointed to the debt section.
“We pay almost fifty percent of our tax collection to the Chakrans. If we could negotiate even a small relief, it would be helpful, my Empress.”
Sikala flipped her hair.
“Negotiate with them? We refused to let their armies march through our lands to invade Sathyera. We even refused to meet their highest-ranking minister and made him wait in a hut for a week. Be grateful they haven’t raised the taxes further.”
Sagaya stepped back from the table.
“Refusing to meet Senga was a grave mistake. Elaya’s advice was condemnable. But the Chakran Empire is crowning their new prince. We could use this event to open talks, my Empress.”
Sikala raised an eyebrow.
“Prince’s coronation? As if Emperor Thejan would ever invite me.”
Sagaya walked to the pile of scrolls left by the messenger and picked up the largest one.
“Thejan might not—but Empress Parandvani has invited you to the event.”
He opened the scroll and placed it before Sikala.
For a few seconds, her eyes sparkled with excitement.
Sikala sat up straight.
“Who should we send, and what should we gift him?”
Sagaya noticed her expression shift instantly.
“The gift must be meaningful, political, and carry a strong message.”
Sikala looked at Yoni.
“What is the river island between Kash and Anniyur?”
Yoni replied, puzzled, “Ponniyagam.”
Sagaya responded.
“That’s a strategic island. It would be useful when Ponni blesses us with water.”
She looked disappointed at Sagaya.
“I suggest we rebuild the Ponni Devi temple on the island. The Anniyur king also worships Ponni Devi, correct? We can also gift a new temple car for Chenna Devi and construct a palace in Ponniyagam as a gift to the prince. Will that be enough?”
Sagaya became enthusiastic.
“This is brilliant, my Empress—a gift they cannot refuse and an excellent bargaining chip for debt negotiations.”
Sagaya walked to the scroll bundle and retrieved a palm-leaf book wrapped in red silk and sealed with molten wax.
The wax indicated messages from the Kuriya network—a vast spy network across the island loyal to the Ankalan throne.
She read the first one and tossed it aside in disappointment.
“No one can enter Vakkanam. What is the point of sending thousands of commoners? I want to know what Kariyan is doing!”
Yoni stood up.
“No one has returned from Vakkanam, my Empress. No Ankalan remains on Vakkanam shores. Anyone who even slightly deviates is killed instantly. Kariyan holds his kingdom like an iron wall—nothing comes out of it.”
Sikala looked confused.
“If no Ankalan is there in Vakkanam, where is he taking them?”
Yoni lowered his head, having no answer.
She took the next palm-leaf letter and slammed it on the table.
“Who gave authority to Dhira’s golden cloaks to enter Ankottai? Their interference is getting out of hand!”
Johi, who had been silent until now, cleared his throat.
“The golden cloaks never returned from Ankottai. Which raises a question: did the mighty kingdom of Kash arrest them?”
Laughter erupted among four of the ministers.
Sikala stared them down until silence returned. She looked at Yoni.
He kept his head down and shook it—no.
Johi continued.
“If neither the guards nor soldiers of Kash intervened, then we must ask: who was the mighty warrior capable of taking out not one, not two, but four highly trained golden cloak men? The golden cloak company claims they found a man who strongly resembled the eunuch guard personally executed by the Empress.”
Sikala faltered for a moment—her eyes flickered—but she quickly regained composure.
“What exactly are you implying, Johi?”
Johi bowed.
“I would never dare despise our mighty Empress. But Elaya has sought Sathyeran help to locate the missing golden cloak men, as they were trained by Sathyeran command. This should be treated as nothing more than a business deal—similar to the foreign guards you employ, my Empress.”
Sikala was amused by Johi’s clever wording and chose not to pursue the matter further.
“Three days. I assume that will be sufficient for Sathyera’s trainers to find their sell-swords.”
Sikala flipped through the palm-leaf letters, discarding the least important ones.
“There is nothing from the Chakran Empire?”
Sagaya bent down and whispered.
“The prince has eliminated every single Ankalan and Sathyeran spy in the capital. We have no information, my Empress. We are seeking alternatives.”
Johi continued.
“My Empress, since your enthronement you have dealt only with a careless emperor in the north and a would-be emperor in the west. Things are slowly changing.”
Nuka added.
“Yes, my Empress. I have witnessed the might of Thejan, but his son appears far more dangerous. He has personal squads in every corner of the empire. Though people hate them for collecting taxes, something unusual is happening. My merchants have never seen such able-bodied men—men who resemble war commanders—collecting taxes in rural villages. They call them the Gandar Squad. These men can read and write, which is rare for war commanders but common for tax collectors!”
Sikala knew exactly what the Gandar Squad truly was—a tactic taught in the gurukulam—but the scale of it amused her.
Sagaya slid a letter across Sikala’s desk.
“My Empress, the entire island will attend the Chakran prince’s coronation. An invitation has even been sent to the Sathyera Emperor. Though we have a strong alliance with Sathyera, we must project neutrality. I would advise you to attend the prince’s coronation and discuss the debt terms.”
Sikala simply nodded.
Yoni read the final letter. His face turned pale, his hands began to tremble, and he passed the palm-leaf letter to Sikala.
Her eyes widened. She dropped the letter onto the table and sat up straight.
“They are sending Uji to investigate the missing golden cloaks.”
The ministers trembled. Sagaya took a step back.
Nuka’s voice shook.
“Uji… the merciless commander of Sathyera?”
Sagaya looked at Nuka.
“He is not just a commander. He is a member of the Great Council of Sathyera.”
“Great Council?” Yoni asked, confused.
Nuka finished the explanation.
“It is the oldest continuing Emperor’s squad. A member of the Great Council knows all sixteen art forms. He is a formidable warrior, a great strategist, and one of the wisest men on the island.”
Sikala composed herself.
“Whoever it is, he has three days—nothing more. Once Uji leaves Ankala, I want Nakalan and Elaya here in the capital with a proper explanation.”
