Rajkumar Kirtidhwaj, one brother among the Kaushavas made his way to the slumbering giant of a man, his second oldest brother, one of the triplets, Rajkumar Vivardhan. He was stretched out, his broad frame taking up more than half the bench, one arm draped lazily over his face.

"Bhrata Vivardhan, wake up!" Kirtidhwaj said, shaking his shoulder. When that failed, he resorted to poking him repeatedly.

"Wake up, bhrata! You’re missing something incredible!"

Vivardhan groaned, batting away the persistent hand without opening his eyes.

"Let me sleep, Kirtidhwaj. I’ll see whatever it is later."

"Later? You’ll regret it if you miss this. Trust me."

After several more attempts and an exaggerated sigh Kirtidhwaj said,

"Uth jaiye bhrata! Pagal hati chod diya hai Tatshree ne apne putron par!

(Wake up brother! Tatshree has set loose mad elephants on his sons!)"

Vivardhan finally sat up, blinking groggily and stated,

"Hati to thik hai, kintu pagal nehi hu main.
(Elephants are fine, but I am not mad.)"

Kirtidhwaj shook his head understanding that his brother half heard him in sleep. He again said,

"Come, fast! See what's going on in Rangbhumi."

"Fine, fine. What’s so important that you’d disturb my peace?"

Kirtidhwaj gestured toward the arena only this time.

With an air of reluctance, Vivardhan rose, his towering form commanding attention even in his sleepy state. As he approached the edge of the pavilion and took in the scene below, his half-closed eyes widened in astonishment.

The arena was alive with chaos and tension as Nirmay and Sarvaay maneuvered skillfully around the agitated elephants. The massive creatures trumpeted, their feet stomping the ground, but the twins moved with a remarkable blend of caution and courage. Their goal was clear, calm the animals without causing harm.

The crowd watched in stunned silence, their collective breath held as the youngest rajkumars demonstrated not just their skill but their compassion, a trait seldom seen in such trials.

Up in the royal pavilion, the older brothers stood watching, their expressions ranging from amazement to disbelief. Rajkumar Laksya nudged the brother standing beside him.

"This is unbelievable! They’re actually doing it!"

The other brother, Rajkumar Kirtidhwaj, shook his head.

"It’s Nirmay and Sarvaay! Are you really surprised? They always find a way to turn chaos into a performance."

"By the gods..." Yuyudhana muttered, his deep voice laced with awe. "They’re doing this without even drawing a blade?"

"But what should we do now, bhrata Vivardhan?"
Laksya asked turning his eyes to Vivardhan. Earlier they had decided to see what Nirmay and Sarvaay would do in the arena first, then they were going to decide what to do when they would get called to fight.

Vivardhan’s jaw slackened, and for a moment, he stood utterly still. The elephants, still restless but gradually calming, moved in response to Nirmay and Sarvaay’s careful gestures and soft, commanding voices. The twins showed no fear, their movements fluid and precise.

Vivardhan’s astonishment turned into a slow grin as he leaned against the railing.
"Those two never fail to surprise. However,"
He said humorously.

"Yeadhi Maharaj Jagadeesan apne priye putron par pagal hati chod sakte hai, toh meri yeh gyat karne ki eccha kadapi nehi hai ki,
Woh humpar kya chodenge!

(If Maharaj Jagadeesan can set loose mad elephants at his dear sons, I have no wish to find out what he will set loose on us!)"

"Tatparya? (Meaning?)" Asked Kirtidhwaj in.

"Tatparya yeh, ki iske paschat Gurudev jise bhi bulay Rangbhumi par, woh aapasme lad jhagarke aa jana. Aur jab tak meri bari na aaye, mujhe galti se bhi na uthana!

(Meaning is, after this whoever gets summoned by Gurudev in Rangbhumi, fight between yourselves. And until it's my turn, do not make the mistake of waking me up!)"

Vivardhan explained with a smile and went back to the bench to sleep as the rest of the Kaushavas concentrated on the Rangbhumi. It wasn't long before the twins succeeded in subduing the elephants and tied them securely so they couldn't harm anyone.

As the dust settled and the arena echoed with applause from the twins’ victory over the elephants, the Kalapradarshan continued smoothly. Each rajkumar stepped forward in turn, demonstrating their skill in arms, strategy, or physical prowess. The crowd marveled at the strength and coordination of the young princes, their hearts swelling with pride for the sons of Amvastapuram.

But when Guru Prana proudly announced the next combatant, a hush fell over the arena.

"Now, stepping into the arena is Rajkumar Dharmesth, the eldest among the Rajkumars, a beacon of wisdom and virtue, and the guiding light for his brothers. Prepare yourselves to witness the embodiment of dharma and honor."

As the gates opened, the crowd roared with enthusiasm. Dharmesth was known not just as the eldest but as a figure of respect among his brothers. A man of balance, integrity, and strength. Dharmesth stepped forward through the open gates, his armor gleaming under the sunlight. He wore a white dhoti adorned with golden borders. His shoulders were broad, his stride measured and confident, and in his hand, he carried a finely crafted spear.

Unlike the dramatic entrances of some of his cousin brothers, Dharmesth’s demeanor was steady and composed, commanding attention without demanding it. His every movement spoke of discipline and quiet authority, a prince who led by example rather than words.

Dharmesth bowed respectfully to the royal dais, first to his mother, his Guru and then to his uncles seated nearby. His gaze swept across the arena, acknowledging the audience with a faint smile.

Guru Prana then turned to the crowd, his voice carrying a note of pride.

"Rajkumar Dharmesth has been a guiding force among his brothers. Today, his skills will be tested against a worthy opponent. And for that, I summon Rajkumar Vivardhan!"

A murmur of surprise and excitement rippled through the crowd. Rajkumar Vivardhan was a formidable warrior known for his brute strength and ferocity.

All eyes turned toward Vivardhan, who had been leaning casually against a pillar, looking half-distracted. His brothers had earlier nudged him as he and Ranak were the only ones left apart from the three cousins. With a raised brow, he sighed, pushing himself upright.

"Finally," he muttered with a grin, his deep voice carrying over the noise. "A real challenge."

The crowd cheered as Vivardhan descended to the arena. His presence was in stark contrast to Dharmesth’s. Where the older prince was composed and disciplined, Vivardhan was bold and larger than life. His massive frame was adorned in dark bronze armor, and the chentu he held, seemed almost an extension of his very being.

The arena buzzed with anticipation as Dharmesth and Vivardhan stepped into the center, their weapons in hand. Dharmesth wielded a long spear, its sharp blade glinting under the sunlight. In contrast, Vivardhan carried a chentu, an unusual but deadly weapon.

The chentu had a short, sturdy handle for a firm grip. Attached to it was a long, flexible leather lash, lined with small, sharp blades that glinted ominously as it swayed in the air. At the end of the lash hung a metal ball studded with thorns, a weapon as unpredictable as it was dangerous. It required immense skill to wield, and in Vivardhan’s experienced hands, it became an extension of his power.

The brothers bowed to each other before assuming their stances. The crowd held its breath as the battle began.

Vivardhan was the first to strike, swinging the chentu in a wide arc. The lash sliced through the air with a sharp whistling sound, the metal ball at its tip aimed for Dharmesth’s legs. Dharmesth anticipated the move and sidestepped, using the shaft of his spear to deflect the lash. Sparks flew as the blades on the chentu grazed the metal of the spear.

Dharmesth countered with a quick thrust of his spear, aiming for Vivardhan’s torso. But Vivardhan stepped back, swinging the chentu over his shoulder and then bringing it down in a powerful strike. The thorned ball hit the ground with a loud crash, sending up a spray of dirt.

The crowd erupted into cheers as the two warriors danced across the arena, their weapons clashing and countering with precision. Dharmesth’s movements were calculated, his spear an extension of his strategic mind, while Vivardhan’s strikes were bold and forceful, each swing of the chentu a display of raw strength.

At one point, Vivardhan gained the upper hand. With a flick of his wrist, the chentu coiled around the shaft of Dharmesth’s spear, the sharp blades biting into the wood. The crowd gasped as Vivardhan yanked the spear, trying to disarm his cousin. But Dharmesth held firm, using his body weight to keep the spear in his grasp.

With a sudden twist, Dharmesth broke free, spinning the spear in a wide arc and forcing Vivardhan to step back.

"Not bad, bhrata Dharmesth." Vivardhan said, a grin playing on his lips. "But let’s see if you can handle this."

Vivardhan launched into a flurry of attacks, the chentu whipping through the air with frightening speed. Dharmesth matched him move for move, his spear spinning and blocking with uncanny precision. The two seemed evenly matched, their contrasting styles creating a mesmerizing duel.

But then, in a fleeting moment of distraction, perhaps a cheer from the crowd or a misstep in his movement, Vivardhan faltered.
It was all Dharmesth needed. Seizing the opportunity, he stepped in close, using the shaft of his spear to block the chentu’s lash before sweeping Vivardhan’s legs out from under him.

Vivardhan fell to the ground with a thud, his weapon slipping from his grasp. Before he could recover, Dharmesth pointed the tip of his spear at Vivardhan’s chest, signaling his victory.

The arena erupted into thunderous applause, the crowd rising to their feet in admiration of the duel. Dharmesth extended a hand to his brother, helping him to his feet.

"Well done," Vivardhan said with a smile, dusting himself off.
"You’ve earned this one."

Dharmesth nodded his head slightly, his voice calm but resolute.
"It was an honor to face you, Vivardhan. Strength and wisdom both have their place in the arena."

The two turned to face the audience, the crowd cheering louder than ever, as the royal family watched on with pride and satisfaction.

Raani Yamini’s lips curved into a satisfied smile as she leaned slightly forward, her eyes gleaming with pride. Among the royal women seated on the dais, her posture was poised but spoke volumes of her inner triumph.

"Dharmesth has proven once again why he is the pride of this lineage,"

She remarked loudly, glancing at Maharani Nivedita. Her tone carried both pride and an undercurrent of rivalry. She adjusted her jeweled shawl, sitting straighter, her gaze fixed on her son as if silently declaring his unmatched worth to all present.

Just as she said that a sudden, sharp clang silenced the arena.

A second spear had struck the ground near Dharmesth’s feet, quivering from the force of its throw. Gasps rippled through the audience, and all eyes turned to the source of the challenge.

It was Rajkumar Ranak who stood tall atop one of the stone pillars at the edge of the arena, his silhouette striking against the sky. Clad in dark armor that seemed to absorb the sunlight, his expression was unreadable, but his intent was unmistakable.

The crowd murmured in astonishment, and even Guru Prana raised a brow at the unexpected act of defiance. Dharmesth’s gaze followed the spear, then slowly rose to meet Ranak’s piercing eyes. Without a word, Ranak leapt from the pillar, landing in the arena with feline grace.

He straightened, his movements deliberate, and with a smirk, addressed Dharmesth in a voice that carried over the hushed crowd.

"A victory earned without facing me is incomplete. Shall we see if you are truly the best, bhrata?"

Dharmesth’s grip tightened on his spear as he stepped forward, but his calm demeanor remained unshaken.

"If that is what you wish, Ranak, so be it."

The two brothers squared off, the air between them charged with tension. The audience watched in rapt silence as the match began, the clash of spear against spear promising to be a battle of equals, and a test of wills.

The arena was tense with anticipation as Dharmesth and Ranak stood facing each other. The eldest and the most composed of the Rajkumars, Dharmesth’s presence was one of quiet authority. His spear gleamed in his hand, held with a steady grip, while Ranak’s stance radiated restless energy, his sharp eyes locked onto his elder brother.

The fight began with Ranak striking first, his movements quick and precise. Dharmesth met his attack head-on, their spears clashing with a resonant clang. The crowd leaned forward, their eyes glued to the two princes, both equally skilled yet so vastly different in their demeanor.

"You know, bhrata Dharmesth,"
Ranak said as their spears locked mid-air,
"You walk through life as if the weight of the world rests on your shoulders. Does it not tire you?"

Dharmesth didn’t falter. With a smooth twist of his weapon, he broke the lock and stepped back, his movements calculated.

"It is not tiring to uphold what is right, Ranak. It is my duty, as it is yours."

Ranak laughed, circling Dharmesth with a predator’s grace.

"Ah, always the preacher. But does your precious dharma win battles? Or is it just a shield for indecision?"

Dharmesth’s gaze didn’t waver as he answered,

"Dharma is not indecision. It is the strength to act with purpose and righteousness, even when the path is unclear."

He lunged forward, his spear aiming for Ranak’s shoulder, but Ranak twisted away, countering with a strike aimed at Dharmesth’s side.

The clash continued, their spears moving in a blur of motion, each testing the other’s skill. Ranak’s strikes were swift and aggressive, while Dharmesth’s were deliberate, his calm precision countering Ranak’s wild energy.

"You’re too slow,"
Ranak taunted, dodging a thrust and stepping in closer.
"This calm of yours---it’s a weakness, not a strength."

Dharmesth deflected the attack effortlessly and struck back, forcing Ranak to retreat.

"Calm is not a weakness, Ranak," he said evenly. "It is what allows a warrior to see clearly when chaos surrounds him."

Ranak’s smirk faltered for a moment, but he recovered quickly.

"Then let’s see how clear you can be."

In a bold move, Ranak feinted to the right and spun his spear low, kicking up a swirl of dust that obscured Dharmesth’s vision. Dharmesth stepped back, adjusting his stance, but Ranak was already moving, his spear striking like a serpent.

Dharmesth blocked the blow, but the dust had distracted him just enough for Ranak to shift his attack. With a sudden, sweeping motion, Ranak disarmed Dharmesth, sending his spear clattering to the ground. The tip of Ranak’s spear hovered near Dharmesth’s chest as the crowd erupted in a mixture of gasps and cheers.

Despite his defeat, Dharmesth stood tall, meeting Ranak’s gaze without anger or shame.

"Well fought," he said simply, his voice steady.

Ranak lowered his spear, a faint flicker of respect crossing his face.

"You’re a difficult man to shake, bhrata Dharmesth. But even dharma must bow to strategy."

Dharmesth bent down to retrieve his spear, brushing off the dust.

"Dharma does not bow, Ranak. It endures. You won today, but remember---victory is fleeting if it is not just."

The words hung in the air as the two brothers turned to face the crowd, their rivalry tempered by an unspoken bond of mutual respect.

Dharmesth left the ground silently, but before Ranak could leave a loud bang sounded. The earth started to shake and a crack appeared on the ground of the arena. Ranak fell on the ground from the sudden force of it.

As everyone looked confused about what was the sudden cause of this earthquake, a tall and broad figure filled the opened gate of the arena.

With his mace casually resting over his shoulder, stood there the formidable force called Rajkumar Prabal. His eyes were fixed on Ranak. Ranak stood from the ground and dusted off his clothes

"You’ve had your fun, but now it’s my turn. Let’s see how your wit fares against my strength!"

Prabal’s booming voice echoed across the arena as he stepped forward. Ranak, who had just handed his spear to an attendant, turned to face his brother with an exaggerated sigh.

"Bhrata Prabal, must we resort to this?"
He asked, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"Nirmay aur Sarvaay toh purb hi hatiyo se ladh cuke. Aab aapse ladna bhi abassyak hai kya? Hai toh aap ek hi jati ke.

(Nirmay and Sarvaay have already fought with elephants. Is it necessary to fight with you too? You belong to the same species afterall.)"

"Enough of your words, Ranak! Pick a weapon and face me!"

Prabal said angrily, undeterred by his humor. Ranak took a step back, waving his hands.

"Ah, but I just fought bhrata Dharmesth! Surely you wouldn’t challenge a weary man! It would be unfair, wouldn’t it?"

Prabal grinned, hefting his mace.

"Fair or not, you won’t talk your way out of this one!"

Before Ranak could respond, Prabal charged, swinging his mace with alarming speed. Ranak yelped and dodged, leaping out of the way just in time.

"Alright, alright! Calm down, you brute! Let me get a weapon first!"

But Prabal didn’t slow down, his anger and excitement getting the better of him. The mace struck the ground with a loud crash, sending up a cloud of dust and scattering loose debris. Ranak saved himself from the blow and stood near a corner against a pillar. But Prabal, being angry from his tactics and Dharmesth's defeat strike again. This time Ranak barely saved himself as the mace made contact with the base of the pillar.

The crowd gasped! As the large stone pillar's base was damaged and the upper portion of the pillar started to fall, time seemed to have slowed down for everyone. Rajkumar Jayaditya started to stand up from his seat along with Maharaj Jagadeesan as they realized, the pillar was going to fall on the dais.

Just at the place where the women of the royal family sat.