"Enter,"

  A man slowly creeped into the room. His face was cloaked; only a pair of dark, stony eyes could be seen. Under his cummerbund, he hid a roll.

  "Present the letter and begone."

  The man put the scroll on the table, took a slight bow, and scurried away.

  The person sitting near the table opened the roll and took out a parchment ornamented with exquisite Persian calligraphy. At its middle was insignia of the Governorate of Bengal—A Rising Sun behind three tiny vessels.

  The person gestured to two others to brighten the tenebrous cell. They promptly lit three butter candles and fixed them onto a tripod stand placed on the mahogany table. They also rekindled the wall lamps, which illuminated the once-dark chamber.

  In the flickering flame of the butter candles, the face of the man sitting beside the mahogany table could finally be seen. He appeared young, but a conspicuous scar near his right ear extended down to and disfigured his lower lip. Despite his youth, his face was far from aesthetically pleasing.

  The letter, written in flawless and colorful Persian, read:

  Dearest Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces of Hindustan,

  My heartfelt salutations.

  āqā,

  Pardon my recalcitrance and the urgency with which I address this letter to you. Such manner of writing arises from matters that demand immediate attention. Some of these afflict the armed forces directly, while others, as thou hast already conveyed to the Rajādhirāja*, weigh heavily upon the empire.

  The dismal state of the military is both evident and undeniable. The inability to contain the rebellions in the Rajputana Confederacy, along with the humiliating defeat in the war against the Principality of Bundelkhand, bears testimony to the growing inefficacy and disarray within our forces.

  āqā, I do not intend to humiliate thee, for the bravery and gallantry of an Indian officer remain beyond reproach.

  Yet, under corrupt leadership, the valour of our soldiers has become a mere shadow of its former self. This continued indifference and callousness toward defence and national security is a matter of grave concern.

  Under ordinary circumstances, I would never advocate civil disobedience, for that would constitute treason, a crime unworthy of pardon. However, morality dictates that to resist a corrupt and debauched leader is not treason, but rather an act of justice, and of rightful liberation.

  Thou art wise, and I trust in thy discernment.

  Yours sincerely,

  The Governor of Bengal

  He was impressed by the persuasiveness of the letter and the liberal usage of flowery Persian vocabulary. It was rare; most documents were now being written in Hindustani.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  He rested his face on his right palm and closed his eyes, pondering over the contents of the letter.

  "This holds water. The campaign in Rajputana was wholly unnecessary. It was akin to suicide. In interfering with their domestic issues and succession crises, the Rajādhirāja has embittered the Rajputs, and the army has lost its backbone. Without them, our effective strength has been reduced to three-fifths the original."

  The Confederacy had never liked the Emperor. This loathing stemmed from both political and personal grounds. The Emperor had been married to Yaj?asēni, the eldest daughter of the head of the Confederacy (the King of Mewar-Marwar). The marriage was largely political in nature, as the young prince's sexual escapades were already well known. As chance would have it, the union proved deeply unhappy. Although five children were born, the then Crown Prince committed adultery countless times and kept numerous mistresses. He favoured his illegitimate families over his legitimate one, angering not only his father but also his in-laws, who saw his treatment of their daughter as an insult to their kingdom. Matters came to a head when the prince, having neglected his dying wife, married a twenty-year-old noblewoman. The Crown Princess passed away a month later.

  The chief of the army arose and walked towards a wooden gate.

  "Fetch me a scribe, an inkpot, and feathers,"

  _____________________________________________

  The King was seated on an ebony chair and was looking at the bundle of letters and pamphlets lying on his study table. He had his secretaries attend to some of them and read some of them himself. Some were pleas for justice, some were pleas for patronage, and some were outright eulogies. The monarch wasn't interested in them; something else perturbed him.

  A firmaan from the Gupta Emperor.

  HIS HIGHNESS THE EMPEROR OF ARYAVARTA*

  Ek. All provinces, protectorates, and autonomous kingdoms shall observe undying loyalty towards the Emperor;

  Dwo. All provinces and autonomous kingdoms shall continue to realise their duties relating to the safety and security of the Empire;

  The Emperor states that

  (A) Taking due consideration of the state of the economy, all autonomous kingdoms shall pay a sum equal to their initial annual tribute, increased by one-third of its value;

  (Author's note: In simple words, the annual tribute would be increased by 33%).

  (B) Taking into consideration gross mismanagement of the finances of individual provinces and kingdoms, a team of auditors shall be appointed by the Privy Council for all administrative bodies to audit the finances of the same; the ministry of finance of each body shall report directly to the said team and may not undertake any measure without the same's approval.

  He glanced over another bunch of documents scattered on the velvet floor. They were petitions that expressed a will to boycott the two firmaans and requested the King to take immediate action against the same. A petition, evidently from the armed forces, even suggested seceding from the empire!

  "If only he were not my cousin..."

  As he lay in consternation, a certain figure entered the room and started frolicking about.

  "Uncle!"

  It was Kamayani.

  Seeing her, the king was mollified somewhat. His facial creases easened and he took the princess by her arms.

  "What brings you here, dear?"

  Kamayani pouted immediately.

  "You're always busy with your work! You don't have any time for me! MWAAAAH!"

  The middle-aged man made a guilty face and let his tongue out. Kamayani was huffing and puffing like a steam engine, her face crimson with indignance. How interestingly na?ve, thought the king.

  "My dearest niece, I'm the ruler of this kingdom! I have to serve its people. This is my dharma."

  "You're a father and a husband too! And most importantly of all, you're MY UNCLE! "

  And with this statement, she slipped on the velvet carpet and took with her the entirety of the documents.

  BAM!

  The King sighed.

  "I wonder why mausaji* doted on you."

  Rājādhirāja Sanskrit for "King of kings"; refers to the Gupta Emperor.

  Aryavarta A Sanskrit term that loosely translates to "Land of the Aryans (noble men". Refers roughly to the Gangetic plains

  mausaji: husband of one's mom's sister.