A Strange in Gold

The palace of Suryanagari was a world of gold — golden domes, golden walls, golden rules.

And within this shining labyrinth, Rihan of Kaalden felt like a shadow made of dust.

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The Training Grounds

The next morning, the palace guards gathered in the training yard to test their new commander — the foreign knight.

Rihan stood in the center, his sword — Varsha-blade — sheathed in black steel. His armor glimmered faintly, carved with runes none in the empire could read.

The captain of the guards, a proud man named Raghuvir, smirked.

“Welcome to Suryanagari, foreigner. Let us see if desert blades can match river steel.”

Rihan gave a respectful nod. “As you wish.”

The duel began.

Steel clashed. Dust rose. Raghuvir’s blade flashed like lightning — but Rihan moved like water, fluid and calm. Within moments, the captain’s sword was knocked from his hand, spinning across the yard.

Gasps filled the air.

Rihan stepped back and bowed. “You fight well,” he said softly, his tone sincere.

Raghuvir blinked — then laughed, clapping his shoulder. “Perhaps you’ll teach me that trick. We could use men like you.”

From a balcony above, Princess Aaranya watched with folded arms, half-hidden by silk curtains.

Mira, beside her, whispered excitedly. “Did you see that, Princess? He defeated Raghuvir like— like a cobra dancing in rain!”

Aaranya’s gaze lingered on Rihan, who now stood quietly, head lowered in humility.

“He’s skilled,” she admitted. “But too silent. A man who hides his words hides something else too.”

Mira giggled. “Maybe his words are just shy around princesses.”

Aaranya rolled her eyes — but smiled.

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The Midday Court

By afternoon, the royal court assembled in the Hall of Mirrors(Sheesh Mahal). Ministers, nobles, and scholars filled the chamber with murmurs that glittered like jewels.

At the throne, Queen Devayani presided, her face unreadable.

Aaranya sat beside her, her golden bangles chiming faintly as she tried to look attentive.

Minister Chandrak rose.

“Your Majesty, I must express a concern. This foreign knight — we know little of his past. How can we trust a stranger with the life of our princess?”

Aaranya’s head snapped up. “Minister Chandrak,” she said calmly, “if we refused all strangers, how would peace ever enter Suryanagari?”

The minister’s thin lips tightened. “Peace requires wisdom, not sentiment.”

Before the queen could reply, Rihan stepped forward. He knelt, head bowed.

“I understand the court’s doubts,” he said. “If trust must be earned, then let me earn it not by title, but by service.”

Aaranya tilted her head, studying him again. He was calm — too calm, as if emotions were luxuries he couldn’t afford.

There was a strange power in his voice — quiet yet commanding, like thunder too far away to see.

Queen Devayani nodded slowly. “Very well, Sir Rihan. You will accompany my daughter on her pilgrimage to the River Goddess next month. Prove your loyalty there.”

The court murmured approval. Aaranya’s eyes widened.

“Mother, the pilgrimage— that’s dangerous. The forest paths—”

The queen’s gaze was sharp. “Then it is time you learn the dangers your people face, my child.”

Aaranya bit her lip but bowed. “As you command.”

And for the first time, she caught Rihan’s eyes.

There was a flicker — not of victory, but of worry. As if he already knew what dangers awaited her beyond those golden walls.

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That Evening

The moon rose over the palace pools, scattering light like pearls across the water. Aaranya sat by the lotus pond, absentmindedly stirring ripples with a silver comb.

Behind her, someone approached — silent footsteps, but the air seemed to recognize him before she did.

“Princess.”

She turned. Rihan stood a few steps away, no armor now — only a simple indigo robe. In the soft light, he looked almost human, not the untouchable warrior of morning.

“I didn’t hear you approach,” she said.

“I am trained not to be heard.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s… comforting.”

For a heartbeat, something like amusement flickered in his eyes.

He looked at the pond. “In my land, the moon is a goddess. They say she hides behind clouds when hearts lie.”

“And what of our moon?” she asked.

He met her gaze. “I think she listens.”

Silence settled, delicate and fragile. The lotus petals trembled on the water, as if holding their breath.

Finally, Aaranya said softly, “Tell me, Sir Rihan. What is your homeland like?”

He hesitated — too long for a simple answer.

Then: “It is… full of sand and sorrow. The wind sings, but few hear it anymore.”

Aaranya felt something tighten in her chest. There was truth there — heavy, unspoken truth.

“You speak as if you lost it,” she said.

He looked away. “Perhaps I did.”

For the first time, she didn’t know what to say.

And in the silver reflection of the pond, the river goddess watched — silent, knowing, her image rippling between them like a promise and a warning.

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