Meeting Venkatapati Raya
The humid air of Chandragiri was thick with anticipation. As Deepak, Neha, Khushboo, Aditya, Sonu, and their select entourage entered the high stone gates of the Chandragiri Fort, they were greeted by a royal procession in muted grandeur. Banners of the Aravidu dynasty swayed in the monsoon wind. Though the palace retained its regal bearing, the worn steps, cracked courtyards, and half-repaired towers whispered of the kingdom's slow decay.
Inside the audience hall, under the gilded wooden canopy supported by intricately carved granite pillars, sat Venkatapati Raya—the aging monarch of a fragmented empire. Dressed in white silk with a golden waistband, his eyes were sharp, his face carved with wisdom and fatigue. The court buzzed with whispers. Ministers, warriors, poets, and spies had gathered, curious about the mysterious sages from the south who had rekindled prosperity in Rayalaseema.
From the left entrance, Princess Rukmini Devi stepped in. She wore a deep violet sari laced with silver threads, a sword hanging from her side like an ornament. Unlike the other noblewomen, her stance was that of a warrior, her gaze direct, thoughtful, measuring every breath of the visitors.
The Prime Minister, Narasa Nayaka, announced, "Presenting the wisdom-seekers from the land beyond the mountains."
Deepak stepped forward, dressed as a Vedic scholar in ochre robes. He bowed deeply. "Jaya Jaya Vijaya," he chanted, followed by the rest of his family in perfect unison.
Venkatapati Raya raised a frail hand. "Rise, O learned ones. I have seen omens in my dreams. My priests have spoken of divine guidance. Tell me, are you the messengers foretold?"
Neha and Sonu exchanged glances. Deepak answered, "We are only seekers, Your Majesty, carrying ancient knowledge, devoted to the upliftment of dharma and janata."
"We have heard stories," the King replied, "of harvests doubling, of children reading stars, of dying lands turning green again. Is it true?"
Deepak gave a half-smile. "With time, labor, and the blessing of Dharma, anything is possible. But Bharat must rise by her own hands. We offer guidance, not control."
Princess Rukmini interjected, her voice calm but firm. "Then help us forge the future. Not with steel, but with knowledge."
The silence in the hall deepened. Ministers exchanged murmurs. From the shadows, a spy from Bijapur listened intently, memorizing each word.
The King motioned for them to sit. "Tell me everything."
---
From the Eyes of the Princess
Rukmini Devi had studied battle maps since she was twelve. She knew their forts were weakened, their archers tired, their alliances brittle. But this man Deepak... he radiated stillness. It wasn't the robe or the chants. It was his silence. A silence deeper than the Vedas, as though he had witnessed centuries pass like seasons.
She watched the younger boy, Aditya, point at the palace dome, explaining something about sunlight and heat. The girl, Khushboo, was offering herbal salves to a wounded guard. These were no ordinary wanderers.
She turned to her father. "We must build with them. But cautiously."
Venkatapati Raya nodded, his mind already racing.
---
From the Eyes of a Court Poet
Aged and silver-bearded, Govindaswamy watched the exchange from a marble bench. For years, he had sung of gods and kings. But what he saw today made his heart tremble. These people did not just carry verses. They were verses. Living shlokas. And perhaps... avatars.
He composed silently:
"From sapphire oceans came the flame, Wearing time like sacred name, To dying lands they softly tread, Where kings once ruled, now gods are led."
He smiled. The quill would be busy tonight.
---
After the Meeting
That evening, Deepak was escorted to the royal library, a hall of palm-leaf manuscripts and ancient scrolls. Princess Rukmini guided him herself.
"You do not carry weapons," she noted.
"Knowledge is our sword. Love is our shield," Deepak replied.
She stopped. "Then teach us how to wield them."
They paused before a mural of Krishna lifting Govardhan. Deepak looked up. "We are not gods. But we can carry the mountain together."
In another part of the fort, humanoid scouts disguised as monks scanned secret chambers. In one, they discovered a hidden scroll sealed with a Mughal emblem.
The contents were damning: a planned betrayal by a northern ally, correspondence with Governor Abdullah Khan, detailing plans to divide and conquer Rayalaseema.
Neha burned the scroll after copying its contents. "The snakes are coiled. But the fire is ready."
---
Public Reaction
Word spread in Chandragiri that the sages had arrived to awaken the land. Traders lit lamps in their shops. Farmers left garlands at the palace gates. A blind woman claimed she saw visions of a new sun rising in the south.
And in the forests outside, a secret message was sent to Goa. Dom Luis de Brito, Portuguese governor, read it and frowned.
"Find out who this Deepak is. And if he is a prophet, kill him before he becomes a king."
The storm had begun to swirl.