Empire of India: Rise of the Ruthless Prince

It was a bright and bustling day in the thriving town of Sarangpur, nestled within the Amir Sultanate.

Once a modest settlement, the town had recently seen remarkable growth, owing much of its progress to the visionary noble governing the area.

Sarangpur's trade had boomed in recent years, transforming it into a hub of trade. The noble, ambitious, and forward-thinking had lofty aspirations of developing the town into a full-fledged city.

His efforts were bolstered by a significant influx of funds through the Sultanate's city expansion scheme, allowing for infrastructure improvements and fostering greater economic opportunities.

Amidst the lively streets, a man moved through the crowd. Narakasura, disguised as a faraway merchant, wore a long-sleeved tunic paired with baggy pajamas that blended seamlessly with the attire of common traders.

His purpose in Sarangpur was far from ordinary, though.

Assigned a seemingly low-priority mission by the leader of the Yamaduts, he had been tasked with locating a man. The details were scant and frustratingly vague—a scar, a particular way of dressing, and certain walking habits.

Even more challenging, the last known information about the man's whereabouts was over three years old, limited to the broad expanse of the Amir Sultanate.

Narakasura couldn't help but question the importance of this target.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

The mission had a distinctly personal, leading him to suspect it was tied to the leader's past. Despite his curiosity, he knew better than to pry.

For now, he resolved to focus on the task, though the slow progress tested his patience.

"Hmmm... these days have been fruitless," Narakasura muttered to himself, his eyes scanning the crowded streets. Stalls lined both sides of the roads, hawking everything from textiles to spices.

He paused briefly to observe the scene. "The town looks promising," he mused, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I hear the noble ruling here is an exceptional one. Rare, indeed."

As he wandered the streets, he mingled with merchants and townsfolk, gathering tidbits of information under the guise of casual conversation. In the past month, his investigation had yielded a few faint leads—nothing concrete but enough to keep him intrigued. Among these was the discovery of a suspicious network of thieving guilds near the Sultanate's borders, whose activities hinted at something larger.

For now, Narakasura decided to bide his time.

The search was painstakingly slow, but Sarangpur's bustling streets offered a distraction, allowing him to observe the town's growth while piecing together fragments of his trail.

Bored, he killed some and tortured the rest for some valuable information. This valuable information turned out to be complete garbage. He already took out 3 bandit guilds on his own. They weren't particularly strong and he wasn't known for his strength either.

Being part of the Pancharakshas, he was trained in martial arts, so it was quite easy to lay traps and kill them one by one.

"Well, this mission is sort of like a vacation, anyway." He mumbled and looked around stalls to buy some souvenirs.

'This place is even more fascinating.'

The Sultanate itself was a good study piece for a neutral power. He understood why the other nations refused to attack or touch them too rashly. The merchants flocked to the nation-state. For the merchants it was a good place since it was politically stable and offered a steady business.

The merchant's wealth and influence in the respective kingdoms and states played a role in maintaining the neutrality of the Sultanate. If not, they wouldn't be able to survive.

'Ruler must be intelligent.' He smiled. 'Chhyasura was given the task to get information here; he would surely have some hard time.'

He walked more and scanned the surroundings. It was his 3rd day in Sarangpur. He scouted every single place in the town and created a map. He was scanning for the habits of the people.

From the description of the man, he inferred that the man was a warrior and would have the walk of a swordsman or a soldier. It was quite easy to spot since the habit wouldn't be easy to change.

'Scars can be masked, but not habits.'

He looked ahead at the corner of the street. A stall was selling some ceramic wares. It caught his eyes. He went ahead to check the wares; it was a new stall that he hadn't seen in 3 days of his scouting.

Narakasura looked at the wares; they were quite elegant and colorful. It seemed expensive.

The stall owner looked old, wrinkles coating his weary face. He was smiling wide and greeted his scarce customers. He talked eloquently.

Narakasura inspected the wares with a watchful eye. He wanted to buy one.

"Young merchant." The stall owner called. "Do you want to see some extraordinary wares?"

"Sure..." Narakasura replied awkwardly.

"Here, this is a high-quality piece." He presented a ceramic pot with a bluish shade.

"How much is it?" Narakasura asked.

The old man smiled and held three fingers up."

He shrugged. "Hmm... that's reasonable."

He noticed someone else.A young man was picking up crates all alone with ease and loading them into some merchant's carriage.

The man was quite tall and muscular.

The old man also followed his gaze. "Oh…that's my son…" He smiled proudly. "He is quite strong."

"I see..." Narakasura paused. "Oh… that said, can I ask your son to help me out with my carriage?" He smiled.

"Hmmm? Yeah, you can go talk to him." The old man said eagerly. "He likes helping others a lot."

"Alright." He placed 4 coins on the counter. "Have some extra as a courtesy." He took his ceramic pot with him to meet the son of the old man.

Walking away before the old man could protest. He walked towards the carriage as it was departing, leaving the young man all alone.

"Hey..." Narakasura called out as he closed in.

The young man turned and was startled to see him close to him. Narakasura brought out a dagger in his sleeve.

"Quiet or else I kill your father." He threatened, showing a glimpse of his dagger through his sleeve.

The young man was taller than Narakasura.

Stuttering, he looked scared. "Wh-Who are you?" He whispered.

"Drop the act, you clown." Narakasura continued in a low voice. "You are an experienced warrior; you can fool the others."

"But the way you do physical work gives it away."

The man stayed silent, his eyes never wavering or shuddering despite the situation.

"That said, also the face mask is crude." He pushed the ceramic pot into his chest.

The man took the pot from his and looked surprised at him.

"Oh…. So you say through me? Mister," he said coldly.

"Silence, Move along. If you don't want me to hurt your father."

Narakasura noticed that the man wasn't even scared of the threats. He was surely a strong one. He shook his sleeve as the man turned around and walked ahead. Two throwing daggers were in his hand.

He didn't like taking risks. He would run if things turned ugly.

They entered a lonely alley.

The man turned around and smirked. "Who are you?" He asked.

"You... first take off your face mask."

The man shook his head. "Nope."

"Should I kill you?"

"Can you?"

Narakasura went silent and thought.

'I have other ways.'

"Are you sure you want to go this route?" He asked. "I may not be able to kill you."

"What about your father?"

The man's haughty expression turned serious. "Don't touch him."

"Then do as I say." He pressed his dagger into his chest.

The man sighed. "Fine..." Putting a hand on his face and massaging it. The mask became a bit loose. Narakasura looked at his hands. Suddenly he leaned his upper body back and tried to kick him in the face.

Narakasura blocked the sudden kick with his forearm.

"You want to play this game, huh?" He took out the throwing daggers and almost jumped back into the street. The man also closed it and grabbed him by his sleeve. Narakasura turned and twisted his arm out of his grasp and threw a dagger at him; he was forced to stop and dodge.

"Wait…" He screamed. "I will do as you say. I admit defeat."

Narakasura turned back and maintained his distance. "One step and my daggers shall reach your father's throat."

The man's mask was almost undone. He took off his mask. His young face didn't look as young anymore. He had a large scar running across his face with pale skin and brown hair.

"Oh... You are that guy." He exclaimed.

"That guy?" the man asked with a confused stare.

"What's your name?"

"Rahul." The man said.

Narakasura sighed. "Are you making fun of me? You have a death wish or something?"

"I asked for your real name."

"Umm… John…"

"I see..." he thought.

"Why do you want it?"

Narakasura looked at him with a scowl and replied.

"Leave that…You are coming back with me."

"To where?" he asked.

"No questions, you clown."

Narakasura warned. "You will be following my orders from now on."

"Wait... Is it from him?"

"Who?" Narakasura asked.

"My older brother..."