Bab 4: Chapter No.4 We Object! Maharaj!
[Third Person's POV]
Aditya slowly approached the stone slab on which the Kindhura bow was laid, its polished surface gleaming in the sunlight.
Just as he reached out for the bow, it started trembling like a live thing, he paused as his hand hovered over the handle of the bow.
Chatter~ Chatter~
This phenomenon didn't escape the eyes of all the warriors, kings, monarchs, King Drupada, and Princess Draupadi who just entered the hall.
Even Lord Krishna had a mischievous smile on his face as if he was thoroughly enjoying the spectacle.
"Vasudeva?!" King Drupada asked Krishna who was sitting on his left side. "T-This Kindhura bow is trembling, as if it senses the presence of a worthy contender!"
Krishna's eyes twinkled with amusement as he glanced at King Drupada. "The bow is a legacy of strength, Maharaj Drupada. It has been waiting for someone to prove themselves, and it seems our Prince Aditya is up for the challenge."
King Drupada's eyes shifted to the boy, taking in his appearance. Unique unruly golden hair resting on his strong-looking shoulders, blood-red eyes filled with determination. His muscular but lean body, with golden bracers and shoulder guards on both arms, Luxury silk made golden doti with silver embroideries, and a flowing silk cape billowing behind him, created a striking image. There was something about the boy—like a sun's glare, gentle to the deserving and yet blinding to those who dared to underestimate him.
[Image Here]
"Dear Daughter, what do you think?" King Drupada asked, turning to Draupadi, his brow furrowed in curiosity.
Draupadi, who just came to the hall sat on the right side of King Drupada. Her pitch-black hair flowing like a gentle river in the breeze, framed her striking features. Her deep, expressive honey-brown eyes flickered with intrigue as she observed the unfolding scene. Wrapped in a light-red saree with golden accents, she exuded an air of grace and strength, the epitome of beauty destined for greatness.
[Image Here]
"I sense a fierce determination in him, Father," Draupadi replied, her voice steady yet filled with excitement. "He may not be what we expected, but there is something in his eyes that speaks of potential and purpose. Perhaps he is worth watching."
But then as if filled with impatience the trembling bow started floating on its own, rising into the air with a subtle, ethereal glow.
Gasp! Gasp!
"H-How is it possible? When we tried with all our might this stupid bow didn't even budge, but now... now before that kid even touches it, it rises as if it has a will of its own!" one of the warriors exclaimed, disbelief evident in his voice. The murmurs of confusion rippled through the crowd, an undercurrent of anticipation weaving through their ranks.
"THIS IS CONSPIRACY!!!"
"YES THIS IS DEFINITELY A CONSPIRACY! THIS BOY MUST BE A FRAUD!" another voice shouted from the back, breaking the momentary awe. The accusation hung in the air like a storm cloud, darkening the mood.
A burly warrior, his face twisted in jealousy, stepped forward, fists clenched. "I have seen countless challengers before him, all strong and worthy, yet this boy, this mere child, stands before us as if he owns the bow!"
Aditya turned, the sudden wave of hostility catching him off guard. The crowd shifted, murmurs rising again, a mix of support for him and doubt sown by the accuser. The atmosphere in the hall shifted, tension crackling like static.
"Enough!" King Drupada's voice boomed, silencing the room. The king's expression was stern, and his eyes glinted with authority. "This is not the place for petty grievances. The Kindhura bow is not merely an object of power; it is a test of heart and spirit. It has chosen to acknowledge Aditya. We will not tarnish this moment with accusations!"
The warrior hesitated, the fierce determination in Drupada's voice pushing him back. "But Maharaj—"
"Silence!" Drupada cut him off, glaring with the weight of kingship. "Do you dare question the will of the bow? Or the integrity of our people? Look around you! There are those who support Aditya and those who wish to witness this moment. We shall not divide ourselves over baseless claims!"
The levitating bow moved towards the still outstretched hand of Aditya and rested gently in his palm, the glow around it pulsing like a heartbeat. A soft murmur swept through the assembly, a mixture of astonishment and admiration.
Aditya immediately adjusted the grip by following the knowledge gained from both Apollo's archery divinity and Primordial Warrior's lessons. The bow felt alive in his hands, its energy coursing through him like a current, merging with his own spirit.
He drew the bowstring back instinctively, feeling the tension of the string and the power it held. The whispers of the crowd faded away, leaving only the rhythmic beating of his heart and the bow's soft, resonant hum. He could almost hear the echoes of those who had wielded it before, their ambitions and dreams intertwining with his own.
Twang~
A thunderous sound echoed through the hall as Aditya released the bowstring, and this was just practice for what was yet to come.
Feeling satisfied with the bow, he picked the arrow from the side of the stone slab and nocked it to the string, taking a moment to focus. Glazing at the reflection of the golden fish in the pond in the middle of the hall, he remembered the challenge before him.
The goal was to shoot the arrow through the fish's eye, but the twist was that the golden fish was floating on the ceiling, and the challenger had to take the shot without looking at the fish directly but by looking at the reflection of the fish in the pond directly under the fish.
Aditya took a deep breath, centring himself. The hall felt charged with energy, anticipation palpable in the air. His heart raced, but he forced himself to focus. He envisioned the path of the arrow, the trajectory, the moment it would leave his fingertips and find its mark.
He glanced down into the pond, the reflection of the golden fish shimmering like liquid gold. "It's just like aiming for the stars," he whispered to himself, drawing on the wisdom instilled in him by the template of Apollo.
A quote surfaced in his mind—"A good archer is known not by his arrows but his aim."
Aditya steadied himself, focusing on the reflection that danced beneath the surface of the pond. The golden fish glimmered, a beacon of possibility. The voices of the crowd faded into a distant hum, replaced by the steady cadence of his own breath.
With a deliberate motion, he raised the bow, positioning it as if he were drawing from an endless well of power. He could feel the Kindhura bow responding to his spirit, its presence an extension of his own resolve.
His fingers delicately touched the bowstring, feeling the familiar tension, like the pull of destiny itself. Aditya's blood-red eyes locked onto the reflection of the fish. He was no longer just a boy in a hall; he was an archer channelling the legacy of countless heroes before him.
With each heartbeat, he attuned himself to the rhythm of the bow, the pulse of the crowd, the whispers of history. He envisioned the path of the arrow, the flight through the air—a journey that transcended mere physics, merging with the very essence of his purpose.
As he drew the bowstring back, time seemed to stretch, a precious moment suspended in the air. The world around him faded further until it was just him, the bow, and the shimmering reflection.
"Just like the stars," he murmured, recalling Apollo's words in the template memories. "It's about knowing where to aim, not just seeing the target."
He let his breath out slowly, feeling the tension in his body dissolve into calm confidence. The murmurs of doubt and suspicion from the crowd faded, replaced by a growing sense of belief. Aditya closed his eyes for a fleeting moment, allowing the whispers of ancient archers to guide him, their wisdom echoing in his mind.
Then, with a sudden release of energy, he opened his eyes and let the arrow fly.
Twang!
The arrow soared through the air, a streak of promise against the backdrop of the hall. Aditya didn't dare look away from the reflection, trusting in his instincts and the bow's guidance. The trajectory felt right; he could almost hear the collective breath of the onlookers holding in anticipation.
As the arrow hurtled forward, the crowd watched in awe. It was not merely a projectile but a manifestation of Aditya's spirit, a testament to his determination. Time seemed to slow as the arrow approached its destination.
Whoosh!
A moment later, the arrow pierced through the eye of the golden fish, the tip glinting as it struck true. The entire hall erupted in gasps of astonishment and applause, the sound echoing off the walls like a jubilant tide.
"By the gods!" one of the warriors exclaimed, his eyes wide with disbelief. "He did it!"
Aditya lowered his bow, the reverberations of triumph thrumming through him. The Kindhura bow hummed gently in his hands, as if acknowledging his victory. The crowd's reaction surged, a mix of admiration and newfound respect swirling around him.
King Drupada rose from his seat, a proud smile breaking across his face. "You Aditya—My son-in-law have proved yourself worthy of my daughter, Draupadi. Say the words you wish to utter, and I shall bless your union!"
The proclamation sent ripples of surprise through the crowd, the tension of earlier accusations dissolving into a wave of enthusiasm. Draupadi's eyes sparkled with pride as she regarded Aditya, a mixture of admiration and intrigue swirling within them.
"WE OBJECT! MAHARAJ DRUPADA!!!" A shout resonated from the gates of the hall as five Brahmins walked into the room, their faces drawn and solemn.
"Who are you interrupting this momentous occasion?" King Drupada demanded his tone a mix of authority and irritation.
"We are..." They started shedding their guise of Brahmins.
.
..
...
[To Be Continue]
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