章 3: The prince that was not meant to be

As I tried opening my eyes thinking of the night I had, it was nothing more than the headache I was experiencing right now. As I had just graduated and after being a sincere student for the past six years, I was fine with one night of joyful carelessness. I had expected to see the sight of a hotel room upon opening my eyes but what greeted me was a rather novel experience of being in the room of some ancient royalty.

I rubbed my eyes again to confirm but the scene I was witnessing was the same. I was very confused but I did not make any erratic moves before confirming my situation. I looked down and saw myself wearing some very nice royal silk clothes and was slowly forming the idea that I am somewhere where I am not supposed to be.

I looked all over the body to search for any harm and upon finding nothing I searched around the room for anything that suggests that the owner of my now new body was here for a long time but once again found no evidence. Now you might be asking what the hell was I doing? the answer was simple to anyone who reads online novels, I was searching for obvious clues that comes with transmigration.

If I have been transferred into the main character then either he was somehow hurt and died or have been assassinated or was a trash that died while trying or doing something stupid, but the evidence thus far showed nothing of the above possibilities to be true. I could not have been just anybody from the looks of my clothes and room so I was now in a worry what kind of a world and scenario have I come to.

The next thing I did, as was to be expected, was to call for a system. That did not work. I searched for a unique mark or jewellery on my body that could be some sort of inheritance. The only thing I found was a gold locket so I did the only sensible thing I could think of, I bit my finger and placed a few drops of my blood on it in the hopes of opening a secret realm or memory that will help me. That too did not work.

I gradually settled down from my craziness and concluded that this was not a fairy tale world and I had no Goldfinger. The next thing I had to figure out was about myself and in what sort a situation I have been placed.

I composed myself, straightened my clothes, hid the bleeding finger and opened the door to my new life.

The corridor was lavishly decorated, from the perspective of a modern middle-class guy, there were two servants dusting the place. Upon seeing me they paused, greeted me by addressing me as Prince and resumed their work. This short interaction helped me understand many important details of my situation.

First, I was a prince. That was as good a start as I could expect, even if it turned out to be a small kingdom, because nobility mattered a lot in the previous era. Second, I am thankfully in India. I am somewhere around the future Maharashtra considering the Marathi accent that I had just heard from the servants. I have not been in some coma or accident considering the regular reactions. This would mean that the previous prince and I switched places while in sleep, peacefully, without much commotion. I was happy and more positive about my situation now than I had been before coming out.

I walked normally to the end of the corridor and a sharp dull pain assaulted me and I tripped. The workers immediately came to help. As one held me, another shouted for help. I had no recollection of what happened afterwards but when I regained consciousness I was once again on my bed with an old man sitting next to me and a royal looking man standing beside him conversing.

While I was unconscious, I had the recollection of the life that the prince had lived unto his fifteenth name day.

I was shocked to know that the era I am in was of the great Maratha king and warrior, Shisha ji Maharaj. At first, I was happy as I finally knew at what point of history I was in and could then plan accordingly but as more information came, I understood that though the world remained the same, the history got jumbled. In this era the current Mughal emperor was Akbar, someone who was supposed to be dead thirty years before shisha ji Maharaj was even born. The east India company had yet to enter the Indian subcontinent and the nation was still divided among powerful rulers in different directions.

The royal man next to my bed was my father, Raja Aditya Rathod. We had an independent kingdom with an alliance with the surrounding Maratha kings and under the emperor shisha ji. We were a mid-sized kingdom with ten large villages and some smaller ones. We had a steady income as well as rule. My father was a brave warrior and had fought many a battle along with the emperor and thus was respected as a king.

I was prince Shaurya Rathod, the next in the line for the Adinagar kingdom. Just like everyone else I was taught the arts of war as well as text to make me a component ruler for the future. Up to this point I was mediocre in all aspects but this did not diminish my father's love for me. This can be credited to the fact that even though I was mediocre I was not in any way cruel or ill-mannered. I was decent in the way of weapons and studies; I was polite to the people and did not go around flaunting my status to mistreat others.

From my memories I understood that I was no genius but I was not too bad and with the knowledge I had I could be a decent help to my father and no longer be a burden.

Seeing me awake my father inquired about my well-being, asked the doctor to take his leave and sat beside me. We were alone and he seemed to be looking at me with questioning eyes. I understood his intentions and fabricated the lie that it was while I was removing my jewellery last night that I got a cut and that I ignored which led to the faint.

He seemed to have bought it and asked me to relax, he instructed the servants to look after me and went about his duties.

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