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94.56% Nine Lunar Letters / Chapter 87: Marriage is our last, best chance to grow up.

Chương 87: Marriage is our last, best chance to grow up.

Nildiri Hills, Northern Army Camp

After Dushyant's departure, the general strolled around the waterfall for a long while. It was as if he was trying to delay what came next. Before he knew it, the yellow rays had turned silver in the sky.

With a scoff, he realised his foolishness. Procrastination was an expensive commodity, one which he couldn't afford.

General Chandraveer exhaled loudly and headed to his eldest son's quarters. It was time to have a heart-to-heart conversation with Agastya.

"Did you already retire for the night?" asked General Chandraveer, taking in the informal clothes on his son's body.

He had waited for a few minutes in the outer room while Agastya's orderlie had gone in to inform his master about his father's arrival.

"No, Father. I was catching up on a bit of reading. I haven't found the time recently. Now, with your presence here, I can relax a little," Agastya replied with a warm smile.

The general looked at his son with fondness and nodded. He was really proud of the way Agastya had grown over the years. His temperament was far more stable and mature than his own when he had been his son's age.

Even though General Chandraveer wouldn't admit it to anyone, his disposition in his youth was really similar to the two younger brats of his family, at least on the battlefield. His risk-taking and impulsiveness had caused his own father a lot of grief in those days.

Hence, he was secretly relieved that Agastya did not pick those traits from him.

"Father, were you looking for me for a specific reason?" asked Agastya as he looked at his father in confusion.

The old man looked distracted tonight, unlike his usual self. Even though they had promised to have dinner together, when the time came, General Chandraveer hadn't returned to the camp.

Moreover, as per his subordinate's report, Dushyant had left the camp quietly sometime in the afternoon. As always, he hadn't bothered to inform Agastya about it. Ever since their last confrontation, both of them had avoided each other tacitly.

Anyways, it suited Agastya if Dushyant wasn't around to fight for their father's attention at the camp.

General Chandraveer looked at his son with a complicated gaze. "I believe you are aware of the invite which has been sent for Princess Anara's swayamvar. You… you are one of the candidates for the same."

Saying so, he looked at his son, as if to gauge his reaction.

But Agastya remained calm under his probing gaze. "Father, it's just an invite. I guess since you are the chief commander of the Northern Army, the royal family felt that an invitation should be sent to us. It doesn't mean that the Princess would choose our family, superseding the various princes and other nobility in and around Mandhaar. After all, this place isn't exactly a bed of roses. Who in their right mind would want to settle in this desolate place."

His voice was self-deprecating, making General Chandraveer feel even more guilty. The last thing that he ever wanted was to embroil his family in the bloody politics of the royals. This was also one of the reasons that he preferred staying with the army instead of living in the capital during the time of peace.

But trouble had come knocking at his door and there was no way to avoid it.

Agastya saw the contrite expression on his father's face but said nothing to alleviate his emotions. He needed his father to feel apologetic towards him for him to fulfill his future dreams.

Knowing Dushyant's cold temperament, he was almost sure that he wouldn't have mentioned the princess's visit to the camp. Likewise, he didn't intend to tell his father about the same. After all, some things were meant to stay between husband and wife!

Agastya restrained his expressions and looked at his father innocently, waiting for him to speak up.

Same night, many miles away,

Bali Mansion, one night before the birthday party.

Except for the night duty staff, most of the household had retired for the night. It was going to be an early start for everyone the next morning.

But the lights were burning brightly in Madam Lilavati's chambers even at this hour. She had just been reprimanded harshly by her husband, who left in a huff after venting out. Since then, she sat on the cold floor in a daze.

"Eldest Madam, please get up. This servant begs you! You will catch a chill if you keep sitting on the frozen ground. The hot water is ready. Let this servant help you freshen up. Tomorrow is a big day and you must look your resplendent best. Crying will cause your features to swell up," the old maid called Gujri tried to cajole her mistress.

She was the personal attendant who had come along with Nanny Sumana from Lilavati's maternal home as part of her dowry at the time of her marriage. Nanny Sumana was assigned to the two young ladies, Dharitri and Dharani after the birth of the first girl but Gujri remained Lilavati's attendant till date.

Unlike Nanny Sumana, she was timid but sensible and loyal.

Gujri had seen her mistress's married life go through many seasons and knew what ailed her heart. The eldest master was truly heartless, listening to his youngest brother's half-truths regarding the argument which occurred earlier during the party preparations. Eldest Master didn't even give a chance to the eldest madam to put across her defence and simply scolded her.

As if that wasn't enough, he chose to leave the residence right away. He had barely stayed in the chambers for a quarter of an hour and spent that entire time chastising her poor mistress for her incompetence in managing the household and even in bringing up the children.

"What is the point of grooming my looks if my husband remains bewitched by the filth outside this chamber? After so many years, it feels as if I have also become a part of the ancient furniture, almost merging with the background. If he doesn't give me respect or acknowledge my position in this house, is it any wonder that others are ready to step on my head so blatantly." Madam Lilavati's hoarse voice contained years of heartache.


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