Another year passed peacefully for Karna.
For once, there was no great war waiting at the edge of his kingdom, no rebellious king forcing him to take up Vijaya, no Asura army descending upon one of his cities.
The affairs of Dakshina Kalinga continued steadily, and Kanipura remained prosperous. If anything, it grew even more prosperous.
Karna still travelled when his duties required it, still trained whenever he found the time, still spent his mornings with his family whenever possible, and still found himself returning to his children at the end of the day with the same quiet satisfaction he had felt since becoming a father.
During that year, one of the projects closest to his heart was finally completed.
The great Sun Temple that Karna had commissioned for his father at Konarka City stood finished.
It was not merely another temple constructed under royal patronage. Karna had personally taken an interest in its design and construction, ensuring that the temple was worthy of Suryadev. The completion ceremony drew priests, artisans, scholars, and people from across the surrounding regions, and when Karna finally stood before the completed temple, looking upon the image of his father within it, he felt a satisfaction that had little to do with royal achievement.
'At least I did something for Father.'
Meanwhile, the Sarvadevalaya project in Bhagirathi Pradesh continued to progress smoothly.
The territory had been given to Karna by Hastinapura three years earlier as part of their trade arrangements, and the massive project had gradually become one of the most ambitious religious undertakings in the region. Temples and sacred spaces dedicated to different Devas were being developed there, along with the necessary facilities for pilgrims and those who came to study and worship.
Duryodhana, who served as the Governor of Bhagirathi Pradesh, oversaw the administration of the territory.
That meant Karna continued to meet him regularly.
Their relationship had settled into a comfortable rhythm. Duryodhana had become considerably more capable as an administrator, and Karna had grown accustomed to discussing the practical problems of the province with him. They did not always agree, but the disagreements were no longer accompanied by the old bitterness that had once characterized Duryodhana's personality. Karna could see that the prince had matured.
There were still things about him that Karna disliked.
Those had not disappeared.
But Duryodhana had become someone Karna could trust in matters of administration, and more importantly, someone he could call a friend without having to constantly wonder whether some hidden insecurity was driving his decisions.
Another change had taken place within Karna's army.
Gavaksha had risen rapidly through the ranks.
His experience as a warrior, combined with his extraordinary physical strength and willingness to learn the methods of the present age, had made him increasingly valuable to the military. Karna had given him opportunities to train soldiers and develop specialized methods of close combat, and Gavaksha had taken to the task with considerable seriousness.
Eventually, he became the Vice Commander-in-Chief of the Dakshina Kalinga army.
He was also made the Commander of Karnasena, an infantry unit specially trained under him.
The soldiers of Karnasena were taught to fight at close range, to maintain formation under pressure, and to use physical strength and coordinated movement rather than depending entirely upon long-range weapons like bows.
Gavaksha's own fighting style naturally influenced their training. He had spent much of his former life fighting in circumstances where close combat was unavoidable, and he knew better than most how quickly a battle could change once warriors were within striking distance.
Karna occasionally watched their training.
Whenever he did, Gavaksha still insisted that his soldiers work harder than they believed necessary.
Karna found that rather amusing.
The Vanara had not forgotten the day he had been defeated.
He was determined to ensure that it never happened again.
***
Far away from Dakshina Kalinga, the five Pandavas had spent much of the same year wandering through different regions with Kunti.
Their circumstances remained deliberately humble.
Eventually, during their travels, they encountered Vyasa Maharshi.
The sage recognized their situation and guided them toward Ekachakra, a town situated within Dakshina Panchala. There, he helped them find shelter in the home of a Brahmana family.
The Pandavas adopted the appearance and lifestyle of Brahmins.
For the next several months, their existence became remarkably ordinary.
Each morning, they went out to collect alms.
They walked through the streets carrying their begging vessels, receiving whatever people were willing to offer. They then returned to the Brahmana household, where Kunti divided the food among her sons.
There was little royal life left in those days.
No palace.
No servants.
No army.
No court.
They lived as wandering Brahmins, and for a time, that simple existence suited them.
Yet there was another reason they remained in Ekachakra.
The town was under the control of a Rakshasa named Baka.
Baka had turned the entire settlement into his personal source of food and tribute. Every day, the inhabitants were forced to provide him with an enormous quantity of food along with a human being whom he would consume.
The people lived in constant fear.
Families dreaded the day when their name would be selected.
The Pandavas learned of the arrangement after settling into the town, but they did not immediately reveal themselves or rush toward Baka's dwelling. They understood that doing so would expose them and potentially bring unwanted attention to their identities.
So they waited.
For months, they lived quietly among the Brahmins.
Then, eventually, the turn came to the household where they were staying.
The family was devastated.
The father, mother, and children understood what the obligation meant. One of them would have to go to Baka with the food and become his next victim.
Kunti learned of their distress.
She listened to the family's grief and then made her decision.
Bhima would go instead.
He took the enormous quantity of food that had been prepared for Baka and travelled toward the Rakshasa's dwelling. But Bhima had never been particularly interested in following the etiquette of monsters who demanded human sacrifices.
He ate the food himself.
All of it.
Then Baka appeared.
The Rakshasa was furious when he realized what had happened, and the confrontation quickly became a battle. Bhima and Baka fought with tremendous physical force, their blows shaking the surrounding area. In the end, Bhima's strength proved superior.
Baka died.
The people of Ekachakra eventually discovered the Rakshasa's corpse and understood that their tormentor was finally gone.
But nobody knew who had killed him.
The Brahmana family kept Bhima's identity secret, and the Pandavas did not remain in Ekachakra much longer. They had accomplished what they had intended, and staying after Baka's death increased the possibility that their identities would eventually become known.
So they left.
They continued their journey.
Weeks passed as they travelled through forests and settlements, moving gradually toward the Ganga.
Eventually, they reached the great river.
There, another unexpected encounter awaited them.
A Gandharva named Angaraparna was enjoying himself near the river with his women. When the Pandavas approached, he objected to their presence at that particular time and challenged them.
Arjuna accepted.
The confrontation quickly became serious.
Angaraparna was a Gandharva and possessed knowledge and abilities far beyond those of ordinary human warriors. Arjuna, however, had spent much of their journey performing penances and had earned the Agneyastra. He invoked it against the Gandharva.
The celestial fire spread across the battlefield.
Angaraparna's horses were destroyed, and eventually Arjuna defeated and captured him.
Yet Arjuna did not kill him.
Once Angaraparna surrendered, the hostility between them began to disappear. What had started as a confrontation gradually became an exchange of knowledge.
Angaraparna explained that Gandharvas possessed knowledge that could be extremely valuable to warriors, particularly knowledge concerning celestial matters and warfare. He eventually shared the knowledge associated with Chakshushi Vidya with Arjuna and offered him celestial horses as well.
The Pandavas listened carefully.
Before they parted, Angaraparna gave them another piece of advice.
They should travel east.
They should make their way toward Kampilya.
"Something important is going to happen there."
The words stayed with them.
Kunti considered the suggestion carefully.
Kampilya was the capital of Dakshina Panchala, and to her knowledge, Panchala was not exactly a friendly state toward Hastinapura. The Pandavas had grown up hearing about the old hostility between the two kingdoms, including the history surrounding Drupada's capture by the Kuru princes years earlier. To them, Panchala remained a kingdom with little reason to welcome the sons of Pandu.
But that was precisely what made Kunti consider it.
If they were careful, they could remain in Kampilya for some time without attracting attention. They could continue living as Brahmins, observe what was happening in the city, and decide their next move from there.
Perhaps they could eventually return to Hastinapura.
Perhaps not.
For now, Kampilya was simply the next destination.
None of them knew what awaited them there.
None of them knew that the city they were approaching had already become connected to their lives in ways they could not yet understand.
And none of them knew that the daughter born from Drupada's yajna was growing up within that very city, waiting for the moment when their paths would finally cross.