One Week EarlierTraining Grounds
Rajkumar Hamsa was supervising the men's meditation, walking slowly between the rows. Rajkumar Garuda had joined as well and was seated among the guards, maintaining posture and focus.
The session was proceeding steadily when Hamsa noticed movement at the edge of the grounds.
Gopal was approaching at a hurried pace.
Hamsa stepped off the packed earth and onto the stone boundary near the water jars. He poured himself a cup, taking a measured sip as Gopal reached him. The man was out of breath. And nervous.
"Gopal, did something happen?" Hamsa asked calmly.
"Rajkumar, I must ask your forgiveness," Gopal said, dropping to his knees.
"Wait," Hamsa replied quickly, setting the cup aside and helping him up. "Tell me what happened first."
Gopal sat down as Hamsa motioned for the attendants to bring him water and towels.
Not this again, Hamsa thought.Last time he reacted like this, it was over something trivial and dumb. So trivial and dumb I do not even remember what it was.
I need to address this properly soon.
Most of the people whose mana circuits I altered responded reasonably. They view me differently now—yes—but with a mixture of respect, caution, and even a trace of fear.
Gopal, however…
He is a Vaishnavite. As such, he reveres me as though I am some incarnation of Vishnu.
It works in my favor for the most part—he is loyal and obedient. But whenever he believes he has failed me, he behaves as though I might strip him of the improved mana circuit as punishment.
That mindset is... un...healthy.
Gopal steadied himself and began speaking in a rush.
"As per your orders, Rajkumar, I was assisting the Mahamanthri. He reviewed more documents than you had intended. I did not intervene as commanded. Then he selected several to take with him. And the one you instructed me to keep from him… fell into his possession. It is likely being shown to the Raja or Mahadevi at this very moment."
Hamsa listened without interruption.
"First of all, calm yourself, Gopal," he said evenly. "And while I did instruct you to keep that from him, I did not say to do so at any cost. If he saw it, that only means I was careless enough to leave it accessible."
He picked up his water again.
"That tablet contained nothing of importance. Only scribbles I did not wish others to examine. That is all."
He noticed Gopal about to speak again.
"And before you ask—I forgive you. There is no need to torment yourself over this."
Gopal visibly relaxed, though not entirely.
Sorry man.
That was not entirely true.
They were scribbles, yes—but only in the context of this world.
What I wrote there was in languages from my previous one. Specifically Kannada and English.
English, being Latin-based, is unlikely to exist here in any recognizable form. Even if it does, it would be far beyond this region.
As for Kannada, I simply chose one of the Indian scripts I knew. Hindi, Kannada, Tamil, Sanskrit—those were the primary ones I learned.
Though most of my work is written in this world's script. Linguistically, it resembles Sanskrit closely, with variations in pronunciation and certain vocabulary shifts. Structurally, however, it is almost identical.
That similarity made adaptation easier.
Though if I am being honest, language and the arts were never my strengths.
I enjoyed learning them in my own weird way, yes.But I struggled. To an almost comedic level.
It took me nearly two decades to become proficient enough to not embarrass myself in the five languages I know. Of them, Sanskrit felt the most intuitive. English, in comparison, always struck me as unnecessarily inconsistent.
Regardless—
Those notes were simply a precaution. Not something I wished casually examined.
But it doesn't matter. I will let my future self deal with it.
Hamsa finished the water.
"Return to your duties, Gopal," he said. "And next time, breathe before speaking."
Gopal rose, steadier now, and was about to leave when Hamsa stopped him.
"Gopal. What happened to that item I ordered you to have made?"
"Rajkumar, we have yet to receive it. The blacksmith sent word that it will be delivered within the next two days."
"Very well. You are dismissed for now."
Hamsa picked up his cane and stepped back onto the earthen ground, resuming his slow walk among the meditating guards.
Kid, why are you having full-body armor made? Adi asked.
To be technical, it is not armor in the traditional sense. It is more of a suit.
A suit for what?
To fly.
There was a pause.
To fly? Adi repeated. And before you say you are unsure—
I am unsure, Hamsa replied calmly. I do not know whether I will require it. But until I understand the mechanics of sustained long-distance flight, I would prefer something aerodynamic to reduce inefficiencies.
Okay. But why not just release an overwhelming amount of mana? Create a dense micro-environment around yourself—so thick you could manipulate the internal pressure and practically do anything within it. Adi suggested.
I already do that to a limited degree under normal circumstances, Hamsa answered. But if I release mana at the scale you are suggesting—
He adjusted the flow of mana around the training grounds instinctively.
—I would likely kill most living things in my immediate vicinity.
Adi did not immediately respond.
Though, Hamsa continued, I may utilize a variation of your suggestion. Just not in the crude manner you implied.
Care to explain, kid?
I will once the suit arrives. For now I only possess a preliminary outline at the moment.
He continued walking, cane tapping lightly against the earth, the guards unaware that while they trained to stabilize their internal flows—
Their Rajkumar was quietly preparing to take to the sky.
_________________________________
Few Days Later — NightHamsa's Chamber
It had only been an hour since sunset.
The Royal District was not yet asleep. Servants moved through corridors finishing their duties, the magi stone glow grew more, kitchens washed down stone floors slick with the remnants of the evening's labor. The air had grown colder, carrying with it the faint scent of night-blooming flowers from the inner gardens.
Inside his chamber, Rajkumar Hamsa lay stretched across his bed, staring at the carved ceiling above him.
Finally that ceremony is over. Why must an entire spectacle be arranged simply to send the Grand Vizier back to the Parthian Empire? The procession, the gifts, the speeches—unnecessary excess.
You were the one who insisted such formalities maintain political equilibrium, Adi replied, his tone edged with smugness. When I suggested you avoid attending, you gave me a lecture on optics and perception.
Hamsa exhaled.
That does not mean I must enjoy them.
Mm. Convenient distinction.
There was a pause.
Also… are you finally going to explain why you had that armor made?
Hamsa turned his head.
Resting on a wooden stand near the wall stood the full-body suit. Its metal was darker than standard Royal Guard armor, segmented for flexibility, joints layered in articulated plates. It had been forged thinner than battlefield armor but reinforced at critical structural points.
As Hamsa stared at it, a small weight landed on his chest.
Chotu.
The cub placed both paws against Hamsa's face and smacked him lightly.
"What do you want, you little rascal?" Hamsa muttered, lifting the cub and holding him up at eye level.
Chotu blinked innocently.
Hamsa placed him back down on his chest, where the cub immediately sprawled out as if claiming territory.
"So you are capable of more than sleeping and eating," Hamsa said dryly, poking his cheek and rubbing his face.
You can entertain your pet later, Adi interrupted. Explain.
Hamsa stared at the ceiling for another moment, then gently lowered Chotu back onto his chest.
The cub shifted once, circled in a tight motion, and settled as though the prince's body were nothing more than a conveniently warm cushion placed there for his exclusive use.
"Unbelievable," Hamsa muttered under his breath. "At least pretend you respect the throne."
Chotu flicked an ear and ignored him.
The chamber was quiet. Magi Stones glow low along the walls. Beyond the balcony lattice, the night air carried distant sounds—the fading clatter of utensils, a guard's measured footsteps along stone corridors, the faint hum of a city not yet fully asleep.
Hamsa exhaled slowly.
Then he closed his eyes.
------------
The White Room
Hamsa appeared in the white expanse with Chotu in his arms.
The space was as it always was—limitless, bright, and undefined. No walls. No ceiling. No floor. Only thought made visible.
Adi was sprawled lazily on a conjured sofa, one leg hanging over the side, casually eating chips from a bright-colored packet that belonged to Hamsa's old world.
Hamsa extended his hand.
A solid wooden table materialized in front of him and the sofa beneath Adi vanished.
He dropped flat onto the white floor.
"Oi! What was that for?" Adi exclaimed, rubbing his butt as he got up.
"Come here," Hamsa said evenly.
A full suit of armor appeared atop the table.
"At least react, damn it," Adi muttered as he walked closer and stopped beside the desk. "So what is this?"
"It is a holographic projection," Hamsa replied, ignoring the complaint.
On the table lay the set of armor Hamsa had commissioned.
It was forged of steel—though not the refined alloys of a modern industrial age. The carbon distribution was uneven by modern standards, but superior for the metallurgy available in this classical era world. It had been hammered, folded, and tempered by skilled hands.
The design, however, was not classical or modren.
It was streamlined—shaped as aerodynamically as Hamsa could conceive. Smooth curves. Reinforced but flexible joints. Fully enclosed. No ornamental protrusions. No unnecessary weight.
"So why this armor?" Adi asked. "Like I said you could have just used mana."
"Relying solely on mana is dangerous," Hamsa replied calmly.
He placed Chotu onto the table. The cub padded around the holographic armor as though inspecting it.
Hamsa moved his hands in deliberate gestures. The armor split apart at key seams, opening like a mechanical flower.
"I will first envelop both myself and the suit in a thick coat of mana."
As he spoke, a dense white aura layered over the armor projection.
"The outer layer will be used for stabilization and directional propulsion. The inner layers will regulate temperature and pressure."
"But how exactly will you fly?" Adi asked, folding his arms.
"I am getting to that. Patience."
The armor reassembled itself.
"For lift," Hamsa continued, "I will exploit charge differentials."
Adi blinked as he said "Explain."
Hamsa adjusted the projection. Symbols and faint diagrams formed around the suit.
"In practice, all matter possesses charge—positive, negative, or neutral states formed by balance. Even in equilibrium, micro-variations exist."
He manipulated the projection.
"By altering my mana field's polarity relative to the surrounding environment, I can create controlled attraction or repulsion forces."
The suit in the projection lifted slightly from the table.
"I will generate a differential between myself and the surroundings—controlled repulsion and attraction for lift. Then I will manipulate air currents to steer, accelerate, and decelerate. That's it."
The projection shifted—air streams bending around the armor.
"In essence, I will not fight gravity directly. I will create a localized imbalance and allow the environment to respond."
Adi frowned.
"And you believe this will work?"
"On paper, it should. Though back in my old world it's not."
Adi narrowed his eyes.
"But you just said in your old world it would not be feasible."
"It would not," Hamsa replied. "The energy requirements would be catastrophic. The atmospheric conditions insufficient. And electrical manipulation at that scale would be lethal."
He tapped the projection lightly.
"This world, however, contains mana. Mana interacts with physical law rather than merely existing alongside it."
The white aura intensified around the suit.
"Mana can buffer charge distribution. It can reinforce structure. It can absorb instability. Though all under the laws of physics."
Adi crossed his arms tighter.
"So you are relying on magic to compensate for flawed physics."
"I am adapting physics to a magical environment."
There was a difference.
The projection now showed the suit rising higher, adjusting orientation smoothly as air currents shifted around it.
"I will not rely purely on charge," Hamsa added. "Air manipulation will handle steering, thrust, and braking. The charge differential will assist with sustained lift and altitude stability."
"And if it fails?" Adi asked.
"Then I switch to pure mana propulsion temporarily and stabilize."
"And if that fails?"
Hamsa looked at him flatly.
"Then I fall."
Silence lingered.
Chotu pawed at the glowing projection, batting at a stream of mana like a curious child chasing light.
Adi sighed.
"You know this is absurd, right?"
"Yes."
"And dangerous."
"Yes."
"And unnecessary for an eleven-year-old Rajkumar."
Hamsa dismissed the projection with a flick of his hand. The armor dissolved into white particles that scattered into the endless white.
"In this world," he said calmly, "I need to take risks like this—if I am to be bold enough to do what I plan to do."
He paused, gaze steady.
"I need to do things like this," he added, face completely serious.
This kid just wants to fly around, Adi thought. And he wraps it in all this to make it sound profound.