Chapter 1 : Exiled Legacy
As I assumed my position at the helm of our warship, a deluge of memories from countless battles on these very waters came flooding back. The year was 988 CE, and on this fateful day, the formidable fleet of the Chola Empire closed in on us, heralding a looming catastrophe.
Gazing out across the expanse of the sea, I couldn't help but marvel at the precise and majestic Chola warships that effortlessly sliced through the waves. The sun descended gracefully below the horizon, casting an eerie, tension-laden atmosphere upon our salty surroundings. The tempestuous sea seemed to echo the turmoil within my own heart.
Amidst this haunting scene, the Chola fleet unleashed a barrage of flaming arrows, their fiery trajectories akin to celestial meteors, igniting our decks and shrouding the air in choking smoke. Yet, it was the thunderous roar of the cannon fire that wrought the most devastating havoc upon our beleaguered ships, splintering wooden hulls, blotting out the sky with smoke, and transforming the once serene sea into a watery graveyard.
The burden of responsibility bore down on me like an anchor, and my thoughts drifted to a pivotal visit by Prince Vikram Chola to our realm. This visit had initially appeared as a friendly gesture to strengthen diplomatic ties between our nations. During an inspection of our barracks, the prince had shown keen interest in acquiring a new sword, a specialty of our renowned Chera kingdom. My collection of finely crafted swords had garnered particular acclaim.
Deep within the inner chambers of the Chera palace, I had unveiled swords fit for a king, adorned with gemstones and precious metals. It was during this tour that Prince Vikram's discerning eye had fallen upon a golden idol of Ananta Shesha, the mythical serpent associated with Lord Vishnu, nestled among my treasures. An impressive emerald was ensconced within the coils of the Ananta Shesha. Intrigued, Prince Vikram had inquired, "What is the story behind this, King Rama?"
With a sense of pride, I had responded, "It is a cherished family heirloom—a symbol of our kingdom's prosperity." However, I couldn't reveal the whole truth, for it was widely rumored that this idol was the legendary Samantak Mani—a rumor skillfully cultivated by my ancestors. I was well aware of the Chola Empire's interest in the idol, believing it to possess mythical powers capable of reshaping destiny itself. Although I harbored no such belief, I had retained the idol as a decoy, a ruse devised by my forebears to safeguard the true Samantak Mani—a relic securely passed from one Chera king to the next, symbolizing the divine right to the throne.
As the battle raged on, our ships suffered relentless onslaughts, each Keralaputra vessel succumbing one after the other, with crew members plunging into the unforgiving sea. It was in this crucible of despair that I made a somber command: "Retreat and regroup!" The solemn rhythm of our war drums altered its cadence, guiding our ships away from the relentless Chola forces.
Amidst the chaos, I convened with my loyal chieftain, Vikkiran, near the shoreline. He stood tall, exuding an unwavering authority, his demeanor unflinching in the face of impending defeat. Despair had no place within him; instead, a clear path forward began to crystallize, even if it necessitated exile—a measure imperative to protect our people from the Cholas who coveted the Samantak Mani.
"I shall weave tales of my journey into the lands of Arabia," I declared with unyielding resolve, despite the heaviness that still clung to my heart. "The Cholas may believe they have prevailed, but we shall endure."
In a hushed whisper, I drew nearer to Vikkiran. "But there is one more matter, my friend," I murmured, my voice barely rising above a breath. "Secure the Shesha idol from my treasury. Quietly disassemble it and convert it into currency. Utilize the proceeds to alleviate the suffering of our war-stricken populace, to tend to their needs in these trying times."
Vikkiran nodded, his loyalty unwavering. "And what of the rumors, my king?"
A faint, melancholic smile played upon my lips as I responded, "Spread word that I have taken the idol with me. Let the Cholas chase after phantoms, while we clandestinely rebuild. I shall journey northward to the Himalayas. Divide the kingdom among our chieftains to avert internal strife."
With these words, I entrusted Vikkiran with my dagger—a concealed key to the treasury. "I place this in your care," I said, my eyes conveying the gravity of our shared responsibility and the sorrow of departure. "To take or to protect, until my return."
Vikkiran accepted this solemn duty with unwavering determination. As we parted ways that night, our destinies diverged. I embarked on an exile, seeking refuge in the wilderness of the Himalayas, while Vikkiran returned to the war room to announce my escape and oversee the division of our kingdom—a meticulously crafted plan designed to safeguard our heritage and divert the relentless attention of the Chola Empire.