The second day of the council dawned with an almost palpable tension. Rajagriha's courtyards, so recently filled with music and celebration, now echoed with the clipped footsteps of envoys and the murmurs of uneasy alliances. The fate of Aryavarta hung in the balance, and every ruler present knew it.
The great marble hall was filled once more, sunlight slanting through high windows onto the emblems of the gathered kingdoms. Servants moved quietly, their ears keen for secrets.
Malwa's king spoke first, his words edged with challenge. "We have heard much of Magadha's desire for stability. Yet, in our memory, stability often means the dominance of one—and the subjugation of others. Is that the future you offer us, Jarasandha?"
Jarasandha's reply was measured, his gaze unwavering. "Magadha seeks unity, not subjugation. But unity cannot be built on mistrust and hidden daggers. If you fear our strength, let us build a peace that honors all. If you seek only to resist, then say so openly."
Vatsa's noblewoman interjected, "Words are wind, Maharaj. What of actions? Will Magadha guarantee the independence of its neighbors, or is this council merely a stage for your ambitions?"
Kosala's prince added, "And what of Avanti? Has Magadha not already bound one great kingdom to its will through marriage?"
Vasumati, regal and calm, answered, "Avanti is Magadha's ally, not its vassal. Our bond is one of trust, not chains. Let no one here mistake kinship for conquest."
As the debate grew heated, Drupada of Panchala rose. His voice, though calm, carried the weight of old wounds. "If we are to speak of trust, let us do so with open hands. I propose a test—not of words, but of deeds. Let each kingdom send forth its champion, and let there be a contest of skill and courage. Let the gods judge whose cause is just."
A murmur swept the hall. Such contests were rare, reserved for moments when words failed and only valor could decide.
Jarasandha considered. "A contest, then. Let it not be a battle of enmity, but a trial of strength and honor. Magadha will not shrink from any test."
Malwa's king smiled thinly. "So be it. Let the council witness not just the might of Magadha, but the spirit of Aryavarta."
Arya, listening from the shadows, saw the deeper game. This was not merely a test of champions—it was a way for Magadha's rivals to measure Jarasandha's power, to probe for weakness or arrogance. She slipped away to confer with Malini, instructing her to watch the rival camps for signs of collusion or sabotage.
Padmavati and Vasumati exchanged a glance. The council was no longer just a forum for words; it had become a crucible, where alliances would be forged or broken in public view.
From their balcony, Sumana, Asti, and Udayan watched the unfolding drama. Udayan's eyes gleamed with excitement. "A contest! Will your father fight?"
Sumana shook her head. "Father is a king. He chooses when to fight—and why."
Asti, thoughtful as ever, murmured, "Sometimes the greatest strength is knowing when not to."
As night fell, the palace was alive with speculation. Who would Magadha choose as its champion? Would Jarasandha himself step forward, or would he send another? In the rival camps, warriors boasted and strategists whispered, each hoping for glory or advantage.
Jarasandha gathered his closest advisors. "They seek to test us in the open. We will answer, but on our terms. Arya, see that our preparations are flawless. Padmavati, Vasumati—stand with me tomorrow. Let them see that Magadha's strength is not just in arms, but in unity."
A storm gathered over Rajagriha, thunder rumbling in the distance. The council's trial would begin at dawn—and with it, the next chapter of Aryavarta's fate.