Empire of India: Rise of the Ruthless Prince

"She died and he also escaped," Harsha sighed deeply, wiping the blood off his hands with Rukmini's fallen scarf.

The old patriarch and the guard approached from a distance, their expressions shifting from curiosity to horror as they saw the scene before them. The ground was now stained with blood, and Rukmini lay motionless, her face battered and bloodied. The pool of blood spreading around her added a grim touch to the already dire situation.

"Prince, what happened here? Why is the maid dead?" the patriarch asked, his voice stiff as he struggled to grasp the scene. His eyes darted between the lifeless maid and the prince, searching for answers.

Harsha, his face set in a disgusted expression, shrugged nonchalantly. "Ha! She was silenced by some guy who shot her with an arrow," he said, as he continued to wipe his hands with the stained scarf, the casualness of his actions in stark contrast to the severity of the situation.

The Patriarch's gaze was fixed on Harsha, his face full of disbelief. "What do you mean? Why would anyone do this? And why were you running after here?"

Harsha threw the now bloodied scarf onto the ground beside Rukmini's lifeless body. "She was a spy," he said coldly. "Her job was to gather information, and it seems she was compromised. The real threat was the person who killed her and escaped,"

The Patriarch looked at the body, then back at Harsha, his hands clasped behind his back. "A spy? Here in our mansion? And someone managed to get past the guards and kill her?"

Harsha nodded, his gaze fixed on the pool of blood. "It appears so. This was not just a random act of violence,"

The Patriarch's face tightened in worry as he turned to the guard. "Increase the security. Make sure this doesn't happen again. Bring in someone to clean the body up quick,"

"Yes, Patriarch," The guard hurried off at the stern command.

"Now, young prince," the patriarch's tone shifted to something colder, more authoritative, "how do you know she was a spy?"

Harsha remained unshaken, his expression calm despite the patriarch's piercing gaze. "She was assigned to spy on me. Didn't the Nayakas thoroughly check before allowing a maid into your mansion?"

The patriarch's face grew stern, a sign of his concern. "This is a serious issue. It raises questions about the security of the mansion."

The patriarch's eyes narrowed as he processed the gravity of the situation. "We'll need to investigate this matter deeply, I will personally look into this,"

' Haa! My age is catching up, I am being lax thinking I would be safe, This is the result,' Patriarch thought inwardly

"Young prince, do accompany me to the room. We have something to discuss," the patriarch said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Harsha, still staring at the blood-stained floor, responded coldly, "Is it like last time? I don't have time for your whims, patriarch."

The patriarch's eyes narrowed, and he shook his head slightly. "Hmm! No. Follow me, young prince. It's important."

Harsha sighed and followed the patriarch as he turned and started walking down the corridor. The old man moved with a steady pace, his robe flowing behind him. The sound of their footsteps echoed in the empty hallway.

They arrived at a door at the end of a long corridor. The patriarch pushed it open, revealing a spacious room with a large wooden table and comfortable chairs. The room was sparsely decorated, with only a few items indicating its purpose. The patriarch motioned for Harsha to enter first.

"Please, have a seat," the patriarch said, gesturing toward one of the chairs. Harsha sat, his eyes scanning the room, awaiting the patriarch's explanation.

"Young prince," the patriarch began, raising an eyebrow, "why do you think we Nayakas are so strong?"

Harsha waved a hand dismissively. "I don't care. Get to the point, Patriarch."

The old man chuckled, patting Harsha's shoulder as if sharing an inside joke. "HAHAHA. It's solely because of my military prowess."

Harsha raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Are you praising yourself?"

The patriarch waved his hand, dismissing Harsha's comment with a slight shake. "No, no. But what do you think will happen when I pass away?"

Harsha's face hardened. He crossed his arms and replied coolly, "Simple. Your family, which you've cherished, will become easy prey for other nobles."

The patriarch's expression grew serious, turning to face Harsha with a grave look. "Precisely. That's why I must ensure everything is in place to protect our legacy,"

"Yeah, so what? That's a problem for you to figure out, not me," Harsha replied coldly. "Don't you already have an heir?"

The patriarch sighed, rubbing his temples. "A bad heir is even worse than leaving the family without one."

Harsha raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "AHAHA. Is your son really that incompetent? What about Rama Nayaka?"

The patriarch's face grew stern. "Rama is better than my son, but he's not politically adept to lead a noble house."

"Would your son accept appointing another heir apart from himself, considering he is your only blood?" Harsha asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rudra Simha Nayaka had one son, Bhima Nayaka, whose talent and strength were a stark contrast to his name. Bhima was not only considered incompetent due to his lack of strength but was also uninterested in leading the household. Rama Nayaka, the patriarch's nephew, had been brought into the house after the patriarch's only brother had passed away a decade ago.

Rama had some ambition to lead but was aware of his shortcomings and feared that he might tarnish the household's name.

"Yes, he would accept it," the patriarch replied with a hint of resignation.

"Huh? Why would he?" Harsha asked, puzzled.

The patriarch's eyes softened. "He's a gentle kid and doesn't like to fight. He wants to live a life helping others achieve their dreams,"

"What do you want me to do then?" Harsha asked, raising an eyebrow as he leaned slightly against the chair.

"The Nayakas will lend you support for the throne," the patriarch said, nodding gravely. "In return, keep my legacy alive."

Harsha's lips curled into a smirk as he crossed his arms and shook his head. "Old man, you're so funny," he said, rolling his eyes. "You're asking a child to take up a burden you couldn't handle."

His gaze was unwavering. "Do you really think I need your support for the throne?" Harsha's expression was filled with amusement as he awaited the old man's response.

"Young prince, do you think I can't kill you here and the Emperor wouldn't even bat an eye at your death?" The patriarch's eyes were sharp as he leaned in, his voice low and menacing.

Harsha chuckled, "Hoo! Old man, you look scary trying to threaten me," he said, shrugging the threat off.

He got up from the chair, his hands gesturing dismissively. "Of course, I acknowledge you have the strength and authority to get away with my death scot-free. But what would happen after you pass away?" Harsha raised an eyebrow, his expression cool. "The Emperor would raze your family to the ground to show his authority."

"Old man, you're too soft," Harsha said as he approached the patriarch. He placed a hand on the old man's shoulder, his expression serious. The patriarch looked at him with a cold, menacing glare. "You could have changed this situation by choosing either your nephew or your son and molding him into a perfect heir."

Harsha's hand remained on the patriarch's shoulder as he continued, his voice steady. "You chose to send one to the Royal Palace and one to roam around doing charity. This is all the result of your own doing."

The patriarch's gaze hardened. "Haa! So you're calling me a bad parent?"

"Yes," Harsha replied, nodding slightly. "But, yeah, I do need your help for the throne."

The patriarch's expression shifted, his eyes narrowing. "So you do acknowledge your shortcomings, young prince?"

Harsha straightened up, meeting the patriarch's gaze confidently. "A man should work on his shortcomings, not run away from them. I may not be in the same league as the other princes, but I am confident I can defeat them head-on."

"That's a bold claim, young prince. The first and second princes' abilities are no joke," the patriarch said, his hands resting on the table.

Harsha folded his arms, leaning slightly forward. "Are you still doubting me? You, who didn't invite either of them and chose to invite me, must have seen something in me."

The patriarch let out a hearty laugh, throwing his head back. "HAHAHAHA, it's true. But my own influence alone won't get you the throne."

Harsha took a step closer to the patriarch, his fingers drumming on the edge of the table. "Well, I will have to work on it then. I do hope you won't betray my expectations, old man."

The patriarch's expression softened as he looked at Harsha, nodding slowly. "Hmmm... The Nayakas never betray."

Harsha smiled and extended his hand toward the patriarch. "As a present for lending me your influence, I will solve your long-standing problem."

The patriarch's eyes narrowed with interest as he reached out to shake Harsha's hand. "Really now? I'm curious about how you plan to do that."

"I will kill you," Harsha said with a sadistic smile.

Author Notes

So Guys, Forgot to mention I got the contract and can now set premium chapters. I do plan to go premium later, once I get enough daily readers. Thanks to whoever reads my chapters daily

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