Six months had passed since Adhaata's naming. The royal fleet was prepared to begin the journey around the five lands. Veerbhadra was to accompany the royal entourage, in his absence Rudra was to act as the temporary commander of the Rajdhani guards.

Along with him Shivashakti, Dasonda, Alinoy, Hendrix the minister of communication and Shian the prime Health preserver were to accompany the emperor.

A huge crowd had gathered as many natives from the other states, were returning home. The news of the Eavalings had sparked desire of reunion with families amongst many.
The royal family had gathered to bid farewell to the Emperor.

"Please don't go on any more escapades. And don't trouble your father." Manyata told her daughters. Ajinkya was nearly four and Adhaata had turned one.

"We know mother," Ajinkya rolled her eyes.

"EEEyesshh mama, we knooo" little Adhaata tried coping her sister, and rolled her eyes.

Manyata hugged her children.
Haron was standing behind them with Aboli.

"Don't worry my lady, I will be their shadow." Haron winked.
"I know you will." Manyata touched his upper arm, "take care of yourself too."

The boy was seventeen, yet his experiences had made him more mature than teenagers of his age, thought Manyata.

"I need to see you father too."

She saw Swara arguing with her son as she walked to where Vayuvijay stood, speaking to his fellow passengers.

"You are not going to run around in rugs, and none of those stunts," Swara told her son, "I don't understand why does your father need you to travel with them, it's not like they are short of guards." She grimaced at the sight of the two princesses playing with Haron and Aboli.

"Not all guards are pyros mother." Surya said in his usual solemn tone.

"I should have listened to my father," she said grudgingly looking at her husband, "this man only cares about the royal family. Why else will anyone risk the life of his only son?" She tidied the already tidy Angavastram Surya carried. "Some times follow your mother also Surya," she snapped "atleast she didn't raise you to be guard dog for the royals." Surya realised her mother was on the verge of tears.

"I promise mother, I will behave like you. Sophisticated, intelligent and intellectual." He strained to smile.

Surya was not like the other children. He had been brought up under discipline and restraint. He had no friends, he never played. His life was all about sword fighting, dagger throwing and arrow shooting. He excelled in wrestling. He was being raised to be a warrior. He studied only about battle arts and technics. He had once spoken against the torment  his father's regime inflicted for which his father had shut him in a dark cell below their house, without food or water. Surya was three then, probably younger than Ajinkya was now. He had to excrete and sleep in that cell for days. The experience steeled him. He never complained again.

For the first time in ages Surya hugged his mother, and the tears that were threatening to escape finally rolled down Swara's eyes.

Ajinkya was intently watching Surya's interaction with his mother when Anakul interrupted her.

"You like the angry young boy, don't you little sister." Anakul bent and spoke into Ajinkya's ears. She turned a deep shade of red.

"No I don't," she retorted back hitting Anakul on his arm.

"So all ready to board?" Ashika had joined them with Aswathi.

"Are you going to accompany us as well my lady?" Haron teased.

"You wish." She hugged her brother and her cousins. "It is going to be lonely without you all."

"Won't cousin Damayanthi and Saujanya see us off." An innocent Ajinkya asked.

"They are looking after the castle. If everyone came here, who will look after the castle little cousin." Said Aswathi lovingly pulled Ajinkya's cheek.

The sound of thousand conch shells rang through the pier. Men appeared beating trumpets.

"Time to board." Haron announced, as families and friends shared hurried good byes.

"Don't worry about them Mani," Vayu told an emotional Manyata who had her arms around her husband while her rested on his chest, "worry about me. How am I going to spend ten summers without droplets from your wet hair waking me in the morning. How an I going to spend ten winters, without you putting the blanket over me at night. How am I going to live a single day, without finding solace in your embrace." Manyata sobbed silently, before Vayu gently parted from her embrace.

"It is a matter of ten Autumns, and your Vayu will be back in your arms. This parting will only strengthen our passion, my love."

Manyata moved away from him so that Satvik could carry out the rituals. The conch shells and drums stopped.
Satvik hummed chants and showered rose petals and holy water on the Emperor. He then took a conch shell from another priest blew it. All the conches blew in unison and the drum beats resumed.

Dharmeshnath walked upto his son and held him by his shoulders, "I want you to know that you are, were and will always be my pride. And even when my soul abandons my body, it won't stop loving you." Vayuvijay was a little perplexed as he wasn't used to witnessing an emotional Dharmeshnath. He hugged his father and felt his father grip him with all his might, as if trying not to let him go.

An artificial wooden staircase stood next to each ship. Each of the passengers climbed up and got down on the deck, and stood near the ship rails. The two princesses waved furiously at their family. Manyata waved back, tears rolling down. Shantipriya held her as she sobbed violently.

The children didn't know when they will see their mother again. Satvik and Veerbhadra nodded at each other, both aware this was the final farewell for one of the three royals aboard the ship. Satvik watched as the Ogaan moved away from the pier. Shivani wasn't there at the port. Satvik felt hollow as he watched the Ogaan growing small and disappearing beyond the horizon.

"Farewell princess. You didn't deserve this." He whispered.

Dharmeshnath walked away from his wife. His body shook violently, unable to control the pain that threatened to erupt from his eyes.

"So much I had left to say," he told himself, as he entered one of the empty goods store rooms along the pier, "I wish, you be a better father than me." He cried shamelessly, "I wish you don't raise your grandchildren as pigs for slaughter." He said allowed "I wish you don't try to take away the only thing that matters to your child, just to save his life. I wish when you come to know the truth, you have strength to forgive your father." He slowly fell down to the ground holding his head in his hand.

"What have you done?" An aghast Shakuntala asked him. She looked at the man she had been married for forty years but felt like she was looking at a stranger.