Ishvari watched the envoy descend from a semi-enclosed traveling coach drawn by four snorting, jet black stallions. The driver sat on a red seat, while the coach blazed in stripes of gold, green, crimson and saffron, colors of the royal elite. A phalanx of guardsmen formed a protective shield around the nobleman, who, despite his jeweled headdress and sumptuous attire, seemed to be quite ordinary—except for his eyes, Ishvari noted, which gleamed with cold intelligence.

Men jumped off the walls as Lord Kushal climbed onto the mud-packed dais, his keen eyes sweeping over the sea of upturned faces. “Salutations from Takshak, Maharajah of Melukhha!” he began, with such sure authority that the restive crowd grew quiet. “In celebration of the...

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