21^st March, 1636, Feplan, Royal Castle, 11:15 A.M.

Sunlight streaked down from outside the windows of the royal palace, bathing the interior in a warm glow, as the capital city of perhaps the mightiest of countries in the region bustled with life. The castle’s position and height gave the viewers a spectacular view of perhaps the most prosperous city ever to exist in the region, spanning over an area large enough to be considered absurd and implausible by its contemporaries. Well, in their eyes, a city so large it was impossible to see the outer walls from the tallest point in the city would be considered unbelievable after all.

Absurdities like these, however, were the reason the Feplarians were this powerful. Their rise to power was significant, going from being a collection of small, nomadic tribes to an absolutely large powerhouse, one capable of singlehandedly morphing and carving the entire political scene of the region. A juggernaut, an unstoppable one at that.

In a very short span of time, the country had risen to the top, to a position so high where no one could hope to reach, no matter how hard they tried. Banding together to take down the Dark Elves was fruitless, for even that didn’t work; there was once an alliance of countries that tried it, openly declaring how they would burn the ‘damned elves’ to the ground. Mere weeks later, not even a trace of those people remained. Everything had been burned to the ground, and what was deemed useful was burned later, stripped naked of everything valuable.

 The Feplarians seemed simply untouchable. Every action they took, every word they said, sent tremors all across every country considered belonging to the 3^rd World. Everyone was on their feet, closely watching them, praying that maybe, the Gods would have mercy on them and that it wouldn’t be their turn on the chopping board next.

And it made perfect sense, too. Ever since news spread of the Feplarians receiving the “Divine Blessing” from the High Beings, things had gotten only worse. The Feplarians had never lost a single battle, continuously consuming and swallowing up country after country.

The worse part was how frivolous the reasons were that the Dark Elves gave to justify their invasion. Often, minorly inconveniencing the Dark Elves meant the doom of thousands, and often the elves in question weren’t even Feplarian citizens to begin with. As such, treating the Dark Elves even better than royalty everywhere had become the norm, lest they jeopardize the existence of their entire bloodline.

Today, in the royal castle of this massive powerhouse, sat the person responsible for its atomic rise to the top: the Feplarian Queen, Yaereene Herkalyn. With dark skin, long white hair, and a rather feminine yet muscular build, she was considered an absolutely stunning beauty among the 3^rd World countries, with most considering her charm to be in an entirely different realm altogether.

Appearances were deceiving, however. It was no secret that Yaereene’s ruthlessness matched her beauty, exceeding even some of her well known male contemporaries. The Feplarian queen was known to have conducted many of the most disturbing and brutal acts ever recorded in the region’s history with a straight face, sometimes even seemingly enjoying the act. In the sphere of politics, her boldness and unpredictability spurred terror inside everyone’s hearts, forever disturbed thinking about her next move.  

And right now, this very queen was sitting in her throne, resting her cheek on her right hand, legs crossed. The court was rather empty and quiet, save for some servants and royal maids, unlike usually when the court was full of life. Quiet moments like these meant the queen was dealing with something very sensitive and confidential, something that could get the average dark elf killed just for the crime of knowing.

Yaereene ran her eyes across the court, gauging everything in the room keenly. Her gaze felt heavy and imposing to the occupants, as if they were being watched by a hungry predator while walking through a dark forest. Every servant worked harder, making sure not to screw up out of nervousness, relying on all the experience they had built up over the years. This was not a new thing, yet for some reason no one could ever get used to the Queen’s intense gaze, with the best they could do being not entirely losing their nerves and shaking wildly in their boots.

Suddenly, a knock was heard on the large door leading to the court, right in front of the Queen. Everyone in the room except the Queen froze up momentarily.

The Queen calmly raised her hand, spoke in a commanding tone.

“Enter.”

The door creaked slightly, and in slipped in a figure of an old elf clad in white, carrying with him a long, dark coloured staff, with its top end shaped like a bulb. The man had long white hair and a white beard, and the wrinkles on his face and his visibly straight back despite his age spoke of a man who had seen a lot life has had to offer.

Following the man’s entrance, all the servants in the court bowed politely then scurried out of the room in an orderly fashion. The man’s entrance was the sign that the very important meeting the Queen had scheduled had begun, and that they had no reason to be their anymore unless they wanted a untimely retirement from both their jobs and their lives.

As the door closed behind the man, he leisurely walked up to the Queen, using the staff as support.

“You shouldn’t make a face like that, my Queen. You were scaring the poor children there.”

He spoke, smiling.

Yaereene brushed off his remarks about her expression. Normally if someone tried to talk to the Queen like this, he would have been skewered by every dark elf in the court by now. This man, however, was different.

“It has been a while, Arc Mage Onas. I do sincerely hope you have taken enough rest since you returned from the Far West, for as far as I am aware, such a long voyage might be quite tiring for a person such as yourself.”

She spoke, her expression unchanged.

The Arc Mage replied jovially, unaffected by the Queen’s tone.

“Hohoho, this body of mine isn’t as weak as the great Queen thinks it to be. I can still be the Queen’s faithful servant for the next two hundred years!”

The Queen continued, ignoring the Arc Mage’s little joke.

“Now Arc Mage, I hope you know the subject of why you were summoned here.”

The Arc Mage’s facial expression remained unchanged. His face still wore the smile that he did when he entered through the giant, imposing doors.

“I know, my Queen.”

A week ago, they had one of their prized ships, the Aster sent out to investigate and subjugate the undiscovered lands to the west of the Far West, a series of island chains popularly referred to as the ‘Edge of the World’. Feplaria had been aiming to secure those lands for themselves ever since they were detected one year ago, and they wasted no time in sending a fleet there the moment military campaigns in the East concluded and the situation came under complete control. The immense surge of magic meant they had discovered possibly large ores of magic stones, which Feplaria could use to butter up favours from the Divine High Elves, becoming even more powerful than they already were using newly acquired ‘Divine Artifacts’.

High Elves were considered an existence above any existence in the entirety of the region, as such it was not uncommon to hear them being referred to as Gods. They had powers that seemed almost mystical to them, being able to perform miraculous feats and wonders, things that made the average 3^rd World man’s jaw hit the floor. They could fly in the air, seemingly talk with anyone of their kind regardless of where they were, and rain hellfire on anyone that dared to oppose them. Their existence had been cemented as Divine, if nothing else. And Feplaria was the one currently receiving all their blessings.

The High Elves had provided the Feplarians with advanced ships in order to conquer the entirety of the region. At first glance, there really wasn’t anything radically different with the ships themselves, on a closer look however, one could see that they had two cannons now, one mounted on each side, sticking out of gunports. Besides this, each ship had been gifted with one more blessing: a large, metal box of strange structure and build, made up of odd things and emanating a large amount of magic. The High Elves referred to it as the radio, and said that it must be treated well, and that it must never be allowed to fall in the hands of the “undeserving”.

This radio was a miracle, it allowed Yaereene to directly talk to people from far away, being able to hear their voice clearly. Such a feat was unbelievable, considered impossible even in the realm of magic or alchemy. There was no other explanation for how the High Elves achieved such a feat other than that they were ‘Gods’.

These ‘radios’ were not for playing around, however. The High Elves had clear goals for the Feplarians. They wanted the Feplarians to cleanse the region of human scum, to establish the goal of absolute elf dominance. For that goal, they had armed the Feplarians with just the right tools.

Strategically, the radio represented a breakthrough. The Feplarian fleet could now communicate in real time over long distances, unrestricted. This eliminated the risk of the enemy getting their hands on intelligence since now messages were being delivered in a way that was impossible to intercepted. It also meant that Feplarian commanders now had more control over the battlefield and could respond to a situation and change their strategy on the fly. It also meant that the Queen now had direct command with every Feplarian naval unit out in the sea.

In order to operate the ‘radios’, the High Elves had trained a set of dark elves to operate these ‘radios’, giving them the harshest training possible for a dark elf, which appeared odd considering how they weren’t supposed to be witnessing direct combat. Yet no one dared questioning the ‘Gods’, for their word was absolute and their every statement justified.

These operators were under the command of the Queen herself, forming a network that transported intel spanning the entire region covered by the Feplarian Navy. Direct control over communications also meant that there was little room for corrupt officials to get away with mischief.

One of these radio operators was also aboard the Aster, reporting directly to the Queen.

The Queen had read the entire log of messages sent by the operator. They had been intercepted by a lone ship being sailed by humans. The ship identified itself as belonging to the Indian Navy, and was begging for peace, or at least that was what the radio operator sent.

There were some parts there that were concerning, such as a lone ship managing to intercept the Feplarian fleet, since the Dark Elf ships were known to be the fastest in the entire region. However, that was not what really caught the Queen’s attention.

Immediately after the message was transmitted, all communication with the Aster was cut off, and alarms went off inside the radio room. Every other radio operator was in shock.

The alarm was a special sign, carrying a meaning that they had never imagined witnessing in their lifetime.

The Aster had been sunk. The radio operator aboard the ship had managed to send out one last signal, saying the Indian ship had attacked. That was all. No one knew what happened to the crew, and whatever intel was available from the Far West bases revealed they had not heard from the fleet since then. No one had any idea what happened, no one had any clue to even begin with. The whole situation looked ridiculous. The most powerful ship of the most powerful fleet in the entire region, was sunk by one ship alone, and that too from an isolated region completely cut off from the world. This was making anything but sense.

Needless to say, the matter had been suppressed, completely kept out of public eyes. There was no point in needlessly harming Feplaria’s reputation as a powerhouse so quickly. Reputation is capital in power politics, and that was something that Yaereene understood from a very young age. Reputation was what was keeping everyone else at their toes, making them slip up and do mistakes out of paranoia and anxiety and snatching defeats even from decisive victories. It was the sole reason why Feplaria had the ability to effectively rule over almost the entirety of the 3^rd World.

However, suppressing the matter was not the same as pretending as if it never happened. It was very clear that this was not some unfortunate accident. Someone, or something was behind it. And if they could hunt down one fleet, they most likely also had the ability to hunt down the entire Feplarian Navy. This was unacceptable. Feplaria’s rule in the 3^rd World was absolute, anything and anyone that opposed it had to be disposed without any haste.

Yaereene’s thoughts brought forward in her memory the name she had heard: India. A completely unfamiliar name, never heard of before. She had given orders for finding everything they could about this name, yet everyone came up empty handed. There were no records detailing about such a country, or any entity by this name for that matter.

None of this made sense. If they possessed something like a navy, there is no way they would have stayed disconnected from the rest of the world for this long. Someone must have at least heard about them. Yet there was nothing.

Based on objective thinking, it would be logical to assume that maybe they were too primitive to even comprehend the concept of a ship, considering how isolated they had been. Yet, they managed to intercept and sink the region’s superpower’s ships, and they did it with just one ship.

This was not good. Lack of information could prove lethal in war, and right now she was exactly in that situation. This was an adversary she knew nothing about, and as of now, had no means of knowing anything either. The trade routes spread out in the entirety of the 3^rd World didn’t extend beyond the Far West, so sending in spies to form a information network was quite tricky as well.

Yaereene looked at the Arc Mage. The Arc Mage was staring outside the window, his expression showing no change despite the situation at hand.

The Mage was known to be the oldest and the strongest of the Dark Elves, having been around far before the current Queen was born and when the Dark Elves were still nomads. His wisdom had helped the Dark Elves every time they had encountered difficult situations such as this one. There were rumours in fact, that he had lived long enough to actually see the fabled Emissaries almost a thousand years ago, but nothing was truly confirmed. In the first place, no one even knew his actual age to begin with, as despite his nature, he always avoided the question. The Mage was perhaps the only person in the country that Yaereene respected enough to consider a senior, more probably because he had been around in her childhood as an elder.

Few moments of silence. The Mage stared outside the palace window, gazing at the bustling cityscape, and Yaereene contemplating. After a few moments, she opened her mouth to speak.

“What do you think, Arc Mage?”

The Arc Mage did not reply, he kept staring outside the window in silence, thinking about something. Whatever he was thinking about, failed to surface on his face, leaving Yaereene in the dark regarding his thoughts. Yet she didn’t mind. This was how he had always been, always taking his time and making even the Queen wait. It was not one bad either, since his decisions, if nothing else, had not once been detrimental for the country’s sake.

And just like always, Yaereene’s mind went off, trying to decode everything it could about the new foe. It was important after all, when things became confusing, it was always better to lay out whatever was at hand first. Based on what she knew, this.. “India”, sent one ship to fight them and they were most likely coming in from the opposite direction from the Feplarian group, making interception possible. Next, based on the message given, one ship destroyed the entire group before they could even board the ship, meaning that there was a chance that the ship had something similar to the Divine Artifacts given to the Feplarians by the High Elves. But how? How did they get something like that? Was there any other power equal to or greater in status than the High Elves, or were the High Elves playing some sor—

“Tell me child, why did you pick arms against the humans?”

The Arc Mage spoke, snapping Yaereene out of her thoughts. She looked at him, slightly wide eyed. He never called her ‘child’ unless they were in private discussing something very personal, something that couldn’t be allowed to get into politics.

“….to undo the injustice done by the humans on the Elves, that’s why.” Yaereene replied, reminiscing about the time she finally took command and led the Elves against the humans in their first major battle. That battle against a small kingdom was led to the events that caused the birth of Feplaria.

“Why such a question, Elder?” Yaereene asked, now shifting into using his title from back then.

“Do you know about the stories about the Emissaries, child?”

Yaereene looked at the Arc Mage, a little confused by such a sudden question. She had heard the story about the ‘Emissaries’, over and over again. It was a story about a bunch of humans who had come from another realm thousands of years ago, and valiantly fought to liberate the common people from oppressive kingdoms using their Divine Magic. The story had become common in every household, across every country, city and even race, much like how the Panchtantra is a household name in India. And just like the Panchtantra, it was and to this day, still the prime content of bedtime stories narrated to children in this world, about the ideals of being courageous and honest.

Despite being a story involving humans, Yaereene had never brushed it off or regarded it as stupidity. Partly because of its message, and partly because rumours about the Emissaries involved someone she knew.

“I do, Elder.” Yaereene replied. “But what has this got to do with this India?”

The Arc Mage stayed silent, gazing out in the vast sky outside. His face still didn’t reveal anything for Yaereene’s convenience, except that the playful smile on his face was now gone, replied by a smile that exuded melancholy and nostalgia instead.

Suddenly, the Arc Mage turned around. His face wore a certain seriousness that made even Yaereene   straighten her back.  His eyes carried a certain sharpness that Yaereene had never seen before.

Yaereene inwardly gulped a little. The Elder’s attitude was completely unexpected. She had always seen him as a joyful and carefree but reliable and strong adult, someone who could laugh through every kind of problem. Obviously Yaereene herself had been through a lot and to a great extent, developed the same kind of mindset that the Elder did, and as such knew by experience how he became such a person, yet still could have moments of weakness. Part of her still refused to believe it, however.

The Arc Mage stared the Queen in the eyes, then spoke in a solemn tone.

“Child, you are aware that in my entire life, I have not even once made any selfish request, a request solely to fulfil my own ends. Many others would drown in pride and ignorance of their acts and often declare such a thing witlessly. However, let it be known that I am not making this declaration out of ignorance. I am well aware of the true weight of my words, and can attest wholeheartedly that they are anything but hollow.”

The Mage looked at the Queen in the eyes, then continued.

“However, today I must make a selfish request. This is my one and only request. I will not ask anything more even if this request is denied, neither will I demand an explanation for the denial.”

Silence. The Arc Mage paused to let the weight of his words sink in. For a brief moment, the only sounds in the court were the bustling of the city outside, and the sound of wind blowing gently outside the window.

“I want the Queen of Feplaria to declare peace with India.”

For a moment, the Queen’s eyes widened slightly. The frown on her face deepened even more, displaying her displeasure. Yet she recovered quickly, and her face immediately returned to the normal ‘always dissatisfied’ look.

This request was simply put, unexpected. The Arc Mage had never objected to Feplaria’s conquest of humans, yet he hadn’t really protested too much against it. His dislike had never advanced beyond verbally expressing some remarks about how him expressing his distaste, nothing more. So what compelled the Arc Mage to state such a request was beyond her understanding. There were a lot of questions in her mind, including why this country, or whether he knew about India something that she didn’t. Yet right now, those questions weren’t important for Yaereene. The one thing she had learnt about making difficult choices was that she had to be decisive. There was no point in mulling too long over something, she had to follow her instinct and make a choice. Even if it was wrong she could deal with it later when the time came. But right now, she had to stick to what she considered her ideals and goals.

“You know very well, Arc Mage, that I cannot comply with such a request.” She replied with equal firmness.

“Not even if it is for the good of the country?”

“The subjugation of all humanity is the only good we can do for the country, Arc Mage.” She continued, ”It is world of ‘eat or be eaten’, and if we don’t eat the humans, they will consume us and erase all trace of us from this existence. ”

Yaereene looked at the Arc Mage, her eyes seemingly gazing straight inside his soul.

“You know how many times humans have tried to ‘make peace’ with us, don’t you, Arc Mage? If we had foolishly accepted even one of their peace treaties, everything we have today would have forever been a dream.”

The Arc Mage looked at the Queen, his expression unchanged, as if already having expected this response.

“Tell me, My Queen. You have, all this time, been treating the High Elves as Divine Beings, beings capable of feats beyond the comprehension of the average elven mind. What would you do if…”

He paused a little, then continued.

“…if someone greater and more powerful than the High Elves appeared, someone that was human?”

Yaereene narrowed her eyes.

“Care to enlighten what this question has to do with your request for declaring peace, Arc Mage Onas? Are you implying that mere livestock have the power to go against Gods themselves?”

“Why not, My Queen? Mere livestock can very well go against the supposed Gods. And no one knows better about this than Her Highness herself.”

Yaereene’s narrowed her eyes even more. Arc Mage’s words were true. After all, dark elves were regarded as nothing but exotic commodities before she took command of her tribe and began toppling human kingdoms. At the time, kings and emperors were more or less gods compared to mere nomads.

The Arc Mage turned away, once again staring into the distance.

“My Queen, for the first time since our great country’s rise have I felt truly uncertain about our victory. I am afraid my aged eyes can no longer see the future of such a battle, for all they see is but a dense fog. I am aware this may come off as traitorous, but I do believe that for once, we should consider not taking up arms hastily.”

Arc Mage Onas turned away without waiting for the Queen’s reply.

“I hope you have a fruitful day, child.”

With these words, he left the court, leaving the Queen to her thoughts. Silence once again descended in the spacious court.

 

 

 

 

21^st March, 2036, Rajpath, New Delhi, 5:00 P.M.

Prime Minister Desai strolled through the lush, green gardens in the Pradhan Mantri Awas, basking in the warm glow of the red and orange strips of the setting sun’s light spread across the entire garden. Surrounding the garden were the tall buildings built serving as the residence of the most important man of the country, all bathed in an orange glow.

Surrounding every inch of the garden and the entire complex as well, were the cautious eyes of the Special Protection Group (SPG). SPG agents were at every corner, standing tall and still as stone, almost like flesh statues wearing suits and shades. These weren’t the only ones, there were other agents and officials as well, keeping their watchful eye from a distance, away from the limelight.

As PM Desai walked on the stone path leading through the garden, he concentrated on his surroundings, silencing his thoughts. He felt the light, cool wind blowing leisurely against his white kurta, seeping into the cuffs and greeting his aged, tired wrists. All around him, the only sound was the sound of birds chirping quietly, of leaves rustling in the wind, of the innumerable small insects and bugs and their rhythmic, unending chirping. In the background, he could hear the sound of the city, of vehicle horns of all kinds, blaring incessantly, though to his ears they were barely audible.

The past two weeks had been extremely hectic and chaotic, and this was the first time he had managed to take a break like this. Though, truthfully this wasn’t really anything new for him. Being a Prime Minister meant working for 18 hours a day nonstop, and often it extended to 24 hours.

The failure of the diplomatic mission had caused a big commotion. The public was skeptical, after all this was a golden opportunity for India and could have aided in its recovery, and yet they let it slip. Protests happened, rioting occurred. People took to social media to curse the government. The opposition milked this very well. They started shouting about how it was the government and their incompetent leaders that were solely responsible for this incident, and dragged the matter to the Supreme Court just for attention, just like they always did.

In the midst of this, the government finally released its official statement on the matter: the Indian mission had been attacked despite multiple attempts to maintain peace, and that they had no choice but to retaliate in self-defence. Video footage and audio recorded from cameras on board the destroyer were released, showing how the Indian diplomat tried to be reasonable with the natives of the new world, but was refused and interrupted repeatedly, and how finally the natives struck the Indian ship.

This caused an even bigger stir. The ruling party now had something to show to the people, and they wasted no time. Now, a large faction of people had come in the support of the government, further fuelling the commotion. News channels were filled with morons constantly “debating” with each other about the issue all around the clock.

The chaos was about to become even worse. After the incident, Indian Navy assets had moved in to rescue the alien survivors, and it quickly became clear that the differences in culture and understanding would prove problematic. Many survivors openly assaulted the sailors trying to rescue them, resulting in many injured sailors. Even those that obediently followed the sailors, turned violent suddenly and used their unknown powers to cause damage, resulting in an increase in the list of injured personnel and damaging sensitive equipment aboard ships.

PM Desai remembered seeing video footage of a native being interrogated. In the footage he was seen sitting in a chair in an interrogation room, surrounded by armed guards wearing civilian clothes under their gear. The native had long ears and odd, brown skin, as well as long white hair. His face had an expression somewhere between madness and rage, and it seemed that was not unknown to the other people in the footage.

The interrogator began questioning him, as the odd native began revealing some details while passing provocations. He didn’t reveal much, other than his name, “Llarm Valbella”, his rank was captain, and that he belonged to a country called Feplaria. Most of the conversation was just him spouting curses in a voice that sounded insane.

Then the interrogator asked him about his unique ability, the one which he used to hit the Indian destroyer. The native gave a disgusting grin, then raised his arms up in the arm as he shouted “…..I will give you a taste of supreme Elven magic, you fucking bug!!.....”

As he did, a bright, white ball of light appeared in his hands, and he flung it directly towards the interrogator. The interrogator saw it coming and had already jumped away in order to dodge the attack, but Llarm didn’t let it go. He laughed maniacally and dove from his seat towards the interrogator.

At this point, the video footage was cut short. Desai, however, was told about the aftermath. The guards had responded very kindly to the native’s ‘gift to the Indian’ by dumping the magazines of their standard-issue JVPC’s and P90s in his arms and limbs, while someone had decided to mag dump his Glock in his abdomen. The interrogator had come out completely unscathed, though slightly shocked.

As for the native called Llarm, he wasn’t so lucky. Treating an alien was not something doctors had been trained to do, much less doing it in an emergency. The only silver lining was that the alien here happened to be nearly identical to humans. That still didn’t help the guy though, since he ended up losing both his legs and his right forearm, along with two fingers from his left hand.

This wasn’t the only incident of its kind. Many of the alien natives attacked Indian officials seemingly at random, often while being transported inside vehicles or when left relatively unguarded for even a moment, and even attacking other inmates when put in prisons, leading to many wounded. Protocols had to be established for dealing with these aliens, dictating that any time, these aliens must never be left unrestrained and unmonitored, and that they should be accompanied by no less than 7 heavily armed guards while transiting.

Not everyone was like this, however. There were quite a few who had been shell-shocked and traumatised during the incident. They behaved like a young child while questioning and were quite obedient and cooperative, contrary to others of their race. Some, such as Llarm, had initially been too rebellious and had been served a heavy dose of Indian hospitality and as such had turned quite obedient as well, now singing like canaries to the Indians about whatever song they demanded.

The information that came out of their mouth took the country by storm. Everyone was simply shocked at these aliens. Videos of these people very casually confessing to what the public considered as ‘unspeakable crimes against humanity’ had surfaced. These aliens, now known to be referred as ‘dark elves’, had been committing extremely disturbing acts of violence and injustice against civilian populations of various native countries. Each one of the dark elves confessed to genocide, murder, arson, forced sexual assault against a large number of women as well as practicing slavery. Even the supposedly lower ranked dark elves confessed to more than just a handful of rapes.

Of course, India is a country where one incident against women is enough to enrage the entire country’s population of women, and where millions of men get their lives destroyed permanently without even a trial just because a woman casually filed a fake rape case against them. The response of such a country on this matter, therefore, wasn’t really unexpected.

The narrative and the shouting turned around completely. Protestors hit the streets in significantly larger numbers, now holding placards calling for the dark elves’ execution instead of protection of their human rights, and justifying the government’s actions against them. The opposition suddenly found itself in a tough spot, now being seen as supporting rapists by the rabid feminists of Delhi and Mumbai. They tried to reverse their position by running a campaign parading some conspiracy theory, but it got hidden under the noise of the fat, ugly, attention hungry feminists and the innocent and sentimental public, now blindly believing the feminists.

To Desai, it wasn’t really a nice idea. His government had worked hard to save the country from poison such as feminism and pride, aggressively taking steps to suck the life out of feminist organizations and routinely taking decisions that put his government at odds with them. So seeing them gain any sort of relevance was not good. Yet he could not complain either, for it was the feminists and their incessant shouting that turned the public narrative in his favour.

Now, however, was a bigger problem. Desai looked up in the sky. The sky had started turning slightly purple, and the stars and the moon had began entering the dark blue and purple stage. Lights had been turned on inside buildings, now illuminating the surroundings with their glow.

Desai sighed. As a leader of the country, he had tried his best to ensure things never turned too bad, and had mostly succeeded because of his experience and his subordinates. Yet he couldn’t avoid everything after all. Every once in a while, a problem would come around that would prove impossible to solve. Yet it didn’t mean they would do nothing and just sit back. India had, until now, waded through the mess that had been in the previous world, operating purely on rationality and selfish interests. India had always been away from most conflicts not because India was coward, but because the conflicts were nothing but a burden to India. This was the reason why India had managed to wade through problems and maintain its relations with everyone even during wars, where India milked both sides of conflict quite often. Of course, some wars were unavoidable and indeed India was forced to participate in a Cold War with its neighbours, but even then India had always acted rationally. To India, the beliefs of any country or any sort of established world order didn’t mean much, only India’s selfish interests mattered. Until now India had always taken the back seat and watched the world burn itself as India warmed itself on its embers.

But now, it was different. The Word they were in was unknown, unfamiliar. Its culture and practices were vaguely familiar, but still alien. And there was no trace of the previous world here. Here, people openly engaged in cock fighting, and would even go as far as to attack diplomats. Notions of ‘war is bad’ or ‘peace is good’ didn’t exist here. Here only the one with the biggest stick made the rules. And India had to now navigate this world.

Desai looked up, eyes filled with determination. No matter what, nothing mattered except the country. India had always survived by being outside the limelight and conflict when needed, for that world was filled with foes far more powerful than India. But what about this world, where there was no one capable of going against India? Here, India had to rise to the top and assert absolute dominance, and do everything that the giants in the previous world did to assert control.

PM Desai turned his feet towards the PM Awas building. Tonight was going to be one long night.