I rode along with Senga into Vakkanam, just as he had described earlier—this place felt strangely different, almost empty. The soil gradually gave way to sand, and a cool sea breeze welcomed us as we began walking. Soon, we spotted scattered huts along the shoreline. Women sat untangling coir fishing nets, while small boats rested on the beach. Everyone paused to stare at us as we passed, yet there was no sign of the guards who had ridden ahead.

  Senga pointed toward a distant cluster of huts.

  “That’s their capital,” he said.

  “Those huts?” I asked, surprised.

  “What did you expect, Adhiya? A shining marble palace?”

  “No… no,” I replied quickly.

  We reached the cluster, where everyone continued their work without much fuss. The strong, pungent smell of fish filled the air—something entirely new to me. We stopped a man and asked about Kariyan. He simply pointed toward the sea and walked away.

  “Damn these Vakkans—they’ve never heard of respect,” Senga growled.

  “Leave it, Uncle. Let’s find Kariyan ourselves,” I said.

  I handed Thelan’s reins to Senga while he tied the horses to a large mounted stone. It was early morning, and the sun was just rising. We sat on the warm sand and watched the sunrise together.

  “We don’t write enough songs about the beauty of the sea, Uncle,” I remarked.

  “Water you can’t drink, sand you can’t build on, and endless nothingness—is that really worth a song?” he replied with a touch of frustration. Then he turned serious. “What are you doing here, Adhiya? You’re wasting time. The entire capital is waiting for your coronation.”

  “Just be calm, Uncle. We won’t be staying here for long,” I assured him.

  At that moment, a tall, dark-skinned man emerged from the sea, hauling the largest fishing net I had ever seen, brimming with fish. He dragged it ashore and threw it down at our feet.

  “A small gift for my prince and the minister,” he said with a grin.

  “Kariyan!! My friend, it’s been so long!” I stood up and walked toward him. Kariyan immediately bent the knee before Senga. Seeing their leader kneel, the crowd—who had ignored us until now—dropped whatever they were holding and knelt as well.

  “Rise, Kariyan,” I said. “I sent two messengers. Where are they?”

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  “They’re on Vel Island,” he replied.

  “Take us there!”

  Kariyan looked at me and smiled. “Sure, Adhiya, but you look exhausted. Why don’t you rest in my palace first? We can set sail at noon.”

  We walked toward the largest hut in the cluster. As we went, Kariyan spoke again.

  “Minister Senga, I know you’re angry about many things. We don’t have Mallari artists to welcome our prince, and I can explain the refugee situation…”

  All the way from the border, we hadn’t seen a single Ankalan refugee. I wondered what he had really been doing with them.

  We rested until noon, then ate a simple meal of fish and rice—the staple food of the Vakkans. Afterward, Kariyan prepared a small boat for just the three of us.

  “This isn’t the boat I imagined,” I said.

  Kariyan only smiled and gestured for us to climb in. He pushed the boat into the shallow water, swam alongside for a moment, then pulled himself aboard.

  “These are shallow waters, Adhiya!” he said as the boat began to wobble.

  I gripped both sides tightly.

  Kariyan grinned. “You still haven’t learned to swim?”

  I straightened my posture. “I know how to swim but I'm not as good as you.”

  Senga looked at me and smiled.

  Kariyan laughed and began paddling.

  When we reached Vel Island, we stepped onto a lush tropical forest island filled with towering trees. Some had already been felled, and long, perfectly shaped wooden spars lay ready. Ahead, a twenty-member crew was working on an enormous wooden structure—about 150 feet long and 30 feet high—with thick ropes stretching toward the sea.

  “Is this what I think it is?” I asked Kariyan.

  “Yes,” he said proudly. “We call it a boat that can carry three elephants.”

  Senga’s eyes widened, then narrowed in realization. “One boat? What can we do with just one boat?”

  Kariyan smiled. Every worker stopped, stood respectfully before us, then returned to their tasks at his command.

  “Come,” he said. “Let’s explore the island more.”

  We walked deeper into the forest until we reached a high cliff. From there, the view took my breath away. Below us lay a natural harbour, where thousands of ships were anchored and carefully maintained by the refugees.

  “This is what we’ve been doing, Adhiya,” Kariyan said, his voice full of pride. “Look at the fleet—no, look at our path to victory.”

  Each ship could carry a hundred men. They were built with stitched hulls, reinforced wooden spars, and powered by large square sails. As I gazed at the gentle tides rocking the vessels, all tied together at the harbour, a familiar voice called out.

  “My prince!”

  “Batra! Bila!” I rushed forward and embraced them both. “Bila, I hope Uncle Aadhi sent the troops I requested?”

  He nodded, grinning.

  “Have you trained them in basic naval warfare?” I asked Kariyan.

  He gave a firm nod, pride radiating from him.

  I turned to the open sea, the horizon endless and promising. “We need some practice before the real war, don’t we, Uncle Senga?”

  He looked confused for a moment. Then I continued, “We can start with the Dhira Kingdom.”

  Senga’s face lit up like a storm breaking. He roared, “Yes! Yes! I knew you wouldn’t leave that bastard without revenge. I’ll present his head on a platter at your coronation, Adhiya! You return to the capital and prepare. I’ll take six ships and five hundred men!”