His voice had not been loud, nor had it been aggressive, yet it carried the weight of an unavoidable truth.
Dharma was like a blade. It did not care whether it cut a king or a beggar.
Karna's gaze swept across the stunned faces before he continued, his tone steady. "On the other hand…"
He paused and turned toward Dronacharya, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought. "If Acharya Drona's vow is only against Maharaj Drupada, and not against Panchala itself, then Maharaj Dhritarashtra may send his vast army and generals alongside the princes, to remove obstacles on their path. They need not fight the war alone, only reach Drupada and bring him to Guru Drona's feet."
The suggestion fell like a sudden ray of sunlight in a suffocating chamber.
Dhritarashtra's shoulders loosened slightly, hope stirring in him.
If Bhishma accompanied them, if the Kuru army marched beside his sons, then perhaps this madness could be turned into something controlled. Perhaps his princes would not be thrown into the mouth of death.
However, before Dhritarashtra could even speak, Bhishma rose.
"I agree with Maharaj Karna's suggestion," Bhishma said, his voice carrying authority that even the king could not ignore. "Until Guru Drona's guru dakshina is fulfilled, no Crown Prince can be selected. Therefore, the princes must go. However, we can send support to ensure they are not crushed before they even reach their objective."
Bhishma's eyes sharpened, his voice turning colder. "But no maharathi or atirathi may accompany them. Such warriors' contributions are too significant. It would destroy the very intention of Acharya Drona's vow. At most, rathis may be sent. Even they cannot be permitted to strike Panchala's commanding soldiers."
The court absorbed his words with mixed expressions. Some felt relief, others unease. The princes themselves stiffened. To go with only limited support was still dangerous, still humiliating, but it was no longer suicide.
Dhritarashtra sat frozen, caught between his fatherly fear and the iron laws of dharma.
He could feel the eyes of the court on him, feel the weight of the throne pressing down upon his blind shoulders.
A king could refuse many things, but refusing a guru's dakshina was like refusing the very foundation of society.
Before he could decide, Duryodhana stepped forward.
"Father," he said firmly, "we will go."
Dhritarashtra's head snapped toward the sound, shock twisting his expression. Even Vidura's eyes widened. The Pandavas watched carefully, sensing that Duryodhana was not speaking out of devotion to Drona alone.
Duryodhana turned toward Dronacharya, his voice rising with pride. "Fighting wars is the duty of a kshatriya. If not now, then in the future we will have to go to war anyway. And Panchala has always stood in our way of progress." His eyes flickered with ambition as he continued, "Maharaj Drupada has no heirs. If he falls, Panchala will break apart. Inevitably, it will benefit the Kurus."
Then he bowed slightly, his voice becoming solemn. "Gurudev… I, Duryodhana, eldest son of Maharaj Dhritarashtra, promise you. Me and my brothers will go to war with Panchala. We will fulfill your oath. We will present you Drupada and the pride of Panchala as your guru dakshina."
Dhritarashtra's hands clenched into fists. He could almost feel the future shifting under his feet. The moment his son spoke those words, the decision stopped being his.
Dhritarashtra lowered his head and let out a long breath, the sound of a man surrendering to fate.
"Alright..."
*
Later that evening, the skies above Hastinapura were calm, the moon hanging like a silver lamp over the palace roofs. Karna stood alone on a balcony, arms resting against the stone railing as he watched the moonlight spill across the city.
Footsteps approached from behind.
A maid bowed low and spoke softly. "Maharaj… Mahamahim Bhishma wishes to meet you."
Karna nodded without turning. "Send him."
A while later, the soft, measured sound of heavy footsteps reached him.
Karna turned and folded his hands. "Mahamahim Bhishma."
Bhishma nodded in return, his face unreadable.
Karna then asked calmly, "Is there anything I can do for you?"
Bhishma's gaze remained fixed ahead, on the moonlit city. "I only want to ask why you came here, Karna."
Karna blinked slowly. "Weren't you the ones who invited me?"
Bhishma nodded. "We have every reason to invite you. But what is your reason for accepting it?" His voice lowered. "Are you here for your mother?"
The words were simple, but they struck like a spear. Karna did not answer immediately. His eyes held Bhishma's, then slowly drifted away, as if staring at something far deeper than the city below.
Bhishma sighed quietly, then continued. "I know the truth. Do you think I would let Maharaj Pandu attend Kunti's swayamvara without knowing everything about her past? Her father tried to suppress it. She tried to bury it. But when it concerns the future of Hastinapura, I wouldn't remain blind in such matters."
Karna's eyes narrowed a bit, "How many people have known about this matter, Mahamahim?"
Bhishma replied, "Only me. The others don't know the truth."
After a pause, he added, "But I know it is not her fault."
Karna turned sharply, his eyes narrowing at that statement. "Not her fault?" His voice held restrained heat, like a flame kept beneath stone. "Using a mantra out of ignorance may not be her fault. But out of fear of society… throwing away her child?" His lips curled faintly, not in disgust, but in bitter clarity. "That is not a fault, Mahamahim. That is a sin."
Bhishma did not reply. He simply listened, because he could feel the storm behind Karna's calm.
Karna inhaled slowly, forcing the bitterness back down. Then he spoke again, voice steady but cold. "Yes. I accepted the invitation and came here for Princess Kunti."
Bhishma's eyes sharpened slightly.
"But I am not here as her son," Karna continued, "nor as a brother to her five children. I was never her son… and I never will be." His gaze lifted toward the moon. "I am merely here to sever the mortal attachment I still carry toward her. After all… she did carry me for nine months."
His eyes hardened again. "Once I repay her with something she considers greater than the bond that still ties us, I will not appear in her life ever again."
Karna turned his face slightly, the moonlight catching the edge of his earrings, his expression solemn.
"For me," he said quietly, "my mother is Goddess Sangya."
"I will always be Sangyaputra, not Kuntiputra..."