Karna leaned back slightly before speaking further.
"Because when compassion is shown repeatedly toward evil," he said quietly, "the suffering eventually falls upon innocent people instead. A king should absolutely give a man a second chance. Humans can fall into darkness through fear, greed, anger, or helplessness. But if after receiving that second chance he still walks willingly toward adharma… then mercy toward him becomes cruelty toward society."
Jarasandha let out a low chuckle and leaned forward, resting one heavy arm on the table.
"I have always said the same thing, Karna," he rumbled. "In Magadha we do not waste endless chances on those who spit on them. A ruler who keeps forgiving the same snake will one day find that snake around the neck of his own people. However, I do disagree about one thing. There is nothing wrong with tyranny. Ruling with strength is another way of ruling. What's more important is whether your people are happy. Are your people living well? Do they get to eat? Have a home and sufficient clothing? Those matter the most."
Duryodhana nodded firmly, unable to stay silent.
"Exactly," he said, his voice full of conviction. "Yuvraj Yudhishthira always speaks of compassion, forgiveness, and truth. Those are fine words when the world is peaceful. But when enemies stand at your gates with drawn swords, what protects the people? Soft hearts or sharp steel? A king who cannot strike when needed will watch his own subjects bleed while he still searches for the perfect moral answer."
He then looked at Yudhishthira and added, "You are too weak at heart, Yudhishthira."
Yudhishthira looked at both of them calmly, not offended even by Duryodhana's direct insult.
"I do not deny the need for strength, Brother Duryodhana… nor do I deny what Maharaj Jarasandha says about people's needs. But strength must always remain the servant of dharma, never its master. Once a king begins to believe that power itself is the highest good, the line between protector and oppressor slowly disappears. And what if the people living in prosperity still cannot sleep in peace? When they live in fear…"
Karna smiled faintly at the exchange.
"That is why I said strength and dharma must stand together like two wheels of a chariot," he replied. "If one wheel breaks, the chariot overturns. Kindness gives rise to truth and compassion among the people. Ruthlessness prevents deceit and evil from spreading. A ruler needs both."
Jarasandha struck the table lightly with his palm in agreement.
"Spoken like a true king. In Magadha we teach our sons the same — first learn to protect, then learn to forgive. Never the other way around."
Duryodhana leaned back with a satisfied expression.
"Indeed, Maharaj Jarasandha is wise. It is the only way a kingdom survives more than a generation."
Arjuna remained silent, listening carefully. Yudhishthira still looked thoughtful rather than argumentative. The differences in their beliefs were clear, yet the conversation carried no hostility — only honest disagreement.
But at the same time, in Arjuna's eyes, it looked as if his brother was fighting three enemies, not one.
Naturally, Shakuni could not resist disturbing that balance. He smiled slowly before speaking.
"Enough of philosophy," he declared aloud. "Everyone has their own kind of dharma, and if we begin to discuss whose dharma is right… it will take all night, and the cooks will start believing we survive on speeches instead of food."
Duryodhana couldn't help but laugh at his uncle's humor. The others felt that he was too interruptive, but they didn't say anything.
And just like that… the atmosphere shifted once more.
***
The next morning, the palace of Kanipura had already awakened long before sunrise.
Golden rays spread slowly across the marble courtyards while priests chanted morning hymns in the distant temple wings of the palace complex. The fragrance of burning sandalwood drifted through the cool air, mixing with the scent of fresh lotus flowers floating in the water channels that ran through the inner gardens. Servants moved quietly across the corridors carrying trays of fruits, sacred offerings, flower garlands, and ceremonial cloth for the upcoming wedding rituals, while musicians somewhere deeper in the palace softly played veena and flute to welcome the dawn.
The atmosphere felt peaceful on the surface.
Yet beneath that calmness… old tensions quietly stirred.
In one of the grand open courtyards lined with carved sandstone pillars, Arjuna stood alone after finishing his morning prayers. His bow rested against a nearby pillar while he looked across the palace grounds thoughtfully, his mind lingering on various things.
This kingdom disturbed him in ways he could not properly explain.
Everything here felt… different.
There were many things here that weren't seen in Hastinapura.
The soldiers were disciplined yet strangely close to the people. He never saw soldiers in Hastinapura often stop by each shop or each home on the way, asking them whether they had any troubles.
The citizens respected Karna deeply yet did not tremble before him. It wasn't the type of reverence that Hastinapura's people had for Bhishma or for the royal family. It was as if they treated him as their own, as if they had a right over him.
Women moved freely through military grounds carrying weapons and wearing armor openly while priests, merchants, and warriors conversed almost like equals in many places.
Especially the maids in the palace. They disturbed him the most. As a warrior, he could see that sharp warrior gaze in the eyes of the maids, who always kept watch over everything around them. Their reflexes were also very high. He didn't even need to ask whether they were trained or not.
It challenged many things Arjuna had unconsciously accepted as natural throughout his life.
Everything felt so wrong here, with things challenging the norms of society, yet at the same time this kingdom had stable governance.
And that discomfort lingered quietly within him.
Then suddenly… his eyes locked onto a familiar figure standing behind Jarasandha in the distance.
Arjuna's body stiffened instantly.
Ekalavya.
The Nishada prince stood tall beneath the morning sunlight, dressed in dark blue and silver garments suited to Magadha royalty. A magnificent bow rested across his back while leather guards covered his forearms, their surfaces scarred from years of relentless practice. Unlike the memory Arjuna carried from years ago, there was no trace of insecurity left in him now.
Only discipline.
Only confidence.
And most striking of all… his right thumb remained missing, but the fact that he was carrying the bow with his four-fingered right hand told a lot of things.
It struck Arjuna that Ekalavya had somehow managed to learn left-hand archery.
Because it stood there like a silent accusation against fate itself.
For a few long moments, neither moved.
The palace courtyard around them remained active with servants and guards walking past, but to both men the sounds seemed distant, muffled beneath the weight of old memories.
The forest.
The clay statue.
The desperate devotion of a boy rejected for his birth.
And the cruel price that devotion had once demanded.
Arjuna's fingers unconsciously tightened slightly near his side.
Meanwhile, Ekalavya's sharp eyes remained completely steady. No fear. No inferiority. No worship. Only calm restraint.
Then finally… Ekalavya moved first.
He stepped forward slowly across the courtyard, each footstep measured and composed against the polished stone floor. When he stopped before Arjuna, he joined his palms formally.
"Prince Arjuna," he said.
His tone remained respectful. But there was no warmth within it.
Arjuna returned the greeting almost mechanically.
"Ekalavya."
Silence followed immediately afterward. A heavy silence.