That same night, long after the court lamps of Hastinapura had dimmed and the corridors of the royal palace had fallen into silence, Duryodhana sat alone in his private chamber. Unrest clouded his face. Outside the carved stone windows, the cold night wind moved through the palace banners with a low rustling sound. Distant guards walked the walls carrying burning torches whose orange glow flickered across the marble halls like restless spirits.
The prince held the letter in his hand for a long while before finally speaking.
"Uncle," he said slowly, his voice carrying a hesitation rarely heard from him, "I received a letter from Dushala. She is returning."
Across from him, seated lazily upon a cushioned chair while rolling dice casually between his fingers, Shakuni lifted one eyebrow with interest.
"She finished her service at the ashram at last? Did it not last several months longer than we expected?"
Duryodhana nodded silently and handed him the letter.
The Gandhara prince unfolded it leisurely and began reading under the soft flame of the oil lamps. As his eyes moved lower across the message, the corners of his lips slowly curled upward. Then suddenly he let out his familiar dry laugh—the kind that always made Duryodhana feel both reassured and uneasy at the same time.
"Good," Shakuni murmured while folding the letter again. "Very good."
But Duryodhana did not smile immediately. Instead, he leaned back heavily and looked away toward the darkened window. For several moments, silence lingered between them.
Then finally he spoke again.
"But uncle…" His voice lowered slightly. "I am no longer certain whether I still want Karna's support."
Shakuni's fingers stopped moving over the dice. The old gambler narrowed his eyes.
Duryodhana continued slowly, as though speaking thoughts he himself had not fully accepted yet.
"Things are changing. The plan for Varanavata is already in motion. If everything succeeds there…" He paused briefly before saying quietly, "…then the throne will become mine regardless."
The room fell silent again except for the soft crackling of the lamp flames.
Then suddenly Shakuni laughed—not loudly, not mockingly, but like a man amused by a child who believed he had understood the entire game after seeing only a few moves on the board.
"You do not understand, my nephew," Shakuni said calmly while placing the dice aside. "You are looking only at today while forgetting tomorrow."
Duryodhana frowned slightly.
Shakuni leaned forward slowly, his sharp eyes glinting beneath the dim light.
"That Suryaputra," he said carefully, "rides a divine chariot capable of crossing kingdoms within hours. Have you forgotten that already? He can stand in Dakshina Kalinga at sunrise and reach Mathura before the day's heat fully rises."
His voice grew heavier.
"He went to Mathura and ended the reign of Kamsa in a single day. A tyranny that even powerful kingdoms tolerated for years vanished beneath his arrows." He raised one finger. "He went to Magadha and defeated Jarasandha himself in wrestling—Jarasandha, a man whom even mighty kings avoid provoking directly." Another finger rose. "He entered Dvarika alone. Alone, Duryodhana. Not with armies. Not with allies. Alone. And he defeated their entire defence, subdued Balarama himself, and took away their princess openly from their front gates."
The old prince's voice lowered meaningfully.
"And do you know the most interesting part about him?"
Duryodhana stayed silent.
Shakuni answered himself.
"He is not just strong—he is also righteous." The word itself carried strange weight. "And I always say a righteous man is easier to manipulate than a greedy man, because they carry pride in their righteousness. When a righteous man promises…" Shakuni clicked his tongue softly. "They will stand beside you even against the world."
Duryodhana's expression slowly hardened into thoughtfulness.
Shakuni rose from his seat and began pacing slowly across the chamber.
"Also, look around Bharatavarsha carefully, my nephew," he continued. "Every kingdom connected to Karna has become untouchable." He raised his hand toward the dark outside. "Magadha was already wealthy and powerful, yes. But people had hoped it would decline after Jarasandha. Now that Karna has become Jarasandha's son-in-law, their future is secured. Kashi?" He continued. "A small kingdom ruled by a young king who has barely grown a proper moustache. Yet no neighbouring kingdom dares invade its borders. And Mathura…" His eyes narrowed. "During Kamsa's rule, that kingdom became hated across the land. His actions invited enemies everywhere. Yet even after his death, when the kingdom stood vulnerable and weakened, no one invaded."
Shakuni stopped walking. Then slowly he turned toward Duryodhana.
"All these kingdoms share one thing in common."
The prince answered quietly.
"Karna."
Shakuni smiled thinly.
"Yes."
The room seemed colder suddenly.
"Imagine if that same man becomes your brother-in-law."
Duryodhana's eyes shifted slightly.
Shakuni continued without mercy.
"You cannot expect Bhishma to guard Hastinapura's throne forever. One day the grandsire will fall to age. Guru Drona? He cares only for Ashwatthama in the end. While Ashwatthama is your good friend, can you truly expect him to stay loyal to you until the end? He is, after all, the son of Guru Drona, who has always favoured the Pandavas."
The old gambler's voice became sharper.
"Have you ever thought about the future when you rule? Kingdoms survive not merely through armies, but through fear. Through deterrence. Through making enemies hesitate." Then he smiled slowly. "And Karna is the perfect guard dog for Hastinapura."
Duryodhana's brows instantly furrowed.
"What you said is true," he admitted quietly. "But uncle…" His voice hardened slightly. "I ask you not to use such insulting words again."
Shakuni blinked.
Duryodhana continued sternly.
"That is my sister's future husband you are referring to."
For a brief moment genuine displeasure appeared on his face.
Shakuni paused. Then, surprisingly, he nodded.
"It slipped out," he said lightly. "But you understand my meaning."
Duryodhana exhaled slowly and leaned back once more. The tension eased slightly.
Then after a few silent moments he finally asked,
"What is your plan now, uncle?"
At that, a slow smile spread across Shakuni's face—the kind of smile that usually meant someone, somewhere, was about to lose everything without realising it yet.
The Gandhara prince stroked his beard thoughtfully before speaking.
"There are three steps to this, my nephew."
Duryodhana listened carefully.
"First," Shakuni began, "we must ensure Karna stays in Hastinapura for at least several days after arriving."
Duryodhana frowned slightly.
"How?"
Shakuni chuckled.
"Gratitude." The dice rolled lazily between his fingers again. "We thank him for rescuing Dushala. We honour him publicly. We insist he stays as a royal guest." Then his eyes sharpened. "And afterward… we present him with another trade proposal."
Duryodhana blinked.
"A bigger one?"
"Not merely bigger," Shakuni corrected calmly. "Massive. So massive that even Karna will feel compelled to stay longer." His voice became quieter. "Trade routes. Livestock. Metals. Maritime access. Military cooperation. Whatever it takes. Karna values prosperity for his kingdom more than luxury for himself."
Duryodhana slowly nodded.
Shakuni raised a second finger.
"Step two. We send the Pandavas and Kunti away to Varanavata."
The chamber suddenly felt heavier. Even though Duryodhana already knew the plan, hearing it aloud still created unease inside him.
But Shakuni continued smoothly.
"And finally…" he said while lifting the third finger, "Maharaj Dhritarashtra announces Dushala's swayamvara after their departure."
Duryodhana's eyes widened slightly as realisation struck him.
Shakuni smiled.
"By then Karna will already be staying within the palace. If he refuses the invitation publicly, it becomes discourteous. Politically awkward."
"And if he accepts?" Duryodhana asked quietly.
Shakuni's smile deepened.
"Then his victory is guaranteed." The old prince spread his hands slightly. "All we need is the correct competition—archery, close combat, strength. In all of Aryavarta… who can defeat Karna in both archery and close combat together?"
Duryodhana slowly smiled despite himself. Because the answer truly was difficult. Very difficult. Perhaps impossible.
And then Shakuni delivered the final part quietly.
"At Varanavata," he murmured, "the Pandavas will perish." His voice remained frighteningly calm. "And here in Hastinapura… we shall mourn them." A pause. Then his lips curved again. "And after mourning ends… we shall celebrate a wedding."
The silence afterward stretched long. The torch flames flickered softly against the chamber walls. Outside, the night wind continued moving across the palace towers.
And finally Duryodhana smiled—a slow smile filled with ambition, relief, and dangerous hope.
"Uncle," he said quietly, "truly… no one can match your intelligence."
Shakuni only laughed softly again.
But somewhere far away—beyond Hastinapura, beyond politics, beyond schemes—fate itself had already begun moving silently toward Varanavata.
And unlike Shakuni's dice…
fate did not always land where men expected.