The sun was out, but no one was sweating. Not yet. The air hadn't moved since dawn.
A few soldiers sat slouched against the stone wall, helmets off. One man lay on his back, balancing his sword on his foot, wobbling it like a child bored in class.
Dev sat on the low stone wall by the courtyard, tying and untying a piece of string.
"You've tied that knot four times," said Milan, leaning on the doorframe. "You proposing to it or planning to hang someone?"
"Neither," Dev said. "I'm just waiting for it to tie itself."
"Smart," said Rafi, lying on his back with a cloth over his eyes. "That way, if it kills you, you can say it was mutual."
"Unlike your last date," Milan muttered.
Rafi didn't move. "She had high standards."
"She had a working nose."
Laughter from a few in the back. Not loud. They weren't supposed to laugh too hard today.
Sitting on an overturned bucket, Tarun rolled the dice between his fingers but never threw them. "What time is the naming?"
"Could be noon," said Milan. "Could be tomorrow."
"They don't tell us anything."
"They don't want to," said Dev. "Less chance we run."
"Would you?"
"If I see your name on the list, I might."
Another ripple of restrained amusement.
"Anyone here actually want it?" Tarun asked. "You know. To carry."
Silence.
"Didn't think so."
Rafi took the cloth off his face. "It's supposed to be an honour, right? Great honour. Carve your name into the books and all."
"Right under the phrase 'died tired,'" said Milan.
"Maybe it's not bad," said Dev. "It's just walking."
"Yeah, and drowning is just swimming badly."
Tarun flicked one dice into the dirt. It hit with a soft thud. "I heard you can't speak while carrying."
"You can," Rafi said. "You just won't again after."
"That's comforting."
Footsteps on the gravel. An older voice behind them.
"You boys sound like you've never seen a burial."
The group turned. Bhairav, shoulders square, beard thick with streaks of grey, stepped into their circle.
"I've seen a few," he said. "Not royal, but close enough."
Milan offered a nod. "You ever carried one?"
"Twice. Not kings. Generals."
"What's the difference?"
Bhairav looked at him.
"One dies with power. The other dies with weight."
They didn't laugh at that. Rafi sat up. Dev folded his arms.
"You saying it's worse?"
"I'm saying it's different," Bhairav replied. "A general's body is heavy because of blood. A king's body is heavy because of his name."
Tarun asked, "That just words, or real?"
Bhairav looked at the dice in the dirt.
"First time I carried, I was young like you. No belief. I took the front-left corner."
"What happened?"
"First step was easy. Second step, I forgot we were even lifting a man. Third step, the whole world got quiet. No wind. No birds. No sound. Just footsteps. That weight pulled at more than my back."
Rafi said nothing. Neither did the rest.
"And the second time?" Dev asked.
Bhairav didn't answer right away.
"I told myself it'd be the same. I was wrong. We walked twenty-three steps before the man behind me passed out."
"Passed out?"
"He didn't fall. Just... stopped being there."
"Heatstroke?"
"No. Cold day. Barely broke a sweat."
They went quiet again.
Tarun finally asked, "Is it true what they say? About the silence?"
Bhairav nodded. "You speak during the walk, you speak over the king's soul. That's the belief. It's meant to move through peacefully. Any word from a living mouth can tangle it."
Milan shook his head. "And if I sneeze?"
"Better not."
"Come on."
"I'm serious. That's why most men don't volunteer. Not because they can't carry. Because they can't stay silent."
Dev looked at the string in his hands. It had knotted itself.
"They say one man spoke," Bhairav went on. "Whispered. Just a whisper. He fell sick before the last step."
"What kind of sick?"
"The kind you don't rise from your sleep."
Milan scoffed. "These are stories."
"Are they?"
"You're saying the coffin kills people?"
"I'm saying it carries more than bones."
Tarun flicked his second dice into the dirt. "There's always a story like that. One guy speaks and dies. One guy stumbles and the whole city burns."
"That one's true," Bhairav said.
"Which?"
"The fall. Centuries ago. They say the coffin tipped, cracked open slightly. The body didn't roll, but the shame was enough. By nightfall, the carrier's whole bloodline was gone."
"What do you mean 'gone'?"
"Erased. Records, homes, names. All killed."
Dev stared at the stone beneath his boots.
"And a week later," Bhairav said, "that king's city fell in rebellion."
"Coincidence," Milan said.
"Maybe."
"Still," Tarun said, "it's just four corners. Four men."
"Or women," Rafi added.
"They never pick women," Bhairav said. "Not for a king."
"Why not?"
"Because they believe a man's last journey should be guided by those who once marched beside him. Warriors."
"Plenty of women in the ranks."
"Not then. Not when the rites were written."
Tarun ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not superstitious."
"That's good," Bhairav said. "It'll make it easier to walk."
Rafi asked, "You think they'll pull names or ask?"
"They'll ask," Bhairav said. "Then, when no one steps up, they'll pull."
"Guess we all better learn to look useful but invisible."
"You've been training for that your whole life," Dev said.
"Worked so far," Rafi replied.
A new voice entered the space.
"Not much longer."
Captain Nayan walked in with his usual quiet stride, gloves tucked under his belt, no expression on his face.
"Easy. You'll need your backs intact."
Dev asked, "Sir, do we know—?"
"You'll find out after the bell. An hour or so."
Tarun glanced toward the palace. "Still time to flee."
"No one's fleeing," Nayan said. "This is duty. Not a battlefield. But it carries its own weight."
"Sir," Milan said, "permission to speak freely?"
"Granted."
"Do you believe in the... consequences?"
Nayan looked at him. Just a moment.
"I believe in cause and effect. And in tradition. That's enough."
"Cause and effect," Rafi said under his breath. "Like weight plus stumble equals exile."
Nayan's voice cut sharp: "Like mouth plus disrespect equals silence."
The group froze. Rafi held up his hands.
"No offense meant, sir."
"Then choose your words better."
"Yes, sir."
Nayan's tone eased slightly. "I don't expect you to be fearless. Just steady."
Dev said, "Is there a right way to carry?"
"Yes," Nayan said. "Step at the same time. Breathe in rhythm. Don't speak. Don't falter. And most important... understand it's not about you."
Tarun asked, "What if someone does speak?"
"Then you'll find out whether the stories are mercy or warning."
Milan swallowed hard.
The captain looked them over once more, then turned. "One hour."
They watched him walk away.
The air stayed still.
Tarun finally whispered, "I'm not volunteering."
"Didn't expect you to," said Dev.
"You?"
"Hell no."
They lapsed into silence.
Bhairav reached down, picked up Tarun's dice, and set them on the bench.