The triplets were five years and six months old when they first learned that names could be heavier than crowns.
The afternoon was wrapped in stillness.
The Vyomtara estate lay quiet beneath a pale sky, its courtyards washed clean by an earlier rain. Wind chimes stirred faintly beneath the eaves, and somewhere beyond the outer walls, a bell marked the passing of an hour.
They sat before Grandmother Sarvani Vyomtara in the inner hall—not arranged in rows, not stiff with ceremony, but gathered close, the way children naturally drew toward warmth.
Sarvani did not begin with rules.
She began with silence.
"Listen," she said softly.
The triplets obeyed—each in their own way.
Sasi leaned forward without realizing it, curiosity bright and attentive.Aditya stilled his restless feet, sensing importance even if he could not yet name it.Aryan simply watched, calm and focused, as though the silence itself were speaking to him.
"In Arkavaira," Sarvani said at last, "titles are not ornaments."
Her gaze was steady, unyielding.
"They are weight."
Sasi blinked. "Like armor?" he asked earnestly.
Sarvani's lips curved faintly. "Heavier."
Aditya frowned, imagining it. "Then wouldn't people get tired of carrying them?"
A soft hum of amusement escaped her. "That," she replied, "is why many are unfit to bear them."
She traced a slow circle on the polished stone floor.
"At the summit stands the Maharaja," she continued."Not merely a king."
Maha—great.Raja—king.
"A Great King," Sarvani said, "whose authority does not end at borders, but reaches into destiny itself."
Aditya's eyes lit up. "So… he's the strongest?"
"No," Sarvani replied gently. "If he were, the throne would fall the moment he weakened."
Aditya went quiet, lips pressing together as he reconsidered what strength meant.
"The Crown does not rule by force," Sarvani said."It rules by consequence."
Aryan's gaze sharpened at the word. He did not speak, but the idea settled within him—filed away with quiet precision.
"And beside him," Sarvani continued, "stands the Maharani."
Maha—great.Rani—queen.
"She is not crowned merely because she stands beside the king. A Maharani is a pillar of the realm—equal in dignity, bound by responsibility."
Sasi's eyes widened. "So she can decide things too?"
"She must," Sarvani answered simply.
Sasi nodded solemnly, as though making a silent vow never to underestimate a queen.
Her voice shifted, grounding itself.
"Below the Great Crown stand the Rajas—kings of lesser realms, governors of provinces. Their authority is real, but bounded."
Aditya tilted his head. "So… they're important, but not the most important."
Sarvani smiled. "You understand."
"And their Ranis rule beside them," she added, "not in insignificance—but in scale."
She paused.
"But Arkavaira is not held together by crowns alone."
The hall seemed to lean inward.
"There are the Dukes," Sarvani said, her tone firm now. "Great lords—Mahāmandaleśvaras—who govern lands vast enough to be kingdoms elsewhere. They command armies. They enforce law."
Aditya unconsciously straightened, chest lifting.
"And yet," Sarvani continued, tapping the stone once, "they are addressed as His Grace, not Majesty."
"A reminder," she said, "that even stone must bow to the mountain above it."
Sasi glanced sideways and whispered, "Is Father stone or mountain?"
Sarvani chuckled softly. "Both—depending on where he stands."
Aryan's lips curved, just barely.
Then Sarvani's voice softened.
"And beyond all of this—beyond banners and thrones—stand those older than kingdoms."
She spoke their names with quiet reverence.
"Acharyas—who shape rulers without holding land.Rishis—who answer to no throne.And whispered only with respect… the Mahāgurus."
Sasi swallowed. "Do they shout when they're angry?"
"No," Sarvani said gently. "They do not need to."
A strange chill passed through Aditya—not fear, but awe.
Aryan lowered his gaze slightly, instinctively respectful, though he could not yet explain why.
"Before them," Sarvani said softly, "even Maharajas listen—not as kings, but as students."
The lesson ended without command.
No one was told to remember.
And yet, long after they left the hall—long after childhood itself—the triplets would recall that afternoon with perfect clarity.
Because in Arkavaira, power was not seized.
It was not declared.
It was recognized.
And once recognized—
It could never be ignored.