A rutted road stretched near the palace granary, its deep grooves thick with mud as early evening twilight cast long shadows across the dirt. A wagon sat sunk to its axles, its wooden frame creaking under the weight of grain sacks, their coarse weave splitting where they'd spilled, barley dusting the ground. Oxen lowed, their heads tossing as ropes strained against their yokes, their hooves slipping in the muck. Workers tugged at the ropes, their tunics patched and damp, their grunts sharp in the cooling air. The granary loomed behind, its stacked sacks a dark bulk against the fading light, and the breeze carried the earthy scent of mud and grain, mingling with the oxen's musk.
Bhima strode up, his vest muddy from the day's dust, his broad boots squelching as he planted them wide. His dark curls clung to his brow, damp with sweat, and his patched vest flapped open, showing a chest streaked with grime. He grinned, big and easy, and cracked his knuckles, the sound loud against the oxen's lowing. Duryodhana watched from a grain pile nearby, his dark tunic dusty, his small frame slouched as he leaned against the sacks, his blade tapping his leg. Shakuni limped closer, his cane sinking into the mud with each step, his black robes swishing, his narrow eyes glinting under the twilight haze. Duhshasana perched on a barrel beside the pile, his fair hair wild, his small tunic creased as he kicked his feet, his restless fingers drumming.
Bhima's voice boomed, gruff and bold as he stepped to the wagon, his broad hands flexing. "Stuck, eh? Up it goes! Watch this!" He grabbed the axle, his thick fingers digging into the wood, and heaved with a grunt, his broad shoulders straining as the wagon lifted, mud sucking at its wheels.
A worker's voice gasped, loud and quick as he dropped his rope, his patched tunic flapping. "Strong as ten! Look at that, mates!" He clapped his hands, his sunburned face splitting into a grin, and the others joined, their shouts rising as grain sacks tumbled, barley spilling free.
Duryodhana's blade tapped faster, his voice hissing, low and bitter as he straightened, his small fists clenching. "Strong? I'll bury him deep. Him and his lot." He kicked a sack, dust puffing, and his dark tunic tightened, his hate twisting into desperation, his dark eyes fixed on Bhima.
Shakuni's cane sank deeper, his voice whispering, sly and soft as he limped closer, his black robes brushing the grain pile. "Deep, is it? Plan it, nephew. That strength needs a grave." He nodded, his thin smile flashing, and his narrow eyes glinted, his approval a chill in the twilight.
Bhima's laugh rolled out, loud and wild as he set the wagon straight, its wheels rolling free. "Grave? I'm walking fine! Here, roll it on!" He slapped the wagon's side, his broad hand leaving a muddy print, and his dark curls bounced, his pride swelling with ease as he dusted his hands.
The worker's voice shouted, gruff and warm as he grabbed a rope again, his sunburned hands quick. "Walking? You're a giant, lord! Pulls better than oxen!" He tugged the wagon forward, his mates clapping, and their cheers swelled, their wonder a wave over the rutted road.
Duhshasana's feet stopped kicking, his voice shrill and fierce as he jumped off the barrel, his fair hair bouncing. "Giant? Squash him, brother! Stick him now!" He punched the air, his small tunic flapping, and his giggle rose, wild and high, his excitement a spark beside Duryodhana.
Duryodhana's blade stilled, his voice low and fierce as he stepped off the pile, his small boots sinking. "Now? Soon, rat. He's too big for long." He patted the hilt, his dark tunic smudged, and his dark eyes burned, his plan taking shape, a shadow creeping over the road.
Shakuni's cane tapped once, his voice sly and steady as he leaned in, his thin smile widening. "Soon, yes. Bigger the wall, harder it falls. Scheme it right, nephew." He tilted his head, his black robes settling, and his narrow eyes flicked to Bhima, his cunning a dark seal on their intent.
Bhima's voice boomed again, gruff and cheerful as he waved the workers on, his broad frame towering. "Falls? I'm standing taller! Move it, lads!" He grabbed a spilled sack, tossing it onto the wagon, and his dark curls shook, his strength a marvel as the oxen trudged forward, their lowing softer.
The worker's voice followed, loud and awed as he slapped Bhima's back, his patched tunic dusty. "Taller? You're a mountain, lord! Saved us a day!" He grinned, his sunburned hands clapping, and the others nodded, their ropes slack, their cheers a chorus in the twilight.
Duryodhana's voice snarled, fierce and low as he turned to Shakuni, his small frame tense. "Mountain? I'll topple it. Something deadlier, uncle. Soon." He kicked the dirt, his dark tunic tearing at the hem, and his blade tapped once more, his desperation a gnawing edge in his chest.
Shakuni's voice whispered, oily and calm as he nodded, his cane steady. "Deadlier, good. Strength like that? Bury it deep, nephew. We'll find a way." He chuckled, a low rumble, and his thin smile held, his black robes a shadow beside Duryodhana's fury.
Duhshasana's voice rose, shrill and wild as he hopped closer, his fair hands waving. "Bury it! Stick him good, brother! Make it quick!" He kicked a stone, his small tunic ripping further, and his giggle sharpened, his wildness a gust in their scheme.
Bhima's laugh echoed, bold and loud as he dusted his hands, his broad frame shifting. "Quick? They're slow over there! Good work, eh, lads?" He clapped a worker's shoulder, his dark curls bouncing, and his grin flashed, his pride a fire lighting the road.
The worker's voice came warm and quick, his sunburned face beaming as he tugged the wagon. "Good? Best, lord! You're a wonder, that's sure!" He waved his mates on, their ropes tightening, and their cheers lingered, their wonder a glow in the fading light.
Duryodhana's voice hissed, low and bitter as he stormed off the pile, his small boots scuffing. "Wonder? A pest! I'll end him, uncle. Watch me." He patted the blade again, his dark tunic a blur, and his dark eyes narrowed, his hate a venom twisting tighter.
Shakuni's cane tapped slower, his voice sly and soft as he followed, his black robes trailing. "End him, yes. Plan it well, nephew. The twilight hides us." He nodded, his thin smile steady, and his narrow eyes glinted, his approval a chill sealing their pact.
The wagon rolled free, its wheels crunching as the oxen plodded, and the workers' cheers faded into the dusk, their hands slapping Bhima's back. Bhima's voice rumbled, gruff and bold as he turned, his broad frame casting a shadow. "Hides? Nothing hides me! On we go!" He strode off, his dark curls swaying, and his laugh rolled out, his strength a marvel unshaken by the scheme brewing behind.
Duryodhana's footsteps echoed sharp, his voice fierce and low as he muttered, his small frame tense. "Go? Not far. I'll bury you yet, oaf." He clenched his fists, his blade a weight at his side, and the twilight deepened, its shadows heavy with their intent, the road a spark for their next move.