Vandiyathevan entered the royal audience hall even before the poets had arrived. He guessed that the majestic figure seated on the elevated throne must be none other than the Younger Pazhuvetarayar himself. Around him stood many, arms folded and mouths covered in respectful silence. One man stood with a pile of palm-leaf letters received that day. The accountant waited to present his accounts. The commanders of the guards stood expectantly, awaiting the daily orders of the Younger Pazhuvetarayar. Servants waited to carry out their assigned tasks. Behind the throne, a few attendants waved white fans. Another stood ready with a betel box in hand.

Even Vandiyathevan, who was second to none in boldness and pride, approached the Younger Pazhuvetarayar with a touch of restraint and humility. Compared to his elder brother, the younger lord appeared even more imposing in valor and majesty. As soon as he saw our hero, his stern face brightened with a welcoming smile.

“Who are you, young man? Where do you come from?” he asked.

Whenever he saw brave young men, the Younger Pazhuvetarayar’s stern visage would blossom. He had a great interest in recruiting valiant youths from all over the land into his guard.

“Commander! I have come from Kanchipuram! The prince sent me with a letter!” Vandiyathevan replied in a respectful tone.

At the mention of Kanchipuram, the Younger Pazhuvetarayar’s face hardened. “What? What did you say?” he asked again.

“I have come from Kanchipuram with a letter from the prince!”

“Where is it? Give it here!” Though he asked indifferently, there was a note of agitation in his voice.

With humility, Vallavarayan took out the scroll. “Commander! The letter is for the Emperor!” he said.

Ignoring this, the Younger Pazhuvetarayar took the letter eagerly and examined it. He handed it to the man standing beside him and told him to read it aloud. After listening, he muttered to himself, “There is nothing new in this!” “Commander! The palm-leaf letter I brought…” began Vandiyathevan.

“What about the letter? I will hand it over to the Emperor myself!”

“No; I was instructed to deliver it directly into the Emperor’s own hands…”

“Oh! So you do not trust me? Did Prince Aditya give you such strict orders?”

As he spoke, a mocking smile flickered across the face of the Tanjavur Fort Commander.

“The Prince did not say so; it was his elder brother who commanded me thus!”

“What? What? Where did you see the elder prince?”

“I spent a night at Kadambur, at the house of Sambuvarayar, on my way here. It was there that I met him. He gave me this ring as well…”

“Aha! Why did you not mention this earlier? You stayed at Kadambur for the night? Who else was there?”

“Many dignitaries had come from Mazhanadu, Nadunadu, and Thirumunaippadi regions…”

“Wait, wait! I will ask you all about that later. First, go and hand this letter to the Emperor yourself! Afterward, the Tamil poets will arrive and start their endless chatter… Take this young man to the Emperor at once!” ordered the younger Pazhuvettarayar to a soldier standing nearby.

Following that soldier, Vandiyathevan proceeded further into the inner chambers of the palace.

For some time now, the throne of the vast Chola Empire—whose roar could be heard like the crashing of waves on three sides—had become a sickbed. Upon that lion-throne, Parantaka Sundara Chola, the Emperor, lay reclining.

Though he had delegated all royal authority to others and was under constant medical care, there were certain crucial occasions when he was compelled to grant audience to important persons. Ministers, commanders, and the Velakkara guards visited him daily; such visits were deemed essential for the welfare of the kingdom.

He who had earned renown as a peerless hero on countless battlefields, who was celebrated throughout the land as ‘Sundara Chola’, who was famed for his beauty rivaling that of Manmatha himself—now, the Emperor’s illness had left him frail and wasted… The very sight overwhelmed Vandiyathevan, rendering him speechless. Tears welled up in his eyes. He stepped forward, bowed low in reverence, and, with trembling hands, extended the palm-leaf letter with utmost devotion.

The Emperor took the letter and, in a feeble voice, asked, “Where have you come from? Whose letter is this?”

“My lord! I have come from Kanchi. This is a letter from Prince Aditya!” Vandiyathevan replied, his voice quivering with emotion.

At once, the Emperor’s face brightened. Beside him sat the Empress Vanamadevi, daughter of the Malaiyaman of Thirukovalur. Turning to her, he said, “Devi! A letter has arrived from your son!” With that, he began to read.

“Ah! It seems the prince has built a golden palace in Kanchi. He wishes that you and I should come and stay there for a few days!” As he spoke, the Emperor’s face clouded over once more.

“Devi! Do you see what your son has done? My grandfather, the illustrious Parantaka Chola, famed throughout the world, gave away all the gold in the palace to roof the temple at Thillai with gold, making it the Golden Hall. None of the great men born in our lineage ever built a palace of gold for themselves. They always considered building temples more important than constructing palaces. But Aditya Karikalan has done this! Alas! What penance can atone for this sacrilege?” he lamented. The Empress, whose face had blossomed with joy at the news of a letter from her son, now wilted even more than before; she could not utter a single word in reply.

At that moment, Vandiyathevan summoned his courage and boldness and spoke: “My lord! What your noble son has done is not wrong at all. He has acted appropriately. For a son, are not his mother and father the foremost deities? Therefore, it is only fitting that your son has built a golden palace for you and the Devi to reside in.”

Sundara Chola smiled gently. “Young man! I do not know who you are, but you are evidently wise and speak