The scent of damp earth still clung to the palace stones after the morning's rain, but the halls of Chandrika Mahal smelled of sweat, ash, and effort.
The water ran. The toilets drained. The servants smiled.
But something still felt wrong to Prince Adityaveer, now five years and three months old. He stood in the palace bathing room, frowning, hands folded behind his back, observing the maids as they cleaned.
A lump of gray ash mixed with a little sand scraped along the floor. The maid dipped a cloth in water and scrubbed again. A bucket splashed.
And still—no fragrance. No freshness.
> "It cleans," Adityaveer muttered, "but it doesn't feel clean."
He walked to the garden, picked a jasmine flower, crushed it in his fingers. The scent was gentle, divine, fleeting.
He turned to the system.
> [SYSTEM ACTIVE]
Query: Cleansing Agents – Primitive Environment
Best Match: Oil-alkali compound with aromatic infusion
Simulate combinations: Ash, Sand, Lime, Ghee, Extracts...
He paused.
> "I want to make... soap."
---
👃 The Scent of an Idea
He began his experiments in the corner of the kitchen courtyard, using discarded pots and firewood. Naina guarded the space like a hawk, ensuring no guards or senior servants interrupted.
He started with plant-based oils—from sesame, mustard, and castor—boiled them slowly. He added ashes from burnt wood to create natural alkali.
The smell was horrible.
The mixture clumped, burned, hardened like rock. His first attempt cracked into gray lumps.
> "This smells like a goat died," Mira said, holding her nose.
Adityaveer frowned. "Too much ash. Less ghee. More oil."
Again.
And again.
On the seventh day, the soap held its shape. Smooth. Light brown. Soft to the touch. It left behind a faint scent from the flowers he crushed into the oil.
He gave a lump to Naina.
She rubbed her palms.
Then paused.
> "It smells like—like a garden after rain," she said softly.
Adityaveer smiled.
---
💧 The First Bath
The next morning, ten servants used the soap. They giggled and laughed, splashing water like children. Mira swore her knees hadn't felt so soft in years. One young girl who'd always hated baths suddenly insisted on three.
That day, as Mira went into the city for spices, she took the soap with her in a cloth pouch. She visited the herb vendor, her cousin in the weaver's lane, and a merchant's wife she cleaned for once a month.
By sunset, four different people had asked, "What is that smell?"
The next morning, three palace women—noblewomen—arrived outside Chandrika Mahal under the guise of gifting mangoes.
> "We heard you've created a... perfume cleanser?" one asked politely.
Maharani Devika met them with dignity, smiling softly. "It's something my son made. A plaything."
But that evening, she found Adityaveer beside the pond, kneeling over a pot of crushed rose petals and boiled oil.
> "You're making more?" she asked.
> "Yes," he said. "They want it."
> "To use?"
> "To buy."
---
🪙 The Price of Cleanliness
Adityaveer thought for three days.
How would people pay?
He asked Naina and Mira what a normal servant earned. Mira made 3 silver coins a month. Bread cost 2 copper. A pair of sandals, 40 copper.
Soap, he thought, had to be a luxury, but not impossible.
He set the price: 1 silver coin per soap block.
Too much for commoners. Perfect for nobles and merchants. High enough to create value, low enough to cause curiosity.
He made 20 pieces with the help of the system, which fine-tuned oil ratios, added tamarind extract for texture, and included crushed lotus stamen for scent.
Naina wrapped each piece in soft banana leaves, tied with palm string.
Adityaveer asked Mira to deliver five wrapped soaps to known merchant wives—as gifts, not sales.
> "Let them use it," he said. "They'll come back."
They did.
---
🏛️ The Chamber of Whispers
Two weeks later, the main palace echoed with whispers.
> "The prince in the summer palace is selling soap?"
"One silver per piece? Outrageous."
"But it smells divine. Even the Queen's cousin asked for one."
At a formal gathering of ministers, one advisor even scoffed aloud:
> "Is our third prince a Vaishya now?"
Maharaja Devraj didn't speak. He was not close to Adityaveer, but he respected Devika's parenting. And truth be told, the court's own bathing rooms now smelled like flowers for the first time.
Back in Chandrika Mahal, Devika watched her son stir boiling oil with a wooden stick, his eyes focused, his brow furrowed.
> "You work harder than grown men," she said.
> "They don't see what I see," he replied.
> "And what is that?"
He looked up at her, quietly.
> "A kingdom where no one smells like suffering."
---
📈 Growth Begins
In the weeks that followed, Adityaveer added a ledger—a cloth scroll with names, prices, and quantities. He tracked every silver coin. Gave 30% of it to Mira and Naina.
> "Without them," he said, "none of this would exist."
The palace workers swore loyalty to him—not as prince, but as leader.
When they went into the town, they told their cousins and friends.
> "He doesn't see us as tools. He sees us as partners."
Soon, demand outpaced supply.
A soap-making shed was constructed beside the well. Clay molds. Flower crushers. Wooden stirrers. Every servant contributed something.
Adityaveer named the product:
Sugandha – The Fragrance of Life.
---
🌸 Scent of Legacy
One day, Maharani Devika brought him a silk pouch embroidered with his name.
> "For your first earnings," she said.
He opened it. Inside were 18 silver coins.
She placed a warm hand on his head. "This is not just silver, Veer. This is the scent of legacy. Of dignity."
He looked up. "Is it wrong to make money?"
She shook her head.
> "No. But never let money decide your worth. You were a prince before the coins—and you will still be one if they vanish."
He nodded slowly.
And from that moment, Adityaveer didn't just create for invention's sake.
He created for people.
---
♟️ Foreshadowing the Next Move…
As the sun set behind the hills, casting long golden shadows across Chandrika Mahal, Adityaveer sat quietly with a stone in one hand and a stick in the other.
He wasn't drawing blueprints.
He was drawing a board—8x8 squares etched into clay. The system had shown him the layout just that morning.
> [Simulation: Strategy Board Game – Completed]
Working Title: "Shatranj"
Possible Outcomes: 10^120
User Satisfaction: 94%
He placed two shaped stones on opposite ends of the board.
One he named Ratha—the chariot.
The other, Senapati—the commander.
He smiled.
> "Let's see who can think twenty moves ahead."