“Those filthy Sudhists can’t get away,” smirked Iqba. “Not from me.”

Avignon didn’t have the appetite today to listen to this banter. He turned his gaze, overlooking the scene from under the tent Iqba’s men had setup. Birds flocked eastwards and the wind breezed past the plains, turning the tails of the grass with it.

“For God, we must end their scourge on this Earth!” shouted his obnoxious advisor, Unda, from behind. “Kill them! Rule them! Convert them! Do all we can to make them see the glorious light!”

“Greatness rests in The Almighty!” shouted another fanatic. “We must place these inferior peoples on our pikes, so even the peasants know not to cross The Almighty!”

“For greatness rests in The Almighty!”

“Yet those Sudhist peasants are stubborn. They resist basking in The Almighty’s greatness. They’d rather bathe in the filth of their teachings.” A man spat out quite loudly. “It’s humanity’s blemish.”

“Look around us,” said Iqba. “These Sudhists live where the grass and trees grow. Where the birds chirp and nature sings. Yet our people reside in the desert, devoid of life and happiness, sapped of the potential for greatness.”

“It is a great shame,” answered his advisor. “They live in such luxury while practicing a pathetic faith.”

The trees and grass were as green as ever. His army of 500 rested behind him, laughing and singing praises. This is what living in Lohaan meant. It meant basking in a paradise they couldn’t find in Afraar.

“But it can all be remedied.”

“How so?” asked Iqba, his interest piqued. He turned his head around.

“Your family has already been generous with them and yet they refuse any sort of generosity. We simply need to force these Sudhists to abandon their ways.”

Iqba raised a brow. “How does one force another to abandon their ways? We’d be achieving the same result as my father.”

“Yes, but isn’t that perfect?” His advisor stared him in the eye. “If this rebellion is crushed for good and we do end up securing this land as our own. Then, perhaps following such a policy will usher in a new era of peace and prosperity.”

Iqba nodded. “But only if we manage to destroy this insurgency for good.”

Unda nodded. “And how do you think you should proceed?”

“As soon as I left that stuck-up Faran, I sent word to Gahkhpur —oh how I wish to change it’s bloody name— to send 300 men to track down that Lohaani brat.” Iqba rested his legs on the table. “No matter what, they’ll have to fight us.”

300? Avignon jolted from his chair. “Isn’t that a bit too risky?” he asked, who’d been silent up until now. “That leaves Gahkhpur with only 500 men to defend it.”

“Those Lohaanis don’t have any tricks up their sleeves, Faran made sure of it.” Iqba closed his eyes. “But yes, you are right. Oodpur will send another 300 men to increase Gahkhpur’s defenses. Those men will arrive there in 3 days time.”

“Did you relay this to the men at Gahkpur?”

Iqba waved his hand. “Worry not, I did.”

“But then what about the garrison at Oodp—

“You ask too many questions foreigner,” answered the religious advisor. “Oodpur is safe, is it not? Sides it’s only a mere 100 men. What? Do you think they can somehow defeat 300 men and take a city when they’re running away with their tails wagging behind their backs?”

“That’s not whom I’m referring to, you…” Avignon leashed his tongue. If he threw insults now, he’d be reprimanded. “The Rakshaan king may end up taking Oodpur. Don’t you remember the warning we got of those hill ruffians infiltrating into the fair city?”

He could hear a few of the other men in the room snort. Then he looked at his lord, who didn’t seem to care.

“My lord, you must ere on the side of caution. What if the Rakshaan king attack?”

Iqba waved his hand. “They’re dependent on us for goods, how can they attack us? Sides, my father was on good terms with them before he perished, perhaps I can capitalize on these things to ensure they don’t launch an attack.”

Avignon could only stare at his lord, a cold sweat lurking under his brow from the insufferable heat. Whatever happened from here on out, he could only hope that their God could save these damned fanatics.

“It seems the fool made his move since this morning.”

Bhagat rested against the tree, an eagle perched on his shoulder. Beyond the net of leaves and branches, he could make out the dying light. Dusk slowly approached, it’s rainbow of colors filling the sky with so many streaks of awe and wonder.

“A message from Aabna?” asked Param, picking off the arrow from the dead deer.

Bhagat gave a nod, glancing over to the note held between his fingers. “We have less than two days for the men from Gahkhpur to find us even if we managed this right.”

“And how will we get past them?”

“Well, it’s probably impossible…” began Bhagat, turning to his friend. “Wait, what kind of expression is that?”

Param puckered in his lips and Bhagat couldn’t help but laugh.

“Stop laughing!” He protested. “What good is all this planning if we’re so close to dying!”

“Ah.” Bhagat waved his hand. “Relax man.”

“Well, tell me. How’ll it be impossible?”

“For one, we know that 300 men are leaving Oodpur, but we don’t know is if that same amount of men are being used to find us from Gahkhpur,” Bhagat said, regaining composure. “Assuming the worst possible situation, we might have to face a group of 500 men, which we probably won’t be able to beat the same way as we had with Zander.”

“We could always take a detour.”

“But that’ll delay our assault.” Bhagat gripped the note in the palm of his hand. “I guess we’ll have to group the men here along the river.”

“How’ll we do that?”

Bhagat closed his eyes, feeling the quiet breeze bristle past his exposed skin. “We’ll have to set up a smoke signal.”

“That’s suicide!” Param rose, pointing the bloodied arrow towards Bhagat. “You’ll just end up catching the garrison!”

“Yes, but it’s the most efficient and the quickest way for the men to group up. Sides, that garrison is probably split up into groups. If we can handle them in waves until help arrives, we’ll be fine.”

Param let out a breath, dropping the arrow and crouching back down to tie the rope around the deer’s girth. “It’s one hell of a plan Bhagat. Hell, it’s something I could come up with while drunk!”

“Yes… it isn’t ideal, but it’s the best chance we’ve got.”

“Fine.” Param turned away, dragging at the deer. “I’ll have the men prepare.”

“Thanks brother,” said Bhagat with a smile, glancing at the patient eagle on his shoulder. “Our plans have changed, but our goal remains the same.”

He glanced upwards again, examining the coming of night. “We have 2 days to make this all count.”

“Third wave!” shouted Bhagat, swinging his sword over at the men charging towards them. “Arrows loose!”

Arrows flew past. Several men fell and others stumbled over fell bodies, trying to get past their dead.

Bhagat glanced over at Param, who nocked back another arrow. It seemed the men had already grown accustomed to his strategy.

“Loose!”

Letting go of the arrow, the thread propelled it forth. Another second later, he could see the arrow pierce into a man’s eye, the blood splattering with ease.

“Is the smoke thick enough?” he asked, impatient.

“Yes young master!” answered a deep voice. “I can see the smoke all the way in the sky.”

“Perfect.”

Bhagat glanced back.

“Last volley! Fire!”

Bhagat gripped at his blade and thrusted it into the air.

“Charge!”

Like an aggravated pack of elephants, the men charged forth with long talwaars in hand. Bhagat joined in, ramming his blade into an Afraaris gut and feeling the blood draining into his hands.

Bhagat looked the man in the eye.

He stared into a pale face, whose eyes screamed for mercy without speaking the words from his trembling lips.

Bhagat pulled the blade out.

The body collapsed to the ground, the blood shedding the grass red.

Bhagat gulped down. Now wasn’t the time to feel nauseas.

A scream rang. Bhagat turned, watching as his warrior, barely defending against two others, shrieked at the spear pierced through his arm.

“Damn!” Bhagat charged, swinging his blade up at the foe’s head and down to strike at another’s arm. The man screamed wickedly, the blood flowing out his arm like a waterfall before he crumpled to the grass floor.

“Get back and lay low!” he screamed at his warrior, who gave a weak nod and retreated.

“HYAAAAAA!”

Bhagat turned, blocking the spearmen with his blade.

“Damnit!”

The large man laughed, driving his spear downwards on Bhagat.

At this rate I might get crushed!

“Die Lohaani!”

“Fuck you too!”

Bhagat looked at the spear and then smirked. A simple invention of wood.

“Today I’m afriad you’re not so fortunate.”

“And why is that?” The man’s grin widened. “I get to kill another Sudhist. Right in front of my eyes.”

“Yes, but you have underestimated me friend.” Fire gushed out his blade, catching the spear on fire with it. “I don’t like dying twice.”

“What!” The man stumbled, dropping his spear on the ground. “Y-you can wield… magic?”

Bhagat shrugged. “You tell me.”

He swung the sword around, each swoop building momentum for the next.

“Men!” shouted the Afraari, pointing at Bhagat. “Kill hi—

Bhagat slashed the man’s chest with his flaming blade. Smoke smoldered from the deep wound and a shriek rang out.

But Bhagat couldn’t stop here. He continued on, dancing.

Screams rang, blood gathered on his armor and yet he carried on. In one moment he partitioned an arm, in another he cut off a head. He pushed on, slicing men up with the weak flame left in his blade and feeling the sweat drain his face.

And yet he felt alive for some reason, as if he had been waiting for this moment to test his own strength. How far had he come? How many men had he killed? How quickly had he killed them?

“Bastards!” he shouted, slicing off the head of another foe.

“Retreat!” shouted an Afraari. “We can’t win at this rate!”

No you don’t! Bhagat swung his blade forth, but only managed to cut the cotton off of an Afrari’s shirt. They had turned tail in an instant, running in the opposite direction.

“Fuck.” The fatigue overwhelmed him within a quick moment. Bhagat plunged the sword into the dirt, steadying his wobbling as he wandered with his unsteady gaze.

“You alright?” asked Param.

“I don’t know,” he said, wiping the endless sweat off his face.

“Young master!” One of his men approached. “I hear shouts ahead of us!”

“That must be the additional warriors then,” said Param. “Your plan worked Bhagat!”

“It worked…” Bhagat looked around. “But how many did we lose?”

The men’s excitement watered down.

“Tend to the wounded and keep the fire going. Afterwards, I want a tally of how many men died and how many are in good condition to continue moving.”

“Yes young master!”

The warrior marched off.

“How will we siege Gahkhpur?” asked Param, impatience filling his voice. “We can’t build siege weapons in time.”

“You’re right.” Bhagat placed a hand on his forehead, resting on the ground to gather his thoughts. “We could build ladders and take it.”

“But we’ll end up losing more men.”

“Fuck, you’re right.” Bhagat wiped his face down. “The city still has a sizeable Sudhist majority, maybe they can attempt a revolt?”

Param raised a brow. “What? A revolt?”

“Yeah.”

“You expect peasants to do the duty of warriors?” Param said bluntly, shaking his head. “That’s stupid.”

“Why’s that?”

“You don’t know what peasants can do with weapons Bhagat. They aren’t even disciplined warriors. It can easily backfire!”

Bhagat let out a breath. “Well then what can we do?”

“Well there has to be a secret entrance somewhere into the city, right?”

“A secret entrance…” Bhagat closed his eyes, remembering. “Well, where would there be an entrance?”

“I remember Lord Gahkhar telling us about different entrances to the place.” Param scratched his chin. “There were many, but I forgot them all.”

“Well, I remember him saying the family crypt had an entrance through a hidden hole by the city’s eastern side.”

“The family crept?” Param gave it a quick thought. “The family crept is within the keep. If we can get men in there by midnight and clear from the keep to the outer walls, we’ll be able to open the gates quickly.”

“Hold on! We need to play this smart.” Bhagat paced back and forth, coming up with a plan.

“We can only send in 30 men at most in the middle of the night. We’ll also have to send them in before we start an offensive on the city, that way their distracted enough for the 30 men to hollow them out on the inside.”

“I’ll lead the 30 men,” said Param. “But you need to figure out a way to help us out, or it’ll all be for nothing.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.” Bhagat turned, facing the direction where the enemy fled. Figures approached, one of whom stood out the most. “Let’s see if Dunda has anything to say about this.”

“Greetings Bhagat!” shouted Dunda, his voice raised high.

He was a man about the same height as Bhagat, donning armor that covered his chest and legs and a helmet that covered his head.

The two approached, clasping both their hands before moving to a tight embrace. “It’s been too long.”

“It has, hasn’t it?”

The two of them laughed.

“I’ve brought you the men we’ve trained. Admittedly, they insisted they be trained so that they may participate in the fighting.” Dunda pointed to the men slowly appearing from the forest shade. “Do you need us to do anything else?”

“Yes actually. I need your help in retaking Gahkhpur.”

Dunda raised a brow. “Truly?”

Bhagat nodded.

“Well, they did send out a bit too many men to capture you, their garrison must be sufficiently weak to handle an assault; however, it’ll still be bad even if our numbers are sufficient.” Dunda looked Bhagat in the face. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“We might not get a chance like this again. We have to Dunda.”

“Hmm.” He seemed skeptical.

“Think about it. If we can take Gahkhpur, you’ll be able to send the refugees from the East back into my lands. Have they not caused enough trouble for you already?”

“That… that is true.” Dunda let out a breath. “Fine, I’ll help you with an assault.”

“Great!” replied Bhagat, turning towards the smoke signal. “It’s time we devise our plans then.”