“How is the situation in the city currently?” asked Bhagat, his eyes fixated on the stream of people returning to their homes. A sea of tiny figures made their way through the arteries of the city, scattering out of sight as if they had diffused their way into the residential district, like a dense pack of molecules in water.

“All the villagers have safely returned to their homes and they seem content that their homes weren’t pillaged,” replied Param. “Young master Dunda also returned safely with his 500 men and he’s planning on allowing the refugees back here.”

“Well, at least we can be thankful for that.” Bhagat gave his hand a good look. It still wobbled around, like he was afraid of something. He gave it a good few smacks. “I hate the way my hand just shakes around like this without an end.”

The tension never left him, and yet it had already been five days.

“I don’t get it either.” Param yawned, leaning back on the chair. “Your men took the garrison, you’ve even captured the renouncements from Oodpur. On top of that, we coerced the bird master here to send false messages to that Suhliq lord.”

“And yet I feel like there’s a major problem.” Bhagat slouched on his chair, contemplating. “If we’ve taken this city then we’ve won control of the surrounding villages as well. Especially since they’re all Sudhist majority. But that’s the problem. What if they‘re ransacked once the enemy knows Suhliq isn’t in control anymore?”

Param scratched his head. “You’re right.”

“Since we’ve pushed Lohaani control past the river tributary along the merchant families towards the river tributary along Gahkhpur and Oodpur, we should construct watch towers that can signal attacks using fire and smoke.”

“That’d work well since the river is fast. It’d delay an enemy charge long enough for reinforcements to arrive.”

“That’s the hope at least.” Bhagat turned his gaze to Param. “Has the family crypt been cleaned thoroughly?”

“Yes, I made sure it was all cleaned with water and then with milk.” Param leaned forward, staring Bhagat in the eye. “I don’t know what they were doing, but to keep bones in there…. that’s perverted.”

“I know,” said Bhagat, dismissive. He lay his hand on the desk. “They tend to not have any sort of class. They’re superstitious barbarians after all masking as Azaadis.” Bhagat placed his two hands on his face. “Those bastards… since when was a family crept the place to butcher an animal to appease their bloody Go—

“Young master.”

A tall, muscular figure entered the room, throwing off the twos’ conversation.

“Oh, Meethi.” Bhagat regained his posture, sitting up straight against the back of the chair. “You did an excellent job. Thank you.”

Meethi gave a nod. “Young master, Lady Aabna wishes to speak with you.”

“Lady Aabna…” Bhagat let out a breath and lowered his head. “Alright, bring her in.”

“If you don’t wish to see her, I can just tell her you have important matters to atten—

“I’ve already done that for two days straight,” said Bhagat, giving a bitter smile. “A third time won’t work now. Not with her.”

“Alright young master.” Meeti left the room, making sure to close the door shut.

The room fell into a lull as the men both looked out the keep window, overlooking in silence at the grandeur of the city.

“I really don’t want to talk to her,” began Param.

“Oh you don’t say?” replied Bhagat. “She’s Lord Dhaliwal’s granddaughter yet she is much more calculative than even him.”

“Well, being calculative is a strength.” Param strode back into his seat. “But she pushes us too often... and then she ends up being in a siege for no reason at all!”

“Don’t worry Param, she’s experienced in what she does.” Bhagat chuckled. “When she tells us to do something, it’s for a reason. Though, I do admit I find myself pushing back at her demands.”

The door opened and the men stopped their chatter. A young woman entered, her indigo dress etched with white floral designs.

“Good afternoon Aabna.” Bhagat gave her dress a look before giving a faint smile. “That’s a very nice dress.”

“Why thank you Bhagat,” she replied, her voice cold all too familiar. “I wouldn’t have thought men grew manners in the forest.”

She was unusually sharp today. Perhaps not wanting to speak with her for three days straight led to this result.

“Well, killing people and watching people die in front of you does end up making life feel a little simple.”

“He’s got a point,” replied Param. “That —and taking Afraari booze for a good drink— really trivializes life.”

Bhagat chuckled, before returning his gaze to Aabna. “Anyways there’s something on your mind, isn’t there?”

“Yes.”

Her expression was frank, in fact, much more frank than he had ever seen in his life.

“What’s wrong?” asked Bhagat. “Did something happen?”

“Well…” She began, her voice wandering. “The peasants in Oodpur seemed to have risen against the few Afraaris left to subdue them.”

“Hm?”

“Oodpur is yours.”

“What?” His shock echoed alongside the screeching of Param’s chair across the floor. “How? Why? Since when did peasants decide to take a city?”

“They followed my plan.”

“What?” Bhagat blinked a couple of times, rubbing his eyes awake. “You? Your plan?”

“I supplied them with the weapons and the strategy to take the city. And now you’re in control of the hills.”

“Aabna, you do realize that stretches Bhagat’s forces too thin!” joined Param. “You have to be joking!”

“Am I?” She replied, her eyes cold. “Train more men. For now split your army into two and send one over to the city to establish control of it’s administration.”

“Bloody hell.”

Bhagat slouched on the chair once again.

“I give you such good news and the only thing you do is show your disinterest? Why do you think I resided there for a year? Why do you think I asked for weaponry from my grandfather?”

“Alright alright, relax you two.” Param waved his hand, turning to face Bhagat. “Though I never like it when peasants are given weapons, it’s already too late.”

Param turned. “Bhagat, doesn’t this work in our favor?”

“Well it does…” Bhagat took in a deep breath. “How many men is the bare minimum for maintaining Oodpur’s garrison?”

“Around 800.”

“Well I have 1800 men,” began Bhagat. “I was hoping to decisively beat Suhliq but I guess having control along the tributary is better for defense.”

“Alright.” Param rose from his seat. “I’ll assemble 800 men.”

“Thank you.”

Param gave a quick farewell and passed along the room to the door.

The doors creaked a little and a loud slam came afterwards.

“So…” began Aabna, trying to reduce the awkwardness between them. “I spoke to your men. It seems you beat Zander.”

Bhagat nodded. “Yes that happened, but you didn’t walk up all these stairs just to congratulate me, now did you?”

She chuckled, a bright laugh quickly turning cold. “What happened to my grandfather?” she asked, turning to give a glare like a knife fixated at his throat.

Bhagat gulped. “He’s been captured along with my grandfather and the others.”

Birds chirped off in the distance.

“Do you know where they’re held up?”

Bhagat shook his head, trying to hide his shaking hand. “My only guess is the Rajkot, but you know their policy.”

“Ferry the prisoners to the execution grounds.” There was a hint of emotion in her voice. “I hope… I hope it doesn’t come to that so soon.”

“Well…” Bhagat suppressed the emotion welling inside. “I hope so too.”

Aabna strode around the desk and leaned forward, arms on the stone as she looked at the liberated city. Bhagat joined her, folding both his arms on the stone and examining the swaths of people diffusing into the many arteries.

“What’s your plan now?” She asked, changing the conversation.

“The plan now?” That gave Bhagat a pause. “Well… I was thinking of drilling new troops and finding a quick source of income.”

“Hm?” Her voice seemed curious. “Are you going to continue the conquest?”

Bhagat shook his head. “That’s not going to happen anytime soon. At least not now.”

“Won’t uniting Lohaan be a better idea? If we are united, we’d be able to beat any enemy.”

“Aabna, we’ve lost half our land since the last war. Even now, we’ve probably only retaken a good 5% of the land lost. Back then, we used elephants to wage war while the Haraans across Azaad knew that horses were the better military asset. Back then, we gave our men spears while the Haraans were prepared with arrows. Don’t you see what’s wrong? We’ve never given a damn about learning from our mistakes. The lords across Lohaan, no, any non-Haraan lord still employs the same bloody tactics save for a few like Kahlon or Vhaddawalia or Mirrani. The rest? It’s like they’re piss drunk thinking that ‘tradition’ and ‘honor’ dictates we use the same archaic tactics from the forgotten days. It’s a disgrace.”

Bhagat gripped both hands together, feeling the tension wrap his skin. “If I could I’d bash their skulls in.”

Bhagat glanced below, examining the birds diving down to the city square, perhaps indulging themselves on the bread laid for them by the group of elders.

“Aabna, I think you should administer Oodpur and have Param there to drill new recruits for a militia force.”

“Alright. But you know what I want in return, yes?”

“You wish for your familial holding, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ll have it by the time we’ve reached the Rajkot. But could you do me a favor before then?”

“What would you like?”

She seemed a bit skeptical.

“I need spies posted across Lohaan.”

“Really?” Her eyes widened. “Even the lands held by the lords?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” She seemed skeptical.

“The monsoon rains will arrive soon,” he said, turning his head to Aabna. “The Afraaris can’t touch us for the next five months even if they wanted to. So in five months we’ll develop something they can’t possibly hope to match. When that happens, whatever news comes from the occupied areas will be essential.”

Her gaze met his. “And what about the spies in the lords lands?”

“I want them posted so we can gather whatever talent there is to drive innovation here. A merchant whose goods can’t be sold for whatever reason, an iron-smith who’s been furloughed and any man who can’t find opportunities at home should all be brought here to forge this land anew.”

“That’s a rather large order…”

“Really? A tall order?” Bhagat grinned. “Param told me you had four dozen men with you in the building. They were all your men, weren’t they? And you probably have more in Oodpur too since there’s no way peasants could pull off a city takeover so suddenly.”

“Well…” She stopped for a moment, before chuckling softly. “Very well, I’ll have my men posted.”

“Have your men report anyone who seems interesting,” he continued. “You can use the treasury in Oodpur as the source of wage for the spies, the troops and the militiamen stationed.”

“Alright, it is your family’s city after all.” She gave a slight nod and turned. “I’ll be heading off then.”

She turned her figure, her steps resonating loud in the silent room.

“One more thing.”

She stopped, turning to face him one last time. “Yes?”

“Don’t do anything drastic.”

She gave a grin.

“I mean it.”

“Yes yes Bhagat, I understand.” The door creaked open once. “Take better care of yourself, I hate to see your hand wobbling like that.” And she left.

“What.” Did he not do a good job hiding it?

“Young master!” Meethi returned, the tall figure almost hitting his head on the door.

“Yes?”

“The village elders,” he said, a hint of excitement in his otherwise hoarse voice. “All three dozen have assembled.”

“Good.” Bhagat made his way to the door. “We should greet them.”

Meethi grabbed his shoulder.

“You aren’t walking in like that.”

Entering the grand doors leading into the audience hall, Bhagat couldn’t help but glance over the scene. The Gahkhar banners flanked the sides of the halls and scattered across the hall were many elders, wearing grey churidaar pajamas, indigo turbans with the Gahkhar emblem at the center and a red sash wrapped around them. They sat silently on their blue cushions, conversing with one another in much fanfare and awe. Yet as he strode in, the chattering came down to a few whispers, their eyes slowly fixating on him.

Bhagat himself dressed in the ceremonial achkan sherwani, in indigo colors. His turban was indigo as well, safe for the red embroidery that wrapped his clothing, a signature color that formed a part of the Gahkhar banner.

Meethi motioned Bhagat to the red cushion nested up along the dais and, upon taking his seat, a scribe to his left rose up.

“Praise be to the 17th Lord Gahkhar! Lord Bhagat Gahkhar the Liberator! Grandson of Gurman Gahkhar! Son of Ishaan Gahkhar!”

Slowly the elders prostrated before him, before rising back up with both hands clasped.

“Praise be to thee, Lord Gahkhar!” yelled the villager elders and the guards posted around the hall, their loud and optimistic voices deafening Bhagat’s ears.

He raised his hand, slowly turning the shouts back into silence.

Bhagat cleared his throat. “I hope your journeys were safe. I am pleased every elder here has accepted my petition for a meeting.”

A man sitting cross-legged on a cushion —tall with a greying beard and settled at the very front of the group— brought his clasped hands to his forehead. “Thank you, my lord. Our travels were indeed safe and we are humbled to be here.” He then rested the palms onto his knees.

“Good,” said Bhagat. He gave the man a sharp look, watching as he gave a nod. “Currently we’ve taken Gahkhpur and I’ve sent an envoy to consolidate control over Oodpur, yet I require more men for establishing a force to challenge Faran Shaahi. Can you all confirm that there are men within your villages who can serve?”

“We do have men who are willing to serve My Lord,” the man said, cautious. “All the elders here had taken steps to train the men in secret, away from Afraari eyes; however, that doesn’t mean the men are in top physical shape for immediate combat.”

“That’s fine. How many Sudhists are capable of being recruited?”

“Around 1000 men My Lord.”

“That accounts for the villages around Gahkhpur and Oodpur, yes?”

“Yes My Lord.”

“Good. How many Kashaaris?”

“Kashaaris…” The man began. “There are only Taals in the villages My Lord.”

“And so?” rebuked Bhagat. “We need every man we can get.”

A hint if surprise filled the man’s face. “Well… there are about 700. Most of the Taals either left for the cities or are tied with the farming.”

So I’d find most of the recruitment in the cities then, though I was hoping more men could be recruited from the countryside. Bhagat gave a slight frown. “Alright. I shall have my officials draw up a recruitment plan and present it to the villages. Any man who wishes to join my warband may do so of their own free will.”

“Understood My Lord.”

“In addition the religious tax is hereby abolished and the yearly harvest taxation will be reduced to 10% from the Afraaris 30%.”

“Thank you… thank you My Lord!”

The representative prostrated, joined by the dozens of others.

“All I ask is for is the continued loyalty of each village towards the Gahkhar family.”

“Yes My Lord!”

“Excellent.”

Bhagat arose from his seat. The scribe next to him —quickly rising up to join him— screamed at the top of his lungs.

“All hail Lord Gahkhar!”

“All hail Lord Gahkhar!”