The wind blasted around the old and narrow winding streets of Oodpur where just an hour ago the rain fell in many lashing layers, the heavy tapping noises showing no signs of abating as the wind knocked pots and damaged property. But now it had fallen to a lull, as if the Creator had given the citizens a short moment of reprieve to buy up supplies and carry their jars of water back into the safety found in their havelis [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haveli; Basically a townhouse you'd find in Paris or London]. Yet Param looked around, noticing no one taking that opportunity and instead glancing towards the center plaza.

“I shall now read out your charges!” shouted an austere voice. Param turned, watching as Aabna unfurled a document in her two hands. “You’ve strayed from the righteous path by committing arson, looting, murder, destruction of property and disturbance of public order. As such, you are all hereby sentenced to 5 years of harsh labor!”

Another gust of wind blasted from above, almost knocking Param off of the corner of the raised plaza.

“How dare you woman!” shouted a voice from below. Param looked on, watching as a chubby-looking man rose from the ground, pulling at the chains that bound his wrists to the other, kneeling men on the ground. “You mock us with these shameless charges! Where were you when the city was in flames! Where was Lord Gahkhar’s men!”

Param turned to Aabna, who stared back towards him. On the Creator… Flustered, he snapped his gaze back to the angered man in front of him, inhaling deeply to calm his nerves.

The man laughed. “Exactly! You weren’t there! And yet you charge us for straying from the path? How insolent! We brought down Suhliq rule! We decapitated the head of that Haraan bastard who took pride in killing your people! And yet you refuse to see our good deeds and instead order us to toil in some petty salt mine! How dare y—

A few warriors pinned the fool down quickly.

Aabna waved her hand, indifferent towards the man’s outburst. “Take them away. Men have to fall down the wheel to understand why the things they do are wrong. And this man is proof of that.”

Still a few of the men shouted and cursed, the warriors above them tugging at their chains and yelling at them to stand back up. After a moment the prisoners, flanked by their guards, walked down the wide street towards the southern section of the city where a tiny path would lead them to their new occupations. A scribe next to them shouted the final words, signaling the end of the event with Sudhist prayers.

That nagging thought perpetuated in his mind ever since Aabna’s messenger relayed to Param what she’d do concerning the men. Would sending these men to work in those mines really be the solution to the divisions? Param yelled at his men to organize around Aabna’s palanquin, watching as they shuffled into order. Aabna then stood before the palanquin, quickly giving Param a quick look before entering it and then the procession began.

And we still haven’t found that messenger… and we even questioned the prisoners and those priests. A tense feeling gripped his lower shoulder, as if his muscle spasmed from the anxiety. They weren’t tackling the issue properly and it’d cost them dearly, especially after alienating the upper-castes beyond any sort of meaningful rapprochement.

We need to be crush this dissent before it spirals out of control. The wind piked up from above, tugging at Param’s short hair for a moment before dying down once again. Or all the effort we had built up will be lost.

“Sire!” shouted someone from behind. Param looked the direction, finding a warrior hurrying towards him with a letter in his frantic hands.

“Speak. What’s the matter?”

“Sire… Lord Gahkhar has sent us new arms for defending the north walls. They’re in a carriage just outside the south gates.”

New arms? I hadn’t asked for those. Param raised a brow, motioning the warrior to hand the letter.

“Here, sire.”

Param gave the letter a look. Bhagat.

He pried the seal open and unfurled the letter.

Hey kids, it’s Bhagat. Sorry for the late message, the past few weeks have been busy. I saved Gahkhpur from the Afraaris and I’ve captured Faran and his runts with Vhaddawalia’s assistance. Great times. We could use them to force the Afraaris to make concessions. Anyways, I thought you’d need some of these cannons so I’m sending them to you. There’s about half a dozen and two carriages of ammunition. Below are instructions on how to utilize the equipment. Don’t be stupid with it, or you’ll die. Have a nice day.

Kids? Param furrowed his brows. I’m older than him by four years.

“What do we do sire?”

Param rolled up the letter and slipped it into his pocket. “Get as many men available to escort the equipment to the north gates.” Param then dug his finger into the man’s chest, the noise giving his next words extra depth. “And make sure you don’t send the weaponry through the upper-caste quarters. At all costs.”

The warrior gulped. “Yes sire!” and then ran southwards. Param watched as the man’s hasty figure slowly disappeared from his sights.

Cannons? Param sighed, hurrying back to secure the palanquin. What do these cannons even do?

Turning the corner around within the maze that was the Sudhist quarters, Param could catch a glimpse of the palanquin just ahead of him. Of course, they had chosen this route because it was the farthest from the upper-caste quarters and it was a predominately loyal community. Opening the windows of their havelis were Sudhists of all stripes greeting the woman who sat in the palanquin.

The feeling felt a little surreal. For one, was this what power consisted of? Having people who supported you or gave you thanks for relative stability and peace? It was odd. It also felt odd because she was a lord’s daughter, yet she acted as an administrator for Bhagat.

Param shrugged, stretching out his tired shoulders. This whole situation feels out-of-place. He then looked up, admiring the grey clouds that had warped the city’s gloomy atmosphere within two weeks.

They say the monsoon continues Dharma in some ways and I’ve yet to see how.

And maybe that was the mystery of the concept. Either you followed your ‘right’ path, which people did regardless, or you fought against the direction your path took, which in itself was hard to understand. How would one know they were fighting against their path? What would such a case even look like? The Vatasras perhaps? When they refused to give the Mahabsas their rightful title to the land even after performing the ceremonial rites for their deceased father, leading to the disaster that brought needless slaughter to Kahanee’s citizens? But what if fighting against their own fate was also just a part of their Dharma? Now everything about Dharma, or the righteous way, was hard to understand. Was everything they did just a part of their life’s path?

Was murdering others just another part of Dharma?

Param shook his head. The concept wasn’t something he could understand since he wasn’t a philosopher. And neither did he want to become one. He was a warrior after all, finding the right path to fulfill his righteous duty in this shattered world.

Turning another corner with the convoy, they marched into yet another arena of greetings from the havelis above, the noise almost deafening the howls of the monsoon winds.

We’re close by anyways. Param rubbed his ears. Soon I won’t need to hear these deafening shouts.

He glanced back up, noticing a few figures beyond the patios and up on the roof, their eyes locked and calculated on the palanquin.

Odd. Param kept his eyes locked on the men, watching as one of them knocked an arrow on their bows, readying a shot.

Oh shit. Param yelled to halt the men carrying the palanquin. It’s a trap!

Before he could do anything, an arrow pierced the throat of a nearby warrior. Param watched as the man fell lifeless to the ground, the blood oozing into the puddles of water below. The crowds in the havelis, once buoyant, now fell to screams and shouts as families hurried back inside or shuttered their windows, hiding from the ensuing battle.

“Battle formations men!” shouted Param, feeling a few drips of water landing on his face from the skies above. He unsheathed his sword, the metal ringing into the air as he screamed for his men to prepare. “Enemy above!”

“Yes sire!” shouted the men. Param again looked up, watching as a few dozen more men rose from the roofs, readying their bows for another round.

Damnit! Param ran towards the palanquin, grasping at the door handle. We need to get Aabna out of here!

He slid the door.

“Aabna, get the hell out of he—

“Sire, worry not for me but for yourself and your men.”

The woman sitting in the palanquin wasn’t Aabna but her servant!

“Where’s Aabna? Why are you here?”

The servant didn’t seem to care all that much for her own safety, simply sitting with her hands folded. “She predicted this would happen and had made a plan.”

Param raised a brow, confused. He hurried into the palanquin and shut the door closed. “What plan? I wasn’t told of any of this! And I swear I saw her get into this palanquin!”

“That was also a part of the plan.”

“What?”

A thunder crackled in the distance and shrieks rang from just outside of the palanquin.

“You shall see, the monsoon rain is about to begin soon. Just have your men defend the area.”

“Are you sure? Is that what lady Aabna said?”

The servant nodded.

Param cursed, leaving the two-person litter.

There wasn’t any choice, he’d have to yell at Aabna later.

“Men! Get into formation!”

The men shuffled around the palanquin, the inner layer raising their shields. The middle layer raised their shields on an angle, allowing the men and everyone within the formation to remain in safety, bearing the full brunt of enemy arrows.

“Do we know who the enemy is?”

“No sire, I don’t believe we do!”

Damn! Param closed his eyes, using his ears to understand where the arrows were coming from. They were mostly firing from the roof to their left, meaning that there wasn’t a real chance they’d deal all that many casualties. This fee—

A scream rang from the front.

“Enemies on the ground!”

Param clicked his tongue, feeling the noisy rain patter to the ground in strong lashes.

“Men to the front! Attack and then keep moving around towards the left to avoid the arrows!”

“Yes sire!”

The men broke formation and followed Param’s orders, engaging the dozen or so foes while shifting towards the left to hide from the enemy bowmen.

“Take this!” shouted a warrior, blocking a foe’s spear with his sword.

Another one of Param’s men ran his sword into a ragtag enemy, the blood gushing out from the other side and dripping with the rain.

Param looked up, watching as an opportunistic archer fired his arrow towards him. He pivoted rightwards, feeling the arrow skim past his face.

Holy shit. Param could feel the wound sear into his cheek. That was too close.

“Leftwards men! Leftwards!”

“Yes sire!”

Together they retreated, making sure to avoid enemy arrows.

“The palanquin is open!” shouted the foe as several of them ran towards the exposed carriage.

Param cursed. Now a woman will die for nothing!

One of them men slammed the palanquin door open. He hurried in, shutting it closed.

Param grit his teeth. Those bastards!

An arrow fired, landing right above Param’s toe. He looked up, faintly making out the man’s cynical grin. “Watch as your lady begs for mercy, you outsider!”

A gripped his sword. “You bloody bastards! I’ll kill you a—

“No need,” shouted a voice from above.

A white flash ran along the top of the havelis and the temperature suddenly come to an odd chill around Param.

What the hell was that?

A figure then fell from the rooftop and their body slammed to the ground next to him, Param hearing the many snaps and cracks echo into the air under the patter of the rain above. Param approached the body and touched it. It looked very pale and it was too cold, much more cold than any of the chills one would experience by the end of the year.

What the hell happened. Slowly blood leaked from the man’s nose, ears and mouth, making Param stumble backwards, his eyes widening at the inhumane sight.

They were frozen… frozen to death!

More bodies fell from the roof, each one in the same state as the man Param had just inspected.

“Param, take out the men around the palanquin.”

What? Param looked up, noticing a woman above. “Aabna? Is that you?”

She retreated.

Fuck. Param raised his sword and pointed it towards the enemies around the palanquin. “Take them out men!”

The warriors ran forwards, enemy shrieks ringing as more blood bathed the scene red and colored the indigo palanquin dark red with a inescapable stench. But Param couldn’t help but stare at the foes dead beside him, watching as their blood formed tributaries and deposited into the newly formed puddles below.

After this battle, I want a straight answer from her about why she did all this! Param rushed towards the enemy, using his blade to slit a man’s throat. The blood sprayed Param’s armor a deep red and yet he continued on, using his blade to slash another man to pieces. Why did we have to kill all these men unnecessarily. For what purpose!