The morning sun had barely crested the horizon when a rider, dust-caked and trembling, galloped through the gates of Kunthala.
His horse's flanks were foaming, and the beast staggered with exhaustion, having been ridden hard and fast for hours.
The guards at the gate, sensing the urgency, rushed to intercept him, their hands gripping their spears tightly.
The rider nearly fell from his saddle, his legs wobbling as he dismounted.
"Summon the king and the prince! At once!" he gasped, his voice hoarse from yelling along the road.
"It is urgent!"
Within moments, Jayvarma and Virendra were in the throne room, joined by Devsena, Rudrayani, and Kumar Varma.
The rider, still panting heavily, fell to one knee before them, his hands trembling.
"My Lords, My Lady... news from the west. The Kalakeyas have mobilized."
A cold silence fell over the hall.
---
The Kalakeyas—a savage, bloodthirsty clan, known for their merciless raids and brutality.
For years, they had been little more than scattered warbands, a minor threat, easily quelled by the larger kingdoms.
But recent reports had hinted at something far worse.
The Kalakeya tribes were unifying under a single warlord—a man named Inkhosh, rumored to be cruel and cunning, with a vision of conquest.
The rider's eyes were wide with fear as he relayed the details.
"Their forces..." his voice cracked slightly,
"Their forces number over a hundred thousand."
The room fell into a stunned silence.
Even Jayvarma, who had faced countless challenges in his short reign, paled slightly at the number.
"A hundred thousand?" he murmured, his voice disbelieving.
Kunthala's entire standing army barely numbered ten thousand, while Mahishmati, the largest kingdom in the region, had only twenty-five thousand soldiers.
Even combined, they would be outnumbered nearly three to one.
---
The news of the Kalakeya mobilization spread swiftly, not only in Kunthala but across the region.
In the capital, commoners whispered in fear, traders clutched their coin purses, and merchants hastily arranged for caravans to leave the kingdom.
Rumors ran wild—some said the Kalakeyas would descend on Kunthala first, while others claimed Mahishmati would be their target.
None knew for certain, but all were afraid.
The streets were filled with nervous glances and tense murmurs, while soldiers patrolled with their hands on their hilts, eyes scanning the horizon.
---
That evening, the royal family and the council gathered in the war room.
The large stone table was spread with detailed maps of the region, with markers indicating the position of their forces and the Kalakeya horde.
Jayvarma's face was tense, his jaw clenched tightly as he stared at the map.
"If they come here first, we won't last a week," he muttered grimly.
"They won't," Virendra said firmly, his voice carrying an edge of certainty.
"Their target will be Mahishmati."
The council turned toward him, listening intently.
"Why Mahishmati?" Kumar Varma asked, his voice laced with nervousness.
"They're stronger, better fortified. Wouldn't they attack us first? We're weaker."
Virendra shook his head.
"That's exactly why they won't."
His fingers traced the map, moving toward Mahishmati's position.
"The Kalakeya want to break the strongest first. If Mahishmati falls, no one will be able to resist them. The surrounding kingdoms will surrender before they even march."
The council exchanged nervous glances, but Virendra's reasoning was sound.
They knew Mahishmati was the key—if it fell, the entire region would be doomed.
---
"So what do we do?" Jayvarma asked, his voice low but resolute.
The council members shifted uncomfortably, their expressions grim.
None of them had an answer.
Finally, Devsena's voice cut through the silence, calm but firm.
"We prepare."
All eyes turned toward her.
"We don't know if they will march for Mahishmati first, or Kunthala. We can't assume safety. We fortify our defenses, strengthen our borders, and send word to Mahishmati."
Her voice was steady, but her hands were clenched tightly at her sides.
Despite her calm exterior, Virendra could see the subtle trembling in her fingers.
She was afraid—afraid for her family, for her people.
"Devsena is right," Virendra agreed, his voice firm.
"We can't wait for the storm to come. We have to be ready when it does."
---
Over the next few weeks, Kunthala moved swiftly.
The army began mass recruitment, training every able-bodied man willing to take up arms.
Blacksmiths worked day and night, forging weapons and armor.
The production of iron and steel was tripled, thanks to the mining techniques Virendra had introduced years before.
The kingdom's defenses were strengthened.
Walls were reinforced, watchtowers were manned day and night, and the borderlands were heavily patrolled.
---
At Virendra's insistence, riders were sent to Mahishmati, carrying the dire news and offering an alliance of defense.
In Mahishmati, the message was received by none other than Rajmata Sivagami Devi, the matriarch of the realm.
She read the letter slowly, her sharp eyes scanning every word.
When she finished, she set the parchment down with a measured breath.
Her gaze hardened, and she turned to her generals.
"Send word to all our vassals. Ready every soldier and summon the council. The Kalakeya will find that Mahishmati does not break so easily."
Her voice was iron-clad, her eyes fierce.
Even as Mahishmati prepared for war, Sivagami's mind lingered on the young Prince of Kunthala, who had reached out first.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, impressed by the wisdom and foresight behind the gesture.
---
Back in Kunthala, Virendra stood at the watchtower, gazing out at the horizon.
His hands gripped the stone railing, his knuckles white.
He could feel the tension in the air, the anticipation of the coming storm.
Rudrayani appeared beside him, silently placing her hand over his.
Her fingers were warm, but her touch was firm—a silent promise of unwavering support.
"Do you think we'll survive this?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Virendra exhaled slowly, his gaze hardening.
"We'll do more than survive, Rudrayani. We'll fight. And we'll win."
Her eyes met his, and she saw the fire in his gaze—the same fire she had fallen in love with years ago.
The flame of a man unwilling to break, no matter how terrible the storm.
---
Virendra sat alone in his chamber, the faint glow of the candlelight flickering against the stone walls.
The kingdom slept, but his mind refused to rest.
The Kalakeya threat weighed heavily on him.
Though they had begun fortifying their defenses, Virendra knew it wouldn't be enough.
Kunthala's army, even with its new recruits, was still a fraction of the Kalakeyas' horde.
Mahishmati's strength offered some hope, but even they were outnumbered nearly four to one.
Virendra leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly together.
His eyes were shadowed with fatigue, but his mind was sharp.
"There must be a way... something more."
He closed his eyes, reaching back into the reservoir of memories from his previous life, hoping to grasp any shred of knowledge that could help.
And then, it came to him.
---
In his past life, Virendra had been fascinated by war—its strategies, its weapons, its tactics.
He had read countless books and watched documentaries, studying the evolution of warfare.
And now, from the depths of his memory, one word surfaced.
"Gunpowder."
His eyes snapped open, his breath catching slightly.
The most revolutionary invention in the history of war—a mixture of saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal.
It was simple in its composition, yet devastating in its impact.
"That's it," he whispered, his heart pounding with excitement.
---
He rushed to his desk, grabbing a piece of parchment and a quill.
His hands moved quickly but precisely, sketching the basic chemical formula from memory.
Saltpeter: The key oxidizing agent, necessary for combustion.
Sulfur: To increase the flammability.
Charcoal: As the fuel to create a violent burst of gas when ignited.
Though his knowledge of chemistry was basic, he remembered enough from the books he had read.
He knew the proportions weren't precise in his mind, but close enough to begin experimentation.
"I need the scholars," he muttered to himself, his eyes gleaming with determination.
---
The next morning, Virendra summoned Kunthala's finest scholars to the royal study.
There were fifteen men, many of whom had worked with him on electricity and mining.
The scholars were curious but respectful.
Though they still considered some of Virendra's ideas unusual, they had grown to trust him.
He spread the parchment before them.
"Gentlemen, I have a new project," he announced, his voice calm but firm.
"One that could determine the fate of this kingdom."
The scholars leaned in, their eyes scanning the formula.
"What is this, Prince?" one of the older scholars asked, his brow furrowed.
"A strange combination... sulfur, charcoal, and saltpeter? For what purpose?"
Virendra's gaze was steady.
"To create a weapon—one unlike anything you have ever seen. One that will change the face of warfare."
The room fell silent, the gravity of his words sinking in.
Though some of the scholars were skeptical, they did not doubt his vision.
"I will oversee the process personally," Virendra added, his voice resolute.
"I need you to follow my instructions precisely. And we will test it together."
---
The scholars spent weeks extracting the necessary ingredients, purchasing sulfur from alchemists, acquiring charcoal in abundance, and harvesting saltpeter.
In a secluded field, far from the palace, they constructed a testing ground.
The ingredients were carefully measured according to Virendra's formula.
The scholars ground them into a fine powder, using a large stone mortar.
Finally, the mixture was packed tightly into a small iron sphere, with a fuse attached.
Virendra and the scholars stood back, nervous but eager.
One of the scholars lit the fuse.
The flame hissed and traveled along the cord.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then—
BOOM!
The ground shook, and a small crater formed where the sphere had once been.
A cloud of black smoke billowed upward, filling the air with the sharp scent of sulfur.
The scholars coughed and waved the smoke away, but their eyes were wide with awe.
"By the gods... it worked!" one of them exclaimed, his voice breathless with disbelief.
---
For the next few months, Virendra worked tirelessly with the scholars, refining the formula and adjusting the proportions.
They increased the explosive yield, creating larger and more powerful bombs.
But Virendra didn't stop there.
He had another weapon in mind—the cannon.
Using his knowledge of historical warfare, he designed a simple cannon.
A hollow iron tube, with a reinforced rear, capable of launching a heavy iron ball.
The scholars were initially skeptical, unsure if the cannon would fire properly.
But Virendra's calculations were correct.
When the first cannon was tested, it roared like a beast, sending the iron ball soaring through the air, smashing into a wooden target and splintering it into pieces.
The guards watching the test stood in shock, their eyes wide with awe and disbelief.
---
The project required significant capital, but Kunthala was in a strong position.
Due to Virendra's earlier innovations in iron smelting, mining efficiency, and the royal monopoly on electricity, the kingdom's treasury was flourishing.
When Jayvarma saw the demonstration, he immediately authorized the full-scale production of the new weapons.
"How many can we make?" Jayvarma asked, his eyes gleaming with newfound confidence.
"Fifty cannons," Virendra replied.
"And hundreds of bombs."
Jayvarma nodded firmly, placing a hand on Virendra's shoulder.
"Then do it."
---
The blacksmiths and artisans of Kunthala were brought into the fold.
Under Virendra's supervision, they crafted the cannon barrels, using the finest iron available.
The bomb casings were carefully forged and sealed, their fuses meticulously measured for maximum effectiveness.
Within three months, Kunthala's arsenal was nearly complete.
Fifty cannons stood in the palace armory, their barrels polished and gleaming.
Hundreds of bombs were stored, ready for war.
---
When Devsena saw the cannons, her eyes widened slightly, but she remained composed.
"You've made these... to destroy entire armies, haven't you?" she asked softly.
Virendra met her gaze evenly, unflinching.
"Yes. If the Kalakeyas come, we'll need them."
She placed her hand on his, squeezing it tightly.
"Just don't lose yourself in war, Virendra."
Rudrayani, watching from the side, stepped forward and placed her hand over his heart.
"Remember, you are not just a warrior or an inventor," she whispered.
"You are my husband, our family's shield, and this kingdom's hope. Never forget that."
Virendra kissed her hand gently, drawing strength from her unwavering support.
As the preparations continued, Virendra stood in the armory, staring at the rows of cannons and bombs.
The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on his shoulders, but he knew there was no turning back.
The Kalakeya horde would come.
And when they did, Kunthala would be ready—not with mere swords and shields, but with fire and fury.
---