The sun had barely risen over the horizon when the gates of Kunthala Palace swung open to admit a dust-covered rider, his horse lathered with sweat from the grueling journey.
The guards rushed forward, grabbing the horse's reins as the messenger dismounted, his legs trembling with fatigue.
Without pausing for breath, he stumbled toward the throne room, his face pale and tight with urgency.
The court gathered swiftly, sensing the gravity of the situation.
King Jayvarma sat on his throne, his brow furrowed, while Virendra stood beside him, arms crossed, his gaze sharp.
The messenger knelt before them, his chest heaving with labored breaths.
"Your Majesty... grave news... from Mahishmati," he panted.
"A traitor was caught... colluding with the Kalakeyas."
A murmur of shock rippled through the court.
The nobles exchanged uneasy glances, while the ministers leaned forward, their faces grim with concern.
---
The messenger's voice shook slightly as he continued.
"Sakethudu was a trusted officer in Mahishmati," he explained, his face pale with dread.
"But he turned traitor. He sold Mahishmati's war secrets to the Kalakeyas."
Virendra's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing.
"What kind of secrets?"
The messenger wiped his brow, his face lined with worry.
"Tactical information... including the deployment plans, supply routes, and the layout of Mahishmati's inner defenses."
A cold silence settled over the chamber.
"After betraying Mahishmati, he fled to Singapuram," the messenger continued.
"But he was pursued by the two princes—Bhallaladeva and Amarendra Baahubali."
Virendra's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of the two princes.
He had heard of them before—sons of Rajmata Sivagami Devi, both renowned for their strength and valor.
The messenger's voice grew steadier as he described the pursuit.
"The princes led an elite force in a relentless hunt, tracking Sakethudu across rough terrain."
"They found him hiding in Singapuram. After a fierce skirmish, they captured him alive."
The court listened intently, their eyes wide.
"Prince Bhallaladeva struck down Sakethudu's guards with his monstrous mace," the messenger recounted, awe in his voice.
"And Prince Amarendra Baahubali—he fought with his twin swords, disarming and subduing Sakethudu himself."
A hum of approval ran through the nobles at the mention of the Mahishmati princes' skill.
Virendra, however, remained impassive, his thoughts turning cold and calculative.
The Kalakeya horde would now have Mahishmati's secrets.
Even with Sakethudu captured, the damage was already done.
---
As the court absorbed the news, King Jayvarma leaned back in his throne, exhaling slowly.
His eyes met Virendra's, both of them contemplating the implications.
"Mahishmati will be the first to fall under their attack," Jayvarma muttered softly, his voice tinged with a grim relief.
The nobles stirred uneasily, uneasy at the cold reality of their fortune.
Though the Kalakeyas were the shared enemy of the Deccan kingdoms, the fact that Mahishmati would bear the brunt of the attack gave Kunthala a rare and brief reprieve.
Jayvarma turned to his advisors, his voice calm but firm.
"We shall take this moment of respite to reinforce our defenses," he ordered.
"Let the Kalakeyas and Mahishmati clash first. We will watch and wait."
The nobles nodded, silently relieved by the decision.
---
Later that evening, Virendra stood on the palace balcony, his gaze fixed on the horizon.
The faint glow of the setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and crimson.
Rudrayani joined him, her expression pensive.
"You seem lost in thought," she murmured, her hand slipping into his.
Virendra squeezed her fingers gently, his eyes still fixed on the horizon.
"I'm wondering how long Mahishmati can hold out," he admitted softly.
"If they fall... we're next."
She leaned her head against his shoulder, sensing the tension in his body.
"Do you think Mahishmati will survive?" she asked quietly.
Virendra's jaw tightened slightly.
"They are strong," he replied.
"But the Kalakeya horde is massive. Even if Mahishmati wins, they will be gravely weakened."
She was silent for a moment, then turned to face him, her eyes searching his.
"And if they lose?"
Virendra's expression darkened slightly, but he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
"Then we'll be ready," he vowed softly.
"I swear it."
---
The next morning, King Jayvarma summoned the royal council.
The nobles and ministers filed into the chamber, their faces grim and weary.
Jayvarma stood at the head of the table, his hands resting firmly on the polished wood.
"The Kalakeya horde is marching on Mahishmati," he announced, his voice steady.
"This gives us a brief reprieve, but we must not waste it. We will prepare."
The ministers nodded solemnly, but one of the nobles spoke up.
"But, Your Majesty, should we not offer aid to Mahishmati?" he asked.
"If they fall, we will be next."
"What is Mahishmati planning?"
The messenger shook his head slightly.
"Their council is divided. Some nobles demand an immediate counterattack. Others argue for strengthening their defenses."
Virendra's eyes narrowed slightly, his voice calm but firm.
"And they have not asked for reinforcements?"
The messenger shook his head firmly.
"No, my lord. Mahishmati has sent no word requesting aid."
A tense silence followed.
The nobles glanced at one another, uncertainty flickering in their eyes.
Though Mahishmati was their ally, Kunthala could not afford to act prematurely.
Jayvarma's gaze was cold and sharp.
"And if we send our men now, we will weaken ourselves unnecessarily."
"Mahishmati's pride will not accept aid from us, not yet."
The noble fell silent, acknowledging the truth in the king's words.
Virendra, standing at Jayvarma's side, spoke calmly.
"We fortify our borders. We stockpile our weapons. And we watch."
There was no room for debate.
The council knew that Virendra's words carried the weight of reason.
---
As the meeting concluded, Virendra walked the palace grounds with Devsena and Kumar Varma.
"It feels... wrong," Devsena murmured softly, her brow furrowed with worry.
"To sit back while others fight."
Kumar sighed, glancing at her.
"War is never fair, little sister," he muttered.
"We take what fate offers. And right now, it offers us a chance to breathe."
Virendra remained silent, his eyes distant.
Though he understood the pragmatic need for caution, he still felt the gnawing sense of unease.
The Kalakeyas were coming.
And no amount of caution would keep them at bay forever.
---
For the next several weeks, Kunthala's defenses were reinforced.
The cannons were tested again, their barrels refined.
The bombs were stockpiled, ready to rain fire upon the enemy.
But even as Kunthala prepared, the entire kingdom watched and waited, holding its breath.
And as the news of Mahishmati's struggle spread, the people prayed silently—
Hoping that Mahishmati would hold.
Hoping that the Kalakeya tide would be broken.
And knowing, deep down, that if it wasn't—
Kunthala would be next.
---
The morning sun cast a warm glow over the stone walls of Kunthala, but the tense atmosphere in the palace courtyard remained heavy.
The nobles and commoners alike gathered near the gates, anxiously awaiting news from Mahishmati.
For weeks, they had heard nothing but rumors—tales of Kalakeya's ferocity, of Mahishmati's struggles, and of the desperate clash on the blood-soaked plains.
Though Kunthala had not sent reinforcements, they knew that Mahishmati's fate would determine their own.
Suddenly, the sound of galloping hooves rang out, followed by the clatter of wheels.
A caravan of messengers stormed through the gates, their faces bright with triumph.
The crowd surged forward, hearts pounding with anticipation.
One of the messengers, dust-caked and weary, raised his arms and cried out—
"Mahishmati stands victorious! The Kalakeya horde is crushed!"
A roar of relief erupted from the gathered crowd.
Cries of joy and prayers of gratitude filled the air.
The tension that had gripped the kingdom for weeks finally lifted.
In the palace, King Jayvarma and Virendra received the messenger in the throne room, eager to hear the full account.
---
The messenger knelt before the throne, his eyes still wide with awe.
"Your Majesty," he began, his voice hoarse from the journey,
"I witnessed the battle firsthand. Let me tell you how Mahishmati won."
He took a deep breath and began his tale.
---
Before the battle, Mahishmati's council gathered in the throne room.
The traitor Sakethudu had already revealed their defenses to the Kalakeyas, giving the barbarian horde a dangerous advantage.
Tensions were high, and even Rajmata Sivagami wore a grim expression.
"We must outmaneuver them," Amarendra Baahubali declared, his voice resolute.
"Their strength lies in their numbers. We cannot face them head-on."
He then proposed a bold new strategy—
"The Trident Strategy."
The nobles murmured among themselves, uncertain.
The strategy had never been used in battle before—it was a calculated risk.
"The Kalakeyas always send their front lines first," Amarendra explained.
"Their chieftain, Inkoshi, stays behind with the main force. If we strike from three sides, we can trap Inkoshi and break their morale."
"Impossible," one noble scoffed.
"The Kalakeyas are too many. We will be overrun."
But Bhallaladeva slammed his mace on the stone floor, his eyes blazing with conviction.
"I will crush them myself," he growled.
"Give me command of the vanguard."
Seeing Bhallaladeva's zeal, Bijjaladeva seized the moment.
"Let us make this a test," he declared slyly.
"Whoever kills Inkoshi shall be made king of Mahishmati."
The ministers murmured in agreement, but Sivagami remained silent, her eyes hard and unreadable.
---
That night, Bijjaladeva ensured that the heaviest weaponry—the arrow-machines, sword chariots, and armored beasts—were given to Bhallaladeva's forces.
His intention was clear: to give his son the advantage in the contest for the throne.
Meanwhile, Amarendra, ever innovative, prepared his own countermeasure.
He ordered his soldiers to strip the tents of the army and stitch their fabric into massive tarps.
Soaked in kerosene, they would be used as fire traps.
---
At dawn, the Mahishmati army assembled before the gates of the kingdom, their armor gleaming in the sun.
Thousands of soldiers carried swords, spears, and shields, while armored elephants rumbled forward with catapults and battering rams.
Before battle, Bhallaladeva sacrificed a cow to the goddess, offering its blood for victory.
But Amarendra walked to the shrine, unsheathed his sword, and cut his own palm, offering his own blood instead.
The soldiers roared with approval, their hearts stirred by the prince's devotion.
---
Before the fighting began, a diplomatic envoy from Mahishmati rode out under a white banner to negotiate with the Kalakeyas.
But Inkoshi, the brutal Kalakeya chieftain, mocked the offer of truce.
He spat at the Mahishmati envoy and called Sivagami a coward, declaring that he would drag her through the streets in chains.
Enraged by the insult, Sivagami rose from her seat, her eyes ablaze.
"Bring me Inkoshi alive," she commanded, her voice like steel.
"I want his limbs cut off one by one."
---
As the Kalakeya vanguard charged, Bhallaladeva unleashed his arrow-machines, showering the enemy with a hail of arrows.
Kalakeyan warriors fell in droves, but their momentum continued.
At that moment, Amarendra's forces unleashed their secret weapon.
The soldiers fired the tarps, attached to cannonballs, into the Kalakeyan ranks.
The kerosene-soaked fabric engulfed entire sections of the enemy horde in flames, creating a wall of fire.
---
As the Kalakeya front lines broke through the flames, they reached the V-shaped shield wall of Kattappa's forces.
The spearmen stabbed relentlessly through the shield gaps, preventing the Kalakeya soldiers from climbing over.
On the northern flank, Bhallaladeva charged forward, mace in hand, crushing enemies with each swing.
On the southern flank, Amarendra fought with his twin swords, slashing through the Kalakeyan ranks with precision and fury.
---
As the battle raged, Amarendra and Bhallaladeva's forces executed the final phase of the Trident Strategy.
Riding on horseback, Amarendra led his troops to flank the Kalakeya army, while Bhallaladeva rode his war chariot, mowing down Kalakeya soldiers with its revolving blades.
But when the Kalakeyas used Mahishmati prisoners as shields, the two princes responded differently.
Bhallaladeva mercilessly slaughtered the prisoners, plowing through them to reach the enemy.
Amarendra, however, devised a strategy: his soldiers threw bolas, tangling the prisoners' legs, and used the opening to strike down the Kalakeyan soldiers behind them.
He then ordered his men to free the prisoners and bring them to safety.
---
The battle climaxed as Amarendra and Bhallaladeva broke through the final Kalakeya lines.
Bhallaladeva, desperate for the crown, raced toward Inkoshi, but was swarmed by Kalakeya soldiers.
In the chaos, Amarendra reached Inkoshi first.
After a ferocious duel, Amarendra disarmed Inkoshi, beating him with the lion bust from Bhallaladeva's chariot.
But before he could sever Inkoshi's limbs, Bhallaladeva struck the chieftain's head with his retractable mace, killing him instantly.
---
As the Kalakeya army scattered, the Mahishmati forces returned victorious.
The soldiers and civilians roared Amarendra's name.
But Sivagami defied Bijjaladeva's scheme.
She named Bhallaladeva commander of the armies, but crowned Amarendra Baahubali as king.
The people celebrated Amarendra's coronation, while Bijjaladeva and Bhallaladeva seethed in jealousy.
---
The news of Mahishmati's victory swept through Kunthala like a raging wildfire.
From the palace halls to the cobbled streets, it was all anyone could talk about.
Yet, while commoners celebrated, the royal court was not as jubilant.
In the throne room, King Jayvarma sat on the royal dais, his fingers lightly tapping against the armrest of his throne.
His face was stoic, but his eyes were narrowed, deep in thought.
Beside him, Virendra stood silently, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression thoughtful yet sharp.
Though the news of victory was a relief, he knew this victory came with consequences.
At the opposite end of the hall, the nobles stood in clusters, their faces etched with conflicting emotions.
The Minister of Defense, an older man with a scar running down his cheek, leaned toward Jayvarma and spoke in a low voice.
"Your Majesty, the Kalakeyas are no more, but… this victory will make Mahishmati even stronger."
His voice held a note of caution, barely veiled behind the tone of reverence.
"Too strong," muttered another noble, his eyes narrowed.
"A force that even the Kalakeyas could not break. And now, they have a king like Amarendra Baahubali."
There was respect in his voice, but also a trace of fear.
---
After the messenger's departure, Jayvarma dismissed the nobles, keeping only Virendra, Kumar Varma, and a handful of trusted advisors behind.
The doors closed, sealing the chamber in solemn quiet.
Jayvarma leaned forward, rubbing his temple slowly, his fingers digging into his brow.
"Victory, yes," he said softly, but his tone was distant, as though the word bittered his tongue.
"But what does it mean for us?"
Virendra, seated across from him, exhaled softly.
He knew exactly what his brother meant.
"It means, brother… Mahishmati has become unstoppable," Virendra replied calmly.
"And when one kingdom becomes too strong, the others tremble."
Kumar Varma, who had been fidgeting anxiously, spoke up, his voice trembling slightly.
"But that's good, right?"
He offered a nervous chuckle, though his eyes revealed uncertainty.
"The Kalakeyas are gone. That means we have nothing to fear now."
Virendra's gaze was steady, almost sharp, as he regarded Kumar Varma.
"No, cousin," he said softly, but firmly.
"The Kalakeyas were a blunt weapon—a force that crushed everything in its path."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Mahishmati, however… they are a sword. Precise. Calculated. And now… sharper than ever."
Jayvarma's fingers curled into a loose fist, his knuckles whitening.
He did not say it aloud, but he felt the same unease.
---
In the upper wing of the palace, Queen Rudrayani sat by the window, her hands lightly resting on her swollen belly.
Her face was calm, but her eyes were distant, lost in thought.
The midwife, seated beside her, noticed the queen's distracted expression.
"Your Majesty," the woman murmured softly, offering her a cup of warm saffron milk,
"You seem troubled. Is it the child? Should I call the physician?"
But Rudrayani shook her head gently, offering a small smile.
"No… no, I am well."
Her voice was soft but steady, though her thoughts were not.
She turned her gaze back to the window, staring at the fields beyond the palace, the homes of commoners, and the busy streets.
Her hands gently stroked her belly, and she wondered—
"What kind of world will my child be born into?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
For months, she had felt the shift in power beyond their borders.
Mahishmati, once powerful but not invincible, had become a juggernaut.
It was no longer just a kingdom—it was now a superpower.
She closed her eyes briefly, recalling the stories of the battle.
How Bhallaladeva slaughtered his own people for victory.
How Amarendra saved the prisoners, earning the love of the people.
And how Sivagami crowned Amarendra, securing his place as king.
She shivered slightly.
"A king loved by his people, who wields power and compassion in equal measure…"
Her lips pressed together.
"A ruler like that will be hard to stand against."
---
While the royal court weighed the implications of Mahishmati's victory, the common people of Kunthala celebrated foolishly and freely.
In the market square, merchants shouted with glee, slashing the prices of their wares.
"Victory for Mahishmati means peace for Kunthala!" they cried.
"No more fear of Kalakeyas!"
Men raised their cups, toasting the heroes of Mahishmati.
Young boys re-enacted the battle, brandishing wooden sticks as swords, pretending to be Amarendra Baahubali slaying Inkoshi.
But not everyone rejoiced.
In the back alleys, whispers of doubt spread.
The older merchants and traveling scholars spoke in low, wary tones.
"Do you think Mahishmati will stop now?" one man asked his friend.
"They will be looking toward us next, you'll see."
An older woman—wrinkled and wise—shook her head slowly as she listened.
"Fools," she muttered softly.
"You cheer for Mahishmati now… but you will kneel before them soon."
---
Later that evening, Virendra and Jayvarma stood by the balcony, looking out over Kunthala's lands.
The moonlight bathed the fields in silver, and the faint hum of celebration could still be heard in the distance.
Jayvarma exhaled heavily, resting his hands on the balcony rail.
His shoulders were stiff with tension, his brows furrowed.
"They will not stop," he muttered softly, almost to himself.
"Mahishmati will keep expanding. The Kalakeyas were just the beginning."
Virendra, leaning slightly against the balcony, nodded slowly.
"Yes," he agreed quietly.
"But it is not Amarendra Baahubali we should fear."
Jayvarma's gaze snapped to his brother, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"What do you mean?"
Virendra's expression darkened slightly.
"It is Bhallaladeva."
He turned his eyes toward the distant horizon, where the borders of Mahishmati lay beyond the hills.
"He is the one we must watch."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
The only sound was the whispering wind stirring the leaves.
Finally, Jayvarma turned to Virendra, his voice soft but firm.
"What do you suggest, brother?"
Virendra's gaze was steady.
"We wait," he replied softly.
"We grow stronger… and we prepare."