The sun had barely begun its descent when Virendra, Bahubali, Kattappa, Devsena, and a hundred of Kunthala's best warriors arrived at the outskirts of the village that had fallen under attack. The smell of burning wood and iron filled the air, mixing with the distant screams of the villagers who had yet to find refuge. Smoke billowed into the sky, marking the devastation left in the wake of the Pindari raiders.
Virendra narrowed his eyes, scanning the battlefield. The enemy had taken position on the far side of the village, their numbers overwhelming—easily five times their own forces. The Pindaris were known for their ruthlessness, but also for their lack of discipline. They fought like wild animals, using sheer ferocity rather than strategy. That would be their weakness.
"We're outnumbered," Bahubali muttered, his expression unreadable. "But not outmatched."
Kattappa stepped forward. "We need a plan, or we'll be overwhelmed before we reach the village."
Virendra turned to Devsena. "Take ten of our best archers and position yourselves on that hill." He pointed to an elevated patch of land that overlooked the battlefield. "If we lure the Pindaris into the open, you'll have a clear shot."
Devsena nodded, her grip tightening around her bow. "Understood." Without another word, she gathered her warriors and moved into position.
Virendra turned to Bahubali next. "We'll divide our forces. You and I will take fifty men each and attack from both flanks. Kattappa, you take the remaining soldiers and secure the villagers. Make sure they're safe."
Bahubali smirked. "A sound plan. Let's see how well these Pindari cowards fight when they're the ones being hunted."
With the plan in motion, the warriors split into their respective groups. Bahubali led his men along the western flank, moving swiftly through the dense undergrowth, while Virendra approached from the east. The element of surprise was their only advantage, and they had to make it count.
As they advanced, Bahubali glanced back at his men. "Stay low and move quietly. Wait for my signal before engaging." His warriors nodded in silent understanding.
Meanwhile, Devsena and her archers had taken position. She pulled out three arrows from her quiver, fitting them to her bowstring. Bahubali had shown her earlier how to shoot multiple arrows at once, but now was the time to truly test the skill. She took a deep breath, steadying herself.
The Pindaris continued their rampage, unaware of the imminent attack. One of them—a burly man with a scar running down his cheek—lifted a torch to set another hut ablaze. Just as he was about to throw it, Devsena let loose her arrows. All three found their mark—one piercing his throat, the others striking his comrades beside him. The torch fell harmlessly to the ground as the man collapsed, dead before he hit the dirt.
The Pindaris shouted in alarm, turning toward the source of the attack. That was the signal.
Virendra and Bahubali launched their ambush, charging into the enemy ranks with fierce determination. Bahubali swung his sword with terrifying force, cleaving through the nearest raider's weapon and cutting him down in a single stroke. Another Pindari lunged at him from behind, but Bahubali spun around, catching the man's arm and twisting it until he heard the sickening crunch of bone snapping. With a swift kick, he sent the attacker sprawling into the dirt.
Virendra, meanwhile, fought with calculated precision. He moved like a shadow, weaving through the chaos with deadly efficiency. His blade flashed under the dimming sunlight, striking vital points with every thrust. He sidestepped a spear aimed at his chest, grabbed the attacker's wrist, and twisted, forcing the man to drop his weapon before delivering a swift, decisive slash to his throat.
From her vantage point, Devsena continued raining down arrows, each shot expertly placed. The Pindaris began to panic, their undisciplined nature causing them to break formation. Some turned to flee, only to be cut down by Virendra's forces. Others tried to fight back but found themselves outmatched against the combined might of Kunthala's warriors.
One particularly large raider charged toward Bahubali, wielding a massive club. Bahubali braced himself, but before he could strike, Devsena loosed an arrow that embedded itself deep in the attacker's shoulder. The man stumbled, giving Bahubali the opening he needed to finish him off.
The battle raged on, but the tide had turned. The Pindaris, once so sure of their victory, now found themselves on the losing end. With a final push, Virendra and Bahubali led their men into the heart of the enemy ranks, breaking them completely. The few survivors fled into the wilderness, leaving behind their dead and wounded.
As the dust settled, Virendra surveyed the aftermath. Their forces had sustained injuries, but the losses were minimal compared to the devastation they had prevented. The villagers emerged from their hiding places, their expressions filled with gratitude and relief.
Bahubali wiped the blood from his blade before turning to Virendra. "A hard-fought victory."
Virendra nodded. "But a necessary one. The Pindaris won't forget this."
Devsena approached, her bow still in hand. "Nor will we. You both fought well."
Kattappa stepped forward, his expression grim. "We should return to the capital and report to the king. This attack was more organized than the usual Pindari raids. Something bigger may be at play."
Virendra, watching the silent exchange, narrowed his eyes. He now understood Bahubali's true intentions, and while he respected the warrior, he was also wary. The stakes were higher than ever, and the days ahead would only bring more challenges.
Kunthala had proven its strength, but war was far from over.igger may be at play."
Virendra exhaled deeply. "Agreed. This isn't over."
As they prepared to depart, Bahubali cast one last glance at Devsena. She had proven herself a formidable warrior, and his admiration for her had only grown. But more than that, he knew now—he would fight for her heart, no matter what challenges lay ahead.
Virendra sat in the war chamber, the air heavy with the scent of burning oil lamps and parchment. Maps lay unfurled before him, detailed reports scattered across the table. Bahubali, Kattappa, Devsena, and the key military advisors of Kunthala stood around him, their expressions grim. The recent skirmish had been costly, but now it was clear—the Pindaris were not done.
"This was a mere probing attack," Virendra stated, his voice measured but firm. "They tested our defenses, gauged our response. And now, they will return with full force."
Bahubali crossed his arms, his brow furrowing. "How many are we expecting?"
"Our scouts estimate between five to eight thousand," Virendra replied. "More than double what we faced before. They will not make the same mistakes."
A murmur spread among the generals. While Kunthala's army was strong, such a battle would undoubtedly drain resources. Even victory would come at a cost.
"We are prepared," Virendra continued, gesturing to a detailed strategic map. "Our forces stand at fifteen thousand, but direct combat is not the key here. We must use our terrain, our artillery, and our wits."
Kattappa nodded. "Your cannons proved devastating against their initial force. Can they be used again?"
"Yes," Virendra confirmed. "We have a hundred cannons ready, and we will position them along the valley passes. The Pindaris rely on mobility, speed, and numbers. We will take that advantage away."
"But this will hurt our national power," one general interjected. "Using the cannons on such a large scale will deplete resources. Manufacturing more will take time."
Virendra exhaled. "That is true, but allowing the Pindaris to ravage our lands is not an option. If we let them plunder unchecked, we will lose far more than just cannons."
Devsena, who had remained silent until now, stepped forward. "We need a contingency plan. If the main force falters, we must have reserves. We cannot afford to be overconfident."
Virendra nodded. "I agree. We will station hidden reserves two miles from the battlefield. Should the battle take an unfavorable turn, they will flank the enemy."
Bahubali studied the map closely. "If we strike before they fully assemble, we could weaken them before the battle begins."
Virendra smirked. "Exactly. A preemptive strike on their supply lines will sow chaos. Bahubali, you and a selected force will infiltrate and cut off their provisions. Without food and water, they will be desperate."
Kattappa turned to Bahubali. "This is a dangerous mission. You'll be deep in enemy territory."
Bahubali's eyes gleamed with determination. "Then we must ensure we succeed."
The council deliberated further, finalizing formations and fallback strategies. When the meeting adjourned, the tension in the room had lifted slightly, replaced by the weight of duty.
As the night deepened, Virendra stood alone by the balcony, gazing at the stars. The coming battle would test not just Kunthala's might, but its resilience. If they succeeded, the Pindari threat could be eradicated. If they failed—
No, failure was not an option.
Kunthala would stand.
Sivagami Devi sat in her grand chamber, her hands resting on the elaborate armrests of her throne. The golden glow of the torches cast sharp shadows on her face, accentuating the controlled fury in her eyes. A courtier stood before her, bowing deeply, awaiting her response. He had just delivered the unexpected news—Kuntala had subtly but unmistakably refused her offer for Devsena's hand in marriage to her son.
She exhaled slowly, suppressing the storm of rage building within her. She had not anticipated this. Devsena, despite her strength and independent nature, should have seen reason. The proposal was not merely a union between two individuals; it was an offer from the Queen Mother of Mahishmati. It was an honor, one that no ruler in the region could afford to refuse. And yet, Kuntala had.
Her fingers tightened over the armrest. "Did they provide a reason?" she asked, her voice dangerously calm.
The courtier hesitated before answering. "They did not openly reject the proposal, Maharani. However, their response was carefully worded. They simply stated that the princess has not made a decision yet and that such a significant matter should not be rushed."
Sivagami scoffed. "A coward's way of refusing without offending."
Bijjaladeva, who had been listening silently, leaned forward, his usual smirk tugging at his lips. "Perhaps they overestimate their worth. Kuntala has grown bold in recent years. They have prospered, strengthened their army, and now they dare to slight Mahishmati." His voice was laced with disdain, but there was something else—amusement, as though he had foreseen this outcome and relished the opportunity it presented.
Bhallaladeva, standing near the window, folded his arms. "Mother, your word is law. If you declare the princess to be my bride, they must comply. Or… face the consequences."
Sivagami turned toward her son. His words echoed the very thoughts forming in her mind. She had made a promise to him, a mother's word sealed in the eyes of the gods. Bhallaladeva had long desired Devsena, and she had assured him that the princess would be his wife. A Kshatriya queen could not break a promise—her honor, and that of Mahishmati, was at stake.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of another messenger, who bowed deeply before speaking. "Maharani, urgent news from the southern borders. Pindari raiders have attacked Kuntala."
Silence filled the chamber. Then, Bijjaladeva let out a slow chuckle. "Well, well. Fate favors Mahishmati."
Sivagami's expression did not change, but her mind raced with possibilities. The Pindari were ruthless, a horde of brigands who thrived on chaos. Kuntala, despite its progress, was about to be tested. Their army was strong, but not invincible. If the Pindari weakened them significantly, then Kuntala's defenses would be compromised. And a weakened Kuntala meant an opportunity.
Bhallaladeva stepped forward. "We should wait and watch. Let them bleed against the Pindari. When the time is right, Mahishmati can act."
Sivagami considered this. A direct attack on Kuntala without cause could turn neighboring kingdoms against Mahishmati. But if they were already struggling, already desperate—then Mahishmati would not be seen as an aggressor, but as a force bringing order to a crumbling land.
A slow smile spread across her lips. "Let the Pindari do their worst. If Kuntala survives, they will be too weak to stand against us. And if they fall…" She let the thought hang in the air.
Bijjaladeva laughed. "Then Mahishmati will take what is left."
Sivagami looked at her son. "Bhallaladeva, prepare our forces. Quietly. We shall see how this unfolds, but if the time comes, I want Mahishmati ready to strike."
He bowed his head, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "As you command, Mother."
As the messengers left and the court dispersed, Sivagami sat back in her throne, her mind already calculating the next steps. Kuntala had rejected her offer, but they had also invited their own downfall. And when the dust settled, Devsena would still become Bhallaladeva's wife—either as a queen or as a captive.
One way or another, Mahishmati would not be denied.