Bakshi Asimullah Khan stood at the edge of the forest clearing with his comrades in arms as his current commander Sohail initiated the hostage deal. His heart was heavy with regret as he scanned the Samrajya's forces, which appeared too weak. He could only see a bunch of crossbowmen and infantry soldiers with spears and shields.
The serene landscape, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, belied the tension as the villagers pulling carts from the other side of the delegation crossed paths and came to their side, standing near the captive villagers. His comrades valued him for his unwavering sense of duty and valor, traits that had earned him respect and honor among the ranks.
Because of these traits, he felt disgusted with what was going to happen next as he knew the plan beforehand. He dropped his head, recollecting his past moments before in the tent of the supreme commander.
"Your grace, please, let me pass from this daunting task. I don't want to lead the attack when the exchange is supposed to be peaceful. I am not afraid of fighting them if the time comes, but I am afraid of the judgment for this treachery."
Earlier, he had been given the opportunity to lead the attack on the peace delegation, should they appear weak, and to ensure that they secured the safe passage decree from the prince. But the duplicity of the strategy did not sit well with his morals. With a heavy heart, he had politely requested to let the opportunity pass.
"You are a fool, Asimullah," Ansari sneered, his eyes burning with contempt. "This is war, not a moral playground. You are demoted to Bakshi (similar rank to captain). Now leave."
Enraged by what he saw as insubordination, Ansari had demoted asimullah, relegating him to serve under his colleague, Faujdar Sohail, as his deputy. The humiliation was palpable.
At present, he wondered if things could have gone the other way if he had taken the leadership and reported it as per his suitings. As he was lost in his thoughts, suddenly a loud sound of thunder caught his attention.
'Bang!'
"My hand! My hand! Argh!..."
The commander shrieked as he got shot in his hand, wounded, his sword clattering to the ground. Within seconds, a sword pierced through Sohail's chest, blood spurting from the fatal wound. Sohail staggered before crumpling to the ground.
"They shot the commander! Our commander is killed!"
"Look over there, it's the musketeers behind the trees!"
Bakshi Asimullah's eyes widened in horror as he caught the words of his comrades. He turned to the shady areas of the trees from where the smoke appeared. Behind the trees, familiar figures in blue uniforms appeared with muskets having shining bayonets as the true nemesis they had faced just that morning.
"Shield wall formation! Now!" Bakshi Asimullah shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Protect the prisoners!"
His men hurried to form a shield wall, their shields interlocking to create a barrier against the incoming fire. Asimullah's mind raced. They were outnumbered and taken by surprise. The musketeers' shots rang out, the sound of gunfire echoing through the clearing. Some of his men fell, but the shield wall held.
The chaos reached a new level as the horses, spooked by the noise and the smell of blood, began to rear and pull at their tethers. Asimullah saw the animals straining against the ropes, their eyes wide with fear.
"Damn it, secure the horses! Keep them under control!" he barked, but it was too late.
A particularly loud musket shot sent the horses into a frenzy. They broke free, galloping wildly through the clearing, knocking over soldiers and villagers alike. The Mughal soldiers tried to regain control, but the chaos was too great.
Amidst the turmoil, Asimullah saw some of the villagers who joined before unfurling the carts and pulling out weapons and shields. His heart sank as he realized they had been deceived. Those villagers, now armed, began attacking the unsuspecting Mughal soldiers, stabbing them in the back and slitting their throats.
"Fall back! Retreat to the forest!" Bakshi Asimullah ordered, trying to regain some semblance of control.
But retreating wasn't an option for many. Captain Raghav and his musketeers charged from their hiding spots, engaging in fierce melee combat with the Mughal soldiers. Whenever they found an opening, they fired their muskets, the shots echoing through the trees.
Joining the fray, the crossbowmen with their repeating crossbows unleashed a deadly barrage of bolts, adding to the confusion and carnage. The Mughal soldiers, caught between the musket fire and the relentless crossbow bolts, found themselves overwhelmed.
Those who tried to flee found themselves facing Captain Himanshu and his platoons, who were ready in line formation to shoot any who attempted to escape. The Mughal soldiers dropped their weapons and bowed down, hoping to surrender, but they were met with a relentless barrage of gunfire, wiping them out in a pincer attack.
Asimullah, heavily wounded and surrounded by the carnage, tried to retreat but was shot in the leg, collapsing to the ground. He watched in despair as his forces were decimated. His comrades, the sardars, lay dead or dying around him. Despair filled his heart as Colonel Nilesh approached with the sword held firm in his hand.
"You didn't plan to have a peaceful exchange from the beginning, did you?" Bakshi Asimullah asked with bitter resignation.
"It's nothing personal," Colonel Nilesh replied coldly.
The last thing Asimullah saw was the glint of Nilesh's sword before it came down, and his world turned upside down.
Few moments later
Aditya surveyed the aftermath of the battle with a heavy heart. The villagers, now freed, huddled together, eating the food provided by his men. Some of the villagers, injured in the crossfire, were being carried on makeshift stretchers to the camp for medical attention. The scene was a mix of relief and sorrow, the cost of victory evident in every weary face and bloodstained ground.
Aditya turned to Colonel Nilesh, who stood at attention nearby. "What is the casualty count?" he asked.
Nilesh's expression was somber. "Thirty-nine of our men died, sir, and fifty-six are injured, including some villagers."
Aditya nodded, appreciating the gravity of the situation. "Good job, Colonel. You better rest now. I will recommend some one to take your place for next phase."
Nilesh straightened up, a look of determination in his eyes. "Thank you, sir, but I am ready for duty."
A faint smile crossed Aditya's face. "Alright, get the rockets ready. Lead your men to set up the palisade wall."
"Yes, sir," Nilesh replied with a salute, then turned and marched off to fulfill his orders.
'These corpses... I should have made them dig their own graves beforehand.'
Aditya's gaze drifted over the battlefield, his thoughts troubled by the sight of the fallen enemy soldiers. His own men's bodies were being respectfully taken away, but dealing with the enemy corpses posed a logistical and moral dilemma, especially with another battle looming on the horizon. As he contemplated the best course of action, a familiar voice called out to him.
Pratap approached, his expression as serious as ever. Aditya braced himself, knowing his friend's sense of honor might lead to complicated requests. "Your Highness, the battle was swift and decisive. I regret not being able to join and witness your tactics."
Aditya sighed in relief, thinking, 'Of course, how can I forget he's a battle freak.'
But his relief was short-lived as Pratap continued, "Still, I don't understand why we didn't take any prisoners. We could gather more intel. And what about their burial?"
Aditya placed a reassuring hand on Pratap's shoulder, smiling convincingly. "Sometimes, we need to create examples. I won't argue with you on matters of ideals, as they can differ. But I assure you, you will see the charisma of my siege machines that I have promised you before ."
Pratap nodded, though his face reflected mixed emotions. He understood the logic but struggled with the harshness of the reality. "I trust your judgment, Aditya."
Aditya gave a firm nod. "Good. Now, let's ensure our defences are solid for the next confrontation."
As Pratap walked away to oversee preparations, Aditya took one last look at the battlefield. The corpses of the enemy soldiers lay where they had fallen as a brutal reminder of the costs of war. He steeled himself, knowing that every decision he made carried weighty consequences, and that leadership required not only strength but also the ability to bear those burdens.
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Author's notes:
Thank you wolfhunter5292 for donating 7 new GT tickets and the top daily voters of this month who are oritsu3kuro, Jai_maa_bhadrakali and Moose_Impact.
May the almighty lord watch over you all. (" Radhe Radhe!" 🙏🙏🙏)