The room was dimly lit, the flickering torchlight casting long, eerie shadows across the stone walls. For a moment, the MC stood frozen in front of Sambhaji Maharaj, his heart thudding heavily in his chest. The weight of history, the gravity of what he was about to do, pressed down on him.
He had read about this moment countless times, studied it as a detached fact from the pages of history books. But now, standing here, face-to-face with the man himself—Chhatrapati Sambhaji Raje, the warrior king of the Marathas—it felt unreal.
He knelt again before Sambhaji, his head bowing low in a gesture of deep respect. "Raje, I'm here to get you out of here," he whispered, the words trembling on his lips.
Sambhaji didn't respond at first. His face was bruised, his eyes blindfolded, and his wrists were bound tightly in iron chains. His breath came in slow, measured gasps, a testament to the immense pain he must have been enduring. Even like this—imprisoned, humiliated, and beaten—there was an unmistakable aura of strength about him.
"Who are you?" Sambhaji's voice was hoarse, but there was no mistaking the command in it. Even in captivity, he was still every bit the king he was meant to be.
The MC hesitated, unsure how to answer. Who am I? The question echoed in his mind. He wasn't a warrior, a soldier, or a hero from some ancient legend. He was just a man—a modern-day Maratha from a different time, someone who had been pulled into this era by a strange twist of fate.
"I'm… no one important," he finally said, his voice soft. "Just someone who couldn't bear to see you fall."
The silence that followed was heavy, as if the very air in the room had stilled. Sambhaji turned his head slightly toward the voice, his face a mask of quiet contemplation. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"And you believe you can save me?" Sambhaji asked, his tone measured, but there was a flicker of curiosity there.
The MC swallowed, his throat dry. Could he really save Sambhaji Raje? Could he change what history had written? He had no army, no grand strategy, just a stolen dagger and the meager resources his system provided him. But he had one thing that none of Sambhaji's enemies did: the knowledge of what was to come.
"I know this sounds strange, Raje, but I believe I can. I know what happens if I don't." His words came out more confident than he felt, but they seemed to catch Sambhaji's attention.
"And what is it you know?" Sambhaji asked, his voice sharp despite his weakened state.
The MC hesitated again. What could he tell him? He couldn't reveal the truth about where he came from, the time-travel, the system, the future. If he did, he risked confusing Sambhaji or making him suspicious. But he needed to earn the Raje's trust, and he needed to do it fast.
"I know about the betrayal," the MC said carefully. "I know about Ganoji Shirke."
At the mention of the name, Sambhaji's body tensed. Even though his eyes were covered, the anger and disbelief in his posture were palpable. "Ganoji Shirke?" he growled, his voice suddenly filled with bitterness. "What of him?"
"He was the one who informed Aurangzeb about your location," the MC explained, keeping his voice low. "He's been working against you. The promise made by Shivaji Maharaj—that he would return Shirke's land when his grandson was born—was never fulfilled. Shirke saw an opportunity for revenge, and he took it."
Sambhaji's breath came in sharp bursts now, his fists clenching despite the chains. "That snake… I should have dealt with him long ago."
The MC nodded, though he wasn't sure if Sambhaji could feel his presence so closely. This was it—his first real step toward gaining Sambhaji's trust.
"Raje, I don't have much time to explain everything," the MC continued, "but we need to move quickly. Aurangzeb has already declared you dead. He plans to execute you soon, and once that happens, the Maratha Empire will lose its heart. We can't let that happen."
Sambhaji remained silent for a long moment, processing the information. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm but firm. "Free me from these chains, and we will see what can be done."
The MC stood up quickly, his hands trembling slightly as he moved to inspect the iron shackles binding Sambhaji to the wall. The chains were thick, the iron heavy and cold to the touch. His mind raced. How am I supposed to break these?
He cursed under his breath, glancing around the room for anything he could use. There were no keys in sight, no tools, and the guards outside were still fast asleep, thanks to the sleeping powder he had used. His system's map showed no obvious solutions, but he didn't have time to waste.
The system's voice broke through his thoughts.
"Nearby resource detected: pick tool."
His eyes widened as the map highlighted a small, rusted tool in the corner of the room. He hadn't noticed it before—likely used by the guards for maintenance or torture—but now it was exactly what he needed. Rushing over, he grabbed the tool and returned to Sambhaji's side.
It took several agonizing minutes of working at the chains, the rusty pick slipping in his hands as he struggled to break the locks. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and his heart raced, knowing that time was running out. The sounds of the fort—faint as they were—kept him on edge, every distant noise making him jump.
Finally, with a sharp click, the first shackle fell away.
Sambhaji winced as the weight of the chain was lifted from his wrist, but he didn't say a word. The MC moved to the second shackle, his hands shaking as he worked the pick into the lock. This time, it went faster, and soon the second shackle fell free.
The chains clattered to the ground, and for a moment, the room was silent.
Sambhaji flexed his wrists, feeling the freedom after weeks of captivity. Slowly, he reached up and removed the blindfold, his eyes blinking against the dim light. When he finally opened them fully, the MC saw the damage—Sambhaji's eyes were bloodshot, bruised, and clouded with pain. The Mughal soldiers had blinded him during his imprisonment.
The sight of it—of this once-great king, now blinded and beaten—filled the MC with a deep sense of anger. This isn't how it should be. Sambhaji Raje doesn't deserve this.
Sambhaji turned his head toward the MC, though his gaze was unfocused. "You have freed me," he said quietly. "Now, we must escape."
The MC nodded, though a part of him still wasn't sure how they were going to manage it. He checked the system's map again. The two guards were still unconscious, but more soldiers would be patrolling soon. They had to move fast.
"There's a small gate to the east," the MC explained, helping Sambhaji to his feet. "It's unguarded, but we need to hurry before the soldiers change shifts."
Sambhaji grunted in acknowledgment, his body stiff and sore from weeks of confinement. Even in his weakened state, though, there was an undeniable strength to him—a quiet determination that seemed to fuel his every move.
With Sambhaji leaning heavily on his shoulder, the MC guided him toward the door. His heart pounded in his chest as they slipped past the unconscious guards and into the dark, narrow corridor. Every step felt like a risk, every sound like an alarm that could bring the full might of the Mughal forces down on them.
But they moved quickly, the system map guiding them through the labyrinthine halls of Bahadurgad.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached the small, rusted gate on the eastern side of the fort. The MC had already loosened the hinges earlier, and it swung open with little resistance.
The cool night air hit them like a breath of fresh life.
"We made it," the MC whispered, his voice trembling with relief. "Raje, we made it."
Sambhaji didn't respond immediately. He stood there for a moment, breathing in the night air, his face turned toward the sky as if savoring the taste of freedom. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, filled with a quiet but unshakable resolve.
"This is only the beginning," Sambhaji said softly. "Aurangzeb thinks I am dead. Let us make sure he continues to believe that."
The MC nodded, his heart swelling with a newfound sense of purpose. Sambhaji Raje was free, but the road ahead was still long and dangerous. They had escaped the fort, but they were not yet safe. The Mughal Empire was vast, and its reach was long.
As they disappeared into the shadows of the night, the MC couldn't help but think about what Sambhaji had said earlier. This is only the beginning.
And for the first time since he had arrived in this strange, brutal world