The dimly lit chamber inside Raigad Fort was filled with the air of tension and purpose. Sambhaji Raje, though blind and exhausted from his ordeal, stood tall, a symbol of hope for those gathered around him. At his side were the MC, Santaji Ghorpade, and Dhanaji Jadhav—two of the most formidable commanders the Maratha Empire had ever known. The rebellion that had once seemed crushed was about to begin anew.
Sambhaji broke the silence first. His voice was calm, but it carried the weight of leadership. "Santaji, Dhanaji, you are both men I trust with my life. We face overwhelming odds, but we also have the advantage of surprise. The Mughals believe I am dead. That is our greatest weapon right now."
Santaji nodded, his sharp eyes scanning the room. "The men are scattered, but they are not lost. They wait for your command, Raje. They will fight for you as they fought for your father. We only need to call them."
Dhanaji crossed his arms, his expression serious. "We have to move quickly. If Aurangzeb learns that you are alive, he will send his forces straight to Raigad. We need to rally our men before that happens."
The MC, listening intently, felt the weight of the responsibility pressing down on him. He had come into this world, not as a warrior or a leader, but as someone caught in the middle of history. Now, he was standing beside some of the greatest leaders of the Maratha Empire, tasked with helping them reclaim what was rightfully theirs.
"We have to be careful," the MC said, his voice steady despite his growing nerves. "The Mughals are watching. If we gather too many men in one place, they'll notice. We need to rebuild quietly, one group at a time."
Santaji and Dhanaji exchanged a glance, then nodded in agreement.
"That's the only way," Dhanaji said, his voice low. "We can't afford open confrontation, not yet. We strike from the shadows, weaken their supply lines, and rally our forces."
Sambhaji, though blind, seemed to stare into the future, his mind already calculating the battles ahead. "My father built this empire from nothing," he said quietly. "We will do the same. Each victory will bring us closer to the day when the Marathas stand as one again."
The MC knew the truth of Sambhaji's words, but he also knew how difficult the path ahead would be. The Mughals were powerful, and Aurangzeb had an army that stretched across India. But they had one advantage: time. As long as Aurangzeb believed Sambhaji was dead, they had a chance to strike.
"We'll need to gather the men hiding in the hills," Santaji said, breaking the silence. "Many went into hiding after your capture, Raje, but they're waiting. They're waiting for a sign."
Sambhaji nodded. "Then send the word. Let them know their king is alive."
The sun had just begun to rise when the first scouts left Raigad. Narayanrao, along with a handful of trusted men, quietly slipped out of the fort, making their way toward the hills where loyal Maratha soldiers had hidden after Sambhaji's capture. These men were the foundation of their rebellion. They would be the first to join Sambhaji, but they couldn't risk moving too quickly.
The MC watched the scouts leave, a sense of urgency rising in his chest. This is just the beginning, he thought. Every step they took had to be calculated. If the Mughals got wind of Sambhaji's survival, they would come with their full might. And Raigad, though a strong fort, couldn't withstand an all-out siege—not without more men, more supplies, and more time.
Sambhaji stood beside him, listening to the faint sounds of the scouts disappearing into the forest. His face was calm, but there was a tension beneath the surface. "You are worried," Sambhaji said, though he couldn't see the MC's expression. "You think we're moving too fast."
The MC hesitated, not wanting to contradict the king. "I just think we have to be cautious," he said carefully. "The Mughals have spies everywhere. Ganoji Shirke's betrayal showed us that. We don't know who we can trust yet."
Sambhaji's face darkened at the mention of Shirke. "Trust is a rare commodity in times like these," he said quietly. "But I will not let fear of betrayal paralyze us. We must move forward. We must trust where we can, but we will verify their loyalty."
The MC nodded, understanding the weight of what Sambhaji was saying. They couldn't afford to hesitate, but they couldn't afford another betrayal either.
"We'll need to hit the Mughals where it hurts," the MC said, his mind racing through the possibilities. "If we disrupt their supply lines, it will weaken them. Aurangzeb's forces are vast, but they depend on supplies to keep moving."
Santaji and Dhanaji entered the room at that moment, their faces serious but determined. "The scouts have left," Santaji said. "We should have men joining us in the coming days."
Dhanaji crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. "But we can't just sit and wait. We need to start planning our first strike. We need to remind Aurangzeb that the Marathas are not finished."
Sambhaji nodded, his blind eyes fixed ahead as if he could see the battles unfolding before him. "We will strike soon. But we must strike smartly. We will bleed the Mughals dry before they realize what is happening."
The MC felt a surge of determination. Sambhaji wasn't just planning to survive. He was planning to win.
Three days passed before the first wave of soldiers began returning to Raigad. Small groups of loyal Marathas, those who had been hiding in the hills, trickled in under the cover of night. Their numbers were still small, but each new arrival brought hope. Sambhaji's army was beginning to rebuild.
As the men gathered in the fort's hidden chambers, Santaji, Dhanaji, and Narayanrao prepared for their first major strike against the Mughal forces. The plan was simple but risky: they would target a Mughal supply caravan traveling through a narrow pass to the east. It was lightly guarded, making it an easy target, but they had to act quickly and leave no trace.
"This will be our first message to Aurangzeb," Santaji said, his voice low but filled with resolve. "We will hit them hard and fast. By the time they realize what's happened, we'll be long gone."
The MC stood beside the other commanders, his heart pounding in his chest. This was his first real test. He had helped plan the raid, but now he would be in the thick of it. He wasn't a fighter, not like these men, but he had to prove himself. If they were going to trust him, he had to show them he could stand by their side.
"We'll split into three groups," Dhanaji said, his eyes scanning the men gathered before him. "One group will hit the front of the caravan, while the other two attack from the sides. No one survives. We leave no witnesses."
The MC nodded, taking a deep breath. "We need to make sure they don't know where we're hiding. If they trace the attack back to Raigad, we're finished."
Narayanrao clapped him on the back. "Don't worry. We know these hills better than they do. This is our land."
The night was cold and still as the small force made their way through the hills. The MC's heart raced as he crouched low behind a boulder, waiting for the signal to strike. The Mughal caravan, a line of ox-drawn carts filled with supplies, slowly made its way through the narrow pass. The guards, though armed, were few in number. They didn't expect trouble here. But they were wrong.
Narayanrao signaled to the men, and within moments, the first wave of arrows flew from the darkness, striking the guards before they even had a chance to draw their weapons. The Marathas moved swiftly, emerging from the shadows to overwhelm the caravan. The MC followed close behind, his hand gripping the dagger he had taken from a Mughal soldier days ago. He wasn't a skilled fighter, but adrenaline carried him forward.
The battle was brief but intense. The Mughal soldiers, caught off guard, were no match for the fierce and coordinated Maratha attack. Within minutes, the caravan lay in ruins, and the guards were either dead or fleeing into the night.
The MC stood in the aftermath, his body trembling from the rush of battle. Around him, the Maratha men moved quickly, gathering the stolen supplies. It was a small victory, but it was a victory nonetheless.
Santaji approached, a grin on his face. "Well done," he said, clapping the MC on the back. "This is only the beginning."
The MC nodded, still trying to calm his racing heart. This is real. This is war.
But as they quickly retreated into the hills, the MC couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to go wrong. The Mughals wouldn't take this attack lightly. And if there were spies among them,