The fires from the battlefield had dwindled to embers, casting a faint glow across Fort Panhala. Vidur Pant stood near the broken gates, surveying the aftermath. The Mughals had been pushed back, and the fort remained under Maratha control. Yet, the air was heavy with uncertainty.
"Vidur," Narayanrao called out, his voice softer now as he approached.
Vidur turned slightly, his mind still replaying the day's battle. "Narayanrao."
"We've questioned the prisoners," Narayanrao began, his brow furrowed. "They're terrified, but one thing's clear—they weren't meant to survive. They were left behind on purpose."
Vidur's eyes narrowed. Left behind? He felt a chill crawl down his spine. "Aurangzeb knows something we don't."
Narayanrao nodded. "The boy said this was only the start. If Aurangzeb plans something bigger, we're walking blind into it."
Vidur didn't reply immediately, his gaze moving to the dark hills beyond the fort. Something bigger... His thoughts were clouded by the possibilities. "We can't wait to find out. We need to know what he's planning."
Narayanrao glanced at the sky. The stars were dim, veiled by smoke from the earlier battle. "What do you suggest?"
"Send scouts," Vidur said, his voice firm but low. "Follow the Mughal retreat. We need to know what they're up to, how much time we have."
As the night deepened, Vidur found himself standing on the ramparts again, the fort below him quiet except for the occasional sound of soldiers tending to the wounded. The cool breeze tugged at his cloak, but it did little to calm his restless mind.
The moonlight reflected off the stone walls, casting long shadows that seemed to dance in the darkness. The fort, though victorious, felt fragile. How long can we hold? Vidur wondered, staring out into the black expanse beyond the fort's walls. And what if Aurangzeb returns with more than just soldiers?
He gripped the stone railing, his knuckles whitening. His mind flashed back to the battle, the screams of men, the clash of swords. They had fought fiercely, but the Mughals' retreat didn't feel like a defeat—it felt like a pause, a prelude to something far worse.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind him. Vidur didn't turn, but he knew the presence immediately.
"Couldn't sleep?" Narayanrao asked, stepping up beside him.
Vidur shook his head slightly. "Too much on my mind."
Narayanrao leaned against the railing, his gaze following Vidur's toward the dark hills. "You think they'll come back soon?"
Vidur's jaw clenched. "It's not a question of if, but when."
Narayanrao was silent for a moment, then spoke quietly, "We've been through worse, Vidur. You've seen it with your own eyes. We'll survive this too."
Vidur exhaled slowly, watching his breath mist in the night air. Surviving is one thing. Winning is another.
The following morning, Vidur and Narayanrao gathered with the remaining commanders in the fort's central hall. The air was thick with tension as Santaji Ghorpade stepped forward, his face grim.
"The scouts have returned," Santaji began, his voice steady but grim. "Aurangzeb's forces haven't gone far. They're regrouping—just beyond the western hills."
Vidur's stomach tightened. So soon?
Santaji continued. "They've set up camp. From what the scouts gathered, they're preparing for a larger assault. More men are coming from the north."
The room fell into a heavy silence. Vidur's thoughts raced. They didn't retreat. They're reorganizing. We don't have the time I thought we did.
Narayanrao glanced at Vidur, waiting for his response. "What do we do?"
Vidur looked at the maps spread across the table, his finger tracing the western hills. "We can't wait for them to bring the fight to us. We need to strike first—while they're still gathering."
Santaji raised an eyebrow. "An offensive?"
Vidur nodded. "A night raid. Hit them before they're fully prepared."
Narayanrao grinned, the edge of excitement creeping into his voice. "Bold. I like it."
"Bold is all we have," Vidur muttered. "We need to keep them off balance."
Santaji looked thoughtful. "We'll need our best men. If they're gathering reinforcements, we'll have one chance to disrupt their plans."
Vidur's eyes hardened. "Get the men ready. We move before nightfall."
As the day wore on, the fort buzzed with quiet activity. Vidur moved through the ranks, ensuring that every man knew the plan. The mood was tense but focused—this wasn't a desperate gamble, it was a calculated strike.
Narayanrao walked beside him, their footfalls the only sound echoing through the stone corridors. "You're sure about this?"
Vidur didn't hesitate. "It's the only way. If we wait for them to bring their full force to our gates, we won't stand a chance."
Narayanrao gave a slow nod, understanding Vidur's logic. "I'll make sure the men are ready."
Vidur paused, his eyes briefly scanning the fort's walls. "Narayanrao… we might not all come back from this."
Narayanrao grinned, though there was a hardness in his expression. "We fight because we must, Vidur. Whether we come back or not doesn't change that."
Vidur stared at him for a moment, then nodded, gripping his shoulder briefly before turning back toward the courtyard. We fight because we must.
As dusk fell, the sky turned a deep shade of purple, and the soldiers prepared for the night raid. Vidur stood with Narayanrao and Santaji at the edge of the courtyard, watching the men gather.
The cold night air was still, the silence almost deafening.
Narayanrao adjusted the strap on his armor. "It's almost time."
Vidur nodded, his expression unreadable. "Remember, we strike hard and fast. In and out before they can regroup."
Santaji smiled grimly. "We've done it before. We'll do it again."
Vidur's eyes flicked to the dark hills beyond the fort. This is it. We can't afford to fail.
As the last of the men gathered, Vidur took a deep breath, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. "Let's go."
The gates of Fort Panhala creaked open, and the Maratha soldiers moved silently into the night, their figures blending with the shadows. Vidur led the way, his mind clear and focused. They were heading straight for the heart of the Mughal camp.