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Chapter 33 - Chapter 33: The Aftermath

The sun had barely risen when Vidur Pant stood at the gates of Fort Panhala, watching the distant horizon where the Mughal army had retreated. The air was still thick with the scent of smoke and blood. Though the battle was over, the fort and its soldiers bore the heavy scars of war.

"Vidur!"

Narayanrao called from the courtyard, his voice calm but urgent.

Vidur turned to face him. Narayanrao's armor was smeared with dirt and blood, his expression grim. "The men are cleaning up the battlefield, tending to the wounded. But we need to talk about what comes next."

Vidur nodded. His mind hadn't stopped since the moment the last of the Mughal forces fled. He knew their retreat wasn't the end—it was only a pause, a brief reprieve before the storm returned.

"We held them off," Vidur said, his voice steady, though the weariness of the past few days weighed heavily on him. "But they'll be back, stronger than before."

Narayanrao wiped the sweat from his brow, nodding in agreement. "They'll regroup, Vidur. And we'll have to be ready."

Vidur looked at the broken walls of the fort. We need more than just readiness. We need a plan.

As Vidur and Narayanrao moved through the fort, they passed soldiers tending to the wounded. The sight of injured men, their faces drawn with pain, was a harsh reminder of the cost of victory. Vidur's jaw clenched as he saw a young soldier, no older than eighteen, lying on a stretcher, his leg bandaged tightly. His eyes were wide with shock, staring blankly at the sky.

"We lost too many," Narayanrao muttered as they walked. "More than we can afford."

Vidur's chest tightened. Too many lives. Too much bloodshed. He had expected losses, but it never got easier. Every man who fell was a reminder of the price they paid to keep the fort standing.

"We'll need to send word to Raigad," Vidur said quietly. "We need reinforcements. Supplies. If the Mughals return with a larger force, we won't hold them off again."

Narayanrao nodded, his face grim. "I'll handle it. We'll get more men—fresh soldiers. And I'll see to the repairs of the walls."

Vidur placed a hand on Narayanrao's shoulder. "Good. We'll need every bit of strength we can muster."

Later that afternoon, Vidur found himself walking through the inner courtyard, his thoughts clouded by the weight of what lay ahead. He turned a corner near the makeshift infirmary when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Vidur Pant!"

Vidur spun around, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword. A small group of men stood before him, their faces unfamiliar. Among them was one of the Mughal prisoners they had captured during the previous raid. The man's face was bruised, his eyes sharp with a mixture of fear and defiance.

Narayanrao appeared behind Vidur, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the prisoners. "What is this?"

The prisoner, a tall man with a ragged beard, took a step forward. "We were left behind," he said, his voice hoarse but steady. "Aurangzeb left us to die."

Vidur's eyes narrowed. Left to die? The idea gnawed at him. If these prisoners were telling the truth, Aurangzeb had no plans for them to return to his army. But why?

"Speak," Vidur said coldly, stepping closer to the man. "Why would Aurangzeb abandon his own men?"

The prisoner's jaw clenched, and for a moment, Vidur thought he wouldn't answer. But then he spoke, his voice low and bitter. "We were the first wave. Disposable. He doesn't care how many of us die as long as he wins. He's planning something bigger, Vidur Pant. Much bigger."

Narayanrao crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. "What do you mean, 'something bigger'? What's he planning?"

The prisoner hesitated, his eyes flicking between Vidur and Narayanrao. "I don't know the details. But I heard talk—talk of reinforcements, weapons, and a march. He wants to crush the Maratha Empire once and for all."

Vidur's heart raced, though his face remained calm. A march? Could Aurangzeb really be preparing to move against all of us?

Narayanrao stepped forward, his voice firm. "If this is true, why should we trust you? What's stopping us from thinking you're leading us into a trap?"

The prisoner's eyes darkened. "I'm no fool, Maratha. If I go back to Aurangzeb, I'm dead. He's already written us off. I'm telling you this because it's the only chance I have left to survive."

Vidur studied the man closely. There was desperation in his eyes, but also something else—truth. If this man's telling the truth, Aurangzeb is coming for us with more than just soldiers.

As night fell, Vidur and Narayanrao met with Santaji Ghorpade and the other commanders in the war room. The atmosphere was tense, the air thick with the unspoken worry that hung over the fort like a dark cloud.

"We have a problem," Vidur began, his voice steady but firm. "The prisoner we captured says Aurangzeb is preparing for something bigger—an all-out march against the Maratha Empire. If he's telling the truth, we don't have much time."

Santaji frowned, crossing his arms. "A march? That would mean more than just retaking this fort. He's aiming for Raigad."

Narayanrao nodded, his face grim. "If he wants Raigad, we're just the first in his path. This was just a test."

Vidur's hand gripped the edge of the table. "We can't wait for them to strike first. If Aurangzeb is preparing a march, we need to be ready. Fort Panhala can't fall. It's the key to defending Raigad."

The room fell silent, each man weighed down by the gravity of the situation. They had barely survived this last attack, and now a larger threat loomed on the horizon.

Santaji broke the silence, his voice low. "We need to send word to Raigad immediately. The Chhatrapati must be warned."

Vidur nodded. "I'll write the message myself. But we need to act fast. If Aurangzeb is on the move, we have little time."

The war room dispersed, and Vidur found himself back atop the fort's ramparts, staring out into the dark night. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale glow over the landscape. The fort below was quieter now, the soldiers resting after the battle, but Vidur knew there was no rest for him.

He could feel the tension in the air, the sense that something far worse was coming. Aurangzeb won't stop. He won't let us breathe.

Narayanrao approached, his steps slow and careful. "Vidur, you should get some rest."

Vidur shook his head, his eyes still fixed on the horizon. "I can't. Not with what's coming."

Narayanrao stood beside him, silent for a moment. "We'll face it, Vidur. Like we always do."

Vidur turned to him, his expression hard. "This time feels different, Narayanrao. Aurangzeb isn't just trying to take a fort. He's coming for everything."

Narayanrao nodded slowly. "Then we'll defend everything. Starting with this fort."

Vidur sighed, feeling the weight of his responsibility more than ever. "We have no choice."

They stood together, the fort silent around them, the winds of war stirring on the horizon.