NOVEL WEB Chapter 41: Indra's fall
The battlefield was cloaked in the golden hues of a setting sun, its light casting long shadows over the blood-soaked ground. Emperor Indra, astride his warhorse, observed the carnage with a grim expression. His mind was a storm of conflicting thoughts—surrender meant humiliation and the weakening of his son's rule, yet if he fell in battle, the Rashtrakuta Empire would be weakened but not broken.
His trusted general, Vallabha, rode up beside him. "Maharaj, we must decide now. The Suryavanshis press forward. Their superior weapons have shifted the tide."
Indra exhaled sharply, eyes scanning the battlefield. The bodies of his fallen warriors littered the ground, and though his forces had inflicted damage, the balance had tipped irreversibly in favor of the Suryavanshis. He turned to Vallabha. "Order our trusted men to retreat immediately. Inform our court about the enemy's weapons. They must be studied and countered."
Vallabha hesitated. He saw the resolute fire in Indra's eyes. "Maharaj..." he began, but Indra interrupted.
"I have made my decision. The empire will not fall today, not at the cost of my capture. But my life will not be bartered either. I will fight until my last breath. If I die, the Suryavanshis will pay in blood."
Understanding his emperor's resolve, Vallabha nodded and turned his horse. "May the gods guide your blade, Maharaj."
Indra faced the enemy lines, his warhorse restless beneath him. From the opposite side of the battlefield, Emperor Harishchandra, flanked by his commanders Vikramaditya and Vishvavarma, watched in silent acknowledgment of his adversary's courage.
A warrior stepped forward—Senapati Mahadev, Harishchandra's most loyal general. His sword gleamed under the sun's final rays. "Maharaj Indra," he called, his voice carrying over the din of the battlefield. "Your warriors flee, your empire falters. Surrender, and we shall negotiate with honor."
Indra's lips curled into a mirthless smile. "Honor? There is no honor in shackles, Mahadev. Let steel decide our fates."
With a mighty war cry, Indra charged, his sword flashing as he clashed with Mahadev. Their blades met in a symphony of steel, sparks flying with each strike. Indra fought with the desperation of a cornered tiger, his every move fueled by the knowledge that this was his final stand. Mahadev, though younger and armed with superior steel, found himself forced to defend against Indra's relentless blows.
The battle around them became a blur. Soldiers gave them space, knowing this duel was one of fate and legacy. Indra's sword cut deep into Mahadev's shoulder, but the warrior gritted his teeth and countered with a swift slice across Indra's ribs. Blood dripped onto the ground, yet the emperor fought on, his will unbroken.
With a final, decisive stroke, Mahadev's sword found its mark, piercing Indra's chest. The emperor gasped, his grip loosening as he swayed in the saddle. He looked up at the sky, the vastness of it stretching endlessly above him.
"Rashtrakuta will not fall," he whispered, before slipping from his horse, his body meeting the earth that had borne his empire's history.
Silence fell across the battlefield. Even the Suryavanshi soldiers paused, recognizing the weight of the moment. Vallabha, seeing his emperor's fate, clenched his fists but knew retreat was the only course. He raised his sword, then lowered it. "Lay down your weapons! We surrender."
As night blanketed the battlefield, the Suryavanshi war tent bustled with activity. Mahadev entered, saluting Emperor Harishchandra. "Maharaj, the tally of the dead and captured. We have lost 300 soldiers, 600 wounded. The Rashtrakutas have lost 8000, and 12,000 are captured. Indra fought bravely but fell."
Harishchandra sighed. "Had he surrendered, we could have taken a region in exchange for his freedom. Now, we press forward." He turned to his generals. "Collect all weapons, armor, and horses. The prisoners and wounded will march to Mandore. Ensure they are cared for but guarded well. Our soldiers will be rewarded for their valor."
He then addressed Vikramaditya and Vishvavarma. "In two days, we march on Ujjaini. The Rashtrakutas must decide—peace or war."
Meanwhile, in Mandore, the foundations of the new city were laid. Rudra and his team oversaw the construction, guiding laborers as they arranged stone and timber. The vision that had once existed only on paper was now taking shape. Roads were being mapped, walls erected, and the first structures of the Imperial centers designed. The scent of freshly cut wood and damp earth mixed with the shouts of workers, their hands shaping the destiny of a growing empire.
In the palace, Yuvraj Harsha sat with Mahadevi and Guru Vatsal, discussing the empire's future. "Education must not be restricted to the elite," Harsha said firmly. "Every city we build will have a school, breaking free from the exclusive gurukul system. A literate population is the backbone of an empire. We must make Sanskrit easier to understand and introduce Devanagari for common use."
Mahadevi nodded. "The old acharyas support this, but we will face resistance from some scholars. Change is not easy."
Harsha leaned forward. "Then we shall show them the benefits. I will write the some of the first books myself. Create a plan, and I will review it. This must be a movement that reaches every corner of the empire."
A royal guard entered. "Yuvraj, Lord Balaram requests your presence. The new cannon prototype is ready for demonstration."
Harsha stood, his mind already shifting to the next advancement. "Then let us see if this invention will change the face of war. We are shaping an empire that will stand the test of time."
As he stepped into the night, Mandore stood before him, its walls rising toward the heavens—a city of the future, built on the sacrifices of the past. The stars overhead bore witness to a new dawn of power, wisdom, and ambition.
End of Chapter.
to be continued ...