Chapter 8: Gathering the Loyal

The sun had barely risen, casting a soft orange glow over the quiet village as they prepared to leave. The MC stood outside Ganpatrao's hut, his nerves tightly coiled, his eyes constantly scanning for any sign of Mughal soldiers. He felt the weight of the journey ahead, knowing they were far from safe. Every moment they stayed here, the risk of discovery increased.

Inside the hut, Sambhaji Raje sat with a calm that belied the gravity of their situation. His blind eyes, though damaged, seemed to see through the silence and into the future—an unknown future that the MC was trying to navigate.

"We'll leave as soon as the villagers begin their day," the MC said quietly, kneeling next to Sambhaji. "We'll blend in with them until we reach the outskirts. From there, we can head south toward the hills. The system shows some hiding places in that direction."

Sambhaji nodded, his face drawn but resolute. "The hills will provide us with some cover, but we need to find men loyal to the Maratha cause. We can't hide forever. Without an army, without true strength, the Mughals will crush us."

The MC knew he was right. Escaping Bahadurgad had been a victory, but it was a small one in the grand scheme of things. Aurangzeb still controlled vast swathes of India, and his Mughal forces were seemingly endless. Sambhaji had been presumed dead—news that would embolden the Mughals. If they were to turn the tide, they needed more than just a safe place to hide. They needed loyal commanders and soldiers who could fight for the throne.

But how could they find men they could trust? With Ganoji Shirke's betrayal, trust had become a fragile thing.

"There are a few commanders who remain loyal," Sambhaji said quietly, his voice breaking the silence. "Santaji Ghorpade and Dhanaji Jadhav. If they haven't been swayed by promises of gold or fear of Aurangzeb, they will stand with us."

The names rang familiar in the MC's mind, pulled from his memories of Maratha history. Santaji and Dhanaji—two of the greatest warriors in the Maratha army, known for their loyalty, their skill in battle, and their unwavering commitment to the Maratha cause. These were men who could turn the tide of war.

But finding them wouldn't be easy. The Maratha forces had scattered after Sambhaji's capture, and Aurangzeb's spies were everywhere. Any attempt to reach out to loyal commanders could easily be intercepted, putting their entire mission at risk.

"I've heard rumors," Ganpatrao said quietly, stepping into the room with a cautious glance toward the door. "Santaji and Dhanaji have been seen near Raigad Fort. They've been moving from place to place, avoiding the Mughal forces. If you're looking for them, that's where you should start."

Sambhaji's expression remained calm, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Raigad. It had been Shivaji Maharaj's stronghold, the heart of the Maratha Empire, and the place where Sambhaji had been crowned as the second Chhatrapati. If Santaji and Dhanaji were moving near Raigad, then it was more than just a hiding spot. It was a symbol. A symbol of defiance.

"We'll head toward Raigad, then," the MC said, standing up, a surge of determination filling him. "But we need to move carefully. If Aurangzeb has spies in the area, we can't afford to be seen."

Sambhaji rose slowly to his feet, his body still stiff and sore from the torture he had endured, but his will as unbreakable as ever. "We will be careful," he said. "But we must be bold, as well. If we show fear, the people will lose hope. And hope is the only weapon we have left."

The MC nodded, his respect for Sambhaji growing with each passing moment. This is a king, he thought. Even weakened, even blinded, he still leads.

As they prepared to leave, Ganpatrao handed the MC a small bundle—a few pieces of food and a worn cloth map of the surrounding area. "It's not much," he said apologetically, "but it will help you navigate the hills. Follow the old trader routes. They'll keep you hidden from Mughal patrols."

The MC took the bundle gratefully, nodding his thanks. "You've done more than enough, Ganpatrao. You've given us a chance."

Ganpatrao bowed his head slightly. "I do this for the memory of Shivaji Maharaj," he said quietly. "And for the hope that the Maratha throne will rise again."

With that, they left the small hut, blending into the early morning bustle of the village. Villagers moved about their daily routines, tending to animals and working the fields, seemingly unaware of the escape that had taken place right under their noses. The MC guided Sambhaji through the narrow dirt paths, his eyes constantly scanning the horizon for any sign of approaching soldiers.

They reached the edge of the village just as the sun rose higher into the sky, its light casting long shadows across the ground. The MC checked his system map—no red dots yet, but the Mughal search parties were likely expanding their range. Time was running out.

"We'll head for the hills," the MC said, glancing over his shoulder at Sambhaji. "From there, we can make our way toward Raigad."

Sambhaji nodded, his blind eyes staring straight ahead. "Raigad is the key," he said. "If Santaji and Dhanaji are there, we will gather our forces and strike back."

The path ahead was long and treacherous, but for the first time since his arrival in this world, the MC felt a flicker of hope. He had a plan. They had a plan. If they could reach Raigad, they could find the allies they needed. They could rebuild the Maratha forces, strike at the Mughals, and take back what had been stolen.

But it wouldn't be easy.

They trekked through the fields and into the rocky foothills, the path winding upward as the terrain became more rugged. The MC's muscles ached, and the weight of the responsibility he carried bore down on him like a physical burden. But he didn't complain. This was his mission now. His fight.

The forest grew denser as they climbed higher, the trees closing in around them, offering some protection from prying eyes. The further they went, the more isolated they became, and the more dangerous it felt. The MC kept a close watch on his system map, his senses heightened, every rustle of leaves making him flinch.

Hours passed, and they finally stopped to rest under the shade of a large tree. The air was cooler here, high in the hills, and the village was far behind them now. The danger, however, was still very real. The Mughals were relentless, and they wouldn't stop until they had found Sambhaji—or confirmed his death.

As they sat in silence, the MC's mind churned with possibilities. Raigad Fort. The heart of the Maratha Empire. It was a symbol of strength, but also a beacon for enemies. If they went there, they would need to be prepared for more than just a reunion with loyal commanders. They would need to be ready for war.

"How will we convince them to join us?" the MC asked, breaking the silence. "After everything that's happened, after the betrayal…"

Sambhaji's face remained calm, but there was an edge to his voice when he replied. "Loyalty runs deep in some men," he said. "Santaji and Dhanaji fought with my father. They know what is at stake. If they are truly loyal, they will stand with me."

The MC nodded, though a part of him still worried about the dangers ahead. Even loyal men can be swayed by fear, by promises of wealth and power.

"We'll find out soon enough," he said, more to himself than to Sambhaji. "But we need to stay hidden until we can make contact with them. If the Mughals find us before that, it's over."

Sambhaji grunted in agreement. "The Mughals think I am dead. Let us make sure they continue to believe that—until the time is right."

The MC couldn't help but smile at the king's resolve. This was no ordinary ruler. Sambhaji was a force of nature. And with men like Santaji and Dhanaji by their side, they might just have a chance.

As they rested in the shade, the MC checked his system map again. The journey ahead was long and filled with danger, but they had taken the first step. They had escaped Bahadurgad, and now, with hope flickering on the horizon, they would find the men who would fight for the Maratha throne.

The fight for the empire was far from over.