"The Recruit's Tale"

Eighteen months ago

My name is Balram. I lived in a small, quiet village near Indraprastha. Our family was modest—just my father, mother, my younger sister, and me. My sister's wedding was approaching, and with it came the heavy burden of preparing a dowry for the village chief's son. It wasn't a choice but a custom we couldn't escape.

I often heard stories about faraway places like Mathura or Mandore, but I'd never left the boundaries of our small village. My world was limited to the fields we tilled and the temple where we prayed for better days.

 'War', I knew, would change everything. Taxes would rise, we have to give more of our harvest as taxes. our harvests would dwindle under imperial levies, and men would be called upon to fight. Yet, on that fateful day, some men in heavy armor as recruiters arrived, not to take all the men but to handpick a few—and they were offering gold.

The entire village gathered around as the recruiters inspected each man carefully. My father and I waited, holding our breath. The promise of a gold coin for every recruit was a fortune to us—it would pay for my sister's dowry and save our family's honor. To my astonishment, I was the only one selected.

"You've been chosen," the recruiter told me with a firm nod. His words struck me with equal parts pride and dread.

My father's face lit up with pride as he took the gold coin I handed him. "You've saved our family, Balram," he said, his voice thick with emotion. Even the village chief, a man rarely impressed, patted my shoulder. "Perform well," he said. "Someday, you might even serve in the noble house guard."

Arrival at Mathura

The journey to Mathura was unlike anything I had ever imagined. Days passed as we traveled through towns and villages, each larger than the last. By the time we arrived near Mathura, the scale of the empire became real to me. Hundreds of young men, just like me, had gathered in a makeshift camp. The hum of activity surrounded us—men training, carts unloading supplies, and the air thick with the smell of cooking fires and damp earth.

On the second day, a commander stepped onto a wooden platform in the center of the camp. His presence demanded attention. He was tall, his armor polished to a gleam, and his voice carried authority.

"You have been chosen to form a new unit," he began, his gaze sweeping across us. "You will eat, train, and fight together. You will become the empire's strength, the shield that protects our borders. More recruits will join, but the first ones—those who stand here now—will form the foundation."

His words ignited a fire in all of us. For the next eighteen months, our lives became unrecognizable. We trained from dawn to dusk, sharpening our skills. Those with a steady hand and sharp eye became archers. Those skilled in riding were trained for the cavalry. The rest of us, myself included, became foot soldiers.

The Mission Begins

One morning, as we prepared for another grueling day of drills, the commander summoned us all. His expression was stern, and a hush fell over the camp as he began to speak.

"We've received intelligence," he announced. "A group of soldiers from Thanesar has bypassed Mathura's borders. They're moving toward the Rajputana kingdom. If we intercept them and eliminate the threat, the emperor himself will reward us."

A murmur spread through the crowd. The chance for glory—and the promise of a reward from the emperor—was all the motivation we needed. Within hours, we were marching. Scouts moved ahead, tracking the enemy's movements.

"They've secured a hilltop," one scout reported. "It gives them a vantage point for their archers."

The commander's face darkened. "Then we'll need to outmaneuver them. Stay alert."

The Encounter

The march was relentless. My legs ached, but the thought of victory—and the reward—kept me going. As we neared the hill, the tension among our ranks was palpable. Suddenly, a rider appeared in the distance, galloping toward us with the Sooryavanshi flag fluttering behind him.

"What does he want?" with the Royal Family's flag, I whispered to the soldier beside me.

The rider drew closer, his expression urgent. For a moment, hope flickered in my chest. Perhaps he carried a message that could avoid bloodshed. But the commander raised his hand, silencing any thoughts of diplomacy.

"Archers," he barked. "Take him down."

I froze, my eyes widening as an archer notched an arrow. Time seemed to slow as the bowstring stretched taut, the tip of the arrow gleaming in the sun. My heart pounded in my chest.

"Commander!" I called out, unsure if I should question his order, but his gaze silenced me.

The archer released the string. The arrow flew.

End of Chapter 

To be continued…