27. Shifting tides

The air smelled of burnt wood and iron. The eastern pass, once a lifeline for noble caravans, now lay in silence, its rocky paths stained with blood. The last embers of the destroyed wagons flickered in the morning light as Harsh surveyed the battlefield.

Victory had come swiftly, but it would not go unnoticed. The nobles would respond, and when they did, they would come with force.

Yet, this was not a reckless move—it was a calculated step. Supplies were now in their hands, and more importantly, a message had been sent. The forgotten noble had returned, not as a powerless relic of the past, but as a force to be reckoned with.

But Harsh knew that strength alone would not be enough. The next battle would not be fought on the cliffs of the eastern pass but in the minds of those who watched from the shadows.

---

Harsh's forces gathered around the captured supplies, their faces lit with a mixture of triumph and hunger. Some had barely eaten in days, and now they had sacks of grain, dried meat, and even barrels of water.

Vira walked up, tossing a bloodied sword onto the pile. "We took a risk, but it paid off."

Harsh nodded, glancing at the crates of weapons. "This will keep us armed, but food is just as important. A hungry army is a weak one."

Surya crouched beside a broken chest, pulling out small cloth pouches. He poured the contents into his palm—silver coins, not much, but enough to buy loyalty where it was needed.

"This could be useful," Surya said.

Harsh took a pouch and weighed it in his hand. "Not yet. We hold on to it until we find the right way to spend it."

But the real treasure wasn't silver or weapons—it was information. Among the scattered belongings of the slain noble Rudra Sen, Harsh found a stack of letters, neatly folded and sealed. He broke one open and read:

"The southern estates are restless. Increased levies have drained them. If the burden continues, there may be discontent."

Harsh's lips curled into a smile. Discontent was a weapon sharper than any blade.

"We may have found our next move," he murmured.

---

The night after the ambush, Harsh sat in his tent, the noblewoman's letter spread before him.

"You move too boldly. Eyes are turning toward you. If you wish to survive, learn to strike from the shadows before the light finds you."

Her words lingered in his mind. She was warning him, not as an enemy but as someone who understood the danger he faced.

His thoughts were interrupted by Surya's entrance. "We need to talk."

Harsh gestured for him to sit.

"Our scouts report increased movement from the nobles," Surya said. "They're sending more patrols, tightening their grip. They haven't moved directly against us yet, but it's only a matter of time."

Harsh expected as much. He had declared himself an enemy of the existing order. They wouldn't let him grow unchecked.

"We need alliances," Surya continued. "Alone, we can raid caravans. But if we want to hold territory, we need support."

Harsh leaned forward, fingers steepled. "Then we find those who have grievances against the nobles. If the southern estates are suffering, they may be open to rebellion."

Surya smirked. "You want to turn their own people against them?"

Harsh met his gaze. "No. I want to give them a choice. Keep suffering under their masters, or join us in forging something new."

---

A week later, Harsh rode out with a small escort to the southern estates. The land was dry, the fields half-harvested, with peasants moving sluggishly under the weight of their labor.

He and his men dismounted at a village square, where a local leader—a grizzled man named Bhanu—waited with wary eyes.

"You don't look like a noble," Bhanu said.

Harsh smirked. "That's because I'm not one."

Bhanu frowned. "Then why are you here?"

Harsh reached into his pouch and tossed a silver coin into Bhanu's palm. "Because I know your people are suffering. Because I know you have no love for the ones who tax you into the dirt. And because I can offer you something better."

Bhanu studied the coin before looking up. "And what do you want in return?"

Harsh's voice was calm but firm. "Loyalty. A place in what comes next."

Bhanu exhaled, his gaze flickering to the men standing behind Harsh. "You want me to raise arms against the nobles?"

"I want you to survive," Harsh said. "And right now, survival means choosing a side before one is chosen for you."

The old man was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded.

---

That night, Harsh returned to camp, his mind whirling with plans.

The nobles would soon realize that he wasn't just a nuisance to be crushed—he was the beginning of something much larger.

But as he sat alone in his tent, a single question remained.

Was he ready for what came next?

Because once the war truly began, there would be no turning back.

---