The very next day, I laid forward the extension of our plan.
While the Kaala Naag members were having breakfast, they received an order: all the personnel are to be present on the caves within an hour.
The whole regiments moved fast.
Some of them carried their breakfast with them to the meeting.
I had allowed that since we continuously had emergency meetings to discuss the plans.
As the sepoys took their respective seats on the ground, their eyes were fixated on me.
I stood their in front of them, a cheerful smile spread across my face and personality full of happiness and positivity.
After all of them were seated I stepped forward, “I thank you, all my brothers.
You all helped me a lot in this crucial mission.
It was because of you all that we were able to successfully siege Patna.
But we should never get overconfident, for the higher the fruit is, the heavier it falls.
Now, we only have one more hurdle to pass.
If we can successfully control the northern stretch of waters between Fatuha and Bhagalpur area, then whole western part of Bengal province will come under the Alliance’s control and you all will be liberated from these “Firangi Devils”.
For cracking down the British supplies in Bihar and Jharkhand areas, I decided on the approach of diving the whole waterbody into three main corridors, Western Zone (from Fatuha to Patna), Central Zone (Fatuha to Bhagalpur zone) and finally the Eastern Zone ( from Bhagalpur to beyond the eastern areas).
I ordered the men to get ready with proper gears and weapons.
Every gun was cocked, every bullet was checked.
By the time the night fell, Kaala Nags had coiled, spread their hoods, mouth wide open displaying then deadly venomous fangs ready to strike the British artery.
In Bhagalpur a flotilla carrying goods from Patna, moved towards Kolkata.
The ships were filled with opium, saltpetre (a key ingredient of gunpowder) and expensive cotton as well as other textile products.
They moved nonstop through night and day.
As they were passing through the waters the slowly gales started blowing in, the sky grew dark again, the British officers on the ship immediately knew that the time was very bad for them to sail further.
The British commander tried navigating by compass, but as he looked at his compass, the needle was going round and round.
The compass was dead.
They also didn’t have any map of the river, plus the turbulent flow of water made it extremely hard to navigate.
While I opened a toolbox and erected two antennas, the signal jamming device was ready to use.
The British tried to reach out to the headquarters but could only hear the highly blurred speech.
The British officer giving up in front of weather, gave the command and the whole flotilla put down their anchor at the shore.
Soon the massive flotilla of British ships came to halt near the cost of a densely forested area and with a loud splash the ship was anchored to the coast.
After a small inspection of the area the British were confirmed that there were no enemies in the area, the British officers headed towards their cabin.
As the last officer was about to go inside, a member took deadly aim and shot a tranquiliser dart aimed at his neck.
The dart came flying from the forest and hit the officer.
Soon the officer fainted on the ground.
Many large ropes were anchored at the handrail, and a large number of stealth troops made their way on the ship deck.
they surrounded the cabins of the ships and all the soldiers were rendered unconscious.
They tracked every cabin of the officer, barged in and silently killed all of them, They used silenced pistols for the purpose.
They searched every cabin and collected whatever important item they could see; maps, valuables.
Their millitary supplies were also taken.
As soon as other officers came to check on him they were shot too that too from the special darts laced with cyanide.
Before they could do even comprehend anything, their bodies laid lifeless on the ground.
The sepoys panicked but before they could move, each of them felt a cold blade pressed against their throat.
“We don’t want to harm our Indian friends, please stay put and don’t try anything.” The soldiers complied and surrendered their weapons.
As we left, I handed one sixth of the produce from each ships to their respective guards and asked them to keep mum about the incident.
I told them to make stories about deadly poisonous insects flying nowadays in the rivers.
They complied and waved us good bye as they floated way in small lifeboats.
The looted British ships were then directed towards the storm area.
As soon as my men dove from the ship, the very next moment ship was wrecked by the lightning strikes and sank down deep in the sea.
While I was turning the Ganges into a graveyard of British ambition, Begum Hazrat Mahal was playing a game of “Himalayan Chess.”
A convoy rushed forward at full speed, but it was not an army of conquest; it was a procession of prestige.
Begum Hazrat Mahal sat within a palanquin of deep crimson, her eyes scanning the jagged peaks of Chamba through a slit in the silk.
Beside her sat Raja Sri Singh’s youngest son, a hostage of hospitality she had “invited” to join her from the previous valley.
She wasn’t here to burn Chamba; she was here to own its soul.
When the gates of the Akhand Chandi Palace swung open, the Begum stepped out into the biting mountain air.
She did not wear the armor of a soldier, but the heavy, gold-threaded robes of the Queen of Awadh.
She looked at the Raja’s assembled guard—men with ancient shields and muskets and she smiled with a pity that stung more than an insult.
The royal court was a freezing hall of stone and ego.
Raja Sri Singh sat on his throne, flanked by advisors who whispered of British power and the “Treaty of 1846.”
“Begum Sahiba,” the Raja began, his voice echoing.
“You bring horses from Bushahr and silks from the plains, but you also bring the wrath of the East India Company.
Chamba is a quiet kingdom.
Why should I trade my peace for your rebellion?”
The Begum took a measured step forward.
She didn’t bow.
She didn’t even acknowledge the advisors.
She looked at the Raja as if he were a confused child.
“Peace, Raja Sahib?” she asked, her voice a calm, dangerous melody.
“You do not have peace.
You have a stay of execution.
Do you truly believe that when the British finish draining the blood of Awadh and the riches of Bengal, they will leave your mountains as a sanctuary?
They do not see a kingdom here.
They see timber for their ships, ice for their gins, and sons for their cannons.”
She reached into a small, lacquered box held by her attendant and pulled out a 21st-century thermal tablet, its screen glowing with the heat signatures of the British camp sixty miles away in the plains.
“Look at this,” she commanded.
“This is the ‘eye’ of the Guardian; a man who has seen the future because he belongs to it.
While your scouts are squinting through the mist, he sees the very heartbeat of your enemies.
He has already silenced the Ganges.
I am here to offer you the same power.
But I do not offer it for free.”
The Shrewd Bargain
The Raja leaned in, the glow of the screen reflecting in his eyes.
“And the price?”
“A total merger,” the Begum stated, her wit flashing.
“The Jhansi Awadh Alliance does not accept ‘tributaries.’ We accept brothers.
Your mountain passes will become the ‘Northern Road of Fire’.
You will give us the high ground signaling stations, and in return, the Guardian will give you the medicine to keep your people from the fever and the rifles to keep them from the yoke. Enjoying the story? Read on at NovelPing.
But more importantly…”
She paused, her gaze turning cold as a glacier.
“I have already secured Kullu and Mandi.
If Chamba refuses, you will find yourself a lonely island in a sea of our making.
When the British come to ‘protect’ you from us, they will occupy your palace.
When we come to ‘liberate’ you from them, we will not be so diplomatic.
Choose, Raja Sahib; be a pillar of a free Hindustan, or a footnote in a British ledger.”
The silence in the hall was absolute.
The Begum watched the Raja’s advisors; she saw the greed for the technology and the fear of her conviction.
She had outplayed them before the meeting even started.
“Very well,” the Raja whispered, his pride breaking against her iron will.
“Chamba is yours.
The Alliance is complete.”
As the moon rose over the Pir Panjal, the Begum climbed to the highest balcony.
She pulled the radio from her belt the one you, the Guardian, had tuned for her.
Begum Hazrat Mahal: “Lotus…
Guardian…
the North has fallen into place.
Chamba didn’t just open its gates; it gave us its keys.
The Raja is convinced he is a visionary, but he is merely a passenger on our ship.
The Northern Shield is locked.”
Rani Lakshmi Bai (Signal from Jhansi)
“I hear you, Lioness.
Your tongue is sharper than any blade I carry.
The British Punjab wing is now shouting into a void; their messengers are being intercepted by Chamba scouts before they can even reach the foothills.
You have secured our back.”
The Guardian (Signal from the Ganges)
“Guardian, Begum the river is silent.
I’ve just finished the Bhagalpur siphon.
We have enough saltpetre to turn Jhansi into an erupting volcano if the British dare touch the walls.
Begum, your diplomacy just saved us ten thousand lives.
The East is severed.
The North is a wall.
We’re coming home.”
The Begum’s Final Words: Begum Hazrat Mahal looked toward the distant stars, imagining the soot on your face and the fire in the Rani’s eyes.
“Guardian,” she said softly, “you handle the storms and the gunpowder.
I will handle the kings and the cowards.
The trap is shut.
Let the British realize too late that they are fighting a future they cannot comprehend.
Lioness out.”