Section III: Battles
On Campaign, Province of Udaipur, January 1401 CE:
"We must go on the offensive!" shouted a bloody-nosed young man, dressed in what once may have been the finest of silks, but were now little more than tattered ribbons. "This hanging back and waiting for the enemy to come to us is--is--is simply unmanly!" A much older figure, sporting a recently acquired black eye, growled in return, "Going on the offensive would be suicide! There are no crops to plunder, and how else shall we get food for our elephants and horses?"
Ignored in the back of the impromptu strategy session/fistfight was Ranmal, standing helplessly next to Khumba. "My generals and warriors spend more time fighting each other than the enemy! We must go on the offensive, at least to ensure they don't all kill each other!"
"Sire," Khumba cautiously replied, "Bhagwant has a point. It will be very difficult to supply an offensive force right now, especially in the lowlands. We should hold back, at least until just after the monsoon season."
Ranmal stood, thinking--or perhaps simply dithering, Khumba thought, much of the time it seemed quite the same--for several minutes while shouts and the occasional slap of fist against man sounded in the background.
"Even so," he at last replied, "my nobles thirst for battle and war, and denying them could be--dangerous. I shall keep control of my half of the army, to defend the homeland, while those nobles who cannot wait to fight may enlist in the other half, which will attack. That should satisfy both groups."
"Sire, an excellent plan!" responded Khumba, while inwardly considering:
Perhaps, perhaps. Seperating out the more aggressive nobles could be dangerous, to not only the king, but the kingdom. However, conquest is needed, and we have not gotten any thus far. On the whole, this will probably be successful...
"Come then!" Ranmal boomed, while a noble screamed in pain. "We must tell the nobility of our decision, after all."
Surrender Negotiations, Outskirts of Baroda, December 1401 CE:
"We cannot hold out any longer," confessed Mohammed Shah of Baroda as he was escorted into the tent. "We are out of food, water--our walls have fallen, our men deserting! We cannot hold. So, I will surrender to you, with only the condition that you do not plunder our city. We have suffered enough."
Ram Singh scowled as he listened to the desperate prince's plea for mercy. The troops were eager for plunder, and the nobles even more so. He himself had hoped to extract some wealth from the fallen city, and perhaps even find a few pretty young wenches. Still, though, just because you promised to do something doesn't mean you have to do it, and the fool would probably believe him if he agreed to this foolish condition.
"Agreed," he responded after a dignified-looking period of thought. "We will not plunder, I swear it."
"Then I shall have the gates open at noon tomorrow," replied Mohammed, eagerly.
Fool!
Center of Baroda, December 1401 CE:
"--And I accept your surrender in the name of Raja Ranmal. This city is now under the control of Rajputana." finished Ram. He turned and nodded to his second-in-command and the assembled troops. Instantly, they began to disperse into the streets in search of anything valuable, any food, and any women. A horrified grunt from over his shoulder caused him to turn around, to see Mohammed Shah standing there, stricken.
"I--I--I thought you agreed not to plunder!" cried Mohammed after a few seconds.
"Promises can be broken. Especially promises to heathens and invaders," Ram said, darkly, as members of his bodyguard closed in and seized the unfortunate prince. "He deserves to die for what he and his family and his religion have done! Run him through."
Instantly, he was stabbed by half a dozen swords, and collapsed on the ground. In the background, screams and shouts could be heard as the Rajputanan army gorged itself on the city.
Victory! exulted Ram in his mind. And because of me, not that dragging Ranmal!
and as i see you're going to modernise...
