Melting gold with its fusion to the sea of azure, Sun had chosen its path to land in the southward direction, finally ascending in the valley of mystical trees.

The dusty winds floating in the atmosphere made the enormity of the moment sink in displeasure for the warriors on the horses, their grip around the scabbard tightened with eyelashes flapping vertically to perceive a better vision.

The granules on the soil vibrated with the talons of stallions moving on them, in haste. The gash of wind waited to reveal it accompanies, the men on horses flapped their eyes, their hearts sinking in the emotion of being doomed. 

Before they could finally reach close to the grand chariot of the prince, their heads were chopped. The guards of the crown prince were dead.

The army of Indravati was scattered to troops of less than a hundred in different directions, the end with a terrible loss was all in the hearts of its soldiers.

Yashwardhan, the crown prince of Indravati, held his pupil's beneath the eyelashes with hands amalgamated. Trying his best to hide beneath his chariot, his lips muttered a prayer. The reins of his mind were captivated by anxiety, guiding him to continue with the solution of peace. He didn't wish to lose his life.

"Attack! Take the crown prince in the hold and the army will surrender." 

Indravati's crown prince could hear it all, his grasp tightened on the sheath of his sword, it was quite an attractive one decked with princely jewels. He stammered, he was born in the warrior class but not a warrior indeed. With his shoulders quivering in fear he eventually let his feet soles be firm on the wooden platform. 

He knew what he was supposed to do, his hands traveled down to the pouch tied to his waist. "Throwing one would be enough."

Unsheathing his sword, he plunged it into the air displaying his valour. But he was caught—

A jute rope had come in contact with his neck, pushing him on the soil with the cheek brushing against the finest granules of soil. He had started to bleed. Nonetheless, his ears had gotten numb with the crash on the floor he could hear the laughter of the soldiers. 

"What a pity on Indravati!" A soldier scoffed with a cough escaping his lips, brutal with his sarcasm. "The crown prince is too weak to lift a sword."  Pressing his sandal on the chest of Yashwardhan the soldier waited for the incoming of their army's crown prince for the final trial.

Yashwardhan struggled beneath the clutch, his limbs trying to whack the soldier over him but he was too fragile for that. Another punch to his teeth, and he was bleeding, blue in the lips. 

With the incoming footsteps, he heard the coming of his death. His eyes shut tight in fear of the inevitable. The other crown prince had arrived. His eyes remembered the face of his parents, the smile which they had on their faces before sending him to the war.

Had they only been aware of his love with just the sheathed swords, the decision might have been different. 

"Greetings prince Yashwardhan," 

The call made Yashwardhan flutter his eyelids. It was a man with golden armour and a dazzling silver blade of the sword in hand.

"Myself, Pradam, the crown prince of Raktaap." Pradam, kneeled closer to Yashwardhan with his sword adjusted over his neck. "I didn't know that mighty Indravati has a weak, crown prince." 

"War is not my game," Yashwardhan's chubby figure like a baby now laid beneath the clutch of Pradam. The wave of pain passed through his body, a dagger was pointed next to his neck, and a streak of blood traveled down his chest. 

With his hands on the temples of Yashwardhan, the crown prince of Raktap adjusted himself on the opponent's body finally gesturing for the soldiers to play the conch shell, informing the army about the loss of their leader.

Pradam came closer to Yashwardhan's name, making him feel his hot breath against the own skin, "I love the metallic smell of the blood, I practise cannibalism too. But boy you look good, I will keep your fingers in my collection." 

Yashwardhan bit his lower lip in pain, he didn't wish to shout and portray his misery to Pradam. He waited for a savior, he still had hope embedded in his heart.

Pradam was now on his heels and not on Yashwardhan's chest. 

"Oh boy, murmuring for death? Peaceful one?" 

"I am not dying today, even the sun is about to fade." 

"Really? I will kill you, today itself—"

Yashwardhan's eyes widened in horror with the tumbling down of Pradam's head to the floor. He was beheaded? But by whom? Changing the direction of his eyes Yashwardhan saw a man on his white horse, and a sword in hand. Even the soldiers around him were dead.

With front curls blowing in the direction of the wind and black orbs adjusted on the corpse of Pradam, the man dismounted his horse. His eyes spoke words of hatred for the opponent's crown prince.

"Sarsenapati¹," Yashwardhan breathed a sigh of relief, his eyes shut narrowed at the sight of blood scattered on the commander-in-chief's body. He seemed to be festooned in blood. 

Indresh, the commander-in-chief of Indravati had come to the aid of the crown prince.

"Are you fine, yuvraaj²?" Indresh forwarded his hand to Yashwardhan for being on his feet.

"I am all fine but wait—" Yashwardhan's eyes dilated at the scenic view of a soldier from Pradam's army trying to attack the duo from behind, "Sarsenapati, alert!" 

The tip of Indresh's ears shot up with the call of his sensory organs, he had sensed a presence behind his body, and unsheathing his sword was a reflex. Thrusting it against the wind in the direction behind, he felt to have hit the spot, here the lump of human meat. A smirk compressed his face, "Yuvraj, I had gotten the fragrance of your special fragrant bomb, and I was on time too." saying that he rotated the blood, making the attacker bleed in delicacy.

"Never attack Sarsenapati Indresh from behind," Yashwardhan, had perplexed emotion, disgust, and pride scattered on his face looking at Indresh plunge out his sword and the falling body of the soldier. 

Indresh's eyes seemed to be glowing with victory, but Yashwardhan was disgusted.

Whistling a tune, for the arrival of his horse in front. Indresh took off a white colored flag with the symbol of vajra³ on it, and settled on the horse's back, to be positioned as the mark of Indravati's victory. 

"Jai⁴ Indravati!" 

The commander-in-chief was happy about his success, muttering a prayer for the loss of blood and life on the opponent's side. Indresh blew air in his conch marking the victory. Though Yashwardhan considered him a bloodthirsty tyrant, Indresh needed to complete his responsibilities. If not him, then the next person would behead him, to live he must take a life. The first law of war.

With the blowing of the conch, there was a hue and cry. Everything seemed settled until a spear crossed the boundaries of closeness to Indresh's body, piercing his chest before he could react.

Glossary 

Jai: Hail 

Vajra: A weapon 

Yuvraja: Crown prince 

Sarsenapati: Commander-in-chief