Empire Ascension: The Rise of the Fated One-Chapter 158: Raid of Dutch Supplies part - 1

Chitradurga Fort, Vijayanagar Empire, a few days back on 15th March 1557

The midday sun blazed fiercely over Chitradurga Fort, casting a relentless heat over the sprawling landscape of deep forestation.

A lone rider, clad in dusty leather armour, cut through the shadowy path leading to open fields. His leather pouch wrapped around his waist contained crucial message which flapped over each beat of horse hooves.

Sweat-soaked dhoti clung to his legs as he guided his horse along the rough, sun-baked path toward the fort.

As the rider neared the towering fortifications of Chitradurga, he reined in his horse with skilled expertise. The immense stone walls, fluttering with the banners of the Vijayanagara Empire, loomed imposingly against the bright, cloudless sky.

He produced a medallion from around his neck, holding it aloft for the gatekeepers. The medallion, bearing the empire’s insignia, gleamed with an authoritative shimmer, signifying the urgency of his mission.

The gatekeepers, clad in chain mail and leg guards, examined the medallion closely before nodding in acknowledgment. With a practiced motion, they swung open the heavy gates, revealing the bustling inner courtyard of the fort.

The rider spurred his horse forward as he entered the heart of Chitradurga.

Inside the fort the courtyard thrived with activity. The sounds of clanging metal and rhythmic thuds echoed from the practice fields, where soldiers honed their skills with disciplined sword drills.

Their blades sliced through the air with precision, while cavalry formations executed intricate maneuvers. The heat seemed to challenge their movements, which spoke of long hours of practice and coordination.

He crossed fields where soldiers relaxed, their armor set aside as they chatted or attended to their horses.

Upon reaching the stables, he dismounted swiftly, leading his horse through the rows of tethered steed. Without pausing, he sprinted through the stable’s exit and continued through the narrow corridors, guarded at regular intervals.

His breathing came in sharp bursts as he made his way through the fort, the weight of the medallion in his hand gave him a smooth passage. The guards stood firm but their eyes followed his hastened movements.

**********

Inside the Chamber of Somreshwar Dandanayak

Someshwar Dandanayak, the recently installed patriarch of Chitradurga, was deep in contemplation over a detailed map spread across his desk. This man was in his forties but retained the muscular build. He had succeeded his father in recent years and now faced the monumental task of upholding his family’s legacy within the Vijayanagara Empire.

The midday sun filtered through high windows, casting a warm glow on his finely crafted uniform. He wore a richly adorned turban with a gold band and a finely engraved cuirass of layered metal plates for armour.

Muralidhar Reddy and Ramakanth Nayakudu, seasoned warriors who had served under Someshwar’s father, stood nearby. Muralidhar, dressed in chainmail and a reinforced leather vest, and Ramakanth, in a similar combination with ceremonial touches, leaned over the map with curiosity.

Across from them stood Dewa Wayan, a civilian in kurta and dhoti, his nervousness evident in his face. A fisherman from Bali, Indonesia, Dewa had been forcibly conscripted into the Dutch navy and had travelled from Bali to India under duress. His injuries from a Maratha raid and subsequent capture had placed him in dire straits.

Someshwar leaned closer to the map, his furrowed brow reflecting his concentration. "So this is how the east looks," he mused aloud. His finger traced the coastline, finally resting on a marked area. "And where is your homeland?"

Dewa, his face etched with anxiety, replied, "It’z Bali, lord."

Someshwar nodded thoughtfully, turning to his commander, Muralidhar. "Doesn’t this location resemble Yavadwipa?"

Muralidhar, keenly aware of historical geography, confirmed, "Indeed, my lord. There’s also a legend about our ancestor, the Chola king, who ruled these lands with.."

Someshwar cut him off abruptly. "No need for a history lesson. Those are things of the past; we need to focus on the present."

He turned his attention back to Dewa. "So, these mlecchas (Dutch people) have taken control of your region and forced many of your people into their service?"

Dewa’s confusion was apparent as he stammered, "Ye..Yess, lord?"

Someshwar glanced at Muralidhar and instructed, "His Telugu is improving, but it’s not yet fluent. Ensure he becomes proficient in our language and prioritize his security. We need to uncover the root of this problem and address it at its source."

Just then, a loud announcement signaled the arrival of an urgent message. Someshwar signalled for the messenger to enter.

The messenger stepped forward, presenting the missive. "Maratha field commander Gangadhar Rao has sent this message with immediate urgency, my lord."

Someshwar took the missive, breaking the seal and unfurling the scroll. As he read its contents, his expression shifted to one of shock. He dismissed the messenger and instructed him to wait outside.

Turning back to his commanders, he revealed, "An outpost is being constructed in Shimoga Fort, and a massive supply of ammunition is scheduled to arrive in three days. Our sources estimate it around 200-300 escorts." His gaze hardened as he continued, "If they complete this outpost, our future raids will be done for."

The room fell silent as tension mounted. Ramakanth broke the quiet, suggesting, "Why not use the Maratha Guerrillas already stationed there? They’ve conducted numerous successful raids before. They could handle this one as well."

Someshwar shook his head. "No, they are best hidden in groups. If they gather, they can be exposed and might get wiped out. We need to send our own men to oversee the operation, but how can we manage this in just three days?"

Ramakanth offered a solution. "My lord, my cousin Muddappa Nayakudu is stationed at the Channagiri outpost. It would be best to send him with his unit while we dispatch reinforcements to take over his post. The Marathas can assist in their crossing and conceal their movements. It shouldn’t take them more than a quarter of a day."

Someshwar pondered this, then took a scroll, inscribed its contents, sealed it, and rolled it up. He handed it to a guard. "Send this to Gangadhar via pigeon post."

The guard accepted the scroll and hurried out of the chamber.

Turning to Ramakanth, Someshwar commanded, "You take 100 of our finest men and proceed to the outpost immediately. Present this token as my representative to assume command. Muddappa Nayakudu might already be on his way by the time you arrive."

Ramakanth looked puzzled. "My lord?"

Someshwar clarified, "I trust the Marathas. 50 is all they need as extra. Still, I am sending you with 100 to ensure the outpost is secured."

Ramakanth bowed respectfully and exited the room.

Someshwar faced Dewa. "Dewa, I understand your fear, but have faith in us. We will help you return to your homeland, but we need your cooperation. Do you understand?"

Dewa nodded, though his apprehension was clear in his eyes.

After receiving Someshwar’s nod of approval, Commander Muralidhar guided Dewa out of the room.

Someshwar returned to the map, his finger tracing the route from Bali to South India and then to the Dutch-occupied Indian territory . Frustrated, he slammed his fist on the table. "Mlecchas (dutch) one day, we will..."

Same night at the banks of Tungbhadra river

The riverbank was quiet except for the rustling of the wind and the occasional chirp of crickets. A camp of thirty Dutch soldiers, their tents set up in a neat row, lay near the river. Sentries patrolled the perimeter, their eyes scanning the darkening surroundings. They were unaware of the threat lurking in the shadows.

Suddenly, the night was pierced by the sound of faint whistling. Poison-tipped darts, fired from blowpipes, flew silently through the air. Each dart found its mark, striking the sentries. The soldiers fell with muffled cries as the poison took effect. Their faces contorted in disbelief as their bodies hit the ground with thud.

From the darkness, twenty Maratha warriors emerged. They moved swiftly with silent steps on the ground. They approached the unsuspecting tents and skillfully set the thatched coverings ablaze.

The flames spread quickly, illuminating the night with a fierce orange glow.

Panic erupted among the Dutch soldiers. Shouts of alarm and confusion filled the air as they rushed out of their burning tents. But they were met with a deadly hail of arrows from the Maratha archers, who had positioned themselves carefully around the camp. The arrows flew, hitting each Dutch soldier, and they fell one by one. Their cries of surprise turned to groans of agony as the archers were merciless.

In moments, the camp settled to a bloody scene of chaos and death. The remaining Dutch soldiers also got quickly overwhelmed. The area fell silent except for the crackling of the fire and the occasional groan of the dying.

With the short mission accomplished, Maratha Captain Simha Bachkar shot a fire arrow as a flare. The arrow soared through the night sky with its fiery tail trailing behind. It landed on the far side of the river, signaling the arrival of their allies.

On the opposite bank, a white flag appeared. Makeshift rafts, fashioned from logs and ropes, were readied and loaded with supplies. Fifty soldiers, armed and prepared, crossed the river, their faces set with determination.

As they reached the far side, a tall, muscular man jumped forward, clad from head to toe in polished chain mail armor.

He introduced himself with a commanding presence. "I am Field Commander Muddappa Nayakudu."He displayed his medallion, embossed with the emblem of his command.

The Maratha captain, standing in front of him, bowed respectfully. "Captain Simha Bachkar, at your service, my lord. We have received your message and everyone is ready. Here is the detailed plan of our arrangement."

Muddappa nodded, impressed by the thoroughness of the preparations. "The operation seems well planned. But what about the bodies of the Dutch soldiers?"

Simha replied, "The bodies will be burned along with the camp. The traces of our attack will be thrown into the river. However, their ambush might be discovered within four or five days."

Muddappa placed a reassuring hand on Simha’s shoulder. "Three days is all we need to complete our task."