The year was 1563. Within the fortified perimeter of the Rudradev Khurda Company headquarters, the air was crisp with the arrival of the dry, cold winter. Prince Vikramaditya sat quietly beneath a shaded wooden pavilion, observing his army's final grand maneuver. The transformation was breathtaking. The five thousand low-born recruits had evolved into a silent, terrifyingly efficient machine. They shifted from expansive column marches into dense, interlocking firing lines with flawless, mechanical precision.
The industrial workshops had delivered the final components of their armament. While the majority of the infantry carried precision-engineered single-shot matchlocks fitted with ring bayonets, an elite vanguard company had been fully equipped with the prized four-shot rotating breech muskets. The repeating crossbowmen carried their lightweight, rapid-fire weapons, their magazines fully stocked with bolts dipped in a lethal, fast-acting neurotoxin extracted from regional vipers.
Vikramaditya knew the inherent environmental limitations of his current technology. "The greatest vulnerability of our matchlock muskets is a sudden downpour, which renders the exposed powder pans entirely useless," he murmured to Colonel Virendra, who stood at attention beside him. "This is precisely why I scheduled our march to Bhadrak during the absolute peak of the dry, freezing winter. Should any unexpected climate variation occur, our toxic repeating crossbows and disciplined pikemen will form an impenetrable secondary defense."
Suddenly, a loud cheer erupted from the edge of the training grounds. Mastersmith Hariharan arrived, leading two heavily reinforced, canvas-covered transport wagons. With immense pride, the master smith pulled back the heavy fabric, revealing the production models of the *Vajrastra* and the *Varshastra Rockets*.
Vikramaditya signaled for the immediate assembly of the newly formed Royal Artillery Company, a specialized unit of four hundred highly intelligent soldiers commanded by Captain Devendra. Under Hariharan's expert direction, the crews loaded the explosive propulsion arrows into the two hundred honeycomb chambers of the Vajrastra and simultaneouly mounted the iron-cased Varshastra rockets onto their heavy iron launch frames.
The target area consisted of hundreds of thick wooden dummies arrayed across an isolated valley half a kilometer away. "Fire!" Captain Devendra roared.
The world split open with a terrifying, continuous screeching roar. The sky was instantly crosshatched with hundreds of white smoke trails as the Vajrastra unleashed its rocket-tipped arrows in a catastrophic, synchronized volley. Next, the iron-cased Varshastra rockets were launched which streaked through the air, their stabilizing blades whistling with a terrifying pitch. The impact zone was obliterated in a series of violent, overlapping black-powder explosions. The shockwaves tore the heavy wooden targets into splinters, leavingthe artillery crews staring in absolute, reverent awe at the god-like power they now controlled.
Later that evening, inside his private office, Vikramaditya issued his final marching orders date to his core command council: Colonel Virendra, Mastersmith Hariharan, and Steward Bhimrao.
"We march for Bhadrak when winter is in full swing," Vikramaditya commanded, his voice cold and resolute. "Colonel, you shall lead 9 companies of our baseline musket infantry, crossbowmen, pikemen, and the entirety of our new artillery company. One single company of of seasoned musketeers will remain here under strict lockdown to guarantee the absolute security of this industrial complex against internal espionage. Hariharan and Bhimrao, you shall travel within the armored center of our column, bringing our core manufacturing tools and a vetted pool of smiths to establish our primary maritime industrial foundries within Bhadrak."
Shortly after the council dismissed, Director-General Suryasen materialized from the shadows, slippingan encrypted intelligence dispatch onto the prince's desk. "Your Highness, our deep-cover agent inside Count Durani's inner circle has confirmed the trap. Durani's ten thousand northern troops plan to seal your rear, the moment your vanguard crosses the Bhadrak border, while nine thousand Bengal Sultanate infantry will launch a devastating head-on assault from the ancient forests."
Vikramaditya looked at the map, a cold, brilliant smile cutting across his face. "They believe they have designed a flawless encirclement. They are operating under the archaic assumption that we fight with medieval levies. We shall deploy the strategy of interior lines: utilizing our superior mobility and rapid-fire artillery to completely annihilate the disconnected Bengal force first, before turning our full, undivided fury upon Durani's traitors. It is time for the iron harvest."