Sharvas entered the chamber, his gaze sweeping over the warlords assembled before him—Raktapasu, Eknandini, and Kritipal.
"Looks like the other side is getting desperate," Sharvas remarked, a smirk playing on his lips. "With our increased tariffs and sanctions choking their resources, they will be forced into hasty decisions. That is exactly what we want."
He strode toward the central table, where a map of Prithvi Mandala was spread out, adorned with markings and troop placements.
"I want all of you to begin mobilising your resources and gathering your armies. If my calculations are correct, war is no longer a distant possibility—it is imminent."
Eknandini leaned forward, her fingers tracing a path along the map. "Parashar commands one of the largest forces. Dhanudanda is a brutal warrior. Savignya is a mystery, her allegiances unclear. And then there's Arya..." She paused, frowning. "A mere child, yet one who cannot be underestimated. That boy has a knack for defying logic—winning battles he had no business surviving. We will need reinforcements."
Kritipal nodded. "The numbers must be matched, if not exceeded. But if things go as planned, we will have allies of our own."
"We will let them come to us," Sharvas decided, his tone unwavering. "Meanwhile, we will tighten our grip on the cities. Their people must suffer before they can beg for a savior."
Before anyone could respond, a voice interrupted. "Greetings, my lords."
Sharvas turned, his expression unchanging as he recognized the man who entered.
"Ah, Kaushan. Come in."
Kaushan—one of the wealthiest and most influential merchants in Prithvi Mandala—stepped forward with a satisfied smirk. The same Kaushan whom Arya and the twins had robbed. The same Kaushan who had once placed a bounty on their heads. Fate, however, had been unkind to him. Before he could claim vengeance, his enemies had ascended to power, turning the tables on him. But now, the balance was shifting once again.
"My lords," Raktapasu said, gesturing towards Kaushan, "this man is one of the most respected merchants in all of Prithvi Mandala. And he has agreed to finance our war. With his wealth, we will be able to secure higher-quality weapons—far superior to the ones Upendra provided us. Moreover, we will reach out to warlords and merchants from distant regions to obtain advanced weaponry and siege machinery."
A murmur of approval spread through the warlords. If there was one thing they all understood, it was that war required money. And with Kaushan on their side, their coffers would be filled.
Eknandini arched an eyebrow. "And what is it that you want in return, Kaushan?"
Kaushan chuckled, a dark amusement flickering in his eyes. "I have always believed in rewarding loyalty. Lord Raktapasu has been generous to me in the past—I am simply repaying the favor."
A moment of silence followed, and then he added, "But I do have one request. When you finally capture those three bastards, I want to be there. I want to see them die."
Sharvas and the others exchanged knowing glances before nodding. Kaushan's vendetta was well understood.
Raktapasu leaned forward. "Sharvas, why don't you reach out to the state and the state head again? If they intervene, this war will be over before it even begins. With Kaushan's support, we have leverage."
Sharvas's expression darkened. "That door is shut. We are on our own."
A pause. Then, a cryptic addition: "But I am still waiting for a reply."
The warlords exchanged glances, uncertain of what he meant. Who was he waiting for? No one dared ask, but the thought lingered.
Pushing aside the uncertainty, they returned to planning. They discussed numbers, formations, supply routes, and the best ways to counter the enemy. The battle would come to them, and when it did, they had to be prepared to meet it head-on.
This war would fracture Yamsabha. The victors would determine its future, perhaps even reforge it with new leaders. More than just the warlords, entire cities would feel the ripples of what was to come. The economy, trade, and daily lives of the people—everything would change.
But there was no turning back now.
The warlords had set their pieces on the board. Now, it was only a matter of who would strike first.