ᴅɪʟ ᴋɪ ɴᴀʏɪ ᴅʜᴀᴅᴋᴀɴ

c h a p t e r 1

Soldiers of Rajputhana ransacked the Paudhagarh palace, seizing women and children as hostages. While Vikram, his face splattered with blood, took a moment to splash some water on his face before striding over to Abhay Verma's lifeless body and pulled out his favourite sword from the man's chest, wiping off its blade clean on his already stained garments.

As Vikram attended to his weapon, a group of his soldiers emerged from the palace grounds, forcibly escorting nearly fifty women. Amidst the commotion, one woman broke free from the group, darting towards the fallen body at Vikram's feet.

"Hey!" A soldier's voice rang out, trying to halt the woman's desperate sprint towards the corpse, but she paid no heed, dropping to her knees beside Abhay Verma's lifeless form, her expression a mix of disbelief and shock, as if struggling to accept his demise. Vikram observed silently as she pressed her palm against Abhay's chest, perhaps hoping against hope to feel a heartbeat, instead confirming his departure from the realm of the living.

"Maharaja Abhay Verma's wife. Ran- Rajkumari Parwati Verma" Vikram's trusted minister, Vaibhav, whispered into his ear, breaking the silence with a solemn revelation.

At the mention of her name, Parwati lifted her gaze, locking eyes with Vikram. Despite the chaos surrounding them, she exuded a serene beauty, adorned in a flowing light blue lehenga choli, her long braid resting on her right shoulder. Although exhaustion and shock etched lines on her features, not a single tear graced her eyes, even as she sat by her husband's side. Vikram's thoughts betrayed his disdain as he internally scoffed, reaffirming his mistrust of women—believing them to be nothing more than proficient in weaving deceit and spreading gossip.

"Keep her with the rest of them" Vikram commanded, then turned to mount his horse. Vaibhav signaled a soldier, who stepped forward and hoisted Parwati up, guiding her towards the assembled group. They were then ushered into empty carriages.

After assigning some of his men to remain in Paudhagarh, Vikram led the rest of the army, now including the women and children, on a two-day journey back to Rajputhana.

~✦✼✦✼✦~

As the majestic gates of the mighty Rajputhana palace swung open, Vikram, accompanied by six of his loyal men, rode in, arriving a day ahead of the rest of the army. The Rajputhana palace was like a fortress, surrounded by tall walls with stories carved into them. Towers rose high into the sky, with flags waving proudly in the breeze. And as the sun set, the palace glowed in warm light, and colorful gardens stretched out in front.

Dismounting from his horse with the grace of a seasoned warrior, Vikram entrusted his steed to a servant who promptly led it away to the stables. Entering the opulent palace, Vikram paused to pay his respects to his grandfather, the patriarch of their esteemed lineage. A brief exchange of pleasantries ensued, centered mainly around Vikram's triumphant victory and the ensuing congratulations bestowed upon him.

With formalities attended to, Vikram proceeded to his bathing chambers, passing through corridors adorned with flickering torches and ornate sculptures. Stripping away the armor and dust of battle, he immersed himself in the tranquil waters, attended to by servant girls whose delicate ministrations washed away the fatigue of both battle and the arduous journey on horseback.

As Vikram finished adorning himself in a traditional white and green dhoti kurta, a servant entered his chamber, beckoning him downstairs for an evening of dinner and entertainment.

With regal grace, Vikram descended the grand staircase, the flickering glow of torches illuminating his path through the opulent halls of the palace. As he approached the dining room, the guard stationed outside announced his arrival with reverence, declaring "Maharaja Vikram Singh Rathore!"