Vedanta was running from the bulls as he jumped to hide in his chariot. The archers had killed a few of them, but the animals were in such a frenzy that they were difficult to target. Their hard skins were immune to swords as well as jabs from the lances.

And just when he saw the fiery bull attacks were beginning to lessen, there came another surprise. A volley of arrows rained down from the top. He was pulled inside instantaneously by the same illiterate soldier, as the arrows hit many of his men who were in the inner circle. He could see the Senapati’s body gutted by the attack.

He shouted orders, but no one listened. The arrows didn’t stop, so he closed his eyes, hiding inside the chariot, praying for himself whilst he could hear the decimation of his men as they cried out his name. Bodies were collapsing on the ground, the blood splashing around him. The scent of fire, smoke and brimstone engulfed him. The horrific tableau of violence around him reminded him of the wooden figurines of make-believe games from his childhood, when he would senselessly play God and wreak havoc all around. Today, he felt nauseous of the violence. And then the arrows were gone. Silence reigned where moments ago there were deafening sounds of destruction.

Vedanta moved from the chariot and made his way outside. He could see the bloodshed all around him, bodies piled over each other.

What kind of devil would do such a thing?

The commander from the inner circle appeared. “Your highness, what should we do? We have lost a huge number of men. We can’t even move now since…”

“I know, I know. Just hold on for now. And wait for them to make a move.”

“Yes, your highness.”

As he proceeded to climb back into the chariot, Vedanta noticed that his horse was almost unscathed in the attack. It was clever of his Senapati to have suggested armour for the beast.