Empire of India: Rise of the Ruthless Prince

The bright sunlight of the summer settled in the region. The parching heat left dry leaves rustling and the sounds of cicadas reverberating. The soldiers were wiping the sweat off their foreheads, shifting with discomfort due to the intense heat.

Meanwhile, in the commander's camp, a heated discussion raged among the three commanders responsible for leading the Empire's forces in Gulbarga.

"How is the prince's condition right now?" asked Commander Venkata Reddy, a tall man in his late forties, his dark hair streaked with white. His clean-shaven face sported a prominent moustache.

"Not great!! He hasn't woken up for five days now. The prince is alive," answered Commander Hariharan nervously. His long, dark brown hair tied up in a messy bun, and the middle-aged man had dark circles under his eyes from sleepless days.

"At least he isn't dead!! Is it true that the prince saved you from that ambush, Brother Hari?" asked Commander Bhaskar Shetty, a young burly man with short dark hair. His eyes resembled emeralds, and his hands and face bore the scars of an experienced warrior.

"Yes! I have already told you more than once! The youngest prince killed more than 20 people singlehandedly and saved me!!" replied Hariharan anxiously, fidgeting in his seat.

"I still can't believe that the prince saved you! The youngest wasn't that talented like his half-brothers to pull a stunt like that. Don't you agree, Brother Venkata?"

"I have talked to the guards! It is true. His Highness Harsha beheaded the leader of the enemy ambush force and killed over 20 soldiers on his own," answered Venkata with a solemn look.

"But Hariharan, You should have been more careful knowing Adil Khan, He was bound to pull dirty tricks. Why didn't you put troops in the backline and how did you miss that he let your troops advance to make the ambush happen?" Venkata scolded Hariharan sternly.

Hariharan hung his head in shame, being reprimanded by his senior due to his miscalculation during the battle, which led to the loss of lives and almost resulted in a loss.

"Brother Venkata, there's no need to scold Brother Hari. He's already well aware of his mistakes on the battlefield," voiced Bhaskar, attempting to mediate the situation.

"What are our next orders? Are we joining the main force in Bidar?" Bhaskar eagerly asked a question to Venkata, who was the senior-most commander in the Gulbarga Base Camp.

"No, we will not be joining the main force. The main force is going to be led by His Majesty personally. He has ordered us to stay at Gulbarga till the battle ends in Bidar," declared Venkata Reddy.

"What about the Crown Prince?" mumbled Hariharan, looking dejected and tired.

"The Crown Prince was sent back to the Capital city after the victory at Bagyanagaram (Present day - Hyderabad)," clarified Venkata Reddy.

"Why would they send the youngest prince to battle? He's barely 17 and doesn't stand a chance for the throne compared to his older brothers," Bhaskar pondered aloud, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"He was sent because he requested it. His Highness insisted on proving himself on the battlefield despite his age and position in the line of succession," Venkata Reddy explained with a hint of admiration in his voice.

"After witnessing that battle, I'd argue the youngest prince poses the greatest chance for the throne, even more than the crown prince," Hariharan stammered, wincing as he clutched his wound in pain.

"Brother Hari, even if you're correct about his prowess in battle, the youngest prince lacks the noble backing and support from his maternal side. Strength alone doesn't secure the greatest chance for the throne," insisted Bhaskar, emphasizing the complexities of political influence.

It was well known that the youngest prince was quite detached from the Royal family and lacked backing from his maternal side after his mother had passed away four years ago. This meant that the prince didn't pose a threat to his brothers, who held immense political influence in the Empire.

"Hari, you should take some rest. You haven't had a break since the battle. Look at your face," sighed Venkata Reddy, rising from his seat.

Hariharan remained silent, his expression grim as he looked around. He had lost precious comrades due to his miscalculations, a burden he would carry for a long time.

A soldier suddenly barged into the tent with uneven breaths and a tense look on his face.

"What happened?" demanded Bhaskar of the young soldier, who was panting heavily as he had run to report.

Saluting the commanders, he announced, "The prince has woken up."

Taken aback by the news, the three commanders rose from their seats and quickly made their way to the prince's tent to check on his condition.

Just moments ago, a young man stirred from his deep slumber, emerging into consciousness after the battle. Sitting up on the large bed, he found himself half-naked, with bandages encircling his forehead and arms, permeating the air with the soothing scent of herbal medicine.

With slow movement, he began to stretch his aching muscles, running his fingers through his wavy hair to clear his vision and view of his surroundings.

"It looks like I slept for a long time. Is this the camp?" muttered the young man as he cracked his tired neck muscles, glancing around the large tent.

The tent contained a few chairs and chests scattered on the cold, hard mud floor. A faint scent of incense tingled his nose. There was no one else present in the tent, and his throat was dry from thirst.

Suddenly, a man entered the tent carrying some cutlery and a pot. He glanced at the prince in awe, as if he had seen a ghost, and yelled, "THE PRINCE IS AWAKE!"

Guards near the tent peeped inside through the curtains and quickly ran to report the situation to their superiors.

'Ah.. Finally, some human interaction! I need information about this world anyway,' he exclaimed internally.

The man who entered with the cutlery appeared to be the doctor who had been tending to his injuries. Clad in a dhoti and robe that covered his upper body, with a clean-shaven head, the man didn't speak much as he began applying the medicine to his wounds.

After neatly applying the medicine and giving him an herbal drink, the man was about to leave without a word when he asked the name of the man.

"Anyway, who are you??" He questioned the man in the dhoti curiously.

Taken aback by his question, the man in the dhoti looked surprised, but he quickly regained his composure and replied, "Your Highness, my name is Aditya, and I am the Royal Doctor's disciple serving as a medic. The Commander Hariharan put me in charge of tending to your wounds."

"Oh! Do ask the Commander to visit me and You may leave!" he commanded Aditya.

"Yes, Your Highness. The guards have gone to report to the commanders, so they will be here soon," recalled Aditya as he slightly bowed and left the tent.

He pondered over the information he had gathered on the battlefield. The enemies were definitely Muslim, indicating a timeframe after the 1100s. The body's innate ability allowed him to understand the language spoken, which was Kannada, leading him to conclude that it was in the south of India.

The boar insignia on the flag was widely used by the Vijayanagara Empire, which ruled the south from the late 1300s to the late 1600s, further supporting his deduction.

'So, this body belongs to the Prince of the Vijayanagara Empire, and the battle was probably against the Bahmani Sultanate,' he surmised.

Three men entered the tent, their tall figures and elegant posture exuding authority. Visible scars adorned their hands and faces, marking them as seasoned warriors. Judging by their demeanour, he concluded that these three held the highest positions in the camp.

They patiently stood before him, awaiting his words, while he inspected them closely in silence.

"Why don't you all take a seat?" he insisted, gesturing to the chairs scattered around the tent.

Stroking his chin in amusement, he watched as the three scrambled to take a seat before him.

"What are your names?" he continued, his tone calm and composed.

Perplexed and slightly caught off guard by the inquiry, the eldest person among them, Venkata Reddy, stepped forward and spoke with authority.

"Your Highness, I am Venkata Reddy, the Senior Commander of the Gulbarga Camp." He then gestured towards a young, burly man with short hair to his right and continued, "This is Commander Bhaskar." With a nod to his left, he indicated towards a middle-aged man with a messy hair bun and said, "And this is Commander Hariharan, Your Highness."

"What is my name and affiliation?" he pondered aloud.

The question raised the brows of Venkata Reddy, who puzzlingly asked, "Prince! Have you lost your memories?!"

"It seems so," he replied nonchalantly.

The commanders looked at each other in shock and solemnly answered his question, "Your Highness is the youngest prince of the Vijayanagara Empire, Harsha Deva Raya."

Author Notes

This is set in an alternate universe. So do expect new kingdoms and historical inaccuracies from the original timeline. I will be releasing a map for it soon. Thank you