The horizon over Veer Chauhan's western wall was a smear of gray and amber, sunlight forced through smoke like a reluctant witness. The south gate of Mehrawan had never felt so alive with tension: soldiers in serried ranks, horses stamping impatiently, banners flickering like warnings. Between the two cities, between loyalty and betrayal, lay the ledger, the forged letter, and a thousand decisions that could carve the fate of houses and heirs.