** In Pakistan sultanate**

  As dawn broke, Afzal and his forces marched towards the outskirts of Lahore city. His formidable cavalry followed behind as their armor gleamed in the morning light.

  They moved through the fertile farmnds, with disciplined infantry trailing behind.

  The death of Abdulh Khan Azbak, the revered hero of their impending battle had cast a shadow over the troops. His lifeless body dressed in ceremonial attire was carried at the rear for a royal burial.

  Amid their mourning, a pressing concern lingered: the whereabouts of the main assaint were unknown, leaving uncertainty.

  As they moved through the roads heading towards the city, the quiet surrounding gave an errie feeling of danger ahead

  When Afzal and his men reached the outskirts of Lahore, the sight that greeted them was one of utter devastation. The once-bustling vilges y in ruins, their charred remains gave a stark reminder of the violence that ravaged the nds.

  The air was thick with the stench of death as vultures and crows circled overhead, feasting on the lifeless bodies of men, women, and children that hung from the trees like grim decorations.

  The sight was a chilling demonstration of the brutal realities faced by the common people, clearly indicating major forces acting behind the scenes that are now beyond their control.

  Entering the city gates, Afzal let out a sigh of relief at the sight of familiar cityscape. Despite the lingering unease, the presence of common civilians offered a small comfort amidst the surrounding chaos.

  Yet, the almost empty roads and wary gnces of the few brave enough to venture outside spoke volumes about the fear that still gripped the city.

  Noticing the tension, Shoeb Ali patted afzals shoulder with a reassuring voice. "Don't worry, Badshah. The Mughal soldiers are strong, and we will uncover the truth behind these horrors in time."

  At just thirteen years old, Afzal had never encountered such disturbing events. But he remained composed, nodding at Shoeb Ali’s words. With renewed determination, he followed his commander toward the ancient castle, seeking answers hidden within its formidable walls.

  As they reached the entrance of the inner fort, a low murmur of mourning filled the air, sending a chill down Afzal’s spine. Panic seized him. He quickened his pace, dread twisting his insides as dark clouds loomed overhead, their shadows deepening his anxiety.

  Inside the courtyard, a rge crowd had gathered. Afzal pushed through, his heart pounding. At the heart of the fortress, grief hung thick in the air. Bairam Khan, surrounded by military commanders, elite guards, and the royal hakim, oversaw a solemn funeral ceremony.

  At the center y the body of Afzal’s mother, the former empress, wrapped fully in white kafan.

  Afzal who wasn't able to see the face of the body couldn't help but feel an ominous foreboding settle over him as he observed the mournful assembly.

  Bairam Khan's weathered features were streaked with tears, Kneeling beside the funeral pyre, he mourned the loss of their beloved former empress, his mentations echoing through the somber air.

  Afzal, overcome with a mixture of bewilderment and dread, approached the scene with hesitant steps.

  "What is happening here?" Afzal's voice trembled with emotion as he addressed Bairam Khan, his wazir(prime minister).

  As Bairam Khan struggled to contain his emotions, his voice wavered with sorrow. "I have failed you as a wazir (prime minister), my badshah. We were unprepared, and your mother..." His words trailed off, choked by the weight of his grief.

  Tears welled in Afzal's eyes as he struggled to comprehend the enormity of his loss. "Ammi (mother)..." he whispered, the word catching in his throat.

  Bairam Khan rose slowly to his feet, his expression etched with sorrow. "The Bhargav Samrajya forces..," he continued, his voice heavy with regret. "They attacked when we least expected it. We were caught off guard, and... your mother was taken from us."

  Inwardly, Bairam Khan cursed , 'Had it not been for your foolish treaty, she might still be alive. You brought it to yourself brat.'

  Afzal, unaware of the turmoil raging within Bairam Khan, could only watch in silence as his mentor grappled with his anguish. The revetion of his mother's death had plunged him into a maelstrom of conflicting emotions, leaving him adrift in a sea of despair.

  Tears streamed down Afzal's face uncontrolbly as he knelt beside his mother's lifeless form, shrouded beneath a white kafan. His heart shattered into a million pieces as he cried out in anguish, unable to comprehend the cruel twist of fate that had snatched her away.

  "No, no, this can't be happening," he wailed, his voice trembling with sorrow and disbelief.

  "Why, Samrajya? Aditya promised me peace. Why my mother? She had nothing to do with this!"

  His cries echoed through the sombre air, a heart-breaking ment for the loss of his beloved mother. "No, Mother, you can't leave me," he pleaded, his hands clutching desperately at the fabric covering her still form.

  "Look at me, Ammi, your son has come. I have made peace as you taught me. Now you can't reward me like this. Look at me!"

  The guards, witnessing the young Badshah's agony, moved to restrain him gently, their hearts heavy with sympathy for his pain. Meanwhile, others solemnly carried his mother's body to its final resting pce, guided by the instructions of the royal hakim.

  Bairam Khan, his own fake grief etched deeply into his features, approached Afzal with a heavy heart. "Badshah-e-Pakistan, you must hold yourself together," he urged, his voice thick with emotion.

  "Your mother would want you to be strong. Let us bid her farewell with dignity and honour."

  Agony and fury intertwined within Afzal's heart, swirling like a turbulent storm in the depths of his being.

  "Why?" he cried out, his voice echoing with a mixture of sorrow and rage.

  "How could this tragedy befall us? What happened to our defenses? Where were our soldiers when our kingdom needed them the most?"

  Bairam Khan, his countenance heavy with remorse, bowed his head in shame, unable to muster the strength to look Badshah Afzal in the eye.

  "There are no excuses, Badshah," he confessed, his tone den with regret.

  "We grew compcent, blinded by false assurances of peace, and in our negligence, we have paid a heavy price. Many didn't like the fact that we gave those territories for peace and the internal hatred turned them to rebel who were amongst our trusted, one such was Mahmud khan, our city lord and in hatred they turned out like this.."

  Bairam Khan gave his own account, accusing Mahmud Khan and Ali Quli Khan of being traitors behind the attempt to seize control by killing his mother. He also spread lies about Hemu's newly formed Bhargav Samrajya being involved in the conspiracy. Bairam reiterated how he had warned that peace wouldn't come just by ceding territory, and his worst fears were came to happen.

  Most of all, he feigned guilt for being too short-sighted to believe everything would be resolved peacefully. He admitted he was just as guilty as the others for misjudging the situation.

  Afzal's anguish deepened as he grappled with the devastating reality of his mother's untimely demise. The weight of responsibility bore down upon him like an oppressive burden, threatening to crush his spirit beneath its heavy weight. he was just as guilty as the murderers if this is true.

  Around him, the atmosphere was heavy with grief, the mournful cries of those who had lost loved ones haunted his mind and spirit.

  Yet amid the prevailing despair, a flicker of uncertainty ignited within the young Badshah's heart. Recollections of Amira's radiant smile, the warm reception from the capital's popuce, and Aditya's parting words stirred within him.

  Yet, the sight of the turbaned leader among the rival forces, reminiscent of Jeetendar, sparked doubts about Samrajya's unity under Prince Aditya's hold. Despite the looming grief, he knew yielding to despair was not an option. He wondered if there could be other missing ploy but there is ck of evidence. Still the grief and anger of losing his mother and the reason he witnessed upon reaching there pursuaded his heart to believe it.

  As the sovereign of a realm enveloped in chaos, it was his solemn obligation to transcend his sorrow and guide his people through the encroaching darkness.

  With a heavy heart and a resolve tempered by adversity,young Badshah turned his gaze to the horizon only to visualise his mother's smile in the dark sky.

  He vowed to honor his mother's memory that he will not get astray and will take justice whoever is behind this.

  a flicker of determination ignited within Afzal's heart. "We will not rest until justice is served," he decred, his voice ringing with resolve.

  "The responsible faction of Samrajya forces will pay for what they have done. And my mother... she will be avenged."

  Bairam Khan furrowed his brow, his tone cautious as he addressed the young Badshah. "Isn't it clear that it's the forces of Samrajya (Hemu's forces) behind all of this? "

  The Badshah met Khan Baba's gaze with unwavering resolve. "I trust my friends and do put faith in Amira and Aditya. It's entirely possible that some of them took their chance without involving the leader just like the traitors who dared to go against my.." He chocked at the mention of his mother but gathered his composure.

  Just as you believe in your convictions, I believe in mine. I refuse to let my mother's teachings or her death be in vain."

  Impressed by the Badshah's unwavering determination, Bairam Khan sighed inwardly, acknowledging the innocence and idealism of his young sovereign.

  'If not for your treaty, perhaps we could have achieved peace,' he mused to himself. 'Oh, great son of my master, yet so naive.'

  Afzal, catching Khan Baba's gaze, responded with a steely resolve. "Don't worry, Khan Baba. If the empire comes midway of my revenge, then I will not hesitate to deal with the empire or even Aditya himself."

  At the mention of showing no mercy to Aditya, Bairam Khan felt a surge of joy. He bowed respectfully to Afzal, all the while thinking, "As, the seeds of corruption have been finally sown. Let the time nurture them, and the dream of Ghazwa -e -hind shall turn to reality (Invasion of India)."

  As they parted ways, a storm brewed on the horizon, mirroring the turmoil within their hearts. And as the st drops of rain began to fall, a sense of anticipation filled the air, signalling the beginning of a new chapter in the history of Mughals and the legacy of its people.