Chapter 102: The First Test of Spring
April 1835 – Peshawar Frontier
Spring had brought renewal to the valleys around Peshawar.
The rivers ran full and clear, the fields turned green, and the trade routes saw steady traffic once more. Peshawar itself felt alive — markets bustled, craftsmen repaired homes and mosques, and the call to prayer mixed with the sounds of daily life under Khalsa banners.
Nau Nihal Singh led a patrol of three hundred riders along the eastern road, personally checking the security of a vital caravan route. At thirteen, he had become a familiar and respected figure. His Mobile Division moved with quiet efficiency, a well-honed tool shaped by two years of frontier duty.
Jawahar rode on his right, scanning the ridgelines. "The last jihadist band we hit scattered without much fight. Many of them are starting to go home. The mullahs' fire is dying down."
Nau Nihal nodded, his young face thoughtful. "Good. But we stay vigilant. Dost Mohammad Khan is still in Kabul. He will not accept this defeat quietly. He is waiting for the right moment."
They stopped at a loyal village where locals had gathered to offer fresh water and bread. An elderly chief approached Nau Nihal with respect.
"Your riders protected our caravan last week," the chief said. "The jihadists demanded we join them. We refused. Because of you, we still have food for our families."
Nau Nihal dismounted and spoke directly with the man. "The Khalsa protects those who choose peace. Continue to trade and live honestly. We will keep the roads safe."
The chief bowed deeply. Word of such interactions spread quickly through the valleys, slowly eroding the jihadist recruitment.
Back at the main fort, Hari Singh Nalwa was waiting in the governor's residence.
The giant general greeted them with a broad smile. "You continue to do excellent work, young prince. While I hold Peshawar, you keep the hills quiet. Dost Mohammad's agents are losing influence. Many tribes are choosing trade over war."
Nau Nihal bowed respectfully. "The credit belongs to the Khalsa as a whole, General. Your defense of the city gave us the freedom to operate in the valleys. Together we have held the frontier."
Nalwa laughed deeply. "You are too modest. At thirteen years old, you have already helped secure two major provinces. Maharaja Ranjit Singh will hear of your continued success."
Later that evening, in the governor's residence, the three commanders reviewed the latest reports.
Gurbaaz spread several scrolls on the table. "The Raaz network confirms the jihadist momentum has largely collapsed. Many tribes are exhausted by years of conflict. They see that we protect those who submit and punish only those who attack. Trade is increasing steadily."
Nau Nihal studied the map. "Then we use this moment wisely. Strengthen the garrisons. Repair the roads. Win more hearts through fair governance. If we enter the next fighting season with strong local support, Dost Mohammad will find it much harder to rally a serious force."
Nalwa nodded. "Agreed. I will focus on fortifying Peshawar and the main pass. You continue your mobile operations in the valleys. Together we make this frontier unbreakable."
Jawahar grinned. "From the encirclements in Sindh to holding the northwest frontier… you've come a long way, young prince."
Nau Nihal allowed a small smile. "We all have."
As April progressed, the situation on the frontier continued to improve.
The jihadist raids had become rare and weak. Dost Mohammad Khan's agents still whispered in the hills, but their influence had waned significantly. Many tribes, exhausted by years of conflict, chose pragmatism over religious fervor.
One afternoon, while inspecting a newly repaired bridge, a group of village elders approached Nau Nihal.
"You are very young," the eldest said, studying him. "Yet you have brought stability where there was only war. We will support the Khalsa."
Nau Nihal met their gaze steadily. "Age is not the measure of a man. Actions are. Live in peace, and you will prosper. Raise arms against us, and you will face justice."
The elders left satisfied. Such interactions slowly built a foundation of loyalty that no amount of jihadist preaching could easily break.
That night, Nau Nihal stood on the highest tower of the fort with Jawahar, looking out over the city and the distant mountains.
"The real test is still coming," Nau Nihal said quietly. "Dost Mohammad Khan will not forget this loss. Tension at the Khyber Pass will remain. We must be ready."
Jawahar placed a hand on his shoulder. "And when it comes, the Shadow Blade will be waiting."
Nau Nihal touched the hilt of his sword, eyes calm but watchful.
The conquest of Peshawar was complete.
Now began the long work of keeping it.