Chapter 106: British Demands
June 1835 – Lahore
The grand durbar hall of Lahore Fort was unusually tense that morning.
Maharaja Ranjit Singh sat upon his throne, his one good eye sharp despite his frail health. The court was assembled in full — Dogra faction on one side, Sandhawalia Sardars on the other, with Prince Kharak Singh seated to his father's right.
A British delegation had arrived.
The lead envoy, a stern East India Company official named Mr. Edward Thompson, stood before the throne with calculated politeness. Behind him, his aides carried documents and maps.
"Your Majesty," Thompson began smoothly, "the East India Company extends its warmest regards. However, we must address a matter of grave concern. The recent annexation of Sindh has caused significant instability in the region. British interests in the southern trade routes have been disrupted. We respectfully request that the Sikh Empire reconsider its control over Sindh and return it to local governance under British mediation."
A heavy silence fell over the court.
Ranjit Singh's expression remained calm, but his eye gleamed with cold calculation. He let the words hang in the air for a long moment before replying.
"Mediation?" the Maharaja said, his voice carrying quiet authority. "Sindh was conquered through the blood and courage of the Khalsa. It is now part of our empire. We do not surrender territory simply because a foreign company finds it inconvenient."
The Dogra faction murmured approval. Raja Dhian Singh Dogra nodded firmly, supporting a strong stance.
The Sandhawalia Sardars, however, exchanged uneasy glances. One of them, Sardar Attar Singh Sandhawalia, spoke up carefully. "Maharaja ji, perhaps negotiation could avoid unnecessary conflict with the British. We have only recently secured Peshawar. Opening another front may strain our resources."
Prince Kharak Singh leaned forward. "The British have no right to demand anything. Sindh is ours by right of conquest."
Ranjit Singh raised a hand, silencing the room. His gaze swept across the factions before settling on the British envoy.
"We have no desire for conflict with the Company," he said smoothly. "But we will not cede what we have won with the blood of our soldiers. Sindh is Khalsa territory. If the Company wishes to trade peacefully, we welcome it. If they wish to interfere in our internal affairs, they will find the Khalsa ready."
Thompson's face tightened, but he maintained his diplomatic tone. "We urge Your Majesty to reconsider. The Company has significant influence in India. It would be unfortunate if relations deteriorated."
The court erupted into low arguments as soon as the British delegation was escorted out.
The Dogra faction pushed for a firm rejection. The Sandhawalia Sardars warned of the risks of provoking the British. Prince Kharak Singh supported aggressive posturing, while older ministers urged caution.
Ranjit Singh listened to the heated debate with a faint, knowing smile. He let the factions argue for a while before raising his hand again.
"Enough," he said. "We will not cede Sindh. But we will not provoke open war either. Send a measured reply to the Company — we respect trade, but we will not surrender territory. Nau Nihal Singh's work in the south has secured our position. We will build upon that strength."
As the court session ended, Ranjit Singh motioned for Nau Nihal to stay behind.
When they were alone, the Maharaja spoke quietly. "You have done well in the south and on the frontier. Now you see the true battlefield — the one inside these walls. The Dogras and Sandhawalias circle like wolves. I still hold them in check, but my time grows short."
Nau Nihal bowed. "I will serve the Khalsa, Maharaja ji. Whatever is required."
Ranjit Singh's eye gleamed with approval. "Then stay close. Learn the game of court as well as you have learned war. The empire will need you in the days to come."
That evening, Nau Nihal stood on a balcony overlooking Lahore, Jawahar beside him.
"The British want Sindh back," Nau Nihal said quietly. "The court is divided on how to respond. The factions are using this to gain power."
Jawahar frowned. "We bled for Sindh. We won't give it up."
"No," Nau Nihal replied, his young voice firm. "We will not. But we must play this game carefully. The real war may not be on the battlefield — it may be right here in Lahore."
The Shadow Blade had returned to the heart of the empire.
And the battles here were just beginning.