[date:-461|flashback,x]
After four full years of siege, Ayodhya fell.
More holes were made in the walls of Ayodhya; more sections became controlled by the invaders as defending them all became a war on too many fronts.
Pradyota of Ujjain, whose assistance had been requested by Ayodhya, found himself embroiled in a civil war against a rebellious Vidarbha. When the rebellion had finally been suppressed, the Magadhas put ruin to the roads from his country, stalling him.
The armies of Ayodhya continued to put a fierce resistance to Ajātaśatru even upon the breach of their walls – almost as if their goal was not victory itself, but merely to destroy as much of the Magadhi army as possible. As if they wished for the destruction of their own army, only so that it did not become Magadha’s when they were inevitably defeated.
“Your arrogance will be your downfall!” cried Dīrghachāryaṇa as he was tortured before the city’s central shrine.
“Arrogance, arrogance! – the three worlds chant without end: arrogance!” Ajātaśatru laughed heartily, “I’ve become a monster, and I love it! Why? Because I’ve become the greatest of them – all your tales, all your plays will be edited in due time to make arrogance the antagonist’s greatest weakness. All your villains will be moulded on me, and my personality, due to my wickedness. I love it!”
Ordinarily, Ajātaśatru would have dismissed Ayodhya’s actions as an irrational display of false bravery – but having experienced his enemy’s genius for himself, he could not quite help but consider that their actions were motivated by strategy: that the enemy lied beyond Ayodhya, and was seeking not merely to save Ayodhya, but something far greater.
A cold, calculating intellect much like his own.
He mouthed two syllables.
“Kr̥ṣṇa.”
