Empire Ascension: The Rise of the Fated One-Chapter 166: For our Kashmir
Kashmir kingdom, Srinagar, morning of 24th march 1557.
A lean but tall man, wrapped in a shawl, strolled through the bustling markets. The surrounding buildings, crafted from wood, often towered two to three stories high. As a key city along the Silk Route, the market buzzed with traders and travelers. The scene was a vibrant blend of Indian, Tibetan, and Persian influences. Streets were lined with clothes, dried fruits, and local vegetables.
People mostly wore loose-fitting, knee-length tunics called pherans, paired with matching pyjamas.
The mysterious man navigated the narrow, busy streets, pausing to pay an old vendor for a fresh apple. The vendor offered change, but the man’s firm gesture and knowing wink elicited a smile from the vendor. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮
Taking a crisp bite of the apple and savoring its sweetness, the man continued his stroll towards Dal Lake.
This Dal Lake was nestled amidst the icy tall mountains of Himalayas. It was a shimmering expanse of crystal-clear water over which its tranquil surface mirrors the snow-capped peaks and lush green gardens of the surrounding valley.
Long, slender boats with slightly curved hulls, known as shikaras, drifted lazily across the lake. Each shikara was often adorned with a colorful canopy, providing both shade and comfort to travelers and adding a vibrant touch to the lake’s surface.
Willow trees and blooming lotus flowers further enhanced the lake’s enchanting beauty.
The man approached a ghat for a ferry, where already a lone bald passenger, wrapped in a shawl, awaited. After paying the fare, the man boarded the boat, and they set off, gliding slowly toward the center of the lake.
The bald person stayed silent until the mysterious figure approached him first for a conversation in presence of boat owner.
"The weather is fine," the mysterious man began, "the birds have started their journey. It will be some time before they return."
The other person looked at the scene and replied, "Heavy clouds are forming in the south. It would be best if they returned a little earlier. And look at this pond, so crystal clear, ripe for fishing."
The mysterious man responded, "People have also reported a group of alligators moving in from the south. Once you cast a net, you might find yourself caught by their jaws. It’s better to wait and let them pass, as they’re usually just seasonal visitors."
The bald person, visibly concerned, said, "Such bad luck. There’s no peace in the water or on the land. I’ve heard that the number of stray dogs in the city has increased."
The mysterious man sighed and replied, "I know. That’s why it’s important to stay vigilant. Travel with care, and avoid their fangs. In the worst case, don’t run."
The bald man nodded and performed a namaste. The mysterious man mirrored the gesture, and they both returned to the ghats, parting ways.
Sensing someone following him, the mysterious man made his way to a nearby secluded hilltop known for its sarai, a local inn where travelers could enjoy meals in an open area.
Instead of stools or mats, small, clean stone platforms were embedded into the ground, allowing guests to sit and order dishes while taking in the surrounding scenery. The area was already bustling with locals.
He ordered a cup of kahwa, a traditional Kashmiri hot drink made from local leaves, saffron, cardamom, and almonds. Though similar to Chinese tea, kahwa was favored by Kashmiris for its unique flavor and warming properties.
Settling on a vacant stone platform, he sipped his drink and awaited his pursuers.
Soon, hundred soldiers clad in chainmail armor and swords marched in, dragging a prisoner. A palanquin followed, indicating the presence of high-ranking military official.
The soldiers surrounded the area, causing chaos unfold near the shop. Women and children were allowed to leave, while men were barred from fleeing and forced to stay. Many remained seated, intrigued by the unfolding events.
The palanquin door opened, and General Riaz Mirza emerged, stepping on the soldiers’ backs to descend before standing on the ground. He approached the prisoner, who was the same bald man from the lake, now stripped of his Tibetan shawl and visibly bruised. The prisoner, disguised as a monk, was revealed to be an undercover messenger from the Namgyal dynasty.
General Riaz Mirza dragged the prisoner by his robe and addressed the crowd, "General Tenzin or Prince Tsewang Namgyal, your undercover messenger has been captured and revealed all your secrets. You’d better come out yourself, or don’t complain later about us being rude."
He sheathed his sword, pressing it against the neck of the captured messenger.
Suddenly, two darts flew from the crowd, striking the messenger’s neck and causing him to collapse, gasping for breath before succumbing to his injuries.
The crowd parted to clear the way, and Prince Tsewang Namgyal, also known as General Tenzin in the region, emerged.
Unfurling his shawl to reveal his chain mail armor, he declared with contempt, "I instructed you to stand down, not to vomit in front of the loyalist dogs."
Sensing the unusual calm of the crowd, General Riaz Mirza allowed the onlookers to disperse. It soon became apparent that armed men disguised as civilians had quietly taken positions among them, surprising the Kashmiri soldiers.
The shop turned out to be a covert hideout for Ladakhi soldiers. Within moments, at least 60 of General Tenzin’s forces stood ready, their arms quickly distributed. Most of them wielded long spears with blades known as glaives, which were particularly deadly against sword users. A few soldiers climbed onto the shop’s roof, positioning themselves with bows to gain a better vantage point and provide cover.
General Tenzin threw a flurry of darts at the unsuspecting Kashmiri soldiers, the projectiles flew from the corners of his fist. While few missed their mark, most found their targets in the exposed necks of the enemy soldiers.
The dart aimed at General Riaz Mirza, however, was deflected by his sword.
General Riaz Mirza, amused by the situation, ordered his men, "Raise your shields!" The soldiers complied, forming a half-moon boundary around the shop, readying for combat.
He taunted, "It’s good, you’ve led us right to your base. Struggle all you want, but you won’t escape from our trap alive."
General Tenzin, drawing a glaive from one of his subordinates, chuckled, "Let’s see who is in trap." He commanded, "Prepare the way."
His aides positioned their glaives in front of him like a makeshift staircase, with some even bowing down for him to step on. General Tenzin leaped forward, ascending on their backs and blades, then launched himself into the air with all his might.
With a devastating arc, his glaive crashed down on the imposing Kashmiri shield wall. The iron shields, though sturdy, were no match for the sheer force of the crescent-shaped blade. The impact twisted the shields, shattering the formation as two men fell in a single strike.
Tenzin wielded his weapon with ruthless precision, each swing a deadly blur of his weapon as he hacked them with expert maneuver. His glaive smashed into shields with a bone-jarring force. The Kashmiri soldiers staggered back on each impact. Their faces were filled with fear and panic as their defenses crumbled.
With fluid movements, he weaved his polearm left and right, battering shields and breaking momentum, as he carved his way toward General Riaz.
He cleaved his way through the flesh of men shielded beneath their thick armor. The sound of metal clashing echoed on the battlefield, mingled with the cries of the wounded and dying. The ground grew slick with blood as Tenzin’s path of destruction widened, like a shark on a hunt in a school of fish.
The Ladakhi soldiers, driven by the sight of their prince, pressed their advantage. Their long polearms wreaked havoc against the Kashmiri swords, outmatching their shorter reach. With every thrust and swing, the Ladakhi forces tore through the faltering lines, their battle cries rising over the chaos as they overwhelmed their foes.
Bodies fell in heaps, heads flew and rolled across the dirt. Arrows rained down from above, striking true with lethal precision.
As the battle progressed, it was clear the Kashmiri soldiers were pushed onto the backfoot. Their unified and disciplined formation was completely thrown into disarray. General Riaz, horrified by the Ladakhi elites’ martial prowess, realized that these were no ordinary soldiers but elites of the elites, hidden in plain sight.
His armored troops, though well-equipped, stood no chance against this combined attack. Knowing there was only one way to turn the tide, he resolved to crush the head of this snakebody as he welcomed the approaching Tenzin, with his shield and sword poised.
General Tenzin, sensing the obstacles of enemies removed and a clear way to General Riaz, pressed forward and lunged with a downward strike, which Riaz barely blocked with his shield.
General Riaz blocked the strike but got a dent in his shield as he staggered back, his hand trembled with the sheer force. He threw the shield and took out another sword in hands and prepared for battle in duel wield .
Tenzin quickly followed with a horizontal slash, but Riaz stepped back just in time, narrowly avoiding the blade as it whistled past his torso. Without missing a beat, Tenzin twisted his arm, bringing his glaive around for a second sweeping strike. Riaz countered, his sword slashing against the arching polearm, and the two exchanged a flurry of blows.
In a sudden burst of energy, Riaz launched into a whirlwind of strikes, forcing Tenzin on the defensive. The general parried the furious attacks with his glaive’s sturdy shaft, but with each strike, the wood began to splinter under the relentless assault. Finally, with a resounding crack, the shaft of the glaive gave way, and Tenzin stumbled to the ground.
Riaz, sensing victory, raised his sword high above and roared, "FOR OUR KASHMIR!"
His blade began to descend, ready to claim Tenzin’s head but a lone arrow struck Riaz in the neck. He gasped for breath and dropped his sword as he clutched the arrow that pierced his throat.
Tenzin was grabbing the weakened strike with bare hand but sensing the opportunity, he thrust the broken glaive blade into Riaz’s torso, twisting it deep into his flesh.
Rising to his feet, he pushed the arrow further into Riaz’s neck, silencing the Kashmiri general for good. Leaning closer to his ear, Tenzin whispered, "Yes, for our Kashmir."
The soldiers nearby froze, stunned by the sudden turn of events. Some, driven by anger and loyalty, charged forward to avenge their fallen general, but they were no match for Tenzin’s martial prowess or the surging Ladakhi soldiers who cut them with sheer force.
Corpses littered the ground, as battle came to an end. Ladakhi’s stood victorious, wiping out all Kashmiri threats.
The shop owner, wielding a bow, approached Tenzin, who was holding the sword of fallen Kashmiri general. "Your Highness, orders?"
Digging the sword on ground, Tenzin wiped his bloody face and instructed, "Change the base and make it appear like a bandit attack. Send a message that we will sit quiet until reinforcements from Bhargav empire returns. No need to contact me beforehand, as things are going to get ugly soon."
The shop owner rushed out following orders, while Tenzin looked at the silent valley and muttered, "Kashmir, will be ours.."
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//A/N:
My heartfelt gratitude to Sellmonbhai22 for 4 new Gt tickets, Sagar_Sagar_2524 for 2 new Gt, PratikMonty for 1 new Gt and Saran_b_6171 for 1 new Gt tickets. Thanks for reading :)
Also, apologies for the last Chapter’s delayed release. I am traveling and had to publish in a hurry. I couldn’t correct all the mistakes before publishing and only managed to rectify them much later. I am well aware that some might get confused with the Bidar and Bijapur matter, so please refresh the Chapter, if you felt it confusing. It has been rectified along with other grammar mistakes.
