Empire Ascension: The Rise of the Fated One-Chapter 218: Battle of Kashmir Part -1

Kashmir border, Kohala Valley, afternoon of 21st April 1557

In the afternoon sun, a man in lamellar armor, holding a glaive, stood upon the wooden fortress wall atop the hill. His gaze fixed on the riverbank below as enemy soldiers emerged from the forest with saffron flags waving in the breeze.

This man was none other than Commander Rinchen, who was responsible for handling the defense of the Ladakhi position.

Rinchen scanned his defenses. The fortress was well-prepared, with fifteen outpost towers positioned to deter any approach. Five hundred archers lined the walls, ready to rain death on any who dared to scale the hillside.

Yet, his defenses had a glaring weakness. The newer cannons they awaited from Srinagar had yet to arrive. He had only ten Xinbai bronze cannons with a limited range of 450 meters, barely enough to cover the riverbank. These Chinese-made cannons were reliable but far from optimal for defending such a sprawling landscape.

Despite the situation, Rinchen had one advantage his 100 hand cannoneers equipped with short-range firepower, capable of dealing significant damage within 50-100 meters. The combined force of 2000 soldiers would have to hold until reinforcements arrived.

Below, the first wave of archers began loosing their arrows, but their effect was limited.

The advancing soldiers hunkered down, crossing the river’s edge with determination. Captain Yonten approached Rinchen, bowing in respect. "Commander, all units are ready. We await your orders."

Rinchen nodded and said, "We must stop the enemy from crossing the river; otherwise, it will be hard to defend our position."

Yonten suggested, "Sir, should we add 500 more archers to increase our numbers?"

Rinchen thought for a moment before relaying his orders. "Yes, do that. Also, deploy 60 hand cannoneers with them to bolster our firepower."

Yonten bowed again and hurried to relay the orders. The reinforcements descended, joining their comrades to form a formidable ranged front.

Now, over a thousand arrows arced through the sky, raining upon the advancing Bhargavian soldiers.

The riverbank turned into a blood-soaked graveyard as arrows and hand cannon blasts cut down the approaching soldiers.

Still, despite the carnage, the Bhargavians continued to press forward, some managing to cross the river and establish a stable foothold on the hill’s lower slopes.

Another captain standing beside Rinchen urged, "Commander, the enemy numbers are overwhelming. We cannot hold them back for long."

Rinchen’s gaze hardened. "Bring out the cannons. We’ll break their morale."

The captain hesitated. "But, Commander, exposing our artillery now..."

Rinchen silenced him with a steely look. the captain lowered his head, hurrying to fulfill the command.

Soon, the ten cannons were positioned toward the advancing enemy.

The first cannon roared with a bang, and so the others followed suit. Many enemy ranks got torn through by the descending iron ball.

Their little formation, which somehow got a foothold on the other side of the river, was blasted and devastated, which helped the defending archers and hand cannoneers to increase their intensity of projectiles on the enemy at the riverbank.

The crystal-clear water was painted by the blood of the fallen soldiers, but the enemies kept coming to the river like moths to the flames.

Then, with a sudden rumble, enemy cannons emerged from the forest. Rinchen’s eyes narrowed as he spotted the Bhargavian artillery, their range and firepower far superior to his own.

The enemy cannons opened fire, sending explosions ripping through the soldiers stood in defenses.

Forward Outpost towers crumbled under the onslaught, their wooden structures splintered, and soldiers stationed atop them were obliterated.

The cannonballs struck where Ladakhi soldiers had grouped, turning the battlefield into a storm of blood and shattered wood.

Only three outpost towers and the main wooden fortress walls remained intact.

With the enemy now close to crossing the river entirely, Commander Rinchen glanced at Captain Yonten who returned in urgency but face full of resolve. He relayed his orders, "Order full retreat and prepare our ranks for a final assault. It’s time we meet them blade to blade."

Captain Yonten nodded as excitement flashed his eyes. He saluted sharply and sprinted to carry out the command. The Ladakhi soldiers regrouped, readying themselves for the final showdown.

Meanwhile on the side of Bhargav samrjya,

Smoke curled into the air as the last cannon fired, its thunderous roar echoing across the valley. Sardar Bhola dashed toward Commander Phula Singh, urgency etched across his face. "Commander, the cannon is unable to reach the hilltop. The range is not sufficient due to the height!"

Phula Singh turned his gaze to the battlefield, observing the retreating Ladakhi forces as they fell back to their fortifications. Just beyond the wooden walls, they emerged en masse, glaives raised high, waving their weapons defiantly in the air as if issuing a challenge for hand-to-hand combat.

A smile spread across Phula Singh’s face, his confidence surging as he took stock of the situation. The enemy’s numbers had dwindled to about 2,000, while despite earlier losses, his own forces still had the upper hand.

"It’s time to teach these bastards a lesson they won’t forget," he declared, his voice steady and commanding. "We won’t need cannons to crush them. Bring me my khanda!(long sword)."

At his order, rafts were hastily laid out along the riverbank, and the soldiers of the Bhargav Samrajya crossed with determination. With a force of 2,600 men surging ahead, they rushed forward, their battle cries mingling with the sounds of the river..

As the remaining 1800 Ladakhi soldiers with glaives descended the hilltop, their fierce battle cries echoed through the valley.

With each determined stride, they bore down on the Bhargav soldiers, who braced themselves behind their shields while their talwars drawn out to counter. Both forces were hungry for each other’s blood.

The glaives, long and deadly, sliced through the air with precision, targeting gaps in the shield wall. Despite their initial advantage, the shield-wielding soldiers struggled to withstand the onslaught. They quickly found themselves outmaneuvered, as the heavy strikes of the glaives punctured their shields and tore ranks through them.

Yet, the Bhargavian soldiers fought back fiercely. They thrusted their talwars and spears into the fray, determined to turn the tide.

Too many strikes from different angles proved fatal for charging Ladakhis, and many were impaled by the sheer volume of thrusts that pierced through their armor.

The battlefield became a chaotic dance of death, with the ground soaked in blood as both sides battled relentlessly. However the situation was even matched as none was willing to back.

As the two forces collided in a fierce clash, the battlefield erupted into hotspots of combat, leaders facing off against each other.

Phula Singh pointed his sword toward his target as he spotted Commander Rinchen fighting just a few meters ahead, slaughtering Bhargavi soldiers in a relentless rage. With a sharp command, Phula’s soldiers parted, clearing a line of sight for their commander.

Bloodied but resolute, Rinchen gripped his glaive and rushed forward, launching himself into a downward arc. Phula Singh raised his sword, meeting the glaive’s blade with both hands, parrying it swiftly and twisting his weapon to target Rinchen’s leg. To Phula’s surprise, Rinchen blocked the strike with the butt of his glaive, then retaliated with a powerful punch to Phula’s face, sending him stumbling back a few meters.

Regaining his composure, Rinchen lunged forward, swinging his glaive in heavy arcs. Each strike aimed to cleave Phula in two, but Phula deftly deflected the blows with practiced ease, exploiting the gaps in Rinchen’s defenses.

With a swift sidestep, Phula evaded a potentially fatal blow to his shoulder and countered with a precise thrust aimed at Rinchen’s stomach. The glaive wielder intercepted the thrust, rotating his blade to deflect the strike, and their weapons locked in close combat.

Both warriors exchanged fierce gazes as if to devour each other and strained their muscles to overpower the other by pushing one another.

Rinchen grinned, driving his weapon down with brute force. The Phula Singh however, was no stranger to the dance of battle. He shifted his weight, using the strength of his opponent’s momentum to pivot, his sword slicing through the air in a fluid motion. A quick slash found its mark, grazing the Rinchen’s arm.

But Rinchen also retaliated, spinning around and delivering a wicked cut that sliced into the Phula singh’s left arm, drawing a grunt of pain.

Blood dripped onto the ground, but the Phula singhs’s momentum didnt stopped as he twist his sword mid air and bring back for second Strike at Rinchen’s neck.

In a swift, decisive move, he swinged his sword in deadly arc. Rinchen barely had time to react, but somehow he raised his glaive in defense but couldn’t make it as it was too late.

Phula’s blade sliced through the air, severing Rinchen’s head splitting out blood in the ground.

His body crumpled to the ground, lifeless, as Phula Singh stood victorious but exhausted as took the sword to support from fall. His soldiers boosted by the moral jumped on the enemy ladakhis who were clearly on the backfoot with loss of more solder and lack of leadership.

The Ladakhi soldiers’ morale faltered with the death of their commander. Many chose to fight till the end, but there were still a few who were unsure of handling the overnumbered enemy and chose to flee and descend.

Sardar Ashwin finally flured the flag on the captured enemy fort, his body bruised, battered, and exhausted, but he collapsed only after putting the flag, nailing the seal of victory. With this, the Bhargavians secured the victory over the small hill of Kashmir, which would become the pass to the valley of conquest in the future.