Wiped Out

** Few days back, Punjab territory, Shivallik hills **

Abdul Hameed, King of Kashmir, woke from his slumber due to the noises of screams and the flickering glow of flames dancing in the night. Rushing out of his tent, he was met with a scene of chaos: tents ablaze, soldiers scrambling in panic, and the acrid smell of smoke filling the air.

Approaching him amidst the turmoil, his royal guard commander, Tousif Hussain, delivered the grim news. "Your Majesty, someone has infiltrated our camp and set fire to our supplies. Nearby tents have also been ignited, but thankfully, casualties among our escort troops are minimal."

Fury flared within Abdul Hameed as he demanded answers. "How could this happen? How lax was your security?" he thundered, his voice laced with frustration and disbelief.

Bowing his head in shame, the commander replied, "Forgive me, Your Majesty, but it appears to be the work of an insider."

As the king's anger subsided slightly, he surveyed the charred remnants of their supplies, his mind racing with possibilities. Positioned within the shadow of the Shivalik Mountains, there seemed to be no escape for their assailants. Yet, amidst the chaos, Abdul Hameed sensed impending danger, a premonition of an ambush looming on the horizon.

Gritting his teeth, he issued a command with steely resolve. "Listen carefully. We are being pursued from Delhi and are in imminent danger of ambush. We must evacuate these mountains immediately."

The shock registered on Royal Guard Commander Tousif's face was palpable as he processed the gravity of the situation. "An ambush, Your Majesty? Who would dare to attack within the territories of the Samrajya?" he questioned incredulously.

Exhaustion etched across King Abdul Hameed's features as he wearily responded, "It's not external threats, Commander. Our adversaries lurk within, those who oppose our stance."

The captain's expression darkened with grim understanding at the revelation. Before he could delve deeper into the matter, the king inquired urgently, "Is there a nearby fort, where we can seek refuge?"

Tousif swiftly replied, "Your Majesty, we are but a few kilometres away from the capital of Punjab, Chandi Mandir Fort(fort of Chandigarh)."

The king's eyes gleamed with a glimmer of hope as he seized the captain's shoulders, his voice filled with determination. "Excellent. Prepare the soldiers to march at once. We must vacate this place immediately."

Pausing momentarily, a plan forming in his mind, Abdul Hameed continued, "But first, dispatch a pigeon post to Delhi, informing them of the ambush. Another message must be sent to Punjab, notifying them of our journey to seek refuge at Chandi Fort. And send word to Kashmir for additional reinforcement. We cannot afford to proceed without proper preparation."

Acknowledging the king's directives with a nod of affirmation, Royal Guard Commander Tousif hastened to oversee the necessary arrangements, ensuring swift action in the face of impending danger.

As the delegation from Kashmir, led by King Abdul Hameed and his officials, made their arduous descent from the mountainous terrain of the Shivallik valleys, their progress was hindered by the lack of specialised cavalry within their ranks. Though they had horses, ponies, and donkeys for transportation and supply carriage, the absence of dedicated cavalry slowed their journey considerably.

Abdul Hameed, confident in his decision to alter their route to avoid potential enemy traps, urged his 2000-strong contingent onward without employing scouts to surveillance ahead. Unbeknownst to them, a grave threat awaited.

As they traversed the narrow valley nestled between two towering mountain ridges, a single gunshot shattered the air, followed by the thud of a soldier falling.

The entire army ground to a halt, their gaze drawn upwards to the higher ground where their unseen assailants lay in wait.

Without warning, arrows from crossbows whistled through the air, accompanied by the sharp reports of gunshots, raining down upon the unsuspecting soldiers below. Panic rippled through their ranks as they scrambled for cover, but the unforgiving terrain offered little refuge. Desperate, they raised shields in a futile attempt to ward off the deadly barrage, but the onslaught claimed half their number before finally relenting.

By sheer fortune, King Abdul Hameed was shielded from harm by the protective barrier formed by his loyal royal guards, narrowly escaping the devastating onslaught.

After the rain of projectiles ceased, a brief moment of respite washed over the weary soldiers. However, Tousif, the royal guard commander, wasted no time in rallying his troops.

"This isn't over," Tousif's authoritative voice pierced through the chaos. "Stick together. Stay in formation. Protect His Majesty."

With urgency, the soldiers quickly adjusted their positions, shields held high in defense, ready for whatever danger lay ahead.

King Abdul, his gaze determined, knew they couldn't afford to linger in the face of such danger. "We need to keep moving," he asserted, his words clear and resolute. "Staying here spells certain doom."

Recognizing the gravity of the situation, Tousif issued orders without hesitation. "Soldiers, advance!" he commanded, his voice resonating across the battlefield. "Maintain formation."

With their captain leading the charge, the soldiers pressed forward, their bodies fatigued from the relentless assault. As they moved ahead, a thick mist enveloped them, hindering their visibility and adding to the uncertainty.

In the eerie stillness, the distant sound of approaching hoofbeats and the piercing neighs of horses echoed through the mist, serving as a grim reminder of the impending danger they faced.

Tousif, his brow slick with sweat, grimaced as he identified the imminent threat.

"Cavalry incoming! Spears to the front!" he barked, his voice strained with urgency.

Emerging from the haze, the cavalry, their origin unknown, charged forth with lethal intent, ready to decimate the unsuspecting soldiers. With grim resolve, the troops braced themselves for the impending clash.

But before the two forces could collide, a massive boulder hurtled down from the heights above, crashing into their ranks standing below. Tousif's urgent cry pierced through the chaos.

"Brace for impact!"

The boulder struck with devastating force, shattering the infantry formation and scattered their ranks. Seizing the opportunity presented by the ensuing chaos, the cavalry surged forward to take the chance.

 King Abdul Hameed stood resolute at the forefront of his beleaguered army. The weight of responsibility bore heavily upon his shoulders, but he refused to yield to despair.

With his spear and shield held aloft, he rallied his men with unwavering determination.

"Form the lines! We must press on! In this narrow valley, their front numbers are limited, We only need to crush the waves!" he cried, his voice cutting through the chaos like a clarion call.

His eyes blazed with fervor as he led the defense, each step forward a testament to his courage and resolve.

His soldiers echoed his rallying cry, chanting "Crush the waves" as they quickly formed the lines with renewed morale, facing the assailants head-on.

With determination etched on their faces, they stood poised and ready to defend against the impending aggression. Each step resonated with defiance against the oncoming tide, their unity evident in their resolve.

As they clashed with their adversaries with shields and spears, they fought with unwavering resolve, bringing the advancing cavalry to an abrupt standstill. Their collective strength proving formidable against the onslaught. With each blow struck, they pushed back against the enemy cavalry, determined to crush the waves that dared to stand in their way.

Despite the odds stacked against them, King Abdul remained undaunted, his presence on the battlefield inspiring his men to stand tall in the face of adversity.

With each thrust of his spear, he carved a path through the enemy ranks, his every movement a symphony of strength and skill.

Though the battle raged on, King Abdul Hameed fought on with unwavering determination, his unwavering resolve serving as a beacon of hope amidst the chaos of war.

As the soldiers fought desperately to maintain their position, glimmer of hope for survival flickered within the troops. With each passing moment, the enemy's advance which was locked in a stalemate was getting backward, Even with heavy losses the Kashmiri army pressed forward under the lead of their king and commander. And then, just when it seemed like they might hold out a little longer, disaster struck.

A thunderous roar of noises erupted from behind as another wave of enemy in form of infantry surged forward with crossbows and archers in their rank, guarded by their spearmen in front. In that moment, it was as if fate itself had turned against them, sealing their fate with a cruel and final blow.

Their commander, Tousif, bellowed out his orders amidst the chaos. "Soldiers in the back, protect the rear!" he commanded, his voice cutting through the din of battle.

With a swift gesture, he directed his men to hold the lines, their shields raised in defense as they braced themselves for the impending onslaught. The urgency in his tone spurred the soldiers into action, each one positioning themselves strategically to defend both sides.

But, relentless assault of the enemies bore down upon them, the morale of the Kashmiri soldiers began to waver. Fatigue weighed heavily upon them.

"Stand firm! We can't afford to falter now!" he shouted above the din, his voice strained but resolute.

Yet, with grit and determination, they fought on, their spears and swords gleaming in the faint moonlight in the battlefield. Each blow struck with precision, each parry a resemblance of their zeal to survive.

From one side, the cavalry charged forth with relentless onslaught , their thundering hooves shaking the earth as they bore down upon the besieged army. From the other, the sea of infantry surged forward, their arrows raining down upon the shielded ranks and mercilessly thinning the allied lines.

Caught in the deadly crossfire, King Abdul Hameed's men fought with all their might, their ranks slowly but steadily dwindling with each passing moment. Yet amidst the chaos and carnage, the king remained a beacon of unwavering resolve, his presence on the battlefield inspiring his men to continue the fight against impossible odds.

And then, in the midst of the chaos, tragedy struck. A lone horseback rider emerged from the fray, his sword gleaming in the fading light. With a swift and deadly strike, he cut down King Abdul Hameed, his head tumbling from his shoulders in a grotesque display of violence.

In that moment, the king's world turned upside down, his vision swimming as he plummeted into darkness. His final sight was the sharp edge of the enemy's sword, a cruel reminder of the futility of their struggle.

With their leader slain, the morale of King Abdul Hameed's army faltered. It became increasingly clear that victory was beyond their grasp. Wave after wave of enemy soldiers crashed upon them, their sheer numbers overwhelming even the bravest of warriors. They fought on valiantly, but one by one, they fell to the relentless enemy assault.

As the sun set on the battlefield, silence descended upon the once-proud Kashmiri army, now reduced to lifeless corpses strewn across the blood-soaked ground.

After the battle, Ansari approached the hooded figure and presented the severed head of King Abdul Hameed. "Your grace, here is the king's head," he said, bowing respectfully as he handed over the grisly trophy. The hooded figure nodded in acknowledgment.

"Well done, Ansari. With this, one part of the deal is already completed," the figure remarked.

The hooded figure took the severed head, shrouded in rags, and issued orders to cover their tracks. "Clear the corpses from our side. Scatter the saffron flags of Samrajya. Leave some of their guns and crossbows near the bodies to make it appear as though they were responsible," he commanded.

Ansari nodded in agreement, acknowledging, "It's all thanks to the insight of his grace. If you hadn't scouted his location, we might have missed this chance."

The hooded figure chuckled softly before replying, "No, I won't take credit for it this time. Actually, I received a tip from his experienced friend. If not for his cautious nature, King Abdul might have survived."

With a hint of pride in his voice, the hooded figure outlined the next stage of their plans. Ansari listened closely, absorbing the details and admiring the complex network of alliances and strategies that would shape their future endeavours.

Ansari bowed once more, his heart heavy with concern, but he dared to voice his question. "Forgive me for my question, but your grace, why did we take such a risk to expose ourselves now, when we already have clear objectives for our mission?"

'HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!'

The hooded figure's laughter rang out eerily in the darkness before he answered, his voice filled with a chilling fervour. "Because, I love carnage!"