The dawn broke pale and uncertain over the Kiranti valley. Smoke still lingered on the horizon, curling from burned rooftops and scorched fields. Soldiers moved wearily among the wounded and the dead, the first day of battle leaving a mark on both land and soul.
Yalamber walked through the courtyard, his boots crunching over broken arrows and splintered shields. His chest still ached from exertion, but it was nothing compared to the weight of seeing lives ended so suddenly. He knelt beside a young soldier, offering water and steady words, though inside, the prince fought the urge to collapse.
King Balambha emerged, accompanied by Bhavik and a small group of ministers. His face was grim, but his voice carried the authority of command. "The Chyarung have retreated for now. But this reprieve is temporary. Dorje will return and likely with allies."
Yalamber's gaze drifted north, toward the distant ridges. "Allies?" he asked.
"Yes," Bhavik replied. "Dorje has not acted alone before. Many clans watch these mountains, and the first battle may have drawn their attention."
The mention of other clans stirred unease, but also curiosity. Yalamber had spent years studying maps and histories, learning of the scattered tribes and territories beyond Kiranti's borders. Now, the reality of them pressed closer, alive and dangerous.
That evening, envoys arrived from the southern plains, led by a tall, broad-shouldered man named Nabin, representing a coalition of hill tribes whose ways mirrored the ancient customs of Kiranti itself. Their people were fierce warriors, skilled with bows and axes, proud of their Nepali heritage.
"We come with words of aid," Nabin declared, bowing deeply. "Your enemies stir the north, yet our warriors know the mountains, the forests, and the passes. We offer alliance and our strength to those who defend these lands."
King Balambha studied the man carefully. "Your loyalty will be tested. Kiranti does not easily forgive betrayal."
Nabin's gaze was steady. "We know. And we do not seek reward. We seek only to protect the lands of our fathers, and those who would stand against the storm with us."
Yalamber stepped forward. "Then we fight together." His voice was steady, yet carried the weight of the lessons he had learned: leadership, courage, and the burden of responsibility.
Bhavik placed a hand on his shoulder. "Good. Remember, alliances are not just about strength they are about trust, and knowing when to act and when to wait. This is the beginning of something larger than Kiranti alone."
As night fell, the prince climbed to the watchtower once more, looking north toward the ridges. Fires of distant encampments flickered in the darkness some Chyarung, some unknown. The world was larger than he had ever imagined, each clan a piece of a puzzle that could either protect or destroy his kingdom.
Yalamber clenched his fists, feeling the pulse of destiny beneath his skin. Kiranti had survived the first storm. But the winds of war were gathering across the mountains. And soon, the world would reveal not only its enemies but its allies.