Chapter 254: Battle of Ladakh part -12
Prince Tsewang sat on his bed, the dull haze of wine still clinging to his mind when instinct took over. His hand shot up, fingers closing around an incoming arrow just inches from his face.
A dozen figures draped in black robes emerged from the shadows, slipping through the tent’s entrance like wraiths. One of them stepped forward: the archer who had fired the shot. He pulled down his mask, revealing a familiar, sharp-featured face.
"No one is coming to save you, Prince," the man sneered. "We are here to claim your head. Now, die obediently."
Tsewang’s jaw clenched as recognition dawned. It was Rigzin Gyalpo, the ruthless Ladakhi field commander renowned for assassinations. He had never been known to fail a mission.
Outside, a commotion erupted as explosions, shouts, the rush of men dousing flames. Tsewang’s mind alarmed ’A diversion... A well-planned one... These bastards wanted to ensure no one would hear the fight to interrupt. It’s going to be tough.’
Tsewang steadied himself, his stance shifting.
His sword was too far away, and the assassins encircled him, their twin daggers glinting under the flickering torchlight. He assessed their movements as his muscles coiled, waiting for the first strike.
A shadow lunged forward with a flash of steel from the right.
Tsewang twisted, the dagger narrowly missing his ribs.
He seized the attacker’s wrist mid-strike, wrenched it backward with a sickening snap, and drove the stolen blade into the man’s throat. Blood gurgled as the body slumped onto the bed.
The leader’s eyes narrowed. "Careful. This is the War God. Even with severed limbs, he could still rip your throats out with his teeth. Attack only when there’s an opening."
Tsewang smirked. A compliment, even in death threats.