The first ambush was only a prelude. Word reached Dorje: the mountain alliance was stronger than expected. His black banners stretched across the northern ridges, and he clenched his fists at the news. "They are learning to fight as one," he muttered. "We will remind them who commands these passes."
Back in Kiranti, Yalamber convened a council. Maps were spread across the long hall, lines marking passes, forests, and ridges. Nabin traced routes with his calloused finger. "They move like wolves in the highlands. If we anticipate the wrong pass, they will break through."
Bhavik's eyes narrowed. "Strength alone will not win this war. We must force them into terrain that favors us."
Lhakar, now more confident in his role as messenger and scout, pointed to a series of narrow gorges. "Here. They cannot bring numbers. Their horses cannot charge, and archers cannot form a line."
Yalamber studied the gorge, imagining Chyarung forces trapped between cliffs and forests. "Then this will be our stage," he said firmly. "The mountains will fight with us, and every soldier will know his place."
Orders were sent: scouts to monitor enemy movements, reserves positioned on high ridges, and signals agreed for instant coordination. The alliance was ready for the first major engagement, and the prince would lead from the front.