Sikkim, 1914. The air around Rabdentse Palace was thick with mountain mist, rolling in like ancient spirits eager to hear what the king would decree. Sidkeong Tulku Namgyal, cloaked in royal maroon and deep thought, walked the length of the stone corridor, flanked by monks and ministers. "The Krombigran," he said, his voice echoing into the cold. "Disband them." A silence fell so complete it felt like the mountain itself held its breath. Lama Dhenzin, oldest among the spiritual advisors, stepped forward, eyes wide beneath his hood. "Your Majesty... the Krombigran are the unseen shield. Mist-born guardians of the kingdom