June 1610's moon hung low over Surat, its pale light filtering through the warehouse's cracked shutters, casting jagged shadows across the tied-up thieves. Jai Vora, nine years old but a storm of resolve, stood over the captives, his leather-clad followers—Amir, Kofi, Annu, and Ravi—flanking him like sentinels. The warehouse, lit by the dying embers of Jai's oil-soaked cloth, smelled of soot and fear. Outside, Vikram, Ram, Shashi, Kali, Sarita, and Manoj guarded the perimeter, arrows ready for any who dared flee. The Emperor System, Jai's secret AI-spirit guide, thrummed in his mind: "You've got them cornered, Jai. That chest of funds and spices is yours again—but the leader's the key. Crack her, and you'll find the puppet master."
Jai knelt before the leader, unmasking her with a swift tug. A girl, no older than fifteen, stared back—thin, small, her dark eyes blazing with defiance despite her bound wrists. Her stats, flashed by the system, were staggering: Agility=41, Stealth=30. A wisp of a girl, yet a blade in human form. Her twelve subordinates, burly men with Strength and Agility in the 20s, sat tied nearby, their faces pale from the smoke arrows' sting. Jai waited until the girl stirred fully awake, her gaze locking onto his with a mix of exhaustion and steel.
"Who sent you?" Jai's voice was cold, cutting through the warehouse's stillness. The girl's lips stayed sealed, her eyes unyielding. Jai's jaw tightened, his mind flashing to the two guards slain, seven injured, and the stolen recipes that fueled Vora Trading Company's heart. He nodded to Amir, whose Bladework gleamed like a predator's claw. Amir stepped to a tied man, his blade flashing as it slit the thief's throat. The man crumpled, blood pooling, and the others gasped, trembling.
"No mercy for those who killed my men," Jai said, his voice a low growl, fierce eyes sweeping the captives. "For every unanswered question, one of you falls. Who. Sent. You?" The girl remained silent, her face a mask of resolve, but one subordinate cracked, his voice shrill with panic. "I'll speak! A merchant from Ahmedabad—rich, a noble with ties to Emperor Jahangir. He heard of Vora's rise at court, wants your business for himself. Sent spies to gauge you, then us—his elite assassins—to steal everything useful."
Jai's heart iced, his hatred for the East India Company flickering, though this pointed to a local rival. "The spies who infiltrated us—where are they?" he pressed. The man, sweat beading, stammered, "They returned to Ahmedabad yesterday—Keshav and the others. We were here, ready to dispatch after their report. We're trained for this—his personal shadow squad."
Jai's eyes narrowed. The Ahmedabad merchant's strategy mirrored his own "Wings of Freedom" vision—a covert force for dominance. His mind raced, the system pinging: "A noble-merchant rival? That's a new player, Jai. Quest progress: Reclaim What Was Stolen, 90% complete. Get the chest, but this girl's got more to spill." Jai turned to the captives. "Live or die—choose." The eleven men, voices overlapping, begged for life, offering anything. Jai's gaze hardened. "You killed my men. No mercy." He nodded to Amir, Kofi, Annu, and Ravi. Blades flashed, and the men fell, their pleas silenced forever. The warehouse grew still, save for the girl's shallow breaths.
She lifted her chin, voice low but steady. "Kill me." Jai crouched closer, intrigued by her defiance. "Why so loyal? Who's pulling your strings?" She scoffed, a bitter edge to her words. "No loyalty. My kid sister—they have her. If I fail or betray them, she dies. Kill me, boy—I won't break."
Jai's heart stirred, a flicker of empathy battling his ruthlessness. Her stats, her skill, her sacrifice for her sister—it echoed his own drive to protect Vora's legacy. The system whispered: "She's a pawn, Jai, but a valuable one. Spare her, and you might flip an asset." Jai stood, sparing her for now, his mind already plotting. The chest of funds and spice sacks lay nearby, but this girl—and the Ahmedabad noble—were keys to a larger game.