The morning sun of June 1610 filtered through the lush garden of Lord Vikram Singh's Ahmedabad haveli, casting dappled shadows across a low table laden with parathas, mango chutney, and steaming chai. Jai Vora, nine but sharp as a Damascus blade, sat across from Vikram, his silk-clad host, whose silver-streaked beard gleamed in the light. The air hummed with birdsong and the faint clatter of servants, but Jai's mind was a battlefield, plotting the downfall of Arjun Mala, the merchant-noble who'd sent assassins to cripple Vora Trading Company. The Emperor System, his secret AI-spirit guide, buzzed: "This is your window—strike smart, and his empire's knees will buckle."
Vikram sipped his chai, his eyes keen. "My spies report Malhotra's men returned from Surat two days ago—Keshav among them, no doubt. But his estate's guards haven't changed numbers or shifts. He's clueless about your warehouse fire." Jai's lips curved, his Wisdom reading the opportunity like an open scroll. "Then it's time to strike," he said, voice steady. "Tomorrow at dawn."
Vikram raised a brow, setting down his cup. "Dawn? Why not midnight, when shadows hide your moves?" Jai leaned forward, his Charm weaving conviction. "Professional guards are sharpest at night, expecting trouble. But at dawn, when the sun creeps up, they ease up, thinking the danger's past. The next shift's still asleep, leaving a gap. That's when we hit." He paused, eyes glinting. "I'm not here to take Mala's wealth—that's secondary. I want the world to think it's a robbery. His allies, who know he sent spies and assassins to Vora, will see this as a message: cross us, and we'll burn you down. They'll wonder if its there turn next, and fear will do the rest."
Vikram's laughter boomed, shaking the garden's calm. "Marvelous, Jai! You're too smart for your years—a mind like a chessboard." His respect, already strong from their first meeting, deepened. Jai knew Vikram's nature—his love for excitement, change, and cunning minds. When they'd met, Vikram's loyalty to Jai's cause had sparked at 35%, a bond forged by shared ambition. Now, as Jai laid bare his plan, the system pinged: "Vikram's loyalty just spiked to 60%, kid. He's hooked on your game. Use it." Jai's trust in Vikram, built on this understanding, had led him to share the truth, unlike the lie told to Anil.
"We'll move tonight," Jai said, "and wait near Malhotra's estate for dawn." Vikram nodded, his warrior's clasp sealing their pact. "My men, Dhruv and Sameer, will guide you. Their knowledge of the estate—its hidden gates, its guard paths—is yours." The team—Amir, Kofi, Ravi, Manoj, Sarita, the bound girl, and Vikram's stealth guards—would be ready.
As servants cleared the table, Jai's thoughts drifted to the girl, locked in her chamber under Sarita's watchful eye. Her silence hid a storm, her loyalty to her sister clashing with her hatred for Malhotra. Could she be turned? The system chimed: "Her hope's growing, Jai. Keep her close—she's your edge." Jai's hatred for the East India Company, a smoldering ember, flickered—Malhotra might not be their pawn, but his courtly ties made him a threat to Vora's rise.
The team gathered in the haveli's armory, Kofi's forged spears and light armor gleaming under torchlight. Amir, his Bladework a promise of precision, checked the team's blades, while Ravi and Manoj packed smoke arrows, their Agility honed for the strike. Sarita ensured the girl's ropes were secure but not cruel. Dhruv, scar-faced and panther-like, and Sameer, hawk-eyed, mapped the estate's layout on a scrap of cloth, their voices low but confident. The girl, her eyes a mix of defiance and doubt, watched in silence, her sister's fate a chain around her heart.
As night fell, the team retired early, their chambers filled with the scent of jasmine and the weight of tomorrow's dawn. Jai lay awake, the system's words echoing: "You're rewriting the game, Jai. Malhotra's allies will tremble when they hear of this. But don't get cocky—his estate's a fortress." Ahmedabad's lights flickered beyond the latticed window, a constellation of risks and rewards. Vora Trading Company, Jai's "Wings of Freedom," would soar—or crash—on the edge of dawn.