The pre-dawn sky over Ahmedabad hung heavy with anticipation, a faint blush of light teasing the horizon as Jai Vora gathered his team on the merchant's rooftop, mere yards from Arjun Mala's fortress-like estate. The June 1610 air was cool, scented with dew and distant jasmine, but tension crackled among the black-clad figures—Jai, Amir, Kofi, Ravi, Manoj, Sarita, the 15-year-old girl leader, and Vikram Singh's stealth guards Dhruv and Sameer. Their light armor hugged their forms, while spears, daggers, and smoke arrows gleamed faintly in the starlight. Jai's eyes, sharp with his 2025 cunning, scanned the estate's silhouette—sandstone walls, spiked iron gates, and torchlit towers guarding Mala's second-floor residence. The Emperor System, his secret AI-spirit guide, hummed: "This is it, Jai. One slip, and you're snake food."
Jai crouched, his voice a low command, as the team huddled around him. "Here's the plan," he began, his Wisdom weaving precision into every word. "Amir, Dhruv, the girl, and I will sneak in—no fighting unless we're forced. We avoid the 20-30 patrolling guards and the two elites at Mala's second-floor door. Ravi, Manoj, Sarita, and Sameer, you'll stay here with binoculars, watching us. Every time you spot guards or danger, light a match—far enough to be invisible from the estate but clear to us. We'll keep looking back for your signal." He turned to Kofi, his Blacksmithing, a cornerstone of the plan. "Kofi, you'll circle to the opposite wall and plant the bomb we made. You know its timing—light the fuse when we signal our exit with match fires. Ravi's team will signal you. The bomb's a distraction, enough for us to escape and for you to circle back and join them. It'll scatter Mala's guards, making this look like a robbery."
Jai's gaze locked onto the girl, her daggers glinting with her Agility. "You'll sneak into the basement warren, find your sister, and get her out without alerting the 25-30 assassins down there. Meet us at the banyan tree trapdoor—the rendezvous point. We move fast, clean, and quiet." Her eyes, once a storm of doubt, burned with resolve, her loyalty at 10% holding firm on Jai's promise to free her sister. The system pinged: " That bomb's a game-changer, but those basement assassins are a wildcard. Execute this, and Mala's allies will quake."
The team nodded, their faces set like steel. Ravi, Manoj, Sarita, and Sameer gripped their binoculars—lenses Jai had introduced from his modern knowledge—ready to perch on the rooftop. Kofi hefted the bomb, a compact bundle of gunpowder and sulfur wrapped in cloth, its fuse calibrated for a precise delay. Amir checked his blade, his Bladework a silent vow, while Dhruv and Sameer, panther-like and hawk-eyed, traced the estate's layout in the dirt: walls, guard paths, the banyan tree trapdoor leading to the basement's maze of tunnels and cells. The two elite guards at Mala's second-floor door, strong but no match for the girl's skill, loomed as a secondary threat.
He glanced at the estate, its torchlit towers casting long shadows, the second floor glowing faintly where Mala slept, unaware of the storm coming for him. "This is for Vora Trading Company," Jai whispered. "Move out."
The team split. Ravi, Manoj, Sarita, and Sameer took their rooftop positions, binoculars glinting as they scanned the estate. Kofi slipped into the shadows, bomb in hand, circling toward the far wall. Jai, Amir, Dhruv, and the girl descended, their black forms blending with the night, moving toward the estate's iron gates as the first light of dawn crept closer.