Location 1: The Borders of Naldurg Fortress
Time: Morning, shortly after Sunrise
Outside the massive walls of Naldurg, the absolute elite of the Bijapuri Sultanate—ten thousand veteran soldiers—stood in complete, humiliated silence. They had marched furiously through the night, abandoning their post at Solapur, driven by the desperate need to save their 'living' Supreme Commander and the fortress of Naldurg. But now, as the morning sun illuminated the plains, sheer terror had been replaced by a suffocating, soul-crushing realization.
Garrison Commander Dilawar Khan, whose hands had trembled with fear just hours ago, was now vibrating with blind rage. Lying in the dirt before him was the glittering 'Golden Armor' that had supposedly belonged to Mustafa Khan. Kneeling beside it in the dust was Bhairav, the peasant soldier Advit had chosen. The blood-soaked bandages had been stripped from his face.
"You... you are not Mustafa Khan!" Dilawar Khan roared, drawing his scimitar and pressing it against Bhairav's throat. His voice cracked with the agony of a man realizing he had been played for an absolute fool. "This armor... this horse... where is the twenty-thousand-strong army of Vijayanagara?!"
Bhairav was shaking violently with fear, yet a faint, almost mad smile touched his lips. "Army? There was no army here, Commander. Only two thousand horses dragging dry brush, carrying extra torches. Our Prince simply showed you a cloud of dust and fire, and you willingly marched your entire ten-thousand-man garrison away from Solapur."
Dilawar Khan stumbled backward, the blood draining from his face. He snatched a spyglass and scanned the southern horizon. There was no massive encampment. No siege engines. Just the smoldering remains of dry bushes and a few hundred tire tracks in the dirt. Ten thousand elite warriors had spent the night chasing a ghost.
Suddenly, a lone rider appeared from the northern plains, galloping furiously from the direction of Solapur. His horse collapsed from sheer exhaustion the moment it reached the gates.
"Commander!" the messenger wept, falling to his knees. "Solapur... Solapur is lost! Subedar Rustam Baig surrendered the keys! The Saffron flag of Vijayanagara flies over the walls, and the entire gunpowder reserve has been captured!"
The scimitar slipped from Dilawar Khan's grasp, clattering against the stones. A graveyard-like silence fell over the ten thousand Bijapuri soldiers. They had not been defeated in combat; they had been entirely humiliated by a superior intellect.
Location 2: The Royal Court of Bijapur
Time: High Noon
Sultan Muhammad Adil Shah sat upon his magnificent, jewel-encrusted throne in the royal court of Bijapur. The innate arrogance that usually defined his posture was completely gone, replaced by a deep, unsettling dread. In his trembling hands, he held the disastrous dispatch from Solapur.
"Without firing a single musket..." the Sultan whispered, dropping the parchment onto the cold marble floor. Then, his voice erupted, echoing violently through the grand hall. "At Raichur, he vaporized fifteen thousand of my finest cavalry. And now, Solapur—our greatest northern stronghold and explosive reserve—is taken without shedding a single drop of blood?! Have all my generals become eunuchs?!"
The grand viziers and seasoned commanders stood with their heads bowed in absolute terror.
"Sultan-e-Moazzam," one elderly vizier spoke, his voice quivering. "This Prince Sriranga is not a mortal king. He wields dark magic... he manipulates the minds of men."
"It is not magic, you fool, it is absolute political and scientific mastery!" Sultan Adil Shah roared, gripping the arms of his throne until his knuckles turned white. "Solapur sits directly below the Mughal borders. If he embeds his roots there, his next march will be directly upon the gates of Bijapur. This demon must be stopped!"
Location 3: Solapur Fortress - The Northern Command Hub
Time: Early Evening
Meanwhile, within the cool, stone-walled royal chambers of Solapur, Prince Sriranga (Advit) was playing four-dimensional chess. A vast, freshly updated map of the Deccan Plateau was spread across the grand table.
Commander Yachama Nayaka unrolled a long parchment, his chest swelling with immense pride as he read his audit report.
"My Prince, the inventory of Solapur is complete. We have secured exactly 5,000 maunds of the highest-grade saltpeter and gunpowder. Furthermore, from the Sultan's personal emergency treasury hidden beneath the floorboards... we have recovered 20 Lakh pure gold coins."
Tirumala Nayaka, standing near the window, practically gasped. Twenty Lakh (two million) gold coins was a staggering sum of wealth—enough to purchase the loyalty of the entire Deccan mercenary force for two years.
"Flawless work, Yachama," I replied calmly, using a charcoal stick to draw a thick, solid red border around Solapur on the map. "Extract a portion of those 20 Lakh coins immediately. Deploy a 'Reserve Unit' of 1,000 men to guard the city gates and the central market. Double their salaries effective today. I want absolute peace in this city. If any soldier is caught looting or harassing a citizen, execute them on the spot. This city is no longer just a fortress; it is our 'Northern Command Hub'."
"It will be done immediately, Prince," Yachama bowed deeply.
I then shifted my gaze to the corner of the room, where Francis Day was still attempting to mentally process the sheer volume of 5,000 maunds of explosives.
"Mr. Day, approach the table," I commanded. "We have secured the powder. But gunpowder is entirely useless without the steel to contain it. I require your specific 'Engineering' expertise. I want you to draft the blueprints for 'Blast Furnaces'. We will build them directly behind the fortress."
Francis Day's jaw tightened, his eyes widening in pure shock. "Blast Furnaces? Your Highness... blast furnaces are massive industrial structures used in Europe to smelt raw iron and produce steel on an industrial scale. Why would you build such a complex technology here? You already have thousands of swords."
"Because I do not intend to forge swords, Mr. Day. I intend to mass-produce rifled muskets and heavy artillery," I said, staring directly into his eyes, letting the terrifying weight of my ambition crush his doubts. "I now have the gold. I have the powder. I simply require the technology to modernize my military faster than the world can comprehend. And you, Mr. Day, will build the machines that build our weapons."
Francis Day swallowed hard, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. He realized Advit was not just fortifying a castle; he was building a fully functional Military-Industrial Complex in the 17th century.
I dragged my finger slowly up the map, stopping just north of Solapur, pressing firmly onto the massive borders of the Mughal Empire.
"Solapur is ours. Now, the time has come to initiate a conversation with the Mughals... but entirely upon my terms."