The June 1610 sun dipped low over Surat's bustling port, casting long shadows across the Vora Trading Company's beachfront complex as Jai Vora sat in his courtyard, the sea's murmur a constant companion. The medicine shop's shelves brimmed with glass bottles of Surat's Elixir, Heart's Guardian, and Pain's Whisper, their labels gleaming like promises of healing. The clothing store, under Ravi and Manoj's watchful eyes, buzzed with tailors stitching Vora's Durable Thread into shirts and pants, while the blacksmith workshop's forges roared under Kofi's command. Jai's empire was thriving, but the letter from Dhruv—delivered with the artisans from Vikram Singh—burned in his hand like a fuse. The Emperor System, his secret AI-spirit guide, buzzed: "Court gossip and EIC moves? This letter's dynamite, kid. Read it, then rally the troops—Wings of Freedom's got work."
Jai broke the wax seal, his nine-year-old fingers steady, and unrolled the parchment. Vikram's elegant script unfolded a web of intrigue:
Dear Jai Vora,
The British of the East India Company have infiltrated the Mughal court, their envoys bowing low to Emperor Jahangir with gifts of cloth and trinkets. They seek permission for factories—trading posts, they call them—in Masulipatnam, and it's been granted. Construction begins soon, a foothold for their spices and silks. They whisper of a bigger prize: a grand factory in Surat, your home turf. Be wary—they buy nobles with coin, spreading influence like a plague. Their aim is simple: buy India's treasures cheap, sell high in Europe and beyond. Shadows stir, Jai. Your name echoes in the halls—Jai Vora, the prodigy merchant. Expect a summons from the emperor himself soon. Stay vigilant; I'll send more through Dhruv.
Your ally, Vikram Singh
Jai's heart raced, his hatred for the EIC flaring like a forge. Masulipatnam's factory was a dagger at India's throat, Surat's a noose. He crumpled the letter, his mind spinning strategies. The system pinged: "EIC's moving fast, Jai. Sabotage that factory before it roots. Call Wings of Freedom—time to spread those wings."
That evening, Jai summoned his followers to the basement hideout, its trapdoor hidden under timber near the blacksmith shop. The warren of rooms—stocked with weapons, clothes, and supplies—hummed with secrecy. His team assembled: Vikram, Ram, Shashi, Kali, Kofi, Amir, Sarita, Ravi, Manoj, and Annu, their faces illuminated by oil lamps. Nishil, Maya, Arjun, Rahil, and Sanjay, the new shadow unit, joined, their assassin edges sharp. Dhruv, Vikram Singh's liaison, stood sentinel, his loyalty growing.
Jai paced, his voice resolute. "The EIC's sinking roots. They've got permission for a factory in Masulipatnam—construction starts soon. And they're eyeing Surat next. We can't let that happen." Amir's eyes narrowed. "Sabotage? Wings of Freedom style?" Jai nodded. "Exactly. Amir, you and the shadow unit—Maya, Arjun, Rahil, Sanjay—head to Masulipatnam. Disrupt production: burn supplies, scare workers, make it look like bandits. No killing unless forced. Slow them down, buy us time."
Maya, her daggers glinting, spoke up. "We can blend in, strike at night. Mira's safe here—I'm ready." Arjun grinned. "Finally, a mission." Rahil added, "We'll make it clean." Sanjay, quiet, nodded. Jai's Charm sealed it. "Good. Kofi, forge tools for them—disguises, smoke bombs. Nishil, train them harder—your Teaching's our edge." Nishil bowed. "They'll be ghosts."
Jai turned to the group. "This is Wings of Freedom's first big strike against the EIC. They buy spices cheap, sell high, buy nobles with gold. We cut their roots before they spread." Vikram, Jai's friend, punched his palm. "We're with you, Jai. What's the long game?" Jai's eyes gleamed. "Surveillance. Maya, shadow unit—track key British in Surat. Who they meet, what they buy, their aims. Report back. We'll hit them where it hurts."
Sarita, her People Management a steady force, interjected. "And the documents from Mala? They might have EIC ties." Jai nodded. "You and Manoj dig through them. Anything—names, deals—bring to me." Ravi added, "The medicine shop's ready, Jai. Trial Yes Elixir's flying off shelves." Jai's grin was fierce. "Good. Vora rises, the EIC falls. Let's make it happen."
The meeting ended with a shared resolve, the basement's shadows a cloak for their plans. Jai's empire, fueled by Mala's loot and Vikram Singh's alliance, was a blade aimed at the EIC's heart.