Laying Traps at darkness

** Purana Qila, Fort of Delhi **

In the opulent chambers of the royal palace, Princess Amira sat perched on a plush velvet cushion, her fingers anxiously twirling the embroidered threads of her vibrant silk dupatta.

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across the room, adding an air of solemnity to the atmosphere. Asma, her loyal maid, approached softly, concern etched on her features.

"Princess, what troubles you so?" Asma inquired gently, her voice a comforting presence in the somber room.

With a heavy sigh, Amira poured out her heart. "It's Aditya," she lamented, her voice tinged with sadness. "He doesn't love me. He's infatuated with that old hag, Raamya."

Asma's brow furrowed with sympathy as she listened to Amira's plight. "My dear princess, fear not," she reassured, her tone filled with conviction. "Aditya is but a young man, and surely he cannot resist your youthful charm and beauty."

Amira's spirits lifted slightly at Asma's words, a glimmer of hope dancing in her eyes. "Do you truly believe that, Asma?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Of course, my princess," Asma replied, her voice unwavering. "You possess a beauty that transcends age, and Aditya will surely come to see that."

Despite Asma's comforting words, doubts still lingered in Amira's mind. "Then why does he pay me no heed?" she wondered aloud, her voice tinged with frustration. "I was all dressed up for the ceremony, yet Aditya didn't even spare me a glance. His eyes were glued to those unfitting savage tits."

Asma pondered for a moment before a mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes. "Perhaps what you need, my princess, is to capture the prince's attention," she suggested slyly. "With your youthful allure and grace, you are bound to leave him spellbound. I think we have to take the move first."

Asma tells the whole plan and assures, "Please mark my words... all you have to do is bend a little and have him a little feel."

Amira's cheeks flushed crimson with embarrassment at Asma's bold suggestion. "But will it truly work?" she asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've never done anything like this before, and I fear Prince Aditya may not appreciate... my... ahem... medium attributes."

Asma chuckled softly, her laughter echoing in the chamber. "Worry not, my dear princess," she reassured, her voice filled with confidence. "Such tactics have never failed, especially on a young suitor like Prince Aditya. And given his years of seclusion, I highly doubt he's had any... encounters."

Amira nodded, but then a wave of self-doubt washed over her. "But my size.....,

it's still not enough. He won't give me priority over that busty bitch. Please, do something, Asma."

Asma handed Princess Amira a vial of oil, her eyes glinting with anticipation. "Look here, princess," she exclaimed, her tone brimming with assurance. "This oil is famed throughout the realm for its wondrous effects. It was blessed by a sage beneath the ancient banyan tree by the riverside. It's called baba ki booty."

Amira eyed the vial skeptically, a hint of uncertainty crossing her features. "Do you truly believe this baba's booty will work?" she inquired, her voice tinged with doubt.

With a soft chuckle, Asma nodded, a knowing smile gracing her lips. "Oh, indeed, princess," she replied confidently. "Many maiden's fortunes have turned with its application, and yours, though just budding, will surely rise to a magnificent size with a bit of dedication in no time."

With a hesitant nod, Amira's resolve strengthened. "Very well, Asma," she declared, determination gleaming in her eyes. "If this is what it takes to win Aditya's heart, then so be it. I will do whatever it takes."

A mischievous grin spread across Asma's face as she took the vial of oil from princess's hands. "Ah, I've been waiting for this moment," she exclaimed eagerly. "Now, let me teach you the path of true goddess, my dear princess."

Amira's heart raced with apprehension as Asma approached with the oil, but she knew there was no turning back now. With a deep breath, she braced herself for what lay ahead, determined to win the heart of her beloved prince.

** Somewhere outside Delhi in night **

The Dutch ambassador, his face twisted in a mask of fury, stormed into his private tent, the fabric billowing in his wake. His boots thudded heavily against the ground as he paced back and forth, the air thick with tension and his anger palpable.

"Damn these blasphemous savages!" he seethed, his voice echoing off the canvas walls. "They dare look down on our country? They will pay dearly for their insolence!"

Summoning the guard stationed outside, he barked, "Bring him to me at once!"

A military officer swiftly entered the tent, his footsteps muffled against the dirt floor. He snapped to attention, awaiting the ambassador's commands.

"We cannot let this insolence go unpunished," he declared to the officer standing nearby, his voice dripping with contempt for those who opposed him.

"Dispatch an urgent message to our base," the ambassador ordered, his voice cold and commanding. "The plan for Bengal port is cancelled. Activate the agents for Operation Cross immediately in Sultanate. We must start it sooner than its too late".

The officer's eyes widened in understanding as he absorbed the gravity of the situation, sensing the ambassador's ire, tentatively ventured, "Sir, is it not too early to proceed with Operation Cross? Should we not wait for further reinforcements?"

The ambassador fixed him with a steely gaze, his resolve unwavering. "We cannot afford to wait any longer. The Portuguese are already making moves in Bengal, and if we delay, we risk losing valuable intelligence and control over the region. We cannot allow India to fall into their hands."

The officer nodded in understanding, though a flicker of concern crossed his face. "Very well, sir. I will ensure the agents are activated and preparations for Operation Cross are expedited."

With a crisp salute, the officer turned on his heel and briskly exited the tent, leaving the ambassador alone with his thoughts and simmering anger. The stage was set for covert operations and strategic manoeuvres in the heart of the Sultanate, as the Dutch ambassador plotted his revenge against those who dared to challenge Dutch supremacy in the region.

Alone in the dimly lit space, the ambassador clenched his fists in silent fury, his mind ablaze with thoughts of revenge. He swore to himself that he would personally see to it that these savages faced the consequences of their actions. The Dutch would not be deterred, and he would stop at nothing to ensure their dominance in these foreign lands.

The Dutch ambassador's lips curled into a sardonic smirk as he muttered under his breath, his eyes glinting with malice. "Just wait, Samrat. I will reduce you to nothing but a rat scurrying in the shadows. First, the Sultanate, and then your precious Samrajya."

With a vindictive glint in his eye, he clenched his fists, his resolve firm as he envisioned the downfall of his adversaries. The stage was set for a clash of empires, and the Dutch ambassador was determined to emerge victorious, no matter the cost.

** Somewhere near Ravi river border **

In the serene moonlit setting near the tranquil banks of the Ravi River, a procession of 500 Mughal knights, led by the young Badshah Afzal, accompanied by 3000 cavalry from the Samrajya, made camp. Among them stood Jeetendar, a loyal lieutenant to Afzal, exchanging heartfelt parting words before their impending departure.

"It's been an honor serving by your side, Badshah," Jeetendar remarked, his voice carrying both respect and camaraderie. "May our paths cross again under peaceful skies."

Afzal nodded in agreement, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes as he reciprocated the sentiment. "Indeed, Jeetendar. Let us hope for a resolution that brings peace to both our lands."

Before parting ways, Afzal entrusted Jeetendar with a message for Aditya and Amira, the royal siblings residing on the opposite bank of the river. "Tell them I will miss their company," he instructed, his tone reflecting genuine fondness. "I hope to see them join us soon on the other side of the river."

With their farewells exchanged and the message relayed, Jeetendar bid Afzal and his knights a safe journey. As they departed, a sense of anticipation hung in the air, mingled with hope for a future where unity and harmony prevailed.

As the Mughal army crossed the makeshift bridge, a tense anticipation enveloped the atmosphere. Each soldier moved swiftly yet cautiously across the river, the moon casting an ethereal glow upon their determined faces. After hours of steady progression, the entire army successfully traversed to the other side.

Surveying the surroundings, the brigade commander approached Badshah Afzal with a question regarding setting up camp. However, Afzal, driven by an eagerness to reunite with his mother in Lahore Fort, urged for immediate onward movement.

"No time for rest," he declared with unwavering determination. "We press on. Lahore awaits, and swift shall be our journey. There, I shall reward each of you."

Acknowledging the command, the brigade commander bowed in compliance, relaying the orders to the troops. With renewed vigour, the army hastened its pace, navigating through the wooded terrain.

Suddenly, their progress was abruptly halted by the sight of a fallen tree obstructing their path. Suspicion gripped Afzal as he scrutinized the scene, ordering for the area near the fallen tree to be illuminated.

As the torchlight revealed the tell-tale signs of deliberate sabotage, a palpable tension swept through the ranks.

Afzal exchanged sharp, knowing glances with his commander, their silent communication speaking volumes. Sensing the imminent danger, the commander swiftly relayed the urgent signal to the troops.

The commander's voice cut through the tension of the moment as he sounded the alarm, prompting all troops to swiftly transition into a square formation, with shields up front.

"Shields up front! Prepare for the ambush!" he bellowed, his words echoing in the stillness of the night, rallying the soldiers to readiness.

Without hesitation, the soldiers sprang into action, swiftly organizing into a defensive phalanx.

The urgency of the moment hung palpably in the air as they braced themselves for the imminent confrontation, their hearts pounding in anticipation of the unknown threat lurking in the shadows.