Later that same year, within a secluded, windowless chamber deep inside the royal palace, eight-year-old Prince Vikramaditya stood before twenty-five men. These individuals had been handpicked by the King based on a hyper-specific set of criteria provided by the prince. They were masters of espionage, deep-cover infiltration, and silent assassination. They were fiercely loyal to the crown, possessed extensive geographical knowledge of greater Bharat, and had families living in the capital who were lavishly supported by the royal treasury—a brilliant insurance policy ensuring absolute loyalty.
Vikramaditya locked his piercing gaze with each man, testing their psychological fortitude. "I want an honest, unvarnished answer from you all," the prince commanded, his voice cold and commanding. "What do you truly think of being commanded by an eight-year-old child? Speak freely; you have my royal word that no penalty shall befall you for unflattering words."
Silence stretched across the room. Finally, a battle-hardened, middle-aged operative with a deeply scarred face stepped forward. "Your Highness, my name is Suryasen," the man spoke clearly. "We know it was your brilliant strategy that paralyzed the nobility in the royal court. His Majesty himself informed us that though you possess the body of a child, your intellect, foresight, and strategic ruthlessness rival that of the greatest historical scholars. We do not see a child; we see the future of the kingdom."
Vikramaditya nodded, satisfied. "Then let us begin. From this moment onward, you belong to the shadows. You report exclusively to me. This intelligence apparatus shall be known as the *Tritiya Netra*—the Third Eye. Suryasen, you are hereby appointed the Director-General of this organization. You will receive my direct commands and coordinate all operations."
Dismissing the rest of the operatives, Vikramaditya handed Suryasen a dense ledger detailing the immediate, mid-term, and long-term intelligence priorities of the kingdom:
"First," Vikramaditya ordered, "you must aggressively recruit and train an additional one hundred and fifty elite field agents within the next eighteen months. Every cell must operate on a strict need-to-know basis to prevent any catastrophic operational leaks. Second, deploy an advanced vanguard of operatives into my new fief of Bhadrak. Map every hidden valley, identify remote coastal locations suitable for heavy industrial foundries, and locate any hidden private militias maintained by local lords. Report back within thirty days."
The prince leaned closer over the map. "Third, and most critically, infiltrate the core administrations of our neighbors: the Mughal Empire, the Maratha Kingdom, the Vijayanagar Empire, the Bengal Sultanate, and the Portuguese stronghold in Chittagong. I want detailed reports on their internal factional conflicts, their logistics, their precise army structures, and the exact specifications of the black-powder weapons they are developing. Fourth, establish an unbreakable, covert courier network using encrypted ciphers. Fifth, as a long-term goal, expand our eyes beyond Bharat into the trade routes of Europe and the Ottoman world. But priority remains the immediate neighbors."
Suryasen read the ledger, a cold sweat breaking out on his neck. The sheer scale of the administrative design was staggering. Bowing deeply, placing his fist firmly over his heart, Suryasen swore his life to the prince's shadow war.