*March 14, 1986, Mumbai, India*
Raj Mehra sat in his office at Karma Productions, the room bathed in the soft afternoon light filtering through the half-drawn blinds. In his hand was a thick manuscript, its pages filled with his own meticulous handwriting—a labor of love completed in just one week. With his newly acquired S-Class Writing Talent surging through his veins like a creative elixir, Raj had decided to adapt George R.R. Martin's *A Song of Ice and Fire* series, known in his previous life as *Game of Thrones*. He wouldn't overhaul the original story; instead, he wove in subtle Indian elements to enrich the narrative, drawing from ancient lore to create a fusion that felt both epic and familiar. Three new houses emerged from his pen: the Suryavashi House, symbolized by the radiant sun, representing unyielding strength and enlightenment; the Chandravanshi House, marked by the ethereal moon, embodying wisdom and subtlety; and the Rathore House, with its fierce battle axe, signifying unbridled warrior spirit.
These houses traced their lineage back 5,000 years to the Vedic era, a golden age of gods and sages. But 2,000 years prior, a cataclysmic disaster—a relentless invasion from the frozen north—had shattered the Vedic world, ushering in the age of Westeros as the original tale unfolded. The houses, now in decline, occupied a secluded region in Westeros, a neutral enclave where slavery, prostitution, and gambling were strictly banned. They adhered to a firm belief in God Hari, the supreme creator who resided in every being, fostering a society of moral rigor amid the chaos of the Seven Kingdoms. Thanks to Raj's S-Class talent, these elements integrated seamlessly into *Game of Thrones* Book 1 (*A Game of Thrones*), enhancing the intrigue of the Iron Throne's power struggles without overshadowing the core plot. The houses remained peripheral, offering moral counterpoints to the Starks, Lannisters, and Targaryens, but their Vedic roots added layers of philosophical depth.
Raj had poured his soul into it, the words flowing effortlessly, each chapter a tapestry of betrayal, ambition, and destiny. In just seven days, the first book was complete—a 700-page tome that felt like Martin's vision reborn with an Indian soul. He set the manuscript down, stretching his fingers, a satisfied smile crossing his face. The week had been productive beyond writing: *Love Train* had raked in another 55 lakhs at the box office, pushing its total toward the projected 5 crore, while his stock investments had yielded 2 crore in profits, swelling his personal account. *Baahubali: The Beginning*, released with aggressive marketing through *The Bharat Front*, had sold 80,000 copies in its debut week, a resounding success for *Mehra Book House*. The other three books—*Panipat: The War Part 1*, *Ganga Ghat*, and *Chudal*—had performed well, but their momentum was waning, sales plateauing after initial surges.
Raj had addressed this during a quick call with Lalit Modi, the book house manager. "Lalit, the three books are exhausting their potential here," Raj had said, his voice steady over the line. "Print editions in more languages—Hindi, Tamil, Bengali, even Urdu. And test the European market: start with 1,000 copies each, translated into English and French. Gauge the reaction, and if it bites, scale up."
Lalit had responded promptly, his tone enthusiastic. "Absolutely, sir. We'll handle translations through our freelance network—should take two weeks. Europe could be a breakthrough; historical epics like *Panipat* might appeal to their interest in colonial histories, *Ganga Ghat* to romantics, and *Chudal* to horror fans. I'll report back on initial sales."
Raj had nodded to himself, satisfied. "Good. Keep me updated weekly."
Financially, the week had been a boon. Raj had instructed Suraj Singh, *Pragarti Venture*'s CEO, to deploy 9 crore from the overseas account—opened during his London trip at Barclays Bank plc, a premier UK institution known for its robust international services and presence in the City of London—into foreign stock markets. Using the Prediction System, Raj had queried safe, high-potential investments: *Will investing in these yield profit?* [*Yes.*] He selected three: GlaxoSmithKline (pharmaceuticals, poised for growth in emerging markets), British Petroleum (BP, benefiting from oil price stability post-1986 crash), and Unilever (consumer goods, expanding globally). The 9 crore (£4.5 million equivalent) was allocated: 3 crore in GlaxoSmithKline shares, 3 crore in BP, and 3 crore in Unilever. Projections from his system hinted at a 20 crore return in 6 months, driven by 1986's economic rebound and these companies' strong fundamentals.
Suraj had confirmed the moves over a call. "Boss, the Barclays account is secure—transfers are seamless. I've executed the investments: GlaxoSmithKline for pharma innovation, BP for energy stability, and Unilever for consumer demand. Early signs are positive; the FTSE 100 is up 2% this week."
"Excellent, Suraj," Raj had replied. "Monitor closely and report monthly. No risks—only calculated plays."
Now, with the manuscript complete, Raj rose from his desk and opened the office window, inhaling the humid Mumbai air laced with the scent of rain-soaked earth and distant street food. "Finally, after a full week, I've finished writing it," he murmured, a sense of accomplishment washing over him. He closed his eyes briefly, then queried the system: *Will my book sell more than 1 lakh copies in Europe in a month?* [*Yes.*]
Hearing the affirmative, Raj smiled broadly. "Europeans will eat this up," he thought, envisioning the fusion of Westerosi intrigue with Vedic mysticism captivating readers across the Channel. The neutral houses' devotion to God Hari, their ban on vices, and their ancient lineage would intrigue Western audiences seeking exotic depth in fantasy.
Energized, Raj grabbed the manuscript and drove to *Mehra Book House* in Dadar, the presses humming as workers bustled about. Lalit Modi greeted him at the entrance, wiping ink from his hands. "Sir, perfect timing. The *Baahubali* run is strong—80,000 sold already. What's this new one?"
Raj handed over the book. "Print 5 lakh copies initially—2 lakhs for Europe, 20 thousand for India to test the market. Title: *A Game of Thrones* by Raj Mehra. It's a fantasy epic; get translations started for English and French markets."
Lalit skimmed the first page, his eyes widening. "This looks massive, sir—the houses, the Vedic ties... It'll stand out. But 5 lakh copies? That's ambitious."
Before Raj could respond, he pulled out his phone and called Suraj. "Suraj, hold on the printing. Acquire a book house in Europe—London or Paris—and open a *Mehra Book House* branch there. Budget 2 crore; make it fast."
Suraj's voice came through, efficient as ever. "Boss, that's doable. I know a small publisher in London—struggling post-Big Bang deregulation. Acquisition could take two weeks if we push. It'll give us direct distribution in Europe."
"Perfect," Raj said. "Finalize it and coordinate with Lalit for the initial print run: 2 lakhs for Europe via the new branch, 20 thousand for India. Test the waters, then scale."
Lalit nodded, already jotting notes. "Understood, sir. We'll ramp up production—English edition first for Europe, Hindi for India. This could be our international breakthrough."
Raj left the book house, his mind alight with possibilities. The Suryavashi sun rising over Westeros, the Chandravanshi moon guiding neutral alliances, the Rathore axe cleaving through intrigue—it was a masterpiece. With *Love Train* surging, stocks booming, *Baahubali* selling out, and now *Game of Thrones* poised for global conquest, Raj's empire was unstoppable. The Prediction System's "Yes" echoed in his thoughts, a promise of 1 lakh+ sales in Europe. As he drove back, Mumbai's skyline blurred past, a canvas for his ambitions, now infused with S-Class creativity.