The great tent of state had been raised on the plains of Punjab, its silken canopy stitched with Mughal green and gold. One by one, the empire's lords entered and took their places: generals in coats of mail with swords at their sides, ministers clutching scrolls, and secretaries laden with registers.
The Khan-i-Khanan, Munim Khan, settled near the front, parchments neatly arranged. The Ataliq, Ataga Khan, close adviser to the young emperor, whispered briefly with the Diwan of Finance. Behind them, the Mir Bakshi, commander of stipends and soldiers, stood stern, his face lined by years of war.
When all were seated, the heralds cried out. The canvas parted. Emperor Jalal-ud-din Muhammad Akbar, barely into his fourteenth year, entered with quiet grace. He ascended the throne placed at the center, folding his hands in his lap. His face was solemn, though the weight of empire sat uneasily upon such young shoulders.
The assembly stood again when the final figure appeared: the Regent. Bairam Khan, tall and broad, his beard combed, his armor gleaming faintly beneath his robes, strode into the court. He did not rush, for all eyes waited upon him. Only when he reached the emperor's side and lowered himself onto the cushioned seat beside the throne did the court breathe.
At that moment, the chief eunuch, master of ceremonies, stepped forward. His voice rang high and sharp.
Eunuch: "By the command of His Majesty, the Shahenshah Akbar, and under the guidance of His Excellency the Regent, the imperial court is now in session!"
The air shifted. Papers rustled. Murmurs ceased. The session had begun.
The Khan-i-Khanan, Munim Khan, was the first to rise. He bowed to the emperor, then turned his parchment toward the Regent.
Khan-i-Khanan: "Your Majesty, Regent, the jagirs are in disarray. Nobles demand larger tracts, revenues falter, and discontent brews in the provinces. Without reorganization, we risk rebellion."
The Regent's eyes narrowed. His voice was iron.
Regent (Bairam Khan): "Jagirs are rewards, not inheritances. They will be earned on the field of battle. Let the nobles prove their loyalty with blood before they claim the land."
The Ataliq, Ataga Khan, stepped forward, bowing respectfully.
Ataliq, Ataga Khan: "Excellency, the army itself marches upon these jagirs. Without their yield, the soldiers go hungry. A promise of land after victory cannot fill empty bellies before it."
The Diwan of Finance raised trembling hands, showing ledgers inked in red.
Diwan of Finance: "Regent, stipends are unpaid, stores of grain diminish, and complaints from zamindars multiply. If jagirs remain unsettled, disorder will spread faster than our banners."
The Mir Bakshi spoke last, his tone carrying the weight of the camp.
Mir Bakshi: "Excellency, the cavalry waits for coin. Delay risks desertion. To hold Delhi, we must hold our men first."
Hours dragged by. Arguments ebbed and flowed like tides, maps spread, registers pored over, every voice pressing the Regent to act. Bairam Khan listened, his temper tested, his fingers tightening upon the hilt of his sword as though he could cut through parchment with steel.
At last he struck the carpet with his staff.
Regent (Bairam Khan): "Enough! Do it then. Reorganize your jagirs, fill the stores, pay the stipends. But do it swiftly. The army marches, and it will not wait for your ink and wax seals. Remember—without victory, no decree has meaning."
The ministers bowed, satisfied though weary.
From the throne, the boy-emperor shifted forward. His voice, clear but youthful, broke the silence.
Akbar: "Victory and order must walk together. Without order, victory crumbles. Without victory, order dies. Let both be done."
The words stirred the court, yet the eyes of ministers instinctively turned again to the Regent, awaiting his confirmation. The throne had spoken, but power still flowed through another hand.
Beyond the debates, shadows lingered. Whispers of Humayun's death still haunted the empire. The Regent had already silenced them in blood—nine clans erased, their names sealed as a royal secret, their fate buried so the empire would not crack under the truth. Justice had been swift, but silence swifter still.
And so the court adjourned, after hours of wrangling. Ministers departed with ledgers, generals with war-plans. The emperor rose in silence. The Regent remained a moment longer, staring at the maps spread before him, his mind fixed not on revenue or grain, but on Delhi—his battlefield, his answer to all disputes.