** Purana Qi, Fort of Delhi **

  In one of the luxurious room of the royal pace, Princess Amira leaned 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 mented, 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 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 gnce. His eyes were glued to those unfitting savage breasts."

  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 pn 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 ughter 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 excimed, 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 decred, 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 excimed 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 y 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 bsphemous savages!" he seethed, his voice echoing off the tent's walls. "They dare look down on our empire? 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 decred 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 pn for Bengal port is cancelled. Activate the agents for Operation Cross immediately in Sultanate. We must start it sooner than its too te".

  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 dey, 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 abze 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 nds.

  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 csh of empires, and the Dutch ambassador was determined to emerge victorious, no matter the cost.