Rebirth of the Indian Chemist.

Velikara – 1711 CE

The emissaries arrived at dawn, shrouded in mist and dressed in traveling cloaks soaked from the monsoon. They came on horseback, six of them, all disciplined in their silence and suspicious in their posture.

One of them, the youngest, held a silver tube with a violet ribbon.

"From the House of Thelliyoor," he said, bowing.

I took the tube.

Inside was a folded silk parchment. The scent of jasmine oil clung to it.

> To the one who commands rivers and roads,

The House of Thelliyoor recognizes your construction and the implications it bears for the balance of trade and power in our region.

We request your presence at our southern court to discuss matters of mutual interest and shared futures.

— Lady Aranyaka, Matriarch of Thelliyoor

Devika looked at me. "It's a test."

Bhairav nodded. "Or a trap."

Stone chewed on the ribbon.

I stared at the letter. "Let's find out."

---

The ride south took five days. We passed flooded paddy fields, broken bridges, and more than one ruined grain caravan.

Everywhere we went, people were talking.

About Velikara. About the dam. About the road that wasn't just built—it had changed things.

"Two weeks faster to the coast," one farmer said. "Grain spoilage down by a quarter," said another. "I heard the goat designs everything," whispered a third.

Stone basked in the rumors like a demigod on vacation.

---

The Thelliyoor estate rose like a pearl amid green hills and cascading banana groves. It was fortified, yes—but not like a castle. More like a school. Open halls, stone courtyards, students in deep discussion, artisans hammering at strange clockwork.

"Is this a noble house or a university?" Bhairav asked.

A young woman smiled. "Why not both?"

She led us to the central courtyard where Lady Aranyaka awaited.

She was older than I expected—maybe in her late forties—but regal in posture and piercing in gaze. Her robes were dark green, her neck adorned with coins from a dozen kingdoms.

"You're younger than I imagined," she said.

"You're taller than I expected," I replied.

She smirked. "Good. I dislike liars and sycophants."

---

We spent three hours in discussions.

Her court was full of thinkers—historians, economists, irrigation engineers. They grilled me on flood logistics, sediment flow, labor quotas, and tax equity.

I answered what I could. Admitted what I didn't know.

Finally, Aranyaka said:

"You are not a threat to us. Yet. But your growth, unchecked, would destabilize at least six inland markets. So we propose an alliance. One bound by land, water... and marriage."

Devika choked on her rice.

Bhairav dropped his cup.

I blinked. "Whose?"

A younger woman stepped forward. Sharp-eyed. Skin the color of roasted tamarind. She was holding a schematic of the dam.

"This is my daughter," Aranyaka said. "Kshiraja. Head of our engineering division. She has questions for you. And, if you pass her test, we shall speak of politics again."

Stone nodded approvingly.

The negotiations had begun.