After setting up the International Federation of Mobility (IFM) and establishing the racetrack as he intended, Pritam Paoli was extremely confident and eager when he contacted all the people he knew who could potentially invest in his company. He was so confident that he even reached out to one of his classmates, someone he would never contact unless it was for something very important, because this friend of his was not an ordinary person.

Pritam knew the concept of overdrawing familiarity and friendship, so unless it was absolutely necessary, he would not contact this person, and now he deemed it necessary. He saw IFM as the largest and most important turning point in his life. In his mind, there could be nothing bigger or more significant, so what's the point of hoarding his contacts?

Just when he was excitedly getting ready for the event, it suddenly hit him that, in the excitement of building the racetrack and inviting possible investors, the fact that, for a race, cars and drivers were needed completely slipped his mind. He completely forgot that he was now in Colombo and not in Satavahana, where he had friends and familiar acquaintances who shared his passion for racing.

He couldn't sleep the whole night, and even his steps were unsteady when he walked. His heart sank to the bottom of his stomach when he realised that he would have to call off the event, but he had worked so hard and invested so much. He wrote a letter that was to be sent through the Arkha Dristhi communication line, which contained his apology to all the people he had invited. His hands began to shake when he understood that the one favour he could have used by inviting his important friend was now completely used up, and it was all for nothing.

He came to the Arkha dristhi station in Colombo, where he was about to send out all the letters, but the unwillingness in his heart made him hesitate.

"This is not how things are supposed to be, no, I cannot simply give up." He thought of several countermeasures, ranging from asking the friends he had made back home to come to Colombo for the race, but he quickly rejected the idea because the transportation of the car would take thousands, if not tens of thousands, of Varaha. Even if they were willing, he was unwilling. The next option was to purchase the cars locally and invite his friends over to be the drivers. This would have been a very good idea if he had not completely blown up all the money. Even if he had a million left over, he could have gotten at least half a dozen cars, plenty for a race.

"Wait, maybe I can mortgage part of the land." He hit his head in annoyance. Despite being from a family of real estate businessmen, he had completely forgotten the operation of real estate. Suddenly, he felt like his world was much brighter; everything was not lost yet. "But wait, what if there are people in this state who have started racing? Could I invite them?" Although he hadn't investigated fully, he did know that there was a racing scene in Solanki Puri, Vijayanagar, Cheranadu, Cholapuri, and Kakathiya Puri as well. The other states he did not know, but he did hear rumours that there were a few clubs in them as well, so could Anuradha Puri also have a similar racing club or an underground racing scene?

"Worth a try!"

He threw the letters he had prepared into the dustbin without any hesitation and immediately wrote a new set of letters, this time to his friends he had met due to their shared love of racing back home. But he did not ask them to participate in the race; instead, he simply called them to visit his track and see the race he was hosting.

This way, if he was successful in finding a few people to race locally, then the invitation held true, but if not, he could simply ask them to participate in the race themselves as drivers after purchasing a few cars.

After posting the letters, Pritam sat in a restaurant drinking coffee, getting his thoughts together. "So how can I find my racers?" he asked. He was in a new state, an unfamiliar state where he could not speak the local language. He was beginning to understand how hasty his decision was in choosing Colombo as the place to be the centre of his racing company, but there was no use regretting it now.

Suddenly, an idea flashed in his mind, "Wait, will that work?" His eyes brightened, and he immediately went to the panchayat after asking around. He wanted to know where the DGP of Anuradha Nagari's office was.

Pritam Paoli was a little disappointed that it was not in Colombo, being the state's economic capital and all, but still, the place where the office was actually located was not too far away. It was only about 90 kilometres. With his car, he should be able to reach it by the end of the day.

So without any hesitation, being headstrong as suitable for his age, without any other considerations, he began his road trip. He encountered many setbacks, like the heat, or how he had to walk five kilometres to the nearest town to get coal and water for the car, or even how he had completely forgotten to pack some food for himself. But still, he made it to the destination. After resting for the whole day and night, he set off to the DGP's office straight away.

Usually, one has to make an appointment to get an audience with the DGP, but as he used the credentials of his company, and maybe it was his luck or God's blessing for the hardships he had encountered, the DGP was not busy, and his audience was easy to procure.

"Tell me, Mr. Pritam, what can I do for you?" The DGP, a well-built man, placed his hands on the table and looked straight into Pritam's eyes.

Pritam's heartbeat increased a little, but since young, he had met many important officials, so he recovered and came straight to the point.

"If possible, I would like to get information about some cases the police of Anuradha Puri might have encountered."

"Oh," the DGP narrowed his eyes, intrigued. "What type of cases?"

"It's cases about groups of people breaking the traffic laws by speeding without limits, or maybe information about illegal, unregistered entertainment activities involving cars." He knew that no government in the empire had termed what they were doing, so he was as indirectly direct as possible.

The DGP's eyebrows raised. "What do you need this information for?"

Pritam took a big gulp. "Well, I want to bring their activity to a stage so that it will be safer when these people are taken off the streets."

"International Federation of Mobility, that's my company. I'm the founder. If you allow me, I want to contact these troublemaking individuals and convince them to do what they do in a safe and regulated environment."

The DGP leaned back, his hands stroking his chin. He was wondering whether such a thing was legal or not. According to the new traffic law, speeding using powered cars on public roads was illegal and a punishable offence, but was it still legal if it was done on the land of a private company? As far as he could remember, there were no provisions against it.

"Well, I can't stop you from accessing the data, as all data is open for public viewing. And if you want, you may contact the troublesome individuals you speak of; there are quite a few of them. But I will have to warn you," his expression was stern, "the regulations are completely lacking in the field you want to start the business in, so I would suggest not becoming a negative example for the lawmakers."

Pritam nodded in understanding.

Directed by the kind records keeper, he immediately got all the documents he wanted, and looking through them, he was surprised that the racing scene in Anuradha Puri, as in Solanki Puri, Charanadu, and Vijayanagar, was still very rich, especially the street racing scene.

Maybe because the roads into the rural areas of the state were not completely laid down, or maybe because private landowners in this state didn't have the habit of laying down private roads within their territory, most of the racing incidents had taken place on public roads.

Without hesitation, he contacted all the people who were near Colombo and invited them to take part in the race in a week by sending telegrams through the Arkhadristhi communication network directed to the addresses provided in the documents.

Coming out of the central records building of Anuradha Puri, Pritam was surprised by how well his idea worked out. As for whether the racers would come, he had no idea, but he was optimistic in nature, so he was hopeful. Though after encountering so many setbacks, he had learnt to take precautions, so he still mortgaged a lot of his land on a long-term loan, which he used partly to make a small prize money so that there would be some incentive for the racers to come so far, and the rest he kept for himself. He decided to invest everything into the company by himself if the investors refused, even if he had to go into debt to get his business started.

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