The June 1610 morning cast a golden sheen over Ahmedabad's bustling haveli, where Jai Vora stood with Vikram Singh, the noble ally whose support had opened the Mughal court's doors. The air carried the scent of jasmine, but Jai's mind was on Surat, few days from the grand opening of his medicine shop, clothing store, and glassware shop. With Dhruv, Nishil, and Rajan at his side, Jai clasped Vikram's hands, his nine-year-old frame radiating gratitude. "Vikram, your guidance, your artisans, your voice in court—Vora owes you everything. I'll see you in Surat, with the emperor." The Emperor System, his secret AI-spirit guide, buzzed: "Saying bye to your VIP? Kid, you've got an emperor to host. Better make that surprise a banger."
Vikram's eyes twinkled, his voice warm but curious. "Jahangir's coming, Jai, but where will an emperor stay? Surat's no Agra." Jai's grin was sly, his Charm weaving confidence. "It's a surprise, Vikram. Trust me—Vora's ready to dazzle His Majesty." Vikram clapped his shoulder. "I'll be there, with Jahangir in tow. Safe travels, young lion." With heartfelt farewells, Jai, Dhruv, Nishil, and Rajan mounted their horses, carts laden with gifts returned, and rode for Surat, the road blurring under their haste.
Two days later, Surat's beachfront complex greeted them, the Tapti River glinting under the midday sun. The restaurant buzzed with nobles, Kofi's blacksmith shop roared with forges, and the medicine, clothing, and glassware shops stood ready for their opening. Jai's family and followers—Anil, Leela, Sarita, Ravi, Manoj, Shashi, Kali, Vikram, Ram, and Annu—had kept the machine running flawlessly. The seaside 3-BHK model flat gleamed, and Vora Heights' 4-BHK model rose on the Tapti plot, both showcases of Vora's vision. Jai gathered them in the courtyard, his voice urgent. "The emperor's coming—Jahangir himself. He'll open our shops, stay a few days. We've got five days to make this perfect."
Leela's eyes widened, her Wisdom steady. "The emperor? Beta, that's… historic." Anil, clutching the Tapti deed, added, "The shops are ready, but hosting Jahangir? We'll need more." Jai nodded, his vision blazing. "He'll inaugurate the medicine shop, clothing store, and glassware shop. And he'll stay in the Vora Grand Hotel—top floor, fit for a king. Vikram, Ram, Shashi, Kali—make the hotel and seaside 3-BHK flats lavish. Glass panels, sliding doors, balconies, carpets, furniture—spare nothing."
Sarita, her People Management sharp, interjected. "Jahangir's visit will draw every noble who hesitated. Merchants, officers—Surat will be packed." Jai's eyes gleamed. "Good. Their coins and loyalty will fuel us." The system pinged: "Emperor's opening your shops? Kid, you're turning Surat into the Mughal Oscars. Don't run out of gold."
Jai made a bold call, halting Vora Heights' construction. "All hands to the hotel and flats. Hire 800 workers—skilled for glass and carpentry, unskilled for labor. We've got 3,000 coins—spend them." Anil's jaw dropped. "All our coin? Jai, that's everything!" Jai's voice was steel. "Papa, Jahangir's visit is our crown. We'll rebuild the coffers after." Shashi and Kali rallied the crew, Vikram Singh's artisans—tailors, blacksmiths, cooks—joining local hands. Day and night, 800 workers swarmed the Vora Grand Hotel, installing Kofi's glass panels, crafting sliding doors, carving balconies, laying Persian carpets, and furnishing rooms with teak and velvet. The seaside 3-BHK flats transformed, their glass windows gleaming like jewels.
The top floor, reserved for Jahangir, became a palace: silk drapes, a canopied bed, a balcony overlooking the Tapti. The 3-BHK flats housed noble guests, each room a showcase of Vora's luxury. By the fifth day, the hotel stood complete, its facade a blend of Mughal arches and Jai's modern flair, the seaside flats ready for guests. The cost—nearly 3,000 coins—left Vora's purse thin, but Jai's gamble was set. The system buzzed: "Bankrupt for an emperor? Bold move, kid. If Jahangir's impressed, you're untouchable."
As dusk fell, Jai stood atop the hotel, the Tapti's glow mirroring his ambition. Tomorrow, Jahangir would arrive, and by evening, he'd open Vora's shops, nobles and merchants flooding Surat. The stage was set, the EIC's shadow looming, but Vora's star was ready to blaze.