The June 1610 morning broke over Surat's beachfront, the Tapti River shimmering as a grand procession approached the Vora Trading Company complex. Emperor Jahangir, resplendent in gold-threaded robes, rode at its head, flanked by high-ranking nobles and Vikram Singh, Jai's stalwart ally. The Vora Grand Hotel, its glass panels gleaming, stood ready, its top floor a royal suite for the emperor. The seaside 3-BHK flats, furnished with carpets and teak, awaited noble guests. Jai Vora, nine years old but sharp as a Mughal blade, stood with his parents, Anil and Leela, and followers—Sarita, Ravi, Manoj, Shashi, Kali, Vikram, Ram, Annu, and Kofi—to welcome the entourage. The Emperor System, Jai's secret AI-spirit guide, buzzed: "Jahangir and his posse? Kid, this is your Super Bowl. Show 'em Vora's magic."
Jai bowed low, his kurta of Vora's Durable Thread catching the sun. "Your Majesty, nobles, welcome to Vora Trading Company. Surat is honored." Jahangir's eyes, keen and warm, met Jai's. "Young Vora, your name precedes you. Let us see your wonders." Anil and Leela, beaming with pride, led the emperor to his suite, its balcony offering a sweeping sea view. Jahangir's breath caught. "This view—Tapti and ocean, framed in glass? It rivals Agra's finest." Vikram Singh, at his side, grinned. "Jai's vision, Majesty. Surat rises under him." The nobles, housed in the seaside flats, marveled at the glass windows and spacious rooms, their murmurs of awe spreading.
At noon, Jai hosted a lunch on the restaurant's top floor, its private room adorned with silk drapes and Kofi's glassware. Rajan, the master cook, served butter chicken, its creamy tomato sauce a velvet fire, and spicy biryani, its saffron and chili a royal dance. Jahangir savored each bite, his voice rich with delight. "This food, Jai—your restaurant shames my court's feasts. Rajan is a treasure." Jai, his Charm weaving deference, replied, "Your praise honors us, Majesty. Vora's recipes are for your pleasure." Leela, serving sherbet, smiled. "We serve Surat, but today, we serve you."
After lunch, Jai led Jahangir and the nobles on a tour. The medicine shop gleamed with glass vials of Surat's Elixir, Heart's Guardian, and Pain's Whisper, their labels promising miracles. Leela explained, "These heal fevers, hearts, and pains, Majesty." Jahangir, testing a vial, nodded. "Remarkable." The clothing store, bursting with Vora's Durable Thread—shirts, jackets, pants in S to XXL—drew gasps. Ravi, presenting a denim jacket, said, "Strong as armor, fit for all." Jahangir ran a hand over the fabric. "This cloth—rugged, yet fine. Surat's pride." The glassware shop, with Kofi's plates, bowls, and bottles, sparkled like a jewel box. "Glass for emperors," Jahangir murmured, impressed.
The tour ended at the model flats: the seaside 3-BHK, its sea view breathtaking, and Vora Heights' 4-BHK, its stone walls and glass windows regal. Shashi and Kali, guiding the emperor, explained, "These show our apartments' future—luxury for allies, not for sale." Jahangir's eyes gleamed. "You build homes fit for nobles, Jai. Your vision is bold."
As evening fell, the grand opening unfolded on Surat's beachfront, a spectacle of torches and silk canopies. Hundreds of nobles, merchants, and Mughal officials packed the courtyard, their finery rivaling the stars. Jahangir, flanked by Vikram Singh and Jai, stood before the shops, a ribbon of crimson silk stretched across their entrances. With a ceremonial dagger, the emperor cut the ribbon, his voice booming. "By my hand, Vora Trading Company opens—medicines to heal, clothes to adorn, glass to dazzle. Surat, behold your prodigy, Jai Vora!"
The crowd roared, coins already flowing as nobles sampled medicines, tried clothes, and bought glassware. Jahangir raised a hand, silencing them. "Jai Vora, your works honor my empire. Your shops, your food, your homes—they shine. I task you: open restaurants, shops, in Ahmedabad, Agra, and my cities. Let Vora's light spread." Jai bowed, his heart pounding. "Your Majesty, Vora will rise to your command." Vikram whispered, "You've done it, Jai." The system pinged: "Jahangir's blessing and a Mughal franchise? Kid, you're the emperor's MVP. Watch out for EIC spies in that crowd."
As fireworks lit the Surat sky, Jai stood amid the throng, the emperor's praise and task a golden crown. Vora's empire was soaring, but the EIC's shadow lurked, hungry for his secrets.