The late June 1610 sun cast a fiery glow over Surat's bustling port, the Tapti River shimmering as the Vora Trading Company's beachfront complex stood as a testament to Jai Vora's ambition. The Vora Grand Hotel, its glass panels gleaming, housed nobles still lingering from the grand opening. The medicine shop's vials of Surat's Elixir, Heart's Guardian, and Pain's Whisper flew off shelves, the clothing store's Vora's Durable Thread shirts and jackets sold out daily, and the glassware shop's bowls and plates sparkled like Mughal treasures. Kofi's blacksmith shop roared, its swords and tools vanishing into merchants' hands, while Rajan's restaurant filled nightly with curry-scented deals. With Emperor Jahangir's chest of thousands of silver coins and his mandate to expand to Ahmedabad, Agra, and beyond, Jai, nine years old but sharp as a courtier's wit, turned his gaze to the heart of Surat: Vora Heights. The Emperor System, his secret AI-spirit guide, buzzed: "Hotel, shops, flats—done. Now Vora Heights? Kid, you're building Surat's Taj Mahal. Own this city, but watch for EIC vipers."
In the courtyard, Jai gathered his team—Anil, Leela, Sarita, Ravi, Manoj, Shashi, Kali, Vikram, Ram, Annu, and Kofi—amid the clatter of hammers from the 18,000-square-foot Tapti plot. The 4-BHK model flat, a temporary showcase of stone walls and glass windows, had dazzled Jahangir and nobles. Now, the real work began. "Vora Heights is next," Jai declared, his Charm weaving authority. "Two months to finish—shops, stable, cart parking, restaurant branch, event hall, ten 4-BHK apartments, and our penthouse. We move in when it's done. Surat's ours." Shashi, unrolling sketches, nodded. "Foundations are set. We'll use brick, stone, cross-braced beams—your modern tricks, Jai." Kali added, "Vikram Singh's artisans and our 800 workers are ready. Glass windows, sliding doors—it'll be a palace."
Anil, clutching the silver coin chest's key, grinned. "Jahangir's coins—thousands—fund this. We spent 3,000 for the hotel, but this gift Multiplied our purse." Leela, her Wisdom steady, said, "The emperor's task—shops in Ahmedabad, Agra—starts here. Vora Heights will show the empire what we are." Jai's eyes gleamed. "Exactly. Shops below for merchants, a stable and parking for nobles' horses and carts, a restaurant branch for takeaway and dining, an event hall for feasts. The apartments—only for our allies or gifted nobles. Our penthouse? The crown of Surat." The system pinged: "Penthouse life at nine? Kid, you're flexing harder than Jahangir's court."
For days, the Tapti plot buzzed with activity. Workers hauled bricks, Kofi's glass panels sparkled in frames, and carpenters carved teak balconies. Shashi and Kali, their construction skills honed, directed masons to reinforce walls, while Vikram Singh's artisans—tailors, blacksmiths, cooks—lent finesse. Sarita managed schedules, her People Management ensuring no worker idled. Ravi and Manoj, overseeing clothing and glassware shops, diverted profits to fund materials. Amir's guards patrolled, securing the site from prying eyes—guilds or worse, EIC spies. The restaurant, under Rajan's command, fed workers, its Food fueling their labor.
Jai, sketching layouts with his 2025 knowledge, guided the design: deep foundations for stability, open shopfronts for trade, a spacious hall for weddings, and apartments with river views. The penthouse, sprawling across the top floor, would boast glass walls, a private balcony, and silk-draped rooms—a home fit for Surat's new royalty. "Two months," Jai told Anil and Leela, "and we're home. Vora Heights will tower over Surat—nobody dares challenge us now." Anil, pride in his eyes, nodded. "You've made us untouchable, beta. The guilds bow, the nobles pay, the emperor blesses." Leela added, "Surat's yours, Jai. The empire's next."
The complex thrived in parallel. The medicine shop, under Leela's care, supplied nobles across Gujarat, its elixirs whispered of in Agra. The clothing store, Ravi's domain, dressed merchants in denim, its durability a legend. Kofi's glassware, from bowls to bottles, graced noble tables, while the blacksmith shop's output armed guards and farmers alike. The restaurant, secure under Amir's watch, was Surat's heart, its private rooms a hub for deals. With Jahangir's coins—thousands, a fortune—Jai's coffers swelled, fueling Vora Heights and dreams of Ahmedabad and Agra.
As days passed, Vora Heights rose, its skeleton of brick and stone a promise of dominance. Jai stood by the Tapti, the river's flow mirroring his resolve. The Vora family—rich, powerful, untouchable—owned Surat, their penthouse awaiting.