May 1610's sun crowned Surat with a golden halo, its rays dancing off the Tapti River like scattered jewels as the city buzzed with anticipation. The Vora Trading Company's restaurant, a three-story marvel on the beachfront plot, stood ready for its grand unveiling—a beacon of Jai Vora's vision, elevated on its 10-foot foundation against the sea's whims. Three months of relentless construction, overseen by Jai's keen eye and Anil's steady command, had transformed the site into an architectural gem: whitewashed walls etched with Mughal-inspired motifs, lattice screens whispering of privacy and allure, and the aroma of innovative dishes wafting from the kitchens like a siren's call. The Emperor System, Jai's secret AI-spirit confidant, hummed with excitement in his mind: "Grand opening day, Jai! Butter chicken and beach views? This is how you hook 'em before the EIC even sniffs the air. Play it smart—those memberships will turn guests into loyalists."
Jai, nine years old but carrying the weight of two lifetimes, grinned from the shadows of the first floor, his Charm radiating like a polished gem. "Easy, system. Today's not just food—it's the launchpad for everything." The restaurant's design was Jai's masterpiece: the ground floor, open and welcoming for 100-150 commoners, with long tables and vibrant murals of Surat's ports; the second, luxurious with cushioned divans and silk drapes for 70-80 affluent guests; the third, an opulent retreat with five private sea-view dining rooms, each seating 20-25, reserved for the elite. Invitations had gone out to Surat's influential: merchants like Pravin Shah and Hiralal, guild heads wary but curious, and nobles with ties to the Mughal court. The event promised not just a meal, but a glimpse of Vora's future.
As twilight fell, the doors swung open to a fanfare of conch shells and dhol drums, oil lamps illuminating the facade like stars descended to earth. Guests streamed in—turbaned traders in silk kurtas, veiled women in embroidered saris, and armored guards escorting dignitaries—their chatter a symphony of expectation. Anil, the public face of Vora Trading, greeted them with a merchant's grace, his voice booming: "Welcome to Vora's Haven—the heart of flavor and fellowship!" Leela, her Charm weaving warmth, directed servers in crisp uniforms, while Jai observed from a discreet balcony, his followers blending among the staff.
The feast began, a cascade of dishes born from Jai's future knowledge. Butter chicken simmered in creamy tomato gravy, its spices a harmonious blaze; butter paneer melted on the tongue like a savory dream; kebabs charred to perfection with cumin and coriander; curries that sang of secret blends. The fast-food counter bustled with kheema pav and veggie pav—minced lamb or vegetables tucked into soft bread for on-the-go delights, a concept as novel as it was addictive. Guests murmured in awe: "What sorcery is this?" Pravin Shah, savoring a kebab, leaned to Hiralal. "Vora's outdone us all—this butter chicken could conquer kingdoms."
Amid the revelry, Jai's followers shone. Sarita, with People Management guiding her like an invisible hand, orchestrated the staff; Kofi and Amir, their strength a silent promise, handled logistics; Vikram, Ram, Shashi, and Kali mingled, their loyalty a shield. The blacksmith display stole breaths: Kofi's workshop, operational for a month, showcased superior swords with balanced edges, spears with unbreakable shafts, shields etched with Vora motifs, and armor lighter yet tougher than guild standards. His Blacksmithing skill had elevated the craft, drawing praise: "These blades sing!" a noble exclaimed, hefting a sword.
Anil took the stage on the second floor, his voice cutting through the din. "Friends, Vora Trading Company is more than a restaurant. We announce our cloth shop—ready-made garments with on-site tailors; a medicine emporium for rare herbs and potions; and a construction arm to build homes and warehouses. And for our loyal patrons, memberships: Silver at 5 rupees a year for 15% discounts and second-floor access across our ventures; Gold at 15 rupees for 25% discounts and third-floor exclusivity." Whispers rippled—exclusivity? Discounts? It was revolutionary.
A late arrival turned heads: Lord Vikram Singh, a rich noble with ties to Emperor Jahangir, passing through Surat on imperial business. Invited on a whim by Anil, he was gifted a gold membership card, engraved with Vora's crest. Seated in a third-floor room with sea views, he tasted the butter chicken, his eyes widening. "This… this is divine alchemy!" He marveled at the kebabs, the curries, then the blacksmith display. "These swords rival the emperor's armory." The apartment sketches—luxury buildings with multiple floors, private balconies, and shared gardens—left him breathless. "Apartments? A new way to live—genius!"
Lord Singh pulled Anil aside, his voice booming with praise. "Anil Vora, you've crafted an empire from spice! Who's the mind behind this?" Anil, his suspicion of Vikram Singh's motives, flickering but unspoken, smiled. "My son, Jai—he's the architect of it all." The noble's eyebrows rose. "A boy of nine? I must meet him. Tomorrow, at my guesthouse. Bring the lad—we'll talk futures."
Jai, overhearing from the shadows, felt a thrill. The system pinged: "Noble hookup? You're networking like a pro, Jai! Quest progress: Establish Vora Trading Company, 50% complete. This could open Mughal doors—don't blow it." As the night wound down, guests departed with membership cards in hand, their awe a spark for Vora's flame. The restaurant was a hit, and Jai's empire was no longer a sketch—it was alive.