The June 1610 sun rose over Surat's bustling port, its golden rays dancing on the Tapti River as Jai Vora stood in the Vora Trading Company's courtyard, the hum of progress—Kofi's forge, the medicine shop's bustle, the skeletal Vora Grand Hotel—surrounding him. With 2,300 coins from Arjun Mala's defeat fueling his ambitions, Jai turned to a new vision: Vora Heights, a revolutionary apartment complex to redefine Surat's skyline. The underground labyrinth beneath the complex, fortified by his followers' Strength and cave-building knowledge, churned out medicines and glass, but today, Jai's focus was above ground. The Emperor System, his secret AI-spirit guide, buzzed: "A skyscraper in 1610? Kid, you're turning Surat into Manhattan. Just don't let the EIC crash your party."
Jai gathered Shashi and Kali, his construction leads, in the shade of the restaurant's awning, unrolling sketches drawn with his 2025 ingenuity. "Vora Heights," he declared, his nine-year-old voice brimming with authority, "will be Surat's jewel—15,000 to 20,000 square feet by the Tapti, heart of the city. Here's the plan." He pointed to the sketches: a six-story building with shops below, a stable and cart parking on the side, a takeaway/dine-in restaurant branch, a grand hall for events, ten 4-BHK apartments, and a penthouse for the Vora family, crowned with glass windows. "This isn't just a building—it's a statement. We use stone and brick, deep foundations, cross-braced walls for strength. Floors stacked with wooden beams, supported like our caves—solid, lasting."
Shashi, her eyes wide, traced the sketches. "Apartments? Not havelis? Jai, this is… new." Kali, practical, nodded. "The hall for functions, the takeaway food—it's clever. But glass windows? Only emperors afford those." Jai's Charm sparked, his grin sly. "Not anymore. Kofi's making glass—windows, bottles, plates. We'll make Vora Heights royal, but ours. The apartments won't be sold to anyone—they're for Vora affiliates or gifted to nobles who back us. Riverside views, luxury like the Mughals, funded by our coins." The system pinged: "Royal penthouse? You're flexing, kid. Those nobles'll beg to join you."
Jai led them to Anil, his father, in the restaurant's bustling kitchen, the aroma of spices thick. "Papa, we need land—15,000 to 20,000 square feet by the Tapti, city center. It's for Vora Heights—shops, a stable, parking for carts and servants, a restaurant branch for takeaway and dining, a rentable hall for weddings, and ten 4-BHK apartments, plus our new home on top." Anil, weighing the 2,300-coin purse, chuckled. "A whole building, Jai? You dream bigger than Surat's walls. The land's costly, but with Vikram Singh's loan and our profits, we'll secure it. This restaurant branch—takeaway food? That's new." Jai nodded. "People buy, eat at home, or dine in. It's not as lavish as our seaside place, but it'll draw crowds—merchants, nobles, workers."
Shashi interjected, her voice eager. "The hall's genius—rent it for feasts, weddings. Surat's never had that." Kali added, "The stable and parking—nobles'll love the convenience. But we need masons, carpenters, more hands." Jai's Wisdom gleamed. "We'll use our crew, and Dhruv's bringing help from Ahmedabad."
As if summoned, Dhruv strode into the courtyard, dust from the road clinging to his cloak, followed by twenty figures—men and women, their faces weathered but skilled. "Jai," Dhruv said, his scar twitching with a smile, "Vikram Singh sends his best: six tailors for your clothing store, two blacksmiths to aid Kofi, two doctors for the medicine shop, four cooks for the restaurant, four soldiers for Amir's guard, and two accountants for Sarita's ledgers." He handed Jai a sealed letter, its wax stamped with Vikram's seal. "And this—his words for you." Jai took it, his voice warm. "You've outdone yourself, Dhruv. Vikram's gifts—these people, the medicines I sent—tighten our bond."
Dhruv bowed. "Vikram was stunned by your medicines—Surat's Elixir healed a courtier's fever, he said. He's eager for more, and these artisans are loyal to him—and now to you." Jai's eyes glinted, his hatred for the EIC a quiet fire. "Good. They'll build Vora Heights, stitch our clothes, guard our shops. Tell Vikram we're grateful, and Vora's star is rising."
As Shashi and Kali pored over the sketches, assigning tasks to the new artisans, Jai stood by the Tapti's edge, the river's flow mirroring his ambitions. Vora Heights would tower, its glass windows gleaming, a beacon of Vora's power against the EIC's shadow.