The late July 1610 sun blazed over Surat's bustling port, its rays glinting off the Tapti River as Jai Vora stood in the Vora Trading Company's courtyard, the complex a hive of ambition. The restaurant's butter chicken and spicy biryani drew nobles nightly, the medicine shop's Surat's Elixir and Pain's Whisper flew off shelves, the clothing store's Vora's Durable Thread outfits sold out daily, and Kofi's blacksmith shop rang with hammers forging blades for merchants. Vora Heights' foundations deepened on the 18,000-square-foot Tapti plot, its event hall and apartments rising like a promise. Jai's letter to Vikram Singh, sealed with wax and dispatched via Dhruv, sought permission for road paving and a spice factory, leveraging the emperor's favor. The Emperor System, his secret AI-spirit guide, buzzed: "That letter's a masterstroke, kid. Roads and factories? You're paving your way to empire—literally."
Jai's focus shifted to the luxury horse carts, his 2025 knowledge fueling a revolution in travel. In Kofi's forge, the heat washed over them as Jai unrolled his sketches, the air thick with the tang of molten steel. "Kofi, we've got the prototype ready—woodworkers did a fine job on the frame, royal-looking with carved teak and gold inlays." Kofi, sweat-glistened, wiped his brow, his voice rumbling like a bellows. "The model glides like a dream, Jai. Springs absorbing bumps, struts keeping it steady. But this rubber…" He gestured to a pile of coagulated latex sheets, harvested from coastal rubber trees. Jai's ingenuity had guided the process: milky fluid collected, coagulated with citrus acid to form sheets, reinforced with silk threads, molded into tires, and vulcanized under heat and pressure for durability.
Jai's eyes sparkled. "It's perfect, Kofi. Let's make five exceptional models—royal interiors, insulation for comfort, gold lining for flair. Nobles will beg for them." Kofi scratched his beard, his Blacksmithing skill igniting. "Insulation? Wool padding under the seats, velvet curtains? I'll have the woodworkers carve benches with cushions, and my boys will gild the edges. The tires—vulcanized rubber, gripping like iron but soft as silk. But the roads, Jai—they're dirt and ruts. This cart's a prince on a beggar's path." Jai's grin was sly. "That's next, Kofi. First, build them. We'll gift the best to Papa and Amma, one to Vikram Singh, and two to Jahangir in Agra."
Kofi nodded, calling over apprentices. "You heard the master—springs coiled tight, struts bolted firm, tires vulcanized hot. Gold leaf on the rims, velvet inside. By dusk tomorrow, we'll have models that shine like the emperor's chariot." An apprentice, young and eager, asked, "Master Jai, will these carts fight bumps?" Jai chuckled, his wit shining. "They'll dance over them. Test the first on the Tapti road—feel the glide." The forge roared to life, hammers singing as Kofi's team worked, their voices a chorus of ambition.
By the third day, five exceptional carts stood in the courtyard, their teak frames polished, gold linings glinting, and rubber tires gleaming. Jai presented the first to Anil and Leela under the neem tree, the sun casting the cart in light. "Papa, Amma, for you," he said, his voice warm. Anil ran a hand over the suspension, eyes wide. "Jai, this… it's a palace on wheels. Springs? Rubber? You've outdone the Mughals." Leela, stepping inside, gasped at the velvet cushions. "Smooth, beta—like floating. You think of us always." Jai hugged her. "Vora deserves the best. Ride it to the market—feel the difference."
The system pinged: "Family rides first? Cute, kid. But those gifts to Vikram and Jahangir? That's empire-building." Jai sent one cart to Vikram Singh in Ahmedabad, with a note: "A token of Vora's gratitude. May it carry you smoothly, as your alliance carries us." Two more, the finest, went to Jahangir in Agra, escorted by trusted couriers, their note reading: "Your Majesty, Vora's innovation for your journeys. May they serve as we serve the empire."
For a month, Jai's focus returned to Vora Heights, the 18,000-square-foot Tapti plot alive with 800 workers. Shashi and Kali directed masons laying bricks, carpenters framing balconies, and artisans installing Kofi's glass windows. "Two months to completion," Shashi reported, unrolling blueprints. "Shops below, restaurant branch humming, event hall grand, ten apartments luxurious, your penthouse a crown." Kali added, "We've braced the floors as you said—strong against monsoons." Jai nodded, his vision soaring. "Make it Vora's jewel—glass to catch the river's glow, space for our family and allies."
Anil stepped up, his Wisdom steady. "Jahangir's coins—thousands—fund this. We spent 3,000 for the hotel, but this gift Multiplied our purse." Leela, her voice proud, 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 affiliates or gifted nobles. Our penthouse? The crown of Surat." The system pinged: "Penthouse life at nine? You're flexing harder than Jahangir's court."
As workers hauled bricks and polished glass, Jai received Vikram Singh's reply, sealed with wax. He unrolled it in the courtyard, his team gathering. "Dear Jai,
*Your carts arrived—exceptional! Springs glide like clouds, rubber tires grip like iron. The emperor received his two, and he's pleased—exceptionally comfortable, he says. On his behalf, I order 20 more. I'll take two for myself—your vision, Jai, is a marvel. Nobles will flock to Vora's carts soon.
*For the roads: Jahangir grants permission to pave Surat's prominent paths—from Vora Heights to the port and key streets. He funds it with 2,000 coins. If your work shines, more rewards await—projects for Ahmedabad, the highway from Surat to Ahmedabad, and beyond. Your factory? Approved. Package spices, sell abroad—undercut the EIC as you wish. Jahangir sees your worth.
*Stay vigilant, Jai. Court whispers of EIC spies in Surat. Your rise draws eyes.
Your ally, Vikram Singh"
Jai's grin was fierce. "Roads funded, factory approved—2,000 coins more. And 22 carts ordered? Vora's rolling." Anil's eyes widened. "The emperor funds our roads? Jai, you've turned Surat into your kingdom." Leela hugged him. "And a factory—spices packed, sold high. The EIC'll choke." Shashi and Kali, blueprints in hand, said, "Roads first—pave the Tapti path, then the port." Jai nodded. "Kofi, prioritize cart production—springs, rubber, gold lining. We'll deliver in a month." Kofi boomed, "Done, Jai. They'll glide like dreams."
The system buzzed: "Roads, carts, factory? You're a one-man Mughal revolution, kid. But those EIC spies Vikram mentioned? Keep your eyes open." Jai's hatred for the EIC flared, but Vora Heights' completion in two months would cement their Surat throne, paving the way for Ahmedabad and Agra.