The June 1610 dawn broke over Surat's bustling port, the Tapti River's ripples catching the first light as Jai Vora stood in the Vora Trading Company's courtyard, the buzz of preparation for the grand opening—medicine shop, clothing store, glassware shop—in ten days filling the air. The restaurant's aromas drew nobles nightly, Kofi's blacksmith shop churned out blades that sold in hours, and model flats for Vora Heights and the seaside apartments gleamed with glass windows. A courier's arrival shattered the morning's rhythm, his horse sweating as he handed Jai a sealed parchment bearing the Mughal emperor's crest. The Emperor System, Jai's secret AI-spirit guide, pinged: "Jahangir himself? Kid, you're playing in the big leagues now. Pack smart—this court's a lion's den."
Jai broke the seal, his nine-year-old hands steady. The letter, inked in elegant Urdu, summoned him to the Mughal court in Ahmedabad, where Emperor Jahangir was visiting. "Vora's name has reached the throne," Jai murmured, his Wisdom racing. He called Dhruv and Nishil, his trusted lieutenants, to the basement hideout, its trapdoor hidden near the blacksmith shop. "We're going to Ahmedabad—today. Pack gifts: medicines—Surat's Elixir, Heart's Guardian, Pain's Whisper—in glass bottles. Clothes—Vora's Durable Thread shirts, jackets, S to XXL. Glassware—Kofi's finest plates, bowls. Swords from the forge, sharp and polished. And one cook—Rajan, who knows the restaurant's secret recipes."
Dhruv, scar-faced and loyal, nodded. "Gifts to impress an emperor. I'll ready the carts." Nishil, his assassin's eyes glinting, added, "I'll guard the road. No surprises." Jai's Charm flared. "Good. We ride fast—two days to Ahmedabad. Vikram Singh will meet us there." The system buzzed: "A cook with secret recipes? You're serving Jahangir a taste of Vora's magic. Don't trip on court etiquette."
The journey was swift, Surat's dust giving way to Ahmedabad's vibrant streets. Vikram Singh, Jai's noble ally, welcomed them at his haveli, his smile warm but sharp. "Jai, the emperor's court is a maze—flatter, bow, but guard your tongue. Never mention the EIC or your… other ventures." He spent the evening drilling Jai on court protocol: bow low, speak only when addressed, praise the emperor's wisdom. Jai, quick as ever, absorbed it, his wit cloaked in deference.
The next day, Jai, Dhruv, Nishil, and Vikram entered the Mughal court, a sprawling hall of marble and silk, where Jahangir sat on a gilded throne, his presence commanding. Jai bowed low, his kurta—stitched from Vora's Durable Thread—gleaming under torchlight. Courtiers whispered, some wary of the young merchant whose name echoed from Surat to Agra. Vikram's nod steadied him. Jai presented the gifts: glass vials of medicines, their contents shimmering; denim shirts and jackets, rugged yet refined; glass plates and bowls, catching gasps; polished swords, their edges singing; enchanting the court.
Jahangir's eyes, sharp as a falcon's, studied Jai. "Young Vora, your gifts are marvels—medicines that heal, cloth stronger than armor, glass fit for my palace. Surat speaks of you." Jai, his voice steady, replied, "Your Majesty's wisdom lights the empire. Vora offers these humbly, to honor your reign." The emperor smiled, impressed, but murmurs of suspicion rippled among courtiers. Vikram stepped forward, his voice smooth. "Your Majesty, Jai's ventures lift Surat, a jewel in your crown." His backing silenced doubters.
Jahangir leaned forward, his tone warm but probing. "Jai Vora, your talents could serve my court. Would you join us, guide trade from Agra?" Jai's heart raced, his mind weighing the offer. He bowed again, his Charm weaving respect. "Your Majesty, I'm honored beyond words, but Vora Trading Company depends on me—shops, homes, dreams for Surat. I serve you best by building there." Vikram added, "Without Jai, Vora falters, Majesty. His vision fuels your empire's wealth." Jahangir nodded, his gaze softening. "Wise words. Stay in Surat, Jai, but know my court watches."
As the session ended, a courtier approached. "Jai Vora, Vikram Singh—the emperor invites you to dine tonight, a private honor." Jai bowed, his voice steady. "We accept, with gratitude." Vikram clapped his shoulder, whispering, "You've won his eye, Jai. Tread lightly." The system pinged: "Dinner with Jahangir? You're dancing with emperors now, kid. Keep those EIC secrets buried."
As Jai left the court, the weight of the emperor's favor settled on him, a golden opportunity laced with danger, Vora's star rising under the EIC's unseen shadow.