Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

For a brief moment, Alpheo stood in silence, his thoughts circling the unexpected notion Asag had just presented.

He cast a long, measured look at his friend, surprised, perhaps even humbled. He had never taken Asag for a dullard, but neither had he expected such shrewd insight.

And now, in hindsight, he realized that the same man who had held the crumbling walls of Aracina for a month with nothing but sheer resolve and iron grit, could hardly be underestimated.

Asag had struck upon something Alpheo himself had missed.

Until now, he had assumed that merchants would flock in droves at the chance to lease Yarzat's land, eager to reap profit from vineyards and olive groves. But viewed through the lens of an outsider, someone who did not share Alpheo's urgency or idealism, his plan had holes.

And through those holes, cold water was already beginning to seep.

He had overlooked a fundamental truth: the initial cost of establishing a winery or oilery was immense. Years of labor, years of waiting before a single cask of wine or flask of oil could be sold. It was an investment not only coming from ambition, but of patience and deep pockets, meaning only the wealthiest merchants could afford to take that gamble.

That, he now understood, was why the eastern provinces had flourished in wine and oil. They had peace. The kings of Sarleon and Latvia never dared march against the war engine of Romelia. And no savage tribe from beyond the Bane would ever breach the northeast with the entire Romelian north between them.

Stability had given them decades to cultivate wealth from the slow-growing vines and groves.

But Yarzat had no such luxury.

If Alpheo had not fought tooth and nail to hold the borders, had not shattered armies and burned any bridges of hope behind invaders, then his lands would've been trampled underfoot. His princedom was forged in fire, not peace. And even now, the embers of war still smoldered on the horizon.

A land so often at war was no safe bet. Not for merchants. Not for anyone looking to plant deep roots and wait for fruit to grow.

And suddenly, the promise of investment seemed far less certain.

"You've given me much to think about," Alpheo finally said, his voice quieter now, contemplative. "I see the wisdom in your concern. After all, ventures like these would truly only be viable for those wealthy enough to absorb failure without facing ruin."

Asag said nothing in return. He simply nodded, eyes closing briefly.

"But still," Alpheo continued, "even if only a few can afford to take such a risk, I believe there are enough merchants out there willing to seize the bull by the horns. Opportunity has always walked hand-in-hand with danger. And what greater lure is there for a merchant than a gap in the market, one they themselves already understand?"

He turned to pace slowly before them, hands clasped behind his back. His voice grew stronger, steadier with conviction.

"They are the ones already buying the wine and the oil, mostly through less than legal means, given that the greatest producer is one of the seceding provinces.After all it is either that or to go the Sultanate of Azania, through a sea that is infested with pirates and a land that is now in civil war too....

They see the prices rising, the scarcity biting at the tables of lords and commoners alike. They know the margins, the profits, and the hunger in the market. Greed, after all, can often make up for what courage alone might lack."

Asag allowed a faint smile to cross his lips, rubbing a thumb along his beard. "If you think so, then it must be true. I've never been a merchant, after all. Got no mind for that type of thing."

"No, Asag,you may not be a merchant" Alpheo said, stopping in his tracks. "But your insight has been more than valuable. It seems that if we truly want this policy to succeed, then it cannot stand as a cold invitation. It must be a gesture of partnership. We must offer them not only the land, but the confidence to work it."

He turned to the others, his gaze sharp now.

"Which means... adjustments must be made. We must sweeten the offer. Provide some measure of security. If we want investment, we must be willing to share in both its rewards and its risks."

Jasmine, who had remained quiet until then, shifted in her seat with a subtle frown. "And how exactly do you propose we do that?" she asked, her voice cool, but not dismissive. "You're suggesting we share in their failure now, after already granting them land?They are not children and we are not their mother, who are they to suck at our teats?"

"Not share their failure," Alpheo clarified, "but offer a net beneath their fall. We could provide an initial grant or subsidy, unds to help them break ground, scaled by the nature of their enterprise. A vineyard, an oil press, and a dye distillery would each require different support, but nothing beyond our means."

He looked toward Asag once more. "And if war, raids, or fire ruins the venture, as you wisely noted might happen... then we could offer compensation. Not full, but partial, enough to encourage them to try again rather than flee.''

"And what do we gain from it?" Shahab asked at last, his tone skeptical but not yet dismissive. "From what you've said, we would be pouring Crown funds into private ventures. I fail to see how the taxes alone would ever make that worthwhile.''

Alpheo met his gaze without hesitation. "A valid concern, and one I've considered closely. We won't simply be handing out silver like benevolent fools. What I propose is a partnership, not a gift. Any merchant receiving Crown investment will do so under contract.

In exchange for the initial sum, we would claim a percentage of their enterprise, say, thirty percent of the net profit for a moderate investment of two-tree thousand silverii. That's not taxation. That's a share. A permanent stream of coin flowing directly into the royal treasury."

He paused, letting the weight of the numbers settle in the room.

"Now imagine,not one, but dozens of such ventures. Vineyards in the southern hills, oileries and dye mills set up in the shadow of ruined Herculia. None of them built by us, none of them staffed or maintained at our cost, and yet, each one giving back to us, not only through shared profit but also through tariffs, market dues, transport levies, and land rent."

Jasmine's eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued despite herself. "You think there will be that many willing to accept such terms?"

Alpheo nodded, his voice steady and clear. "I do. Because the opportunity is rare, and in rarity lies fortune. The collapse of Romelia's eastern provinces has left a gaping hole in the continent's supply of oil and wine.

They were once the golden fields of the empire, the vineyards and groves that fed half the nobles in Romelia. But now? Their lands lie fractured, their roads unsafe,and trading with the other side illegal. The demand, however, remains unchanged, pressing, rising, hungry. Trade may slow, but it never ceases, and markets never sleep."

He let his gaze sweep across the council.

"And if that alone weren't enough, consider this: the only other major exporter, Azania, is embroiled in a civil war that's torn its heart in two.

No man knows who will be in charge tomorrow, let alone in a year. Their ports are blocked, their trade routes disrupted. And to make matters worse, the sea lanes between here and the other side are teeming with pirates. Any merchant willing to buy from the broken east or the burning south must pay threefold just to survive the journey."

He paused, then spoke with crisp finality.

"That means Yarzat now stands as the only viable place to birth a new supply. Our soil is quiet, for now. Our roads are safe, for now. If we act quickly and wisely, we can seize this moment and become the cornerstone of a market that is desperate for new roots.

And when that market blooms, it will do so on our soil, under our law, and within our economy. We won't just tax it. We'll own a portion of it."

Shahab stroked his greying beard in silence, eyes narrowed in thought. His shoulders, once rigid with skepticism, now sagged with the weight of reluctant acceptance. "It… does have merit," he murmured at last, voice low, as if surprised to hear himself say it aloud. "If even a fraction of what you predict comes to pass, it would bring us much benefit.''

Beside him, Jasmine shared the same thought. Her gaze had softened, the hard skepticism in her eyes giving way to a spark of calculation. "Assuming it works," she said slowly, her voice lacking its earlier bite. "That is… not a terrible vision."

But just as the weight in the room began to lift, it was Asag who raised a hand, his brow furrowed.

"I see the opportunity," he said, "but there's still something missing."

Alpheo turned to him, nodding for him to continue.

"You speak of leases,but what guarantee do these merchants have that, once their ten years are over, we won't simply refuse to renew the lease? And take the land and industry they built and declare it Crown property? You promise riches, but what proof do they have that we'll not turn around and rob them once the work is done?"

The question struck the chamber like a pebble tossed into a still pond,soft, but unavoidable in its ripple. The other turned toward Alpheo.

Alpheo didn't dismiss it. On the contrary he nodded, slowly, even appreciatively.

"You are right, Asag. That is a legitimate concern and one I should have addressed from the start.

The contracts we issue will be sealed not only with the Crown's seal, but with a binding clause: that each lease will be renewed automatically unless its holder has been convicted of fraud, violence, or any act of treason against the people or the state.

He raised a hand.

"And in the rare case that the Crown finds cause not to renew the lease, without legal wrongdoing on the part of the leaseholder, then we shall be bound by law to pay the equivalent of the sum of profit from the past three years as compensation. That will be their guarantee.''

Silence followed, heavy and thoughtful. Then Asag nodded and folded his arms across his chest.

Alpheo let out a long breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

The room no longer buzzed with outrage or doubt. Given that they all could see the point Alpheo was making, and that if proved right would truly transform their state.

As it seemed the room itself understood that something had shifted, as they broke away from the traditions of their old society, to pioneer the way for their future's.