Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

A quiet tension settled over the room like dust on old furniture in a forgotten home, thick and still. Ivaylo sat straight-backed in the simple wooden chair, his fine cloak falling neatly around him, his hands folded atop his knee in practiced poise. Yet his eyes watched the man across the desk with increasing unease.

Aron said nothing at first. He remained focused on a piece of parchment, his tired eyes scanning the lines with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Occasionally, he glanced up at Ivaylo, just for a second, long enough to seem as though measuring something, before returning to his reading with a faint rustle of paper.

It was not how these meetings were supposed to go.

Ivaylo was used to being the one in control, he was a big shot after all.

Here, in this simple room stuffed with wooden filing cabinets and a desk cluttered with ink pots, parchments, and thick-bound folders, he was the subject under scrutiny. He didn't like it one bit.

After what felt like a stretch of silence too long to endure gracefully, Ivaylo cleared his throat lightly.

"Is everything all right, sir?" he asked, keeping his tone neutral, though the discomfort was beginning to itch beneath his skin.

"Yes," came the even reply, the man's eyes never leaving the page. "Just give me a moment. I'm reviewing your information."

The words, so flat and impersonal, struck Ivaylo with an unexpected chill. It was normal, of course, for one to inquire about a potential partner, but usually, it was Ivaylo's family doing the investigating, not the other way around.

He was used to sitting with merchants, emissaries, even priests, who bowed their heads at the chance to work with his house, while nobles extended their hands to receive their bribes. To now be under examination, as though he were some untested apprentice, felt... backwards.

Still, he held his expression firm.

Aron finally looked up, as if sensing the discomfort and choosing to address it.

"As you very well know," he began, his voice as steady as before, "what the Crown is offering here is quite a bold undertaking. Nothing of this sort has been done before and most certainly not with this level of openness. So we do not consider it excessive to prepare thoroughly, even meticulously."

He shifted in his chair and folded the parchment in front of him, though he did not yet set it aside.

"There are many merchants vying for a piece of what's being offered—some from reputable families, others... not so much. We must be very certain that the ones we invite into our soil will treat it with the care it demands. We wouldn't want to give our lands to hooligans, after all. Would we?"

Ivaylo offered a quick nod and a polite smile. "Of course. I wouldn't expect anything less."

Still, the curiosity clawed at him, prickling like burrs beneath his fine clothes.

"Is everything in conformity?" he asked after another moment, his tone casual, though his eyes searched the man for any sign of disapproval or interest.

Aron's mouth twitched, though it wasn't quite a smile.

"I'll let you know," he said dryly, "if there's something I don't like."

After several long minutes, Aron finally set the parchment down and leaned back slightly, his sharp eyes settling fully on his guest for the first time.

Ivaylo Fugger, patriarch of the Fugger trading house.

Aron took a moment to study the man, well-groomed, confident, dressed in the understated richness only old money could afford. The Fuggers had done well for themselves. Their influence stretched far beyond Romelia's southern provinces. Timber, pelts, oils, grain, even wine and spices, they had their fingers in almost every major trade across the continent, of course before the great crisis that befell their nation. Still they were rich enough to withstand the fall, and to undoubtedly, have more than a few senators' votes jingled in their purses.

They had wealth. They had reach.And, Aron noted with the silent suspicion of someone who'd dealt too long with powerful men they likely had the ambition to match.

The Fuggers could easily bear the costs of developing new industries, and perhaps more concerning, had the means to agitate and manipulate the local markets should things not go their way. Their involvement might complicate integration with Yarzat's still-nascent partners, already fragile structures being built with painstaking effort.

Still, they were already made men, and that came with advantages. Influence came with predictability. And if they stepped out of line, a little royal favoritism could be used like a hammer, privilege and power were tools, after all, what good were they if not properly used?

He offered Ivaylo a small, diplomatic smile, one he had been practicing too often lately , as diplomacy was all the prince seemed to need from him these days and unfortunately of that there wasn't much work to do.

"I apologize for the delay," Aron said smoothly, his tone light but firm. "You'll be pleased to know we've found nothing that would warrant denying your application to our Land Leasing Program. So, if you're ready, we may proceed."

Ivaylo mirrored the smile with practiced ease. "Of course, sir. I am."

Aron gave a brief nod and shifted to a new parchment, already prepared.

"Now, in which sector of production would you like to invest? I should make it clear upfront that the amount of land available for lease is determined in part by the sector you select. Naturally, this is subject to future expansion, provided there is verifiable evidence that the leased land is being effectively cultivated or utilized.

We've no interest in watching fertile land wither under the boots of men who overestimate their purse and underestimate their greed. I trust you understand."

Ivaylo's jaw stiffened ever so slightly, though the smile stayed fixed. "Of course. Though I would like it noted that we are more than capable of financing our operations, regardless of the scale."

"Certainly," Aron replied with an acknowledging nod. "We are well aware of the considerable wealth your house commands. I mentioned it only to clarify the framework of our policies. Some of our terms may seem... restrictive at first glance, but I assure you their purpose will become clear as we move forward.

Now then, Master Fugger what will you be investing in?"

Ivaylo folded his hands over his lap, voice steady with rehearsed conviction.

"We would first like to invest in a vineyard, our agents have confirmed the soil and climate here are particularly suited for a strong-bodied red, and we intend to make full use of that. Once the necessary groundwork is laid, we will pursue investment in the production of black and yellow dye on another land."

At the mention of dye, Aron's eyes flickered , he knew why Ivaylo had chosen that, it would be a discussion for another day. For now, they had to work through the formalities.

He dipped his pen into ink and began to write as he spoke.

"For viticulture, the initial leasing cap is fifteen acres, sufficient to begin producing on a respectable scale. Once the first lease term concludes and satisfactory productivity is demonstrated, expansion can be arranged with minimal delay."

He glanced up before continuing.

"As for dye production, we offer up to five acres if the land is to be situated near a freshwater source, either the sea or a river, for the sake of processing. Should you forgo proximity to water, the maximum extends to nine acres."

Ivaylo gave a slow, thoughtful nod before replying.

"We would prefer to have a bit more land allocated for the vineyard, if possible—fifteen acres is quite modest for our planned scale. That said, the terms for the dye production are acceptable. We will, of course, require access to water. The process will demand it."

Aron allowed himself a small, noncommittal smile, businesslike, tempered.

"Understandable. However, the terms of the first lease are fixed, five years in length, with the possibility for expansion afterward. We are selective in our initial arrangements. The land, after all, is valuable to the crown and we aim to ensure it's placed in the hands of partners who demonstrate the ability to maintain and grow their holdings with care."

Ivaylo's voice carried a hint of dry amusement, and a note of steel beneath.

"Surely you know my family has no shortage of coin. We can more than afford to cultivate what we lease, twice over, if need be."

Aron met his gaze evenly.

"No doubt." he agreed ''But we are all slave of formalities, apologies for that...''

He returned his eyes to the parchment, continuing his annotations as thinking to say something else

"We've found it wiser to grow slowly with the right men, than to run quickly with the wrong ones."

He looked up again and offered a practiced smile, firm, but not unkind.

"Now, regarding the leasing fees."

He dipped his feather again, underlining something with a firm stroke.

"The lease for the vineyard will require a one-time payment of 900 denarii. Consider it less a commercial cost and more an honorary fee, a gesture of good faith and formal entry into our economic partnership. It covers the registration, surveying, and allocation of the land."

He paused and looked up at Ivaylo, making sure the merchant was following.

"This initial fee secures the land for five years. After that period, the lease transitions into an annual payment model, 12% of the winery's gross yearly income, to be paid directly to the Office of Royal Holdings."

Ivaylo gave a short nod, expressing no information except aknowledgment

Aron continued without waiting.

"As for the dye production—given the infrastructure it will require, and the access to freshwater we're providing—the initial lease fee will be 500 denarii, covering the first two years. Following that, the rent will be fixed at 15% of the operation's gross annual income."

He closed the ledger and folded his hands atop it.

"Naturally, both operations will be subject to occasional inspections. We value productivity, but we value honesty more."

He allowed a pause, his gaze steady.

"Shall we move forward under those terms?"