In the heart of Rolia, the capital of the Empire, the grandeur of the imperial palace lood over the bustling city. Inside its gilded halls, Lord Lisidor, patriarch of House Veritia, sat in a stately chamber, nursing a goblet of crisp apple cider. Across from him, the regent of the Empire, Marthio of House Achea, reclined in his high-backed chair.
Lord Lisidor's gaze drifted down to the pale amber liquid in his cup, its faint sparkle catching the light streaming through the tall, arched windows. The cider was cool on his lips, sweet and tart, a drink that had beco the toast of noble gatherings across the Empire. He swirled the goblet absently, reflecting on the significance of this unassuming beverage.
In recent months, the imperial family had taken the lead in distributing two wonders from the distant southern reaches: the luxurious soap that left skin smooth and fragrant, and the cider that now rested in his cup. From the mont these goods entered the Empire's markets, they had been an overwhelming success, consud voraciously by the nobility. Their popularity had swiftly turned them into a cornerstone of the imperial economy.
Thanks to the remarkable profits from these commodities, the Empire's coffers had swelled. Where fiscal disaster once lood in the aftermath of the civil war, drastic asures to cut expenditure had been avoided entirely. It was a lifeline that would not have been possible without the resourcefulness of the regent's son, Keval Achea. His ingenuity in securing and marketing these southern goods before they gain popularity in the Imperial market had been the thing that allowed the ship to stay afloat.
Many noble houses across the Empire, eager to partake in the lucrative trade of soap and cider, had scrambled to gain their own foothold in the market. Envoys were dispatched southward, bearing offers of gold and alliances to the Princess of Yarzat, hoping to bypass the imperial monopoly. Yet every attempt was t with polite but unwavering refusal. The princess, bound by the treaty she had signed with the ruling imperial house, remained steadfast in her agreent: the goods would be supplied exclusively to the Empire's ruling family.
Frustrated, these noble houses turned to the next logical alternative—southern rchants. However, this avenue proved no less unfeasible. Purchasing directly from southern traders required crossing borders, and paying a string of tolls and taxes at every town and checkpoint. By the ti the goods reached their intended markets, the accumulated costs far exceeded their value, leaving no margin for profit, not to say that many did no still do it , as even though the prices were higher , there was still a quite profit, still however not as good as the one that owned the monopoly, as while they could sell soap at 12 cider bearing a 6 silveri of gain at piece, the one that had to go all the way south , were forced to sell it at 28 with a 5 silverii margin of gain.
This harsh reality forced many to reluctantly concede defeat. The imperial family's carefully structured trade arrangent ensured that no secondary party could undercut their control, no matter how ambitious or resourceful.
The loss of the Princedom of Arlania as a client state, coupled with the severance of the Empire's northern and eastern provinces, had forced the imperial administration to rely heavily on trade with the south. This lifeline, however, was now under siege. The once-thriving trade routes were becoming treacherous passages, exacerbating the woes of the Empire's coastal lands.
Lord Marthio of House Achea, regent of the Empire, had long harbored a bitter resentnt over the loss of the Isle of Harmway to the Confederation of the Free-Isles. Harmway, a vital strategic and economic outpost, had been lost during the chaos of the civil war. While the regent had desired to reclaim the isle since the mont the news reached Rolia, the internal strife had tied his hands.
Even now, as he ticulously planned an expedition to retake the Gods' Fingers, he issue of piracy lood heavily over his mind.
Realizing that direct military action against the Free-Isles would stretch the Empire's already overburdened resources, Marthio resolved to pursue a secondary approach.
Lord Marthio set his cup down gently, his piercing gaze locking onto Lord Lisidor. "I intend to launch an expedition to reclaim the Isle of Harmway," he said with asured gravity. "The ti has co to drive the pirates back to the forsaken waters they once called ho and reassert the Empire's dominion over its seas."
Lord Lisidor's expression brightened at the announcent after all he too was an house that relied on sea trade "A fantastic idea, Your Grace," he replied enthusiastically. "It is long overdue that this plague of piracy is dealt with decisively. Our imperial seas have suffered far too much."
But then, as if a thought tempered his excitent, he leaned back slightly, his tone shifting to one of cautious curiosity. "However, I must admit, I find myself uncertain about the reason I was called here. Surely such a grand endeavor does not hinge on my presence alone?"
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Marthio's lips. "On the contrary, Lord Lisidor, your presence is essential." He folded his hands atop the table, leaning forward slightly. "Like myself, you stand to gain a great deal from the reclamation of Harmway. Your ships sail these waters, and your house thrives on trade, just as mine does. With the isle reclaid, comrce would flow freely, and the coffers of our houses would fill once more. As such," he said, his voice steady and deliberate, "I hoped you might be willing to contribute ships to the expedition."
The room fell silent for a mont as Lisidor considered the regent's words, his fingers tracing the rim of his cup.
"May I ask how many ships currently compose the royal fleet?" he asked, his tone neutral but his gaze keenly fixed on the regent.
"Fourteen," Lord Marthio replied plainly.
Lisidor's brows creased at the number, his disapproval evident. Fourteen ships? For the Empire? The number was startlingly low. His expression betrayed his thoughts, and Marthio, perceptive as ever, caught the unspoken question lingering in Lisidor's furrowed gaze.
The regent sighed softly. "I understand your reaction, Lord Lisidor. Unfortunately, most of our resources are currently committed to mounting the army for this year's expedition to reclaim the God's Fingers. The royal fleet, I fear, has received minimal attention as a result. Supplies and funding for naval efforts are woefully inadequate. Which brings to you." He paused for effect. "I was hoping that House Veritia would contribute ships to increase our numbers and ensure the success of this venture."
Lisidor's fingers stilled as he absorbed the request, his eyes narrowing slightly. "How many ships, exactly, would you have contribute?" he asked cautiously.
"Forty or fifty," Marthio replied, his voice calm yet firm.
Lisidor's eyes widened in disbelief. "Forty or fifty?" he repeated, his tone carrying the faintest edge of incredulity. He set his cup down carefully, as though steadying himself. "Your Grace, with all due respect, you are asking to place the majority of my fleet into the service of the Empire, without yet offering any incentive to do so?"
Lord Marthio nodded, setting his cup down with a deliberate air. "I did not expect such great participation from House Veritia without offering proper rewards," he said smoothly. He took a asured sip of his cider before continuing throwing his main card on the table "In exchange for your contribution, I am prepared to confirm the island of Harmway as part of the Veritia household's fiefdoms."
A small silence fell between them, broken only by the faint clink of Marthio's cup as it t the table. Lord Lisidor's gaze sharpened as he processed the magnitude of the offer. Harmway? The thought echoed in his mind, heavy with significance. The tolls alone... everyone knows how much coin that island generates each year, taxing every ship from south to north and back again.
Marthio leaned forward slightly, his voice steady. "Of course, the agreent would stipulate that twenty percent of the island's inco from tolls will go to the Crown. Additionally, no ships belonging to the imperial family or House Achea will be subject to tolls."
Lisidor's fingers tightened around his cup. Ah, there it is. A setback. He allowed himself a quiet mont of reflection. Yet... even with those terms, the offer remains exceedingly generous. His mind raced with possibilities, the weight of opportunity being more oppressive than that of the risks.
Lord Marthio's desire to bring back the island of Harmway as part of the Crown's lands was undeniable, who after all would give away the at to eat the bones?When he could have the whole leg?
He knew the island's strategic and financial importance, its tolls enriching the imperial coffers year after year. However, his current circumstances—caught in the throes of a civil war and stretched thin by the expedition to retake the Gods' Fingers—prevented him from moving forward with the necessary action to reclaim it for the Crown. The pirates were a growing threat, but the question remained: should he allow them to remain for a few more years, or take the opportunity to expel them, granting the majority of the spoils to another house? With the current situation in mind, Lord Marthio leaned toward the latter option, choosing the course of action that would grant him political leverage while still achieving a victory for the empire.
Lord Isidor, sensing the direction of the conversation, smiled coolly. "I am more than willing to deliver imperial justice upon those sea rats," he said, his voice calm but firm. "However, there are so clauses I would like to have t first."
Marthio's expression shifted slightly, and he nodded, gesturing for his guest to continue. "Go on," he said, his tone expectant.
Lord Isidor leaned forward, his eyes steady. "First, I would like to choose the commander of the expedition.Be it , or soone from my household, given that the majority of the fleet will be composed by my n, I believe that is only fair that I am the one to choose the commander. "
Marthio listened intently, clearly contemplating the request, but his brow furrowed slightly as Isidor continued.
"Second," Lord Isidor said, "I would like the first year since the subjugation of Harmway to be entirely free from tolls to any ships. The second year, once the island is firmly under our control, we will resu the obligation to the Crown, but the twenty percent will apply then. I will need this to offset the significant investnt in silver and gold that the expedition will require." His voice was firm, and he allowed a pause for effect. "It's only fair that I be allowed to recoup the costs of such an undertaking."
Lord Marthio leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping thoughtfully on the table as he processed the request. No tolls for the first year... he thought, considering the implications. Still a small paynt to bring the pirates to heel. And in the long run, it would serve the empire's interest, even if it ans losing out for a ti.
He knew that the deal was acceptable given the current situation—the pirate threat could not be allowed to fester, and the resources required for the campaign were considerable. The potential to solidify his relationship with House Veritia, whom proved to be a fervent supporter of the Acheian faction and gain the island back under imperial control made this a favorable bargain.
After a few monts of silent contemplation, Marthio nodded, conceding. "Very well," he said, his voice steady. "I agree to your terms. I will soon issue the charter officially relinquishing ownership of Harmway to House Veritia."
Lord Isidor's lips curled into a satisfied smile as he leaned back in his chair. "I trust this will be a successful venture for both our houses, your Grace."
''As do I, lord Isidor...'' Said the regent mimicking Isidor's attitude.
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