The door is smooth, well oiled and crafted by someone of expertise and great skill, exactly the reason you push it open with as much force as you can manage. The door doesn't notice it beyond some noise on the far impact with the wall it sits beside.
The nicely cooled interior of this place is a welcome relief from the coiling, damp baking temperature of Constantinople. Marble- true marble, not shaped concrete- provides the flooring of this place, done up in large tiling that is finely engraved by obvious masters of the art.
A man sits, aged and of finely developed belly, on a luxurious sofa that practically swallows him. To his sides stand heavily armed guards in modern armour, the spring and gear tension in their mace-wielding frames nearly audible. You find yourself itching to grab a hold of the firearm on your belt holster at their presence.
"Come, young man, come and sit." His voice was surprisingly bass-filled and powerful for someone of his shape and age, he gestures with a large hand ridden with calluses from years of hard work, "You and I have much to discuss."
The fact he seems so confident and self-assured sends spikes of anger through you, but such things are easily crushed by an exceptional effort of internal will. "Of course, Master Tradesman." You sit down, opposite of him in a comfortable chair with substantial padding. "I hear you are the source of my troubles?" An easy grin and jesting tone of voice puts the otherwise aggression-fueled sentence to an easy and acceptable weight.
In response, the Tradesman laughs, joy on his face clear at the energy you display. "A joy to see a young man's energy in this trade!" Shaking his head and raising from his lounge to a more proper sit. "But this is about your money, let's not dally." He brings out several paper sheaves, neatly bound together via a spring inset on one side.
Still, with a generally joyful expression, he proceeds to speak "And, indeed, the situation is somewhat complex." You stiffen somewhat at that, worry welling up in your gut at those words. "Please explain further, Master Tradesman."
Pulling the papers closer to him and leafing through them, he explains. "Well, your father's businesses were, indeed a critical wartime industry, and as the war against the eastern spirits has only recently ended, a quirk of law has, to my sincerest apologies, seen them taken as state interest and are now being run by his Imperial Majesties War Administration."
"...Ah." Is all you can muster, anger and no small amount of rage building in you. "May I see the documents?" You ask, hoping you will read something different in them than what he has said. Without a word, the older man hands them over to you for inspection.
No amount of scanning them changes the truth, your family's property has been confiscated. The banks still remain and, of course, your home, but nothing else. No factories, no workshops, nothing at all. Calmly, you hand back the documents. "Is that all you felt the need to inform me of, Master Tradesman?" Barely contained hostility thrumming in the deepest portions of your voice.
A look of pity that inflames that rage ever higher comes across his face, "No, sadly, I've no truly good news for you. Please, head to your banks and acquire the funds you need to live." Once again, his voice is surprisingly deep and, as of very recently, growing tremendously grating.
Wordlessly, you stand, make your way towards the door and get back into the waiting Ochimata.
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The banks are a dull journey of extracting all your funds in a nicely protected vault-Ochimata, trundling on six legs hissing with tension, you take a ride on the side of it, forgoing simpler transport for this.
A thousand thoughts play through your mind, annoyance, blinding white rage and more that you cannot describe bursting in and out of awareness. The Ochimata makes it through a crowd of rioters, either moving around them or forcing them out of the way with their bulk.
Eventually, after a few hour's journeys outside the city, you make it to the family manor, though not quite as magnificent as some noble houses, it is still a work of exceptional beauty and opulence. Large pillars fountaining water into pools which serve as both decoration and places to lounge in.
It is only when you make it inside that the facade breaks and your fist shatters some priceless glass case protecting expensive chinaware, which also breaks. Catching yourself from the frenzy that awaits, you focus instead on the matters of economics, remaking your fortune.
You'll be damned if your family's prosperity ends with you.
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The year is 1500, and your family's fortune is much diminished. You lack properties, you lack resources and you lack even a simple damned workforce courtesy of the rather byzantine bureaucracy of Rome.
Counting what money you have, it is a fortune beyond most, easily able to support you and your future children for generations, if they are willing to reduce themselves to mere good living rather than luxury, something you cannot allow.
Current Wealth-1800 Stavraton
Family Upkeep-100 Stavraton/Turn
No Other Upkeep As of Turn 0.5
Sending out word for a grand gathering of farmers, prospectors and a dozen other skilled varieties of individuals, you have a select few that, upon some investigation seemed worthwhile enough to pursue.
You could pursue just one or many more, but keep in mind that other things will require your attention and wealth.
[X] A large collection of Kurd shepherds have gathered, bringing their absolutely, uncomfortably colossal and unceasingly bleeting herd of sheep with them. They offer rights to their produce in exchange for the centralized sale of it and profit sharing of a small amount of it. (550 Stavraton contract fee, projected production of 10d8 units (Projected unit price=0.5-1.2 Stavraton) per turn.)
[X] From the depth of the Anatolian woods, a guild of woodcutters come out, long since having no contact with outside civilization. They offer a high-quality product harvested from the deep old growth, it displays exceptional strength and should be a valuable resource. (300 Stavraton contract fee, projected production of 65 units (Projected unit price=0.8-1.5 Stavraton) per turn.)
[X] A band of Thracian mercenaries fresh from an awful defeat in the Zagros mountains during the last days of the Djinn war. Hundreds of their number dead and massive amounts of equipment were lost. They are veterans, if ill-equipped and low on morale. Their leader promises a quick return to form and profit if they can simply be patronised by you. (600 Stavraton contract fee, has a weight of 50 units, Mercenary Contract mechanics unlocked.)
And, of course, a source of income is plenty good, but one cannot easily transport it by foot alone. There are many means in the world, but only a few are immediately available to you, and all are tremendously expensive.
[X] A fleet of walker Ochimata. It would provide you with immense route flexibility as well as reasonable weight capacity. It is, however, slower and more in danger from land-borne risks. (A purchasing price of 300 Stavraton. Can carry up to 50 units of cargo in a year with a range of 350 kilometres.)
[X] A license and Ochimata to operate on rails. With a great speed and incredible capacity for weight, it is a natural choice for the merchant with a vast output of materials or the desire to move it quickly across the land. It, however, must be loaded at rail stations for maximal efficiency. (A purchasing price of 500 Stavraton. Can carry up to 90 units of cargo in a year, but only along rail lines with a range of 400 kilometres.)
[X] A large vessel driven by clockwork screws. It can manage reasonable speed, and massive range, in the water and carry immense weight but needs to be loaded at a proper dockyard and is in danger from the beasts of the sea. (A purchasing price of 500 Stavraton. It can carry up to 80 units of cargo in a year with a range of 1000 kilometres.)
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Should be the last pre-game action!
Please, vote in plan format!