Fisher leaned back in his chair, his voice thick with authority as he challenged the room. "Is the Greymane family truly as influential as they seem?"
Logan furrowed his brow, his mind tingling with uncertainty. Turning to his associate Jane for clarity, he received a brief history of the Greymanes, a family recently relocated to Canyon City, their prominence anchored solely by the father's leadership of a substantial mercenary group, the Storm Mercenaries.
Logan pondered this information. Jane's casual mention hinted at a deeper legacy, perhaps a storied past shadowed by their current modesty. Yet, his thoughts soon drifted back to more pressing matters, his ventures and the flow of coin.
"How long will it take for the mercenaries to assemble?" Logan inquired, masking his impatience with a veneer of nonchalance.
Fisher measured his response, "At least a month. The main force is currently engaged across the Human Kingdom. It will take time for them to regroup and return."
A month. The delay was manageable, but Logan's mind raced with the logistics. Surprised, he quizzed Fisher, "But why are they stationed in the Human Kingdom? The Endless Wasteland is rife with opportunity for mercenaries."
Fisher chuckled at his brother-in-law's naivete. "The Human Kingdom is where the real money is, where one can sustain a large force like my father's."
"But isn't trading with the Endless Wasteland vastly profitable?" Logan countered, his confusion apparent.
"You're missing the broader picture," Fisher replied with a smirk. He gestured towards a wine glass on the table and then to a large barrel in the corner. "Think of the Endless Wasteland as this wine glass, small, limited. The Human Kingdom, however, is like that barrel, vast and abundant. A glass of wine may be pricey, but it pales in comparison to the barrel's capacity."
He continued, his tone didactic, "In the Wasteland, you might sell a single item for ten times its cost to one consumer. Profitable, yes, but limited in scope. In the Human Kingdom, imagine selling that same item for just twice its cost to ten thousand consumers. The volume of transactions far outweighs the higher markup in a smaller market."
Fisher leaned forward, locking eyes with Logan as he concluded, "Large profits in a tiny market don't always translate to greater wealth. It's the scale that matters." His words lingered in the air, a lesson in economics veiled as casual conversation.
Fisher leaned back, his eyes narrowing as he delivered a dose of harsh reality. "The truth is, not many merchants make it big in the wasteland. The real heavyweights have long since moved their operations to the Human Kingdom."
The second key player is the Trade Alliance, which operates like a quasi-religious institution. Its mythology is steeped in celestial drama, centered around a breathtakingly beautiful human goddess who governs agriculture and harvest. This goddess, admired for her allure, once captivated the god of trade and commerce.
Their tale, which began as a beautiful celestial romance, soured when the god of trade was unfaithful, engaging in dalliances with other goddesses.
The betrayal sparked fury in the goddess of agriculture, nearly leading to a divine conflict. But rather than wage war, she cunningly absorbed some of her lover's powers during their union. This act of stealth not only empowered her but also allowed her to exert influence over commerce, establishing a complex dynamic of celestial and mortal loyalties.
This divine feud cascaded down to their worshippers, manifesting as tensions between adherents within the human realm. While not all members of the Trade Alliance worship the goddess of agriculture, only her devoted followers, who are also merchants, can wield substantial influence within the organization.
Joining the Alliance offers numerous benefits, but without true allegiance, one cannot fully harness its power.
In the bustling markets of the Human Kingdom, these two groups are ubiquitous and often at odds, each wielding considerable influence and wealth.
"My father currently serves a silver bishop in the Temple of Fortune," Fisher explained with a hint of pride. "Just one of these bishops manages to amass over 20 million gold coins a month."
He continued, detailing the scale of their operations, "Imagine this, my father's mercenary group is only one of three under this bishop's command. And he's no legendary figure; yet he commands several who are."
"The hierarchy above him; gold bishops, cardinals, they handle sums and powers even greater. With hundreds of silver bishops alone, the wealth within the Temple is unimaginable."
"So unbelievably rich!" Fisher concluded, his eyes gleaming with a mix of awe and envy.
Logan listened, visibly astounded by the sheer magnitude of wealth and power described. Fisher, noticing his brother-in-law's stunned expression, poured himself a glass of wine and took a sip, savoring the moment. "This world, it's vast beyond belief," he mused aloud.
As the taste of the wine lingered, Fisher paused and looked at Logan, a curious glint in his eye. "Wait, is this new wine?" He queried, detecting a flavor distinct from the usual rice wine they drank. His casual inquiry hinted at his broader realization of the endless mysteries and opportunities the world held.