hrpatton
Recruit

... or "Back to the Salt Mines," by Sir Reginald "Rusty" d'Armure, Esq.
[EDITOR'S NOTE: Any claims made by Master d'Armure have not been verified by the publisher. Readers are encouraged to exercise judicious caution when following the advice presented herein. Master d'Amure's title cannot be ascertained to be legitimately presented by the heraldric societies of either Swadia or Vaegir. Attempts to resolve this confusion have been met with threats of legal action by Master d'Armure, who asserts that the paperwork for his knighthood was lost by the courier.]
Ah, trade. You embark upon an exciting adventure, young one, when you give your devotion to the goddess Commerce. As a successful tradesman myself, I feel it is incumbent upon me to share the secrets of my success with the next generation of traders.
Imagine yourself the youngest son of a noble family, tragically stranded upon foreign shores by shipwreck, all ties to your former life severed and only a meager handful of trade goods remaining of your once vast fortune. Such was my lot when I paid a bedraggled ferryman my last few coins to haul two horses, a few sackfuls of salt, some pottery and myself up the river to the neutral town of Zendar.
Acclimating myself quickly to my new surroundings, I made the rounds of Zendar's lackluster trade community and found that the merchants there pay simply outrageous sums for salt, apparently with the intent of shipping it elsewhere via the river and passing the sting along to their customers.
Did I not see a salt mine on the scribbled map the ferryman gave me? Indeed I did. Some leagues to the north of Zendar, beyond a range of peaks, lies a band of cities both Vaegir and Swadian, and beyond them, a bustling salt mine. Given that the mine employs slave labor exclusively, the production costs for salt are quite low ... the monstrous markup by the Merchant's Guild is the result of the perilous journey between the mine and Zandar. Along the way, a trader is apt to encounter bandits, river pirates, deserters from both Vaegir and Swadian armies, Black Kerghit riders, and even Dark Hunters.
A less adept trader might foolishly conclude that the best means by which to bring salt to Zendar is via armed caravan. Indeed, this method is effective, if unduly expensive. I have pioneered another approach, dubbed the "Rusty Run" by the churlish denizens of the many inns I have frequented, which, while somewhat dangerous, is extremely profitable.
It appears that much of the trouble one experiences with bandits and thieves in this misbegotten land is the result of insufficient travel speed. While most caravans slog along at a rate of some four to five leagues per day, I routinely travel at a speedier nine leagues per day, and rarely achieve less than seven and one half.
When first I arrived in Zendar, I sold all my possessions, even down to the tatters of my once noble garments. Only my two horses did I spare, one to ride and one to haul my inventory. (Some young traders are not aware of the benefits of having one or more pack horses among one's inventoried goods. Even one additional horse provides a great boost to travel speed.)
Thus I traveled to the salt mines, stripped to the smallest amount of clothing modesty would allow, riding one horse and leading another, with a sack of gold at my waist. Oh, I was pursued by bandits, rogues, highwaymen and all other sorts of evildoers, but my speed was so great I outdistanced them all within a day. Courage, young friend! While the "Rusty Run" may seem perilous, so too is hand-to-hand combat against desperate bandits with only a handful of village idiots at one's side.
Upon arriving at the salt mine, I quickly loaded my mounts with all the salt they could carry and departed for Zendar again. Unfortunately, I had miscalculated the effect of the extra weight on my speed, and fell prey to Kerghit raiders on the journey. All was not lost, however. I had among my possessions a small quantity of oil I had purchased in Suno, and striking up a conversation with the bandits' swarthily handsome leader, I made a proposal that combined the oil and my scanty dress in a manner that proved to appeal to some of his less public proclivities.
[EDITOR'S NOTE: Master d'Armure's long--very long--and florid account of his "service" to the Kerghit leader has been deleted here to avoid discomfiting our more sensitive readers.]
... but I ramble. Suffice it to say I convinced the leader to give me my freedom and send my along my way. He promised to write, but I know he won't.
Arriving in Zendar with only a tiny fraction of my cargo, I reevaluated my strategy. Careful testing revealed that I could carry some sixteen bags of salt with three pack horses and still make seven and one half leagues in one day, which I hold to be a reasonable compromise. Very few foes travel at anything approaching this speed.
I was once again nearly destitute, but fortune smiled on me in the form of the Zendar arena. I took up the manly art of combat under the tutelage of the Trainer of Zendar, who pitted me against a series of well-muscled specimens in a darkened room whose only light came from sputtering torches and whose only sound was that of sweating men exerting themselves to their limits.
[EDITOR'S NOTE: Master d'Armure's pontifications on the subject of combat, sweaty men and his fondness for the staff have been deleted here in the interests of brevity and good taste.]
Such was my luck that I won a few hundred coins in the arena, and once again I set upon my trek to the mines. More carefully than before I wended my way along the treacherous path, loaded my beasts with a more moderate amount of salt, then charged back to my new home, the arrows of bandits striking sparks from my heels.
In somewhat less than two weeks, I accumulated some twenty thousand denars of gold, a sum which formed the basis of my current fortune. Salt can be purchased for fifty-two denars per sack at the mine, and redeemed for a staggering one hundred eighty-two denars per sack in Zendar: a profit of one hundred sixty-six percent! An investment of one thousand denars becomes over two and one half thousand in a matter of days.
As the mine's stockpiles of salt become depleted with time, the aspiring trader occasionally must divert his attention to other commodities while the mine slaves obligingly grind out another few tons. I recommend purchasing furs in Kudan, exchanging them for oil in Suno, then selling the oil in Rivacheg before returning again to Kudan for another load of furs. This "golden rectangle," while not as profitable as the salt route, allows less cargo to be carried, and may be more desirable when bandit activity is high and travel speed is at its most crucial.
There, then, you have the secrets of beginning trade from the master himself. As my fame as a warrior grows, my need for trading declines proportionally, and I may soon abandon the sweet science of commerce forever. For now, though, I keep a pack horse or two among my retinue of loyal followers, and when payroll comes due I can still be found haggling over bags of white crystalline gold in the far-flung northlands.
Cheers and good tidings,
Sir Reginald d'Armure, called "Rusty Armour" by the vulgar Vaegir.
[EDITOR'S NOTE: Any claims made by Master d'Armure have not been verified by the publisher. Readers are encouraged to exercise judicious caution when following the advice presented herein. Master d'Amure's title cannot be ascertained to be legitimately presented by the heraldric societies of either Swadia or Vaegir. Attempts to resolve this confusion have been met with threats of legal action by Master d'Armure, who asserts that the paperwork for his knighthood was lost by the courier.]
Ah, trade. You embark upon an exciting adventure, young one, when you give your devotion to the goddess Commerce. As a successful tradesman myself, I feel it is incumbent upon me to share the secrets of my success with the next generation of traders.
Imagine yourself the youngest son of a noble family, tragically stranded upon foreign shores by shipwreck, all ties to your former life severed and only a meager handful of trade goods remaining of your once vast fortune. Such was my lot when I paid a bedraggled ferryman my last few coins to haul two horses, a few sackfuls of salt, some pottery and myself up the river to the neutral town of Zendar.
Acclimating myself quickly to my new surroundings, I made the rounds of Zendar's lackluster trade community and found that the merchants there pay simply outrageous sums for salt, apparently with the intent of shipping it elsewhere via the river and passing the sting along to their customers.
Did I not see a salt mine on the scribbled map the ferryman gave me? Indeed I did. Some leagues to the north of Zendar, beyond a range of peaks, lies a band of cities both Vaegir and Swadian, and beyond them, a bustling salt mine. Given that the mine employs slave labor exclusively, the production costs for salt are quite low ... the monstrous markup by the Merchant's Guild is the result of the perilous journey between the mine and Zandar. Along the way, a trader is apt to encounter bandits, river pirates, deserters from both Vaegir and Swadian armies, Black Kerghit riders, and even Dark Hunters.
A less adept trader might foolishly conclude that the best means by which to bring salt to Zendar is via armed caravan. Indeed, this method is effective, if unduly expensive. I have pioneered another approach, dubbed the "Rusty Run" by the churlish denizens of the many inns I have frequented, which, while somewhat dangerous, is extremely profitable.
It appears that much of the trouble one experiences with bandits and thieves in this misbegotten land is the result of insufficient travel speed. While most caravans slog along at a rate of some four to five leagues per day, I routinely travel at a speedier nine leagues per day, and rarely achieve less than seven and one half.
When first I arrived in Zendar, I sold all my possessions, even down to the tatters of my once noble garments. Only my two horses did I spare, one to ride and one to haul my inventory. (Some young traders are not aware of the benefits of having one or more pack horses among one's inventoried goods. Even one additional horse provides a great boost to travel speed.)
Thus I traveled to the salt mines, stripped to the smallest amount of clothing modesty would allow, riding one horse and leading another, with a sack of gold at my waist. Oh, I was pursued by bandits, rogues, highwaymen and all other sorts of evildoers, but my speed was so great I outdistanced them all within a day. Courage, young friend! While the "Rusty Run" may seem perilous, so too is hand-to-hand combat against desperate bandits with only a handful of village idiots at one's side.
Upon arriving at the salt mine, I quickly loaded my mounts with all the salt they could carry and departed for Zendar again. Unfortunately, I had miscalculated the effect of the extra weight on my speed, and fell prey to Kerghit raiders on the journey. All was not lost, however. I had among my possessions a small quantity of oil I had purchased in Suno, and striking up a conversation with the bandits' swarthily handsome leader, I made a proposal that combined the oil and my scanty dress in a manner that proved to appeal to some of his less public proclivities.
[EDITOR'S NOTE: Master d'Armure's long--very long--and florid account of his "service" to the Kerghit leader has been deleted here to avoid discomfiting our more sensitive readers.]
... but I ramble. Suffice it to say I convinced the leader to give me my freedom and send my along my way. He promised to write, but I know he won't.
Arriving in Zendar with only a tiny fraction of my cargo, I reevaluated my strategy. Careful testing revealed that I could carry some sixteen bags of salt with three pack horses and still make seven and one half leagues in one day, which I hold to be a reasonable compromise. Very few foes travel at anything approaching this speed.
I was once again nearly destitute, but fortune smiled on me in the form of the Zendar arena. I took up the manly art of combat under the tutelage of the Trainer of Zendar, who pitted me against a series of well-muscled specimens in a darkened room whose only light came from sputtering torches and whose only sound was that of sweating men exerting themselves to their limits.
[EDITOR'S NOTE: Master d'Armure's pontifications on the subject of combat, sweaty men and his fondness for the staff have been deleted here in the interests of brevity and good taste.]
Such was my luck that I won a few hundred coins in the arena, and once again I set upon my trek to the mines. More carefully than before I wended my way along the treacherous path, loaded my beasts with a more moderate amount of salt, then charged back to my new home, the arrows of bandits striking sparks from my heels.
In somewhat less than two weeks, I accumulated some twenty thousand denars of gold, a sum which formed the basis of my current fortune. Salt can be purchased for fifty-two denars per sack at the mine, and redeemed for a staggering one hundred eighty-two denars per sack in Zendar: a profit of one hundred sixty-six percent! An investment of one thousand denars becomes over two and one half thousand in a matter of days.
As the mine's stockpiles of salt become depleted with time, the aspiring trader occasionally must divert his attention to other commodities while the mine slaves obligingly grind out another few tons. I recommend purchasing furs in Kudan, exchanging them for oil in Suno, then selling the oil in Rivacheg before returning again to Kudan for another load of furs. This "golden rectangle," while not as profitable as the salt route, allows less cargo to be carried, and may be more desirable when bandit activity is high and travel speed is at its most crucial.
There, then, you have the secrets of beginning trade from the master himself. As my fame as a warrior grows, my need for trading declines proportionally, and I may soon abandon the sweet science of commerce forever. For now, though, I keep a pack horse or two among my retinue of loyal followers, and when payroll comes due I can still be found haggling over bags of white crystalline gold in the far-flung northlands.
Cheers and good tidings,
Sir Reginald d'Armure, called "Rusty Armour" by the vulgar Vaegir.