“Thank you, have a nice day!”

The customer walked out of Mikkel Rommell’s shop in Haven with a dress, “one of a kind”, “unique”, and “fit for a burgess!” His daughter scampered in with an exact replica of the one that the lady walked out with, fresh from the back. His other two sons were in the plant, making hundred upon hundreds.

It used to be profitable enough. Used to. It kept his shop and the other one afloat with him at the helm, it kept food on the table, and it brought coal enough to heat his home. But now… Robbart could get out of this hole he found himself in. The hole that a change of governments and spoils being doled out put him in. He would be able to sell more and more for cheaper.

Just as he was going over his old friend, his old friend Quircker walked in. “Greetings, Romm! How’re things?” he said with a start.

“Quirck!” Mikkel said, calling Max Quircker by a boyhood name. “Quirck, things are going well!”

“Excellent, excellent, then I hope you won’t mind if I stayed for supper?” said Quirck, brandishing a brandy. Mikkel smiled.

“Glassmaking? Truly? In Port Aurora? So that’s where Knoggle’s been all these years…”

The reminiscing on old friendships was good, and the food not half-bad either, but nothing but astonishment gripped Mikkel. Sipping on the fine brandy, Mikkel could not help but wonder if it cost more than the table at which they sat, or even the house of which they sat in. It seemed almost high heresy to drink it from crude tankard mugs. Glassmakers, steelmongers, industrialists and businessmen… So this is what became of his old friends. Mikkel wondered where he made the wrong turn.

“Yes, yes, yes, Old Klaussy’s been doing very well for himself. I can bring you some glassware, if you like,” said Quirck, finishing his brandy, “What about you, what have you been doing all these years?”

Mikkel simply watched as Quirck finished his drink. It was like it was nothing at all. But that liquid just… the money, the wealth.

“Romm?” said Quirck, pouring himself some more.

“Oh, uhh… building my family. Building this store. It may be quiet, but I’ve done fair enough for myself.” Said Mikkel. He believed it, he knew he did, at least this morning. But now, compared to all his other friends... his friends who seized their destinies of greatness, while his faltered. What happened to his future to make it less bright.

“Now, that wasn’t convincing at all, Romm,” said Quirck with a raised eyebrow. He sighed. “I wasn’t entirely honest with you, Mikkel. I’m not here just as a friendly visit. I’m here with an offer.”

An offer? The tone of Quirck’s voice made Rommell’s hair stand on end.

“What is it?”

“I’m setting up a business, and I need an associate to help me in the venture.”

“An associate?”

“I need you, Romm. I can trust you. And what we’re doing is not strictly-speaking legal-“

”Not legal?!” Gobsmacked. Blindsided. Flabbergasted, astounded, dumbstruck, incredulous, rendered muter, knocked for six. Mikkel looked at his tankard once more. A fruit of crime, ripened by greed, fermented with ill-intentions?

“Look, you needn’t overreact, Romm. I saw you foist that dress on that peasant when I walked through your door. Surely you don’t mean to say you treat every customer with absolute honesty? That one of a kind dress was a halfpenny a dozen.” Said Quirck, leaning back. It was true, but it was true for all. No merchant in Haven, nor in all of Glimmer could say that. But to... exaggerate a little and to break laws were two entirely different things.

“Just what exactly would you have me do? I’m not a mercenary, Quirck, you saw me get knocked on my arse by Vinnie when we were children! Do I look like a criminal?!”

“Please, just take this seriously. Do you want your children to work in factories for the rest of their lives? Do you want to be the one stepped on, or do you want to do the stepping? I’m giving you a chance, Rommie, to get out of poverty. How do you think Knoggle set up his glassworks, or Zekkman his foundry?” said Quirk. Were his friends really crooks and felons, then? But… perhaps he was letting his morals get in the way of his future. His son did want books, books that Rommell could barely afford.

“With this venture, you’ll be out. It’s simple. We simply go to Salvadare-“

“SALVADARE?!” Rommell was liking this less and less, and he never liked it much to begin with, “Quirck, Salvadare is a… it’s… how would you do business in Salvadare? It’s impossible!”

“No, it isn’t, not with this!” said Quirck, producing a slip of paper from his frock-pocket. Rommell picked it up and looked at it. ‘Permisso de Imperio de Salvadare.’ It looked official, but only for a moment.

“This is a forgery!”

“Yes, but they don’t care! Follow me for a second – we take trade to Ouitso. We open a clothing shop, maybe make some profit, but we’ll need to pay the tax. Besides, it’s only for show. Our real trade will be in arms. And BEFORE you say anything, arms is where the money is. We have buyers. In the Salvadarean Military too, so they’ll never raid us. We can send in clothing, rugs, textiles, sugar, anything we want. Anything we bring in and sell in the black market will bring us a fortune. These Salvadareans, they can’t buy nothing without Mendoza taking the cash out from through their noses. Their black market is ours for the taking. But we’re not alone. I’ve heard rumors that lots of people are going to Salvadare too. I’m telling you, Rommie, there’s nothing that says money quite like Salvadareans wanting to buy a cheap rug and a cheap gun. But we gotta move fast.”

“Quirck…”

“Romm, I’ll tell you this once. I’ve got everything all set up. I just need you to mind the books. I got a loan and a deal from the Limoen bank, got buyers, got suppliers, got everything. I just need you to say yes. Do you want your children to grow up a hovel, working in factories twenty hours a day, or do you want to live in a manor, and have your children grow to be burghers and landlords?”

Rommell thought for a moment.

“I’ll do it, Quirck. I’ll do it.”

[M] Glimmer is now sending merchants into Salvadare. They pay only lipservice to the government, and use their trade as a cover for their real trade: the sale of cheap textiles, cheap furs, cheap sugar and cheap muskets, all made extremely inexpensive by Glimmer's Industrial Revolution and all Salvadarean goods made far to expensive by their asinine trade laws.

Also, we have some okay glassworks, and factories that produce textiles and turn iron into steel. Also, we have good gunmaking workshops and sugar refineries.

This all takes place during the 850s and 860s.