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It had been a busy time for the merchant house of Pyre. Despite initial set backs to his business plans, due to racial distrust and the ever increasing religious paranoia exhibited by certain 'peers of the realm', Ignus had been able to secure a temporary base of operations within the relatively stable economic environment of Sestra. It's lord had seen the benefit of encouraging new trade and financial growth during a time in which much of the valley had become flooded with unemployed and destitute refugees fleeing from the wars between the Bloodmaim, the Triumvirate and it's allies, and of course the Black Hand.
It had certainly not been easy, it was well known that Ignus had been warned not to set foot upon Legion territory, the authorities had issued a general description of his person to all concerned and this had brought with it a level of social stigma which, even to this day, hindered his ability to make a profit. Whenever he had attempted to make favourable contact with other merchants or suppliers of raw materials he often found doors being slammed in his face, buckets of 'waste' material thrown his way and general levels of reprehensible and degrading behaviour.
Everything the Genasi had, thus far, experienced seemed counter intuitive to how he had imagined the situation might be. True enough, war brought with it both pain and misery, one need only look at the thronging masses of poverty stricken commoners in places like Port Avanthyr to see the effect that such wide spread destruction and chaos could bring. But there are two sides to every coin, and whilst the common man may suffer much in times of war, those with the know how could capitalise on the ebb and flow of battle. Ignus had reasoned that the demand for fine perfumes, ornamental decorations and flowing gowns of lavish silks may have all but dried up, but the demand for weapons of death and the armour to deny such weapons a killing blow must surely have greatly increased.
Ignus looked around his temporary home, it was a decent enough building, fairly spacious and fitted with heavy oaken doors, bars had been placed upon most of the windows granting a level of additional security that any businessman would be mad to ignore, there were rooms with bunk beds, facilities for cooking and cleaning, even a secure and barred access area that would easily function as a store front for when dealing with customers. The remainder of his stock, that which had not been purchased by the local Exarch for his peace keeping troops, had been secured in crates on the lower level below ground. All in all it was as close to perfect as one might hope for in these darkened times. And yet as he looked around he could not evade the very real truth.
He was alone.
In his minds eye he had envisioned setting up his store in the floating city of Sundren, there he would employ craftsmen and artisans of the finest calibre. He would have secured access rights to some of the already established mining operations throughout the valley and teams of Pyre miners would bring back the wealth from under the mountains for his smiths and crafters to forge into reliable, and cost effective, arms and armour. Jewellery and perfectly cut gems could then be sent to business contacts within the Enclave and the Hands of Mundus that their enchanting skills might be paid for to further enhance his companies products, all the while Ignus would be able to sit back, pay his staff wages and count the profit.
It was almost a tragic comedy how the reality seldom met expectations that the mind could conjure up. As it was, this self proclaimed entrepreneur tried to make ends meet on his own, perhaps one day he would be able to acquire the talents of a team of professionals and set in motion the building of an empire to rival that of the mighty Exigo Syndicate.
For now though, Ignus sat behind a desk, scratching quill against parchment as he wrote out and duplicated, over and over again, a list of his remaining stock, his plan would be to pay a handful of the displaced refugees to hand out the informative scrolls to any who looked as though they might possess the coin to purchase his wares.
Even the mightiest of empires had to start somewhere.
It had certainly not been easy, it was well known that Ignus had been warned not to set foot upon Legion territory, the authorities had issued a general description of his person to all concerned and this had brought with it a level of social stigma which, even to this day, hindered his ability to make a profit. Whenever he had attempted to make favourable contact with other merchants or suppliers of raw materials he often found doors being slammed in his face, buckets of 'waste' material thrown his way and general levels of reprehensible and degrading behaviour.
Everything the Genasi had, thus far, experienced seemed counter intuitive to how he had imagined the situation might be. True enough, war brought with it both pain and misery, one need only look at the thronging masses of poverty stricken commoners in places like Port Avanthyr to see the effect that such wide spread destruction and chaos could bring. But there are two sides to every coin, and whilst the common man may suffer much in times of war, those with the know how could capitalise on the ebb and flow of battle. Ignus had reasoned that the demand for fine perfumes, ornamental decorations and flowing gowns of lavish silks may have all but dried up, but the demand for weapons of death and the armour to deny such weapons a killing blow must surely have greatly increased.
Ignus looked around his temporary home, it was a decent enough building, fairly spacious and fitted with heavy oaken doors, bars had been placed upon most of the windows granting a level of additional security that any businessman would be mad to ignore, there were rooms with bunk beds, facilities for cooking and cleaning, even a secure and barred access area that would easily function as a store front for when dealing with customers. The remainder of his stock, that which had not been purchased by the local Exarch for his peace keeping troops, had been secured in crates on the lower level below ground. All in all it was as close to perfect as one might hope for in these darkened times. And yet as he looked around he could not evade the very real truth.
He was alone.
In his minds eye he had envisioned setting up his store in the floating city of Sundren, there he would employ craftsmen and artisans of the finest calibre. He would have secured access rights to some of the already established mining operations throughout the valley and teams of Pyre miners would bring back the wealth from under the mountains for his smiths and crafters to forge into reliable, and cost effective, arms and armour. Jewellery and perfectly cut gems could then be sent to business contacts within the Enclave and the Hands of Mundus that their enchanting skills might be paid for to further enhance his companies products, all the while Ignus would be able to sit back, pay his staff wages and count the profit.
It was almost a tragic comedy how the reality seldom met expectations that the mind could conjure up. As it was, this self proclaimed entrepreneur tried to make ends meet on his own, perhaps one day he would be able to acquire the talents of a team of professionals and set in motion the building of an empire to rival that of the mighty Exigo Syndicate.
For now though, Ignus sat behind a desk, scratching quill against parchment as he wrote out and duplicated, over and over again, a list of his remaining stock, his plan would be to pay a handful of the displaced refugees to hand out the informative scrolls to any who looked as though they might possess the coin to purchase his wares.
Even the mightiest of empires had to start somewhere.