Dungeons & Dragons & Macroeconomic Theory
Jan. 15th, 2018 09:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gridloreThe ruling counselors of Ritherhithe had chosen to meet the adventurers on a terrace set on the walls of Rouguemont Citadel with a sweeping view of the river and sea-harbor, the fertile plains and the Drakonmet mountains in the distance. Arrayed on two tiers of benches with a throne for the ruling Doge in the center, the rulers of the city-state sat in splendid silks and jewels, their heavy chains of office showing their guild attachments. They looked at the raven-haired warrior who was obviously the leader of the band they had summoned.
"Lords of Ritherhithe, I am Sotiris Panou, known in many lands as the Burning Knight, bearer of the holy Gladius solis, the Sunsword." Sotiris paused as if expecting a reaction. When the assembled counselors failed to provide one, he moved on.
"Allow me to introduce my company." Sotiris gestured to a figured clad in black robes. From the shadows of her hood, two faintly glowing eyes observed the scene with ill-disguised contempt. "Azfaeh Shadowdancer, mistress of the art of arcane magic. Beside her is Hagas of Clan Iaryra, a peerless tracker and deadly with his bow." The elf made a half bow. "Behind Hagas is . . . oh, she was there a second ago. I'm sure she'll turn up. Missing at the moment is Marcovefa Lightfoot, of the Far Western Halflings. Quieter than a moonbeam at midnight and no lock can stop her for long. You might, um, want to send a few guards to look for her. She's probably headed for your kitchens." Sotiris tried to not look embarrassed as one of the guild masters said a few quiet words to an ornately-armored guard captain. As the captain began issuing orders, Sotiris learned over and whispered to Azfaeh.
"Remind me to tie that damn thief up and stuff her in a chest next time."
"You already tried that. She was out in less than an hour."
"Master Sotiris?" the counselor with the gaudiest chain spoke up. "We shall attend to you missing member, these last two are?"
"Of course, my apologies, Lord. To my left is Dengral Thundermaker, of the house of Thefric of Kaer Thunderrock. My boon companion for many years." Dengral clasped his mailed fists together and boomed out an ancient dwarven pledge "Take my beard should I fail you!"
Sotiris smiled at his old friend before turning to the last member of the party, a huge man with waist-length hair twisted into thick braids and a beard that would shame a dwarf. "I give you Helm Belasco Segarra, a soldier in the Temples of Terak. A guide to us all in these troubled times. Now, my Lords, how may we serve you?"
One of the younger masters rose from his place on the bench. "Master Sotiris, we have need of your services for a task that will be rewarding but carries some threat of death. We require a party to travel to Mount Wrekiln in the Drakonmets, where lairs the dragon Zersoir, Lord Of Fire. We need you to . . ."
"Slay the foul beast!" Sotiris interjected. "A solid plan, my lords, and one we shall be happy to execute, if you'll forgive my pun, for you. Why a dragon flying free over the Wine Sea could destroy your trade ships. And your farms look unguarded! Why Hagas was telling me that he spied a large herd of cattle hard up on the mountain foothills! Now, we usually take 50% of the treasure, but that's open to negotiation . . ."
"Master Sotiris! We don't want you to kill the beast! We don't want you to get close to it! What we need is for you to do is . . ." the official drew in a deep breath ". . . provide us with a reasonable estimation of the total value of the hoard of Zersoir, Lord Of Fire, based on observed depth, width, and composition of all treasure piles to be found in the cave system designated to be the Lair of Zersoir, Lord Of Fire."
Dengral sputtered with rage. "Are the lot of you mad? There's going to be enough gold in yon caves to make everyone rich, and you want us to count it an' not be taking it?"
"We don't want you to touch one thing in those caves. Zersoir is very particular about that. And of the last audit, there was an estimated 12 million Ritherhithe Guilders worth of gold in that cave. The dragon has been active a few times, we need to see if anything has been added. Oh, that herd of cattle? It's there for the dragon, he wakes up hungry."
Sotiris was able to speak again. "But why do you want us to count the gold? Don't you want it in your hands?"
At this, the council laughed. "Sir, you may be a master of war, but economics is beyond you." said the one wearing an onion-shaped turban, "that may well be the safest gold in the Twelve Republics, if not in all of Ebrerth. It's guarded by a great dragon, after all!"
Behind Soritis, Azfaeh had begun chuckling. Her laughter was never the most comforting sound in the best of times. "I begin to see what's happening here, Soritis. These merchant princes have been using the promise of the dragon's hoard to back speculation. The money is there, but it can't be stolen, so it's seen as a safe way to trade." she turned and fixed the counselor who had been speaking with her unearthly gaze. "You. The guilds own the shares, and sell them for cash? Invest them in trading missions? Was this how you were going to pay us?"
The man was ash gray after seeing Azfaeh's eyes, but he managed a nod. "500 sh-shares of City Stock each. We were hoping that you would cash them out by investing in our endeavors here, perhaps occupying one of our border forts as a headquarters."
"So we would be on hand to fight your wars for you as well. I have to admit, it's a nice scheme." Sotiris was back on his mental feet. "It's a good deal or will be after a little negotiation. We will discuss it this evening, once we find out where Marcovefa has gone. But one thing . . . why us? We've battled Titans and explored the Astral plane. We've battled in the very fires of Hell itself! If you just needed someone to measure the treasure, why not send a few apprentices?"
For the first time, the Doge of Ritherhithe, blind and bent with age, spoke from his throne at the center of the rows of benches.
"Because, young sir, as we told you, sometimes the dragon wakes up. And he wakes up hungry."
"Lords of Ritherhithe, I am Sotiris Panou, known in many lands as the Burning Knight, bearer of the holy Gladius solis, the Sunsword." Sotiris paused as if expecting a reaction. When the assembled counselors failed to provide one, he moved on.
"Allow me to introduce my company." Sotiris gestured to a figured clad in black robes. From the shadows of her hood, two faintly glowing eyes observed the scene with ill-disguised contempt. "Azfaeh Shadowdancer, mistress of the art of arcane magic. Beside her is Hagas of Clan Iaryra, a peerless tracker and deadly with his bow." The elf made a half bow. "Behind Hagas is . . . oh, she was there a second ago. I'm sure she'll turn up. Missing at the moment is Marcovefa Lightfoot, of the Far Western Halflings. Quieter than a moonbeam at midnight and no lock can stop her for long. You might, um, want to send a few guards to look for her. She's probably headed for your kitchens." Sotiris tried to not look embarrassed as one of the guild masters said a few quiet words to an ornately-armored guard captain. As the captain began issuing orders, Sotiris learned over and whispered to Azfaeh.
"Remind me to tie that damn thief up and stuff her in a chest next time."
"You already tried that. She was out in less than an hour."
"Master Sotiris?" the counselor with the gaudiest chain spoke up. "We shall attend to you missing member, these last two are?"
"Of course, my apologies, Lord. To my left is Dengral Thundermaker, of the house of Thefric of Kaer Thunderrock. My boon companion for many years." Dengral clasped his mailed fists together and boomed out an ancient dwarven pledge "Take my beard should I fail you!"
Sotiris smiled at his old friend before turning to the last member of the party, a huge man with waist-length hair twisted into thick braids and a beard that would shame a dwarf. "I give you Helm Belasco Segarra, a soldier in the Temples of Terak. A guide to us all in these troubled times. Now, my Lords, how may we serve you?"
One of the younger masters rose from his place on the bench. "Master Sotiris, we have need of your services for a task that will be rewarding but carries some threat of death. We require a party to travel to Mount Wrekiln in the Drakonmets, where lairs the dragon Zersoir, Lord Of Fire. We need you to . . ."
"Slay the foul beast!" Sotiris interjected. "A solid plan, my lords, and one we shall be happy to execute, if you'll forgive my pun, for you. Why a dragon flying free over the Wine Sea could destroy your trade ships. And your farms look unguarded! Why Hagas was telling me that he spied a large herd of cattle hard up on the mountain foothills! Now, we usually take 50% of the treasure, but that's open to negotiation . . ."
"Master Sotiris! We don't want you to kill the beast! We don't want you to get close to it! What we need is for you to do is . . ." the official drew in a deep breath ". . . provide us with a reasonable estimation of the total value of the hoard of Zersoir, Lord Of Fire, based on observed depth, width, and composition of all treasure piles to be found in the cave system designated to be the Lair of Zersoir, Lord Of Fire."
Dengral sputtered with rage. "Are the lot of you mad? There's going to be enough gold in yon caves to make everyone rich, and you want us to count it an' not be taking it?"
"We don't want you to touch one thing in those caves. Zersoir is very particular about that. And of the last audit, there was an estimated 12 million Ritherhithe Guilders worth of gold in that cave. The dragon has been active a few times, we need to see if anything has been added. Oh, that herd of cattle? It's there for the dragon, he wakes up hungry."
Sotiris was able to speak again. "But why do you want us to count the gold? Don't you want it in your hands?"
At this, the council laughed. "Sir, you may be a master of war, but economics is beyond you." said the one wearing an onion-shaped turban, "that may well be the safest gold in the Twelve Republics, if not in all of Ebrerth. It's guarded by a great dragon, after all!"
Behind Soritis, Azfaeh had begun chuckling. Her laughter was never the most comforting sound in the best of times. "I begin to see what's happening here, Soritis. These merchant princes have been using the promise of the dragon's hoard to back speculation. The money is there, but it can't be stolen, so it's seen as a safe way to trade." she turned and fixed the counselor who had been speaking with her unearthly gaze. "You. The guilds own the shares, and sell them for cash? Invest them in trading missions? Was this how you were going to pay us?"
The man was ash gray after seeing Azfaeh's eyes, but he managed a nod. "500 sh-shares of City Stock each. We were hoping that you would cash them out by investing in our endeavors here, perhaps occupying one of our border forts as a headquarters."
"So we would be on hand to fight your wars for you as well. I have to admit, it's a nice scheme." Sotiris was back on his mental feet. "It's a good deal or will be after a little negotiation. We will discuss it this evening, once we find out where Marcovefa has gone. But one thing . . . why us? We've battled Titans and explored the Astral plane. We've battled in the very fires of Hell itself! If you just needed someone to measure the treasure, why not send a few apprentices?"
For the first time, the Doge of Ritherhithe, blind and bent with age, spoke from his throne at the center of the rows of benches.
"Because, young sir, as we told you, sometimes the dragon wakes up. And he wakes up hungry."
