Monopoly (1)
"Give me five jars of olive oil here!"
"Me too!"
"I'll take all your leftovers!"
The market was teeming with people. They were all there to buy olive oil. The merchant couldn't help but feel deeply flustered at how much more they were purchasing than they ever did from his own shop.
As his doubts deepened—Why are they buying so much?—he overheard a shocking conversation from the people nearby.
"Four as per jar? Unbelievable."
"Yeah, and they even deliver right to your door inside Constantinople."
"No more need to hire porters—perfect!"
An outrageously low price. It was half of the eight as he charged at his own shop.
"No way... How can they sell it that cheap?"
The bewildered merchant assumed it must be low-quality or rancid oil. But when he saw someone buy a jar and carry it off, that notion crumbled.
"Such a rich aroma? Could it be freshly pressed olive oil?"
A merchant with decades of experience in the oil trade, he knew the scent of newly pressed olive oil better than anyone. Just sniffing the aroma wafting from a passing jar told him this was fresh-pressed oil.
"If it's just-pressed, there must be a production facility nearby..."
Lost in thought, the merchant suddenly flew into a rage, stomping around furiously.
"That bastard Theo next door! He's trying to ruin my business with this stunt!"
The other merchant right next to his shop. He wanted to sell olive oil too, for its steady profits. But with so many loyal customers coming to his place, he hadn't dared start lightly.
The merchant figured his rival next door was pulling this to steal his regulars.
"What a dirty trick. I'll report him to the Merchant Guild... Huh?"
Just as he turned to head to the guild and report it, he spotted his rival nearby—fuming and cursing him just the same.
"Huh..."
"What are you doing here...?"
The two men eyed each other, piecing it together with questions.
"Wasn't this oil stall yours?"
"What are you talking about? This is your plan to kill me off, isn't it?!"
"..."
"..."
Realization dawned. As if by prior agreement, they bolted toward the stall.
"Shut this down right now!"
"Trading without the Merchant Guild's permission is illegal!"
Bravado surging, they reached to flip the stall over—when a man with a menacing glare blocked their path.
"Who the hell are you?"
His voice was ice-cold. The atmosphere felt like one wrong move could cost them their heads, forcing the merchants to hesitate.
"Y-you're not... a Varangian, are you...?"
"That's what you call us, yeah."
At the mercenary's words, the merchants backed away instantly. The Varangians were infamous for their ferocity and cruelty. Rumors swirled that in the recent Bulgarian campaign, they'd taken more enemy heads than anyone. No merchant dared act rashly.
"What's the problem here?"
The Varangian's question made the merchants tremble and shake their heads.
"N-nothing at all."
"I-I was just wondering if I could buy some olive oil... haha..."
Suddenly, the Varangian thrust out his arm. The two squeezed their eyes shut, bracing for death.
"Eek!"
"S-spare our lives!"
"If you want oil, get in line at the back."
The Varangian's calm voice. The merchants blinked, then glanced where he pointed—a long queue snaking behind them. Awkward grins plastered on their faces, they shuffled into line.
"Is this really true?"
The cheap olive oil circulating in Constantinople lately. Oil merchants from the guild had come complaining about it.
"This is an attempt to kill us off."
"We have to stop it now!"
The guild master pondered their pleas before rising from his seat.
"I hear they're not only selling at half the usual price but offering delivery too—is that right?"
"Yes! Even our guild porters are in an uproar over the deliveries."
"Those guys have no business ethics."
The guild master inwardly clicked his tongue at the "no business ethics" line. As a merchant himself before leading the guild, he knew full well how much the oil traders had gouged customers.
Olives thrived in Anatolia's warm climate, yielding bumper crops every year. With raw material prices low, olive oil should have gotten cheaper too. But the merchants colluded to fix minimum prices, bullying anyone who sold below.
It wasn't just bullying—they hired thugs to sabotage stalls or pelt them with stones until sellers fled. Other merchants did similar things, sure. But the oil traders were in a league of their own when it came to brutality.
Even the guild master, who usually sided with merchants, secretly cheered this disruption. Still, he had to keep that to himself. As guild leader, protecting members' interests was his duty.
"Why not send in thugs like always? Quickest and easiest."
One merchant shook his head with a counterargument.
"They've already hired Varangian mercenaries for protection."
"Even their delivery men are mostly mercenaries—night raids would be tough."
Varangians—not just any mercenaries. The name made the guild master uneasy, though he hid it. It might just be his imagination.
"Hiring mercenaries... Some noble backing them, maybe?"
"Even if nobles are involved, we can't just sit idle."
The merchants refused to yield even to suspicions of noble support. The guild itself had noble backing, after all.
The Mavrozomis family. A Phrygian noble house with enough clout that one of their own had once been dux here. Now somewhat declined, they'd stepped down from dux to local lords in Pontus—equivalent to a count in Western Europe.
With the Mavrozomis family's power, the guild aimed to crush this threat.
"I'll ask the Mavrozomis family."
The merchants shook their heads in rebuttal.
"No need to bother the elders with this."
"We can handle it ourselves."
"But..."
As the master tried to refuse, the merchants turned up the pressure.
"Do you want to lose your guild master seat?"
"We don't need a leader who won't protect our profits."
The position was elected. Under impeachment pressure, he relented.
"Fine. Do as you wish."
"Why not say that from the start?"
Having gotten their way, the guild master asked how they'd resolve it.
"What's your plan?"
An elderly merchant stepped forward with their scheme.
"We'll use all our capital to buy up every drop of their cheap olive oil. Then..."
Production had limits. Buy out the four-as oil, resell at markup. The enemy couldn't sustain the losses before achieving monopoly. If they caught on and refused sales, decoys posing as civilians were ready.
The mounting deficits would bankrupt them. The guild master shook his head at the ruthless plot.
"Knew it was coming."
Something he'd seen in modern-day Amazonia. Retailers banding together to bulk-buy Amazon goods and resell, returning unsold stock to hurt the company.
Back then, they violated laws on prohibited retail sales, so bad actors got legally booted.
"Problem is, this is the Middle Ages—no such laws."
Some economic statutes existed, but nothing like modern commercial codes to shield businesses.
If he hadn't been adopted into the Ouranos family and jumped into trade as a commoner, he'd have taken massive hits.
"Of course, I could just lead mercenaries and crush them..."
The report in his hand named the noble house backing the guild.
"Mavrozomis family. In original history, they surrendered to the Rum Sultanate during the Fourth Crusade."
A military house that produced a Phrygian dux. But their glory had faded; they lacked former might.
Put harshly, the Ouranos family's influence could squash them easily.
"Deal with the merchants first."
These interlopers blocking his plans. He pondered their punishment.
Knock knock.
A guardsman opened the door, and Alberto approached with a report.
"The report you ordered, my lord."
"Good work."
He scanned the dossier on the merchants' personal details. Some entries caught his eye.
"Supplying the Moselaph and Komnenos houses, huh..."
A few dealt with families he knew well.
"I can sow division through them."
Pitting merchants against each other, then sending mercenaries to shatter the fragments. A perfect plan.