The first blush of dawn painted the horizon in hues of rose and gold as the sun began its ascent over Glarentza. The icy grasp of winter still lingered, its breath visible in the crisp morning air, but hints of warmth teased the senses, promising the renewal of spring. The scent of saltwater mingled with the earthy aroma of thawing soil, while the rhythmic creaking of ships at anchor filled the harbor with a melody of anticipation.
The port was a hive of activity. Sailors shouted orders as they prepared their vessels for departure, ropes strained against moorings, and the fluttering sails of ships bore the proud banners of Venice and Genoa. The Lion of Saint Mark and the Cross of Saint George danced upon the breeze, symbols of maritime prowess and mercantile ambition.
On the bustling docks, Venetian and Genoese traders moved with purposeful strides, their eyes alight with eagerness. Word had spread like wildfire across the Mediterranean: Glarentza was the source of a remarkable treasure—the Latin Bibles that had taken the markets of Venice and Genoa by storm. These books were not only religious texts but objects of unparalleled craftsmanship, their pages uniform and flawless, produced with a speed and consistency that bordered on the miraculous.
The port of Glarentza had not witnessed such activity in many decades—not since the prosperous days of the Principality of Achaea. The harbor, which had grown quiet over the years, now saw a steady increase in ships arriving from various parts of the Mediterranean. The docks were busier than they had been in a long time, with more vessels than usual vying for docking space.
Sailors carefully maneuvered their ships, occasionally waiting their turn to approach the piers. A few ships anchored just offshore, their crews ferrying goods and passengers to land in small boats. The harbor master oversaw the proceedings with a satisfied air, pleased to see the port again thriving.
"Looks like Glarentza is regaining its old glory," remarked a seasoned local sailor to his companion as they secured their vessel. "It's been decades since we've had this many ships in port."
"Aye," his friend agreed. "The word about these Bibles has certainly stirred interest."
The increased traffic brought a sense of renewed energy to the town. Dockworkers busily loaded and unloaded cargo, merchants haggled over prices, and the local taverns enjoyed brisk business. While not overwhelming, the influx signaled a positive shift in Glarentza's fortunes.
Amidst this revival, the Latin Bibles remained the prized commodity, drawing traders from Venice, Genoa, and beyond. The town had become a noteworthy destination in the world of commerce, its name once again appearing on the lips of merchants and sailors across the Mediterranean.
Among the throng, Lorenzo navigated the familiar pathways of Glarentza with a renewed sense of purpose. The success of his last venture had exceeded all expectations, and he was determined to capitalize on the burgeoning demand for the Bibles. The profits could elevate his status within the Venetian trading community, but more importantly, they had ignited his curiosity.
He felt a tap on his shoulder as he made his way through the bustling market. Turning, he saw Marco, a fellow Venetian trader, grinning broadly.
"Marco! I didn't expect to see you here so soon," Lorenzo exclaimed, warmly clasping his friend's hand.
"How could I stay away after hearing of your remarkable success?" Marco replied. "But there's something you must see. They've started selling the Bibles in a new place—a dedicated store they've built just for books."
"A store just for books?" Lorenzo repeated, surprised. "That's unprecedented.
"Indeed it is. They call it a 'bookstore,' and it's unlike anything I've encountered. It's near the port, not far from here."
Lorenzo's intrigue deepened. "Lead the way. I must see this for myself."
They navigated through the crowds, the sounds of haggling merchants and clinking coins providing a lively backdrop. As they left the port, a new edifice came into view—a structure that stood out amidst the traditional buildings of Glarentza.
The building was simple yet impressive, with clean lines and a prominent façade. Above the entrance, a large sign was boldly painted with the words "Morea publishing” in an elegant, stylized script unlike any Lorenzo had seen before. The lettering was captivating—a sweeping 'M' that seemed both simple and majestic. Below it, the words were inscribed in both Greek and Latin, further emphasizing its importance.
Two sentries stood at either side of the entrance, their stances alert but welcoming. Their presence added an air of exclusivity and security to the establishment.
"This is extraordinary," Lorenzo remarked, taking in the sight. "They've certainly invested in presentation."
"Wait until you see inside," Marco said, motioning toward the door.
As they stepped closer, Lorenzo noticed posters affixed to the exterior walls. The posters featured the same stylish 'M' logo and advertised special offers: "Latin Bibles—40 Gold Ducats Each. Bulk Orders—29 Ducats Each for 10 or More." Other notices announced upcoming releases, hinting at new works that would soon be available.
"They're using visual displays to promote their goods," Lorenzo observed. "A fascinating approach."
They entered the bookstore, a bell chiming softly above the door. Inside, the atmosphere was both hushed and bustling. The large space was well-lit, with sunlight streaming through high windows. Along one side, traders waited their turn in a designated area, seated on benches arranged neatly. At the front, a long counter served as a customer service desk, behind which several employees attended to clients.
Shelves lined the walls, though they held only a few books at the moment. Large posters adorned the spaces between the shelves—stylized illustrations featuring the Morea Publishing logo.The clerks—five young men—were all dressed in matching tunics of deep blue, an unusual uniformity that caught Lorenzo's eye. Each bore a small parchment tag affixed to their chest with their name elegantly inscribed—a practice unheard.
"This is unlike any merchant establishment I've seen," Lorenzo whispered, intrigued. "They've introduced a level of organization and presentation that's entirely new."
Marco nodded, observing the neatly arranged waiting area and the orderly manner in which customers were attended. "Even the way they manage patrons—having them sit and wait their turn—it's remarkably efficient."
"Not to mention the promotional posters and the way the staff engages with clients," Lorenzo added. "It's as if they've crafted a ceremony, not just a transaction."
"Indeed," Marco agreed. "The organization, the icons—it's all very deliberate."
Around them, other merchants examined sample Bibles displayed on a central table, discussing the quality and pricing with the staff. The atmosphere was one of eager anticipation mixed with professional efficiency.
One of the clerks approached Lorenzo and Marco with a respectful bow, speaking in a humble yet formal manner. "Noble sirs, I bid you welcome to Morea Publishing. How may I be of service to you this day?
"We seek to purchase copies of the Latin Bible," Lorenzo said, his tone measured. "A substantial quantity, if such can be procured."
The clerk offered a courteous smile. "It would be our great honor to assist in this matter. However, I must inform you that our current stock is much diminished. A fresh supply is expected within a month’s time. Should it please you, we can reserve the number you require."
Lorenzo glanced at Marco before replying. "That will suffice. How many copies remain at present?"
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
"At this moment, we hold but ten copies in our possession," the clerk responded, inclining his head. "However, we can assuredly set aside more from the forthcoming shipment."
"Only ten?" Lorenzo said, his voice betraying a hint of disappointment. "Very well, we shall take the ten that remain and place an order for fifty more."
"Most excellent, my lord," the clerk said, retrieving a ledger. "If you would be so kind as to provide your name and details, we shall finalize the arrangements. Moreover, for orders exceeding ten copies, the price is lowered to twenty-nine gold ducats per volume."
"That is good to hear," Marco interjected. "We are grateful for your assistance."
As they conducted the transaction, Lorenzo couldn't help but feel a growing unease beneath his professional demeanor. The efficiency of the process was impressive—perhaps too much so. The employee was knowledgeable and polite, guiding them through the steps with practiced ease. Yet, his manner had a subtle rigidity, as if he were following a carefully rehearsed script.
"I must say," Lorenzo remarked, "this establishment is most impressive. The manner in which you conduct your affairs is... most novel."
"You honor us with your kind words," the clerk replied humbly. "We are ever at your service. Should you require aught else, pray do not hesitate to call upon us."
After concluding their business, Lorenzo paused to cast his gaze about the room once more. "The banners, the attire of the clerks, the manner of arrangement—it is all most deliberate," he remarked softly to Marco.
"Indeed, it is truly remarkable," Marco agreed
As they exited the bookstore, the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky. The guards nodded politely as they passed, and the bustle of the port resumed around them.
"We need to confirm our suspicions about their production methods," Lorenzo said thoughtfully. "I know they're using some form of mechanical press, but we need more informations”
"Agreed," Marco said. "But how do you propose we uncover their secrets? They've been careful not to reveal too much."
Just then, they noticed one of the bookstore clerks exiting the building, glancing over his shoulder before slipping down a narrow alley with a satchel slung over his shoulder. His furtive movements caught their attention.
"There's our chance," Lorenzo whispered, a hint of urgency in his voice.
Marco hesitated. "Are you sure about this? If they catch us prying, it could mean serious trouble."
Lorenzo's eyes narrowed. "Knowledge is power, my friend. But we must be cautious. One misstep, and we could find ourselves in a dungeon—or worse.”
They followed discreetly until the clerk paused in a quiet corner to adjust his belongings. Lorenzo approached him with a friendly smile.
"Good day to you, friend," he began. "You serve at the bookstore, do you not?"
The young man looked up, his expression wary. "Aye, my lord, that I do."
"I must offer my praise for the fine service and the quality of the Bibles," Lorenzo continued. "They are truly most remarkable.
"Your kind words are appreciated," the clerk replied cautiously.
"My associate and I are merchants from Venice," Lorenzo explained. "We are much intrigued by the skill with which such fine books are made and in such abundance. We hoped you might enlighten us."
The clerk hesitated, his gaze shifting uneasily to the empty street. "I beg your pardon, my lord, but I am not at liberty to speak of such matters with those from beyond our lands. The Despot’s laws are strict."
"Of course, we understand," Lorenzo said, his voice smooth. He produced a small pouch of coins, the weight of it evident. "But perhaps you could share a little, as a professional courtesy. Your secret would be safe with us."
The young man swallowed hard, eyeing the pouch. "If anyone learned I spoke of this, it could cost me dearly."
"We give you our word," Marco interjected softly, "not a breath of this shall escape us."
After a tense pause, the clerk accepted the pouch with trembling hands. He leaned in, his voice barely a whisper. "I ought not to speak of it, but... the books are made with a device—a press—that imprints the pages swiftly, by pressing inked metal letters onto paper."
"Metal letters?" Marco echoed, feigning surprise.
"Aye," the clerk confirmed, casting another anxious glance about. "But you must understand, the workshop is a most guarded secret. It lies beyond the outskirts of Glarentza, and only a chosen few may enter. The guards are ever vigilant, and the Despot has decreed harsh penalties for any who would dare to betray its secrecy."
Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. "It would seem the Despot guards his secrets well."
"More than you know," the clerk replied. "I shouldn't say more. If word got out that I spoke of this..." He trailed off, fear evident in his eyes.
As Lorenzo and Marco made their way back toward the harbor, Marco shook his head in amazement.
"If we could learn more about this press and perhaps replicate it, we could revolutionize the book trade in Venice," Lorenzo mused.
"But gaining access to such a guarded secret will be challenging," Marco cautioned.
"We'll need to be discreet and resourceful," Lorenzo agreed. "Perhaps there are others who can provide more information or ways to observe the operation without arousing suspicion."
"For now, securing the Bibles we've ordered is important,” Marco pointed out.
"True," Lorenzo conceded. "But we must not lose sight of the larger opportunity. This could change everything."
They continued toward the docks, the gears of ambition turning in their minds as the sun cast long shadows over Glarentza. The sea breeze carried the scent of salt and possibility, and Lorenzo felt a thrill at the prospect of what lay ahead.
A week later at Clermont Castle, Michael sat at the head of the council table, his gaze steady as he surveyed his assembled advisors. A crackling fire warmed the room, the scent of burning wood mingling with that of parchment and ink. George Sphrantzes sat to his right, his expression attentive. Theophilus Dragas and Petros the steward were present, along with the senior officials who had become familiar faces in these meetings.
"Gentlemen," Michael began, "I am pleased to report that all our stock of Latin Bibles has been sold, and we have received orders for at least another nine hundred copies."
A murmur of satisfaction rippled through the room.
"Your decision to establish the bookstore has proven wise my despot," Theophilus added. "Not only has it facilitated sales, but it has also increased our visibility and reputation."
Petros stood, referencing a ledger before him. "With the proceeds from the sales, we have cleared our debts and fortified the treasury. We have also secured a significant quantity of gunpowder, enough to sustain our arsenal's operations for the foreseeable future."
"Excellent," Michael said. "Our pricing strategy of 29 gold ducats whole sale per Bible has yielded substantial profits while remaining attractive to our buyers."
George leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "However, we must address a pressing concern—the dire state of our paper supply. The cotton shortage caused by the harsh winter continues to cripple our production capacity."
Michael sighed. "Indeed. Without sufficient paper, our presses fall silent, and we risk losing the market we've worked so hard to build."
Theophilus spoke up, his voice measured. "Perhaps we should consider scaling back our expansion, focusing on local markets until we stabilize our resources."
Petros shook his head. "But scaling back now could signal weakness. The demand from Venice and Genoa is soaring. If we cannot meet it, they may turn elsewhere—or worse, seek to uncover our methods."
"May I propose a course of action?" George suggested.
"Please do." Michael replied.
"Now that our treasury is replenished, we can afford to purchase cotton from external sources. The market of Ragusa offers ample supplies, and they are amenable to trade with us. I recommend organizing an expedition to secure the necessary materials."
Theophilus concurred. "Establishing a reliable supply chain is crucial. We should also consider forming long-term trade agreements to prevent future shortages."
"Agreed," Michael said. "Let's make the necessary arrangements. George, I entrust you with coordinating the expedition to Ragusa."
"Thank you, Despot. I will ensure its success."
Petros interjected. "Additionally, our success with the bookstore in Glarentza suggests we could replicate this model in other towns, expanding our reach- as you mention already my Despot.”
"A promising idea," Michael acknowledged. "But let's prioritize stabilizing our production capabilities first.
The meeting continued with discussions on resource allocation, infrastructure improvements, and the expansion of the arsenal. The mood was one of cautious optimism.
As the council members began to depart, Michael gestured for George to stay behind.
"George," Michael began, a sincere warmth in his voice, "your efforts have been invaluable. I want you to know how much I appreciate your counsel and dedication."
George met his gaze, a hint of gratitude in his eyes. "I am honored to serve, Despot. Together, we are forging a path to a stronger future."
Michael walked over to the window, the sun now bathing the landscape in a warm glow. He watched as the golden light stretched over the fields, a serene contrast to the weight on his shoulders. "There's still much to be done," he mused. "But for the first time in a long while, I feel we're moving in the right direction.
"Indeed," George agreed, joining him by the window. "The challenges ahead are significant, but so are the opportunities."
Michael turned to face him, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "We must remain vigilant. The Ottomans are preoccupied for now, but that may not last. Our preparations must continue unabated." He paused, then added, "I've decided to accompany you on the trip to Ragusa. A change of scenery might do me some good."
George raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised. "Are you certain, Despot? The journey is long, and your presence here is invaluable."
"I'm certain," Michael affirmed. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze drifting back to the window. Inwardly, he felt a stir of excitement—a flicker of the wanderlust he remembered from his previous life. The thrill of exploring new places, the rush of travel, the simple joy of movement—all things he dearly missed from the 21st century. Perhaps this journey would rekindle that spirit within him.
"I believe the trip will be beneficial," he continued. "Not only can I assist in securing the trade agreements, but it will also provide an opportunity to observe and learn."
George nodded thoughtfully. "Very well. Your presence will undoubtedly strengthen our position in Ragusa. Rest assured, the arsenal will continue its work during our absence, and I'll ensure we are kept informed of any developments."