| Day 1
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 Todd: I have long gotten my name inked into history. Sure, there was a time back in the day when that dwarf Bertram kept appropriating my inventions and profiting from them, despite having put no effort into them, save for a handful of gold. Much water has passed under the bridge since. Today, you’d scarcely find one in Jadame who hasn't heard of my self-propelled steam engines, the Automatons! Ol’ Redbeard may insinuate that I merely took apart and put back together what Frederick had done before me all he wants... Nonsense, all of it! Granted, I indeed got the prototypes from Frederick, but, for crying out loud, they are based on a theory developed a good two centuries ago by our common ancestor! And what a great, undeservedly forgotten man he was—but ended up getting blotted out of the Bracadian annals. Only his diary, signed with the enigmatic initials—D.P., and a portrait, which I keep in a special place in my workshop, have survived. Frederick proposed the powerplant solution, but the mechatronics, the strength calculations, the control equipment, the unique hydraulic logic machine—that was all me!
It is now time to prove once and for all to that peddler, and to all of Jadame—no, to the whole world—that talent can't be bought! Either you have it, or your name is Bertram. I've been waiting for this for a long time, too long. Here was my chance to finally get even with that wheeler-dealer for his patronizing tone and vile irony; tread him down and humiliate him so that everyone can see his shame! My invaluable experience as an inventor, my golden hands—and a little elbow grease, but that's up to Sam; I'll admit she's not a bad mechanic.... All we have to do is to perfect what’d been brewing in my head for so many years. Now that’ll be a proper snub on the nose for this so-called "Guild," only good for snatching honest bread out of the hands of humble geniuses like me.
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 Bertram: Lamp oil that burns brighter than any candle—just a cup of it will keep your home lit all night. Rope woven from the finest unicorn hair, with a core of pure spider silk, that can keep even a black dragon at bay. Bombs that can tear up rock in your mines or turn hordes of your enemies into so much mush. You want it? It’s all yours, my friend. As are hundreds of other items offered by the Merchant Guild of Alvar! I was wealthy and successful in business back in Antagarich, but I had not the slightest idea of the possibilities membership in such a powerful company offered. Our artificers here wouldn't have been doing half as well if it hadn't been for the Merchant Guild. It was I who reached an agreement with its representatives, and they now cover the supply of rare materials and reagents from all over Jadame. This deal gave me a seat and a vote on the Captain-Director Council.
I've always said it, and I'm ready to reiterate it again: budget planning is key to any inventor's work, and at least half of his success depends on it. Now consider Todd's recent accomplishments: almost all credit for them should go to those who have taken it upon themselves to fill out the boring paperwork, the uninterrupted supply of materials, and the outfitting of his shops. This puerile, careless… moth in a man's body… he flew down to Burton and somehow persuaded his kinsman that he could run a manufactory! Had I not long known Frederick myself, and had I not read in his eyes the silent plea to help the old airhead out... Look at him now: he has just barely made something out of himself, and makes it look like he doesn’t need the Guild anymore! Like we’re now irrelevant, only remembered of when he decides to whine some more about the interest rates! Highway robbery, he dares to call it! Little does he know that our rate accounts for dozens of criteria and uses formulas several times longer than the most complex thing he had ever been able to write in his entire life! You know what, buddy? That’s it. I've got a waiting room full of guys like you right now. Each one smarter and quicker than the last. Where would you be with your steam-spitting stilt-walkers, hadn't I sneaked three of my best process engineers onto your team? Men I invested ten years of my life into, hammering the understanding of how a real factory works into their heads? You would still be out there, polishing and grinding every rivet and nut, for you were never capable of stopping and soberly assessing the prospects of what you do. The artificer is just a cogwheel in the machine, and I can easily find one whose teeth won’t strip. Money is not of concern, for taking an ingrate down a notch is priceless. What can he do without us backing him? Make people laugh as his newest contraption stumbles a few steps, cuts a loud one and falls apart?! Meanwhile, we the Guild can guarantee you: however challenging the order, it will be completed on time and to the highest standard!
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| Day 2
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Todd was giving his newest invention a trial. With each new run, the mechanism worked better and better. In his dreams, he was already riding the mechanical beast away, to some place where wooded mountains meet the blue sky. Ah, if only he ever was able to complete just one device in its entirety! Not just another peculiar buzzing motor with legs, but a proper... he had long ago come up with a word for his dream machine: a sentinel, one of his very own design!
As Todd was alone with his thoughts, the workshop’s owner, Bertram, was sitting at a desk in the corner, tallying up the books and jingling coins.
Todd shook off his dreamy attitude and spoke, as if to no one in particular:
“Have you, just once in our life, created anything that you could be truly proud of?”
The dwarf wrinkled his nose and silently went on about his thing.
“No, listen to me, you paper worm; have you ever dreamed of an alloy that makes chisels stronger than granite; of a perfect gear tooth shape that just works, without any backlash or seizure; of a tool whose touch instantly vaporizes the part of a metal workpiece you want gone? Ever begged the tip of a hair-thin drill bit not to break when failure would mean a year's work wasted?”
The dwarf grimaced. He was almost done counting the proceeds.
“Hey you old ginger mop, do you know the feeling when the last roughness in your mechanism rubs together, making it sing like a magic cricket from the forests of AvLee? Of welding a solid seam in two passes where no one else would have used less than five!”
The dwarf was done counting the money. Down to the last coin. He locked the pouch in the drawer, looked up and asked:
“Got any idea why no one likes us dwarves?”
Todd replied:
“‘Cause you're fat, boring, earthbound!”
- ...and greedy," Todd added and turned to the window. Something glistened on his cheek.
Bertram stroked a curl of intricate carving with his finger and whistled. The desk made a long, rattling sound and stomped off into the far room, with smoke billowing out of the inkwell. The dwarf pulled his glasses down to the tip of his nose and eyed Todd up. The young inventor sighed heavily and waddled over to the drawing board.
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It had been decades since. Todd no longer worked for Bertram; he had moved back to his homeland of Bracada. He struggled to find any like-minded alchemists there, however, and continued his research alone. He lived a life of modesty, but his wants were meager, and he was able to cover the cost of tools and materials by occasionally selling amusing mechanical toys to the well-to-do and aristocrats. He was ignorant, however, of the fact that the very same dwarf was behind advertising his creations. Bertram no longer had hope for his former protege to ever master the art of handling serious projects, yet still he was loath to let him out of sight—after all, Todd’s head was positively brimming with invaluable insights. Besides, somewhere in the back of his mind, he retained a semblance of warm regard for the man who had once come to his workshop as a skinny, doltish teenager. Todd eagerly studied everything the dwarf had to offer before coming to believe that he had left his mentor far behind and that it was time for him to leave this golden cage. Cage or not, it was golden indeed; Bertram didn't pay Todd much in terms of money, but the apprentice never wanted for anything, and not even the smallest request of his was ever refused, provided he could explain how it would benefit the work. Precisely this last point was, however, often the root of the problem: Todd felt the mechanisms like his own gut, but to explain the essence of this or that achieved or supposed effect clearly and consistently? That was beyond him. Humans... so hurried, so unreliable, so fickle, and their lifespans so short. Todd was graying already, and his head trembled visibly as he thought, while Bertram was still in the prime of his dwarven years. Still, the years seemed to have only reinforced their desire to prove something to each other.
The former companions had parted ways long ago but eventually ran into each other again—in Burton. One had grown used to thinking that he was capable of anything and that all he needed was to let his thought fly free, so it would return stronger and find material embodiment. The other believed that a solid base was primary; in his opinion, with work well organized from the outset, success would surely follow, however hard the job. Little did they know that there was also a third person in this equation—he, however, chose to remain in the shadows for the time being. He put himself on the other side of the equal sign; the entire sum of efforts by the former two was meant to go to him.
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| Day 3
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| As production grows, so does the amount of work required, which means that I can't do it alone anymore. It's time to consider... whatchamacallit... delegation, that’s the word. A tavern opened its doors near my shop; perfect timing, too. It’ll supply me with both the crafty men I need to explore the wastelands and the toilers who will haul iron beams instead of myself. I'm not a man who goes about his job with kid gloves, unlike some… but I've only got one pair of these skillful hands. If only... Nah, forget about that. Our competition is being closely watched: a bribed man at the rival's construction site will be exposed instantly, and my investment will go up the chimney like black smoke from burning blueprints. There must be a better use for these funds.
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| Todd's Shop has built a Tavern.
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| Bertram's Shop has built a Tavern.
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| Day 6
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Burton was once founded near an ore mine, a scarce luxury in the region, but now its reserves are almost depleted. The wastelands are not called the wastelands for nothing: they are poor in resources, and we now must trade for them, paying with our factories’ products. Most of them go to cover internal needs, as development swallows rolled metal, castings and everything else like a bottomless pit, leaving only meager crumbs of the total output to be traded. Of course, customers are willing to pay for them very dearly, but construction on this scale takes a lot of resources. And by that I mean a whole lot. And then there are the surprise attacks on our supply trains by minotaurs and other rabble. The minotaurs of Jadame had never previously been overtly hostile to their new neighbors; they seemed to be content with keeping to their underground labyrinths, only ever coming to the surface out of some dire need.
Whatever the reason for these depredations, the timing couldn’t have been worse; the competition of the century is at risk!
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Accumulate Creatures
Lose All Your Towns and Heroes
∞
Pikemen, 1 
Griffin, 1 
Monk, 3 
Seamen, 2 
Pirates, 34 
Peasants, 4 
Nomads
Castle
Halflings
