Post by SouthWestern Traders on Oct 1, 2018 20:44:22 GMT
Some things in life needed to be crisp. A crisp apple, for example, made for a tasty, crisp apple cider. Without the crispness, the cider would likely either be sickeningly sweet or unpalatably bitter. Although it was hard and difficult work, the demand for such apples meant that orchards that could provide them always had a steady supply of buyers for their apples. The craftsmen and cities that relied on them usually had to make due with lesser apples, largely because the reality was that animals and pests ate a large chunk of the animals before they could make it to the markets, and the work and energy required to establish sufficiently large orchards remained out of reach without modern machinery to till the soil or modern biology as it relating to grafting. The more adept farmers could certainly breed their trees over generations and get some fine specimens, but those trees were usually only well-adapted to their local environments and were difficult to transplant to other regions. A tree grown in Wessex simply didn’t do as well in Caerleon and vice versa.
As it so happened, most of the orchards in Dumonia and Wessex were doing just fine. They had avoided the brunt of the summer’s wildfires and escaped being burnt. The same was not quite true for many of the cities, mills, breweries and whatnot. They had suffered from being the wrong kind of crisp. The flammable kind. While many structures had caught fire, those could be rebuilt with a ‘simple’ expenditure of money and sufficient labour. None of them had been particularly notable as such. Even the guild’s headquarters in Wessex, however important, was a ‘mere’ question of time and money to rebuild. For the time being, the guilders had sufficient clout to have moved into whatever buildings remained standing in Poole Harbour, with owners who desired to make some money off of renting out their premises doing so quite freely. Fortunately, the guild’s personal ships had been largely untouched, though much merchant shipping had been lost (an unfortunate reality for both the Southwestern and Eastern Traders). Still, the safety of the guild fleet was considered somewhat paramount, if only because it represented a value in assets that exceeded most large armies. That was before giving due consideration for the quality of the sailor and the experience of the captains and officers; the focus and effort of the guild meant that the guild fleet’s average experience often exceeded that of seasoned merchant crews.
Some might claim that the records lost were serious and, on some level, that was true. However, many charts and records were kept by captains and navigators onboard their vessels and so what was stored on land tended to be copies of the most important ones. Buildings could be rebuilt and in time, and with great effort, many lost charts and records could be duplicated. It was no small thing, to be sure, but it was all quite replaceable.
The far greater loss was experience. Fires tended to catch the young and old alike off-guard. Granted that even strong, able-bodied men sometimes succumbed to the fires, particularly during acts of bravery, but old men and women caught in a firestorm scarcely had the means with which to escape it, even if help was near. The same was not true for the experience of retired captains, old traveling merchants and specialized guilders. Their loss could only be replaced in time, if at all. No amount of effort could ever truly replicate their institutional knowledge that went with them to the grave.
Yet the show must go on. Past the grieving families and friends of the deceased, their departure to other realms would allow a different kind of growth. Because their loss was fundamentally irreplaceable, the new guard that would rise to replace them would not be the same. That was okay. With every old lesson that had been lost, an old quirk or inefficiency was lost alongside it. The new guilders who would take their positions would bring with them knowledge of their own, the passion of “youth” (if one could call middle-age youth, in comparison to the venerable age of those who had died), and their own quirks.
As the fire had burnt away what once was, the rains that had followed had washed away the ashes, and from the ashes something new and wonderful might rise. New buildings, better and sturdier than the old ones. Newer charts, without the mold and mildew of the old ones, and without the irrelevance of some of the old ones that were woefully outdated or sometimes even flat out wrong. New guilders. It was a chance for a fresh beginning and to repeat what had been done right, while avoiding what had been wrong.
In nature, when wildfires raged through forests, the loss of the old trees was always quite noticeable. Yet in their stead, new life would rise. Firstly, the forest would be much thinned, and so long as it did not burn too hot, it would let in new light to the forest floor. Fungus would attack the dead, burnt wood and grow prolifically during the autumn and likely the next one as well. Eventually, shrubbery, meadow flowers and grasses would grow in the natural patterns where wildfires had raged. Meanwhile, new trees both deciduous and evergreen would compete. Eventually, one or the other would win out, though it might take quite a while, and the shrubbery and flowers would retreat. Perhaps ten, twenty or fifty years down the road, another wildfire might thin out the trees once more. Through many of these wildfires, the sturdiest oak trees would live through it and plant its seeds, allowing new oak to thrive around it, while it itself would grow strong through several wildfires, eventually reaching the size needed for it to be useful. Without the wildfires, the oak tree would be stymied in its growth, and would never reach the size it needed to serve upon the seas. Indeed, if the wildfires occurred too infrequently, the forests would grow too thick and, in a hot dry summer, would burn so hot that there would be few nutrients and fewer seeds to replace what was lost, leaving but a charred wasteland for years until birds and other animals might reseed it and fungus might restore it. Yet regardless, all throughout this, various animals would take advantage of the abundant diversity of life and habitat. So even the worst scenario was usually of benefit to someone or something. As it was with nature, so it was with the guild.
The only problem with the concept of fire and water washing things clean was that the leadership and administration of the Southwestern Traders remained largely the same as it had always been. Some of it was new, with Eurwen having grown adept in her position as chancellor and Commodore Everwater being a fairly recent addition. Other of it was old, with some of it even stale. To some people’s great chagrin, there didn’t seem to be any plans to change out the administration and there didn’t appear to be any challenge to the leadership. Not yet, anyhow.
As it so happened, most of the orchards in Dumonia and Wessex were doing just fine. They had avoided the brunt of the summer’s wildfires and escaped being burnt. The same was not quite true for many of the cities, mills, breweries and whatnot. They had suffered from being the wrong kind of crisp. The flammable kind. While many structures had caught fire, those could be rebuilt with a ‘simple’ expenditure of money and sufficient labour. None of them had been particularly notable as such. Even the guild’s headquarters in Wessex, however important, was a ‘mere’ question of time and money to rebuild. For the time being, the guilders had sufficient clout to have moved into whatever buildings remained standing in Poole Harbour, with owners who desired to make some money off of renting out their premises doing so quite freely. Fortunately, the guild’s personal ships had been largely untouched, though much merchant shipping had been lost (an unfortunate reality for both the Southwestern and Eastern Traders). Still, the safety of the guild fleet was considered somewhat paramount, if only because it represented a value in assets that exceeded most large armies. That was before giving due consideration for the quality of the sailor and the experience of the captains and officers; the focus and effort of the guild meant that the guild fleet’s average experience often exceeded that of seasoned merchant crews.
Some might claim that the records lost were serious and, on some level, that was true. However, many charts and records were kept by captains and navigators onboard their vessels and so what was stored on land tended to be copies of the most important ones. Buildings could be rebuilt and in time, and with great effort, many lost charts and records could be duplicated. It was no small thing, to be sure, but it was all quite replaceable.
The far greater loss was experience. Fires tended to catch the young and old alike off-guard. Granted that even strong, able-bodied men sometimes succumbed to the fires, particularly during acts of bravery, but old men and women caught in a firestorm scarcely had the means with which to escape it, even if help was near. The same was not true for the experience of retired captains, old traveling merchants and specialized guilders. Their loss could only be replaced in time, if at all. No amount of effort could ever truly replicate their institutional knowledge that went with them to the grave.
Yet the show must go on. Past the grieving families and friends of the deceased, their departure to other realms would allow a different kind of growth. Because their loss was fundamentally irreplaceable, the new guard that would rise to replace them would not be the same. That was okay. With every old lesson that had been lost, an old quirk or inefficiency was lost alongside it. The new guilders who would take their positions would bring with them knowledge of their own, the passion of “youth” (if one could call middle-age youth, in comparison to the venerable age of those who had died), and their own quirks.
As the fire had burnt away what once was, the rains that had followed had washed away the ashes, and from the ashes something new and wonderful might rise. New buildings, better and sturdier than the old ones. Newer charts, without the mold and mildew of the old ones, and without the irrelevance of some of the old ones that were woefully outdated or sometimes even flat out wrong. New guilders. It was a chance for a fresh beginning and to repeat what had been done right, while avoiding what had been wrong.
In nature, when wildfires raged through forests, the loss of the old trees was always quite noticeable. Yet in their stead, new life would rise. Firstly, the forest would be much thinned, and so long as it did not burn too hot, it would let in new light to the forest floor. Fungus would attack the dead, burnt wood and grow prolifically during the autumn and likely the next one as well. Eventually, shrubbery, meadow flowers and grasses would grow in the natural patterns where wildfires had raged. Meanwhile, new trees both deciduous and evergreen would compete. Eventually, one or the other would win out, though it might take quite a while, and the shrubbery and flowers would retreat. Perhaps ten, twenty or fifty years down the road, another wildfire might thin out the trees once more. Through many of these wildfires, the sturdiest oak trees would live through it and plant its seeds, allowing new oak to thrive around it, while it itself would grow strong through several wildfires, eventually reaching the size needed for it to be useful. Without the wildfires, the oak tree would be stymied in its growth, and would never reach the size it needed to serve upon the seas. Indeed, if the wildfires occurred too infrequently, the forests would grow too thick and, in a hot dry summer, would burn so hot that there would be few nutrients and fewer seeds to replace what was lost, leaving but a charred wasteland for years until birds and other animals might reseed it and fungus might restore it. Yet regardless, all throughout this, various animals would take advantage of the abundant diversity of life and habitat. So even the worst scenario was usually of benefit to someone or something. As it was with nature, so it was with the guild.
The only problem with the concept of fire and water washing things clean was that the leadership and administration of the Southwestern Traders remained largely the same as it had always been. Some of it was new, with Eurwen having grown adept in her position as chancellor and Commodore Everwater being a fairly recent addition. Other of it was old, with some of it even stale. To some people’s great chagrin, there didn’t seem to be any plans to change out the administration and there didn’t appear to be any challenge to the leadership. Not yet, anyhow.