The roar of the Speculation Pit swells as Djoser approaches, his sandals scraping the carved marble step leading into its arcane arena.  Unlike the flailing gestures and frantic shouts of the younger traders, Djoser is still.  Watching.  Listening.  Sensing the deeper current.

Insight:  20 [rolled in game log]

At first glance, it’s pandemonium—prices flaring up and crashing in flashes of gold sigils, echoing contracts signed with blood or breath.  But Djoser doesn't focus on the numbers.  He watches the eyes.  He looks for subtle signs of the motivations behind the offers to buy and sell.  In a place where everything is noise, Djoser listens for silence—the gaps, the hesitations, the over-eager agreement.  Like a priest reading sacred subtext from scripture, he deciphers the speculative incantations for what they are not saying.

He calls the others aside and, without raising his voice, murmurs:  “That elven broker?  She's barely holding back terror—she's bluffing her entire position on ice-silk.  And the gnome trio, there?  They've been trading in circles to inflate grain stocks.”

With calm certainty, Djoser points out threads that Archael or the others might pull to advance their profits.

Archael’s sharp eyes flick over the shimmering contract without touching it. The numbers pulse invitingly, but the pattern is too clean—engineered, not emergent. He offers the faintest of smiles, the kind taught in Waterdeep's oldest halls: polite, empty, unassailable.

"Opportunity rarely introduces itself so loudly," he murmurs, folding his hands behind his back.

Without further word, he steps away, robes whispering against the polished stone. The would-be conspirators glance at each other, irritation flashing in their eyes—but do not follow. In the weave around him, Archael senses it clearly: the trap was baited not with profit, but with pride.

Meanwhile Djoser makes his move, or rather his calculation.

Djoser's sharp gaze pierces the churning chaos of the Speculation Pit, seeing not the flashing numbers but the hidden patterns beneath. With calm certainty, he guides the final trade—a precise strike amid the frenzy. The Market shudders, its swirling currents broken. A ripple of silence passes through the Exchange, and the great golden tally hovering above the Pit flashes the mark of Victory. Archael, Tahlia, Vic, and Djoser stand together as the Market yields, their pooled fortunes intact, their reputation burnished. The Leira Trading Center watches—and remembers—the clever hands and sharper minds who bested its living economy at its own game.

The last exchange was a total of 90 points,  25 over the remaining TP of the market.

The party's base profit is (39% of 93) + 25 = 61.27 gold pieces.

The adventurer's return to the Pen and Parchment to regroup.

The young white-haired waterdhavian noble finds himself wondering if the franchise should consider themselves sucessful or not. While having gained rather than lost gold he doubted that the earnings they made would suffice if they were to grow and prosper. It had been quite an experience though and perhaps when they knew the market better they would profit better from it. 

Diomede, noticing Archael's concern, brings him the ledgers showing the impact of their dealings on their venture. He also presents him copies of the information gleaned by the party observations which may direct their next steps beyond selune, once ready to depart.

Archael, roll Investigation or Insight to see what you glean.

Archael
Investigation: 21
Insight: 20

(Using the last portent roll of 8 for the investigation check if okay making it 15 in total :-P)

Pooling information from your trip to the Leira Trade Center with Diomede's accounts from the trade items that have come and gone from the cargo, Archael compiles the following dossier pertaining to this port:

Franchise Trade Dossier: Leira Trading Center

Compiled by: Archael Dezlentyr (Legal Oversight)

Verified by: Djoser Nickelgazer, Cleric of Waukeen

Distributed to: Vic Torius, Obviator / Tahlia Willowmere, Loremonger / Franchise Records, Pen & Parchment

Intelligence Gained – The Market of Leira

Structural Overview:

• The Grand Market is sentient in flavor if not fact: always rearranging, deceptive, ritualized.

• Key regions include:

  • Main Thoroughfare: Loud, bustling; heavy pickpocket presence.

  • Spice Lane: High trade volatility; collusion among spice sellers.

  • Trade Exchange & Speculation Pit: High-risk, high-reward commodities trading.

  • Merchant Registrar: Bureaucratic temple; contracts may include enchantments.

  • Currency Exchange: Volatile rates and planar inflation.

  • Entertainers' Row: Source of market rumors, hidden truths.

  • Shadow Market: Black Market accessible via Thieves’ Guild token.

Party Discoveries:

• Vic: Gained neutral status with the Shadow Market. Sold lumber to rogue shipwright guild.

• Tahlia: Exposed spice cartel; acquired extraplanar saffron at discount.

• Djoser: Uncovered hidden clause in contract; awarded the Golden Seal of Waukeen. Franchise registered for trading.

• Archael: Claimed dormant Moon Elf escrow funds; avoided insider trap.

• Group Victory: Conquered the Speculation Pit; earned market recognition.

Transactions Executed

Items Sold

• Lumber: Sold in Shadow Market due to legitimate shortages (void termite infestation).

Items Purchased

• Extraplanar Saffron: Acquired from vault stocks after exposing false scarcity.

Market Trends on Selûne (Leira)

Imports (In Demand)

• Lumber (off-world, untreated)

• Everful casks

• Extraplanar spices

• Magical lingerie, garments

• Inks and scribing tools

• Planar-linked courier pouches

Exports (Commonly Sold)

• Dream-infused salts

• Bardic performance relics

• Bureaucratic spell scrolls

• Self-renewing contracts

• Spelljammer-compatible cookware

Nearby Port Trade Patterns

This dossier is to be referenced in future port planning, investment decisions, and franchise growth strategy. Any unauthorized duplication will trigger a compliance review and audit by the Obviator.

(cool!) 

Tahlia has trouble containing her excitement.  The market was wonderful, was exciting, was thrilling... was this going to be their lives going forward?  The idea almost makes her float as they reboard their ship to regroup.  "Do you think the crew has figured out how to run this thing yet?" she wonders aloud not in anyone's particular direction.

At her turn she pours over the dossier, asking questions of the others on their encounters as she does.  Once she feels she has a good idea of how their trip went, she takes a seat at the table, pulls out her Whisper Jar and starts talking into it, recounting her personal part in detail and what she gathered from the others as well.  

Once she has finished... takes her a bit, even when she thinks she is done, she remembers another bit and goes back, but finally... she heads over to Diomede and asks, "So what is the plan from here?  I'm sorry if this was already talked about or determined, I'm getting a bit overwhelmed.  Do we choose the next place to head?  Try and start our route?  I mean we could go to Coliar, we still have those casks to unload."

"Selling casks seems like a good next move." Vic says,  smiling at the group's performance to date.  "Let things cool down here a bit, perhaps, before we wear out our welcome."...

More calm and in control when having had finished the compilation, the young white-haired waterdhavian noble helps hismelf to a drink while listening to Tahlia and Vic. "It has indeed been a bit overwhelming Miss Willowmere, but fortunately it seems we are not pressed for time. Perhaps digest what we have learned and then make a business plan? Before we leave I agree with Miss Torius about selling our Everful Casks if we can find a good price, but also I would want to make an attempt to find someone to take a look the spelljammer." He says to the others, taking a sip of his drink while waiting for more weigh-ins, offering the others to study the newly created franchise trade dossier.

Djoser, having taken a quiet seat near the ledger table, lets the others speak without interruption.  He listens intently, fingers tented under his chin in contemplative repose.  When Archael finishes speaking and the others begin weighing options, Djoser exhales, not quite a sigh, but a release of thought into word.

He leans forward, voice calm and flat.  “Waukeen teaches that there are times when the gold flows like water, but a wise merchant knows not to drink too fast at the spring." 

"We’ve had a good beginning here at Leira—profitable, reputable, and blessed—but a good beginning can be squandered with greed or haste.  Let us not linger in this market.”

He taps one copper-toned finger on the dossier, then traces a small circle around one item, before glancing up.  “Coliar is the logical next step, yes.  Supply to meet demand, no controversy, no entanglements.  We control the commodity.  We understand the product.  A clean trade secures our standing, further establishes our brand, and replenishes our coffers and our holds.”

He then turns slightly toward Archael.  “I agree that examining the spelljammer is wise.  It is both conveyance and investment.  Should it falter in the wrong port, or at sea, our entire venture could stall, or worse.”

He stands now, slowly, letting his full height and formal demeanor assert a kind of grounded reassurance.  “I suggest this course:  Commission a spelljammer review and possible repairs, here, before we depart again; then make for Coliar and unload as many casks as the market will support; while there, we gather additional market intelligence before selecting an additional stop, or perhaps return to Waterdeep to unload some of our more exotic wares in the markets there."

He smiles faintly and adds with a nod to Tahlia, "Be at ease, Miss Willowmere.  The Golden Lady watches over and guides our journey.  We are in good hands.”

Diomedé, practically vibrating with bureaucratic delight, gathers the party in the stateroom, his brass fingers steepled and optics aglow.

“My most enterprising adventurers—pardon, executives—permit me to congratulate you on the successful registration of our franchise at the Leira Trading Center.”

He produces a vellum scroll bearing an official lunar seal and gives it a ceremonial snap.

“This singular act establishes a formal trade link between Leira and Waterdeep for our franchise. With that, our franchise may now begin to self-manage trade flow—matching supply with demand across registered ports. Everful casks, for example, now have a known buyer and route.”

He sweeps dramatically to a star chart showing a glowing gas giant.

“Which brings us to Coliar—a world of floating islands and sky-cities. Your analysis indicates it pays a premium for stable water supplies and is a known importer of everful casks. A profitable next move.”

He taps a stylus to a blinking node labeled COLIAR: UNREGISTERED.

“Establishing a franchise registry there would link Leira, Coliar, and Waterdeep, forming our first official trade triangle. Elegant. Scalable. And, if I may say—brilliantly Volo.”

He pauses, then adds with quieter pride:

“Once self-sustaining, this network allows you to explore beyond the registered ports, seeking new markets, rarities, or... strange horizons. While I keep the ink flowing.”

Of course, to get there safely, the party ought to have someone take a look at the spelljammer.

Whoever would like to go back into the Trading Center to find an suitable mechanic - roll an Investigation check.

Archael & Djoser:

Archael investigation to find an suitable mechanic back at the Trading Center: 26 Another roll if help is provided: 27

Archael spends the better part of the day weaving through the winding underdeck alleys of the Leira Trading Center’s Dry Spire District, where signs hang in half a dozen languages and the air smells of rust, oil, and ozone. Every other door is a mechanic’s bay, some blazing with illusion, others dim and reeking of burnt crystal. He speaks to several self-declared “spellwright engineers,” most of whom demand upfront payment, shrug at the notion of warranties, and smirk when asked about return contracts.

He declines each in turn—too slick, too loud, too quick to overpromise.

It’s not until he’s about to turn back that a hand-lettered wooden placard catches his eye:
"Bramble's Rebuilds – Parts Fit. Magic Sticks. Sky Flies."

The shop is modest, tucked into the base of a moss-covered stone archway. Its walls are patched with hull fragments, and the entrance smells faintly of metal polish and old tea. No shimmering signs, no holograms, no barkers—just a clean workspace with tools hung with precision and a bench swept clean.

Inside, a small elderly gnome lifts his goggles and peers over his workbench. His face is worn, leathery from years of arcane heat and steam burns. His hands are gnarled, but his movements are deft and unhurried. He sets down a small crystal capacitor he’d been adjusting and gives Archael a polite nod.

"You've come from a Toril ship, haven't you?"
"No payment unless I can help. I don't diagnose through a wallet."

His name is Tivin Bramblegear, though he introduces himself simply as "Bramble." He listens more than he speaks, and after a moment’s pause, agrees to come inspect The Pen & Parchment.

With a battered satchel of tools slung over one shoulder, he follows Archael back toward the docks—quiet, but clearly listening to every sound the bridge makes beneath their feet.

Upon seeing The Pen & Parchment he grunts, "I've seen worse. Probably."

Back aboard The Pen & Parchment, the gnome known simply as Bramble wastes no time.

The moment he's brought to the helm, he gives a faint hum of consideration, then dismantles a panel with precise, almost dismissive ease. In less than a minute, he’s vanished beneath the throne-like spelljammer helm, his boots sticking out at odd angles.

Every so often, a sound escapes the gloom below—

“Hmm.”
“Tch.”
“Why’s this anchored with a brass pin? Who taught this helm to lie?”

His legs shuffle, knees bend and twist, and every now and then a grease-stained hand emerges from beneath the device, depositing a gear, wire coil, or shard of smoked crystal into a neatly organized pile. He never seems to look at the pile—just drops them as if they already know where they belong.

After twenty-odd minutes of clanking and murmuring, he slides out with a satisfied grunt, producing a faded kerchief from his overalls and wiping his hands with a practiced swipe. He stands slowly, eyeing the party.

“Where’re you headed?”

Archael answers, calm and steady.

“Coliar. That’s the plan.”

The gnome frowns. Not a dramatic one—just a genuine expression of professional dismay.

“Hmm. That helm’s not bad, but she’s old. Lantanese design, first-wave retrofit. I can patch her, aye. Get her sailing clean. But she won’t hold true all the way to Coliar. Not without a melt, a stall, or worse.”

He waves a hand toward Diomedé.

“Chart, please.”

Without comment, Diomedé produces a magically projected star map of Realmspace. Bramble studies it, his eyes flicking with the speed of muscle memory. After a moment, he lifts one grime-scarred finger and presses it to a dull, iron-hued dot nestled within the cluster of Selûne’s Tears.

“There. That’s your answer. Ironfound—asteroid’s called Duragaaz, port’s called Ironfound Station. Run by dwarves. Grim types, but fair, and they mine arcane alloys. The kind I need to get this helm humming like it was forged yesterday.”

He lowers his hand and wipes his fingers on his kerchief again.

“I can stretch the helm’s legs to get us there, but no further. Past that, you’ll need proper parts. Shouldn’t take more’n two days to tune it, if they’ve got the right stock.”

He adjusts his goggles and glances toward the helm again.

“As for my services—labor, patching, and a bit of charm stabilizing—I’ll take sixty moonsilver, and I’ll throw in a warranty so long as no one else touches the helm before I do again.”

He looks around at the crew.

“You get me to Ironfound, I’ll make her sing. After that? Maybe even Coliar.”

He grins, just barely.

“Depends how much you like flying in a straight line without exploding.”

Vic looks at the group, thinking this seems like a fair offer, but wondering if some bartering might bring it down. 

((you are all able to use your franchise skills or insight or persuasion as you see fit - but Archael will know that several of the smarmy mechanics he rejected were demanding around this much just to come and look at the ship - let alone fix it))

"I'd vote we accept.  I like this guy.". she says 

Archael too was fond of the gnome mechanic, reminded him of some of the good and hard-working engineers working for his family back in Waterdeep. He was pleased with finding someone like him amid a city that most likely offered quite a few less favourable options. "Consider yourself hired Bramble, good to have you onboard, we will set course for Durgaaz and Ironfound Station, and on our way there I would be most interested in hearing more about spelljamming technology. You might also start to think about what it would take to keep you on as a ship's engineer indefinitely, but firts things first." The young white-haired waterdhavian noble says with a friendly smile, offering his gloved hand in a handshake to seal the deal.

Tahlia grins, "Sounds like the right man for the job!  So you'll be joining us to Duragaaz, we'll have to find you some proper quarters!"  As Archael talks about keeping him on indefinitely, her grin widens and she gives a little nod.

(Speaking of quarters, we each have our own on the ship I'm assuming?  I'd love to see a layout of this... having a bit of difficulty picturing it.)