Venetian Trade (II)

As the final signatures were inked onto parchment, the Venetian merchants sat back, their faces alight with satisfaction. They believed they had secured a lucrative deal with none other than a noble son—someone they assumed could be easily persuaded. A wealthy investor meant prestige, protection, and endless influence. Or so they thought.

I remained calm, observing their barely contained excitement. They believed they had won. That was their first mistake.

Giovanni Foscarini, ever the confident negotiator, swirled a goblet of sherbet in his hand. "Ah, Young Master, you have made a wise decision. With your 8,000 kuruş investment, I daresay you will see profits unlike any before."

I smiled lightly, keeping my tone composed. "That is my expectation, Signore Giovanni. But I must ask—how do you determine which ventures yield the highest return?"

The merchants exchanged glances before Giovanni answered, "Experience, of course. We Venetians have mastered the art of trade for centuries. We know where the market shifts before others even realize it. That is why this partnership will be most beneficial for you, Young Master."

They spoke in broad terms, their words smooth but lacking substance. No mention of the grain trade to the Italian city-states, no specifics on the lucrative silk and spice routes from the Levant, or the highly profitable sugar shipments from the Aegean islands. Classic tactics—rhetoric without detail.

It was time to test them.

"Signor Giovanni, you have truly convinced me. This venture sounds promising. However, I have a single preference regarding our arrangement."

Giovanni leaned forward eagerly. "Of course. Please, share it."

I smiled faintly. "For this investment, I would prefer quarterly dividends. Twenty percent of each profitable trade, paid only in altın. For example, if a trade yields 3,000 gold, I expect 600 delivered without delay."

The shift in the room was immediate.

Giovanni's fingers tightened around his goblet. Pietro da Canal cleared his throat. Marco Ziani exchanged a brief glance with Giovanni before forcing a smile.

"Ah, Young Master," Giovanni began, his voice steady but cautious, "that is quite an unusual request. Most investors prefer reinvestment for greater future returns. It allows the capital to grow without interruption."

I nodded thoughtfully, leaning back in my chair. "I understand the logic, Signore Giovanni. But you see, my preference for fixed dividends is based on strategy, not haste. Reinvestment certainly yields larger profits in theory, but it also ties capital for longer periods. Flexibility is essential in trade. By receiving a portion regularly, I retain the ability to redirect funds into ventures as opportunities arise."

The merchants exchanged glances again. Giovanni hesitated before replying, "But surely, Young Master, reinvestment ensures compounded growth. The more we invest, the higher the potential returns."

"True," I agreed, "but only if the ventures remain profitable and external factors do not interfere. Wars, embargoes, and shifting alliances can turn profitable routes into costly ones. Fixed payments ensure I can adapt should the market change. Isn't that what a wise merchant would do—mitigate risk while pursuing profit?"

Marco Ziani leaned forward, attempting to regain the upper hand. "A merchant's greatest asset is patience. Short-term gains often pale compared to long-term growth."

"Patience is indeed a virtue," I replied calmly, "but so is adaptability. Fixed quarterly payments are not about impatience; they're about positioning. I don't mind if growth is gradual. I simply prefer to keep part of my capital liquid. Besides, if your operations are as profitable as you claim, twenty percent should be a trivial payout. After all, confident merchants would have no issue proving their success with consistent returns, would they?"

The room fell silent. Giovanni's confident facade wavered as he glanced at his colleagues.

"Of course," Pietro hurried to say. "But, naturally, there are costs—maintenance of ships, port taxes, payments to sailors—"

"Costs I'm sure your ventures already account for," I interrupted smoothly. "If your calculations are accurate, twenty percent should not hinder operations."

Giovanni exhaled, forcing a smile. "I see you have a keen understanding of trade. Very well, Young Master. Quarterly dividends. Twenty percent. In altın."

"Excellent." I leaned back, offering a calm smile. "Then I look forward to our profitable ventures."

The merchants managed polite expressions, but I noted the tightness around their mouths. The terms were now set—favorable to me, without appearing forceful. In their minds, they believed they could still regain control. But they had yet to realize the balance of power had already shifted.

Quietly, I observed them as they finalised the paperwork. They would soon understand they had agreed to a partnership they could not manipulate so easily.

As I rose from my seat, adjusting the cuffs of my robe, Giovanni stepped forward once more, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

"It seems we once again underestimated your capability. As expected, you are already aware of the art of trade. But may I know—just what are your parents doing right now? Perhaps we'd like to have a conversation with them."

I paused briefly at the doorway, offering a small, enigmatic smile. "Hmmm, I prefer to keep things secret. Just Selim is enough."

The merchants bowed respectfully, though I caught the flicker of confusion in their eyes.

As I exited the office, the murmurs began:

"Selim… Selim, isn't that the name of the royal prince of the Ottoman Empire?"

"Surely not… could it be?"

Giovanni stared after me, realization slowly dawning, though by then, I was already gone. The trap had been set, and the game was mine.

~~~

As the deal concluded and we left the Grand Bazaar, the sun dipped low over Istanbul, casting a golden hue across the city's rooftops. Cemil walked beside me in silence for a while before breaking it with a curious glance.

"Where's Sahin? I meant to call him earlier," I asked, stretching my arms slightly. The day had been longer than expected.

Cemil smirked. "Sahin-effendim is on a mission. You know, aside from being your personal guard, he also oversees certain...delicate operations for your father."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You never mentioned that."

Cemil shrugged. "You never asked. Besides, it's not exactly public knowledge."

"Interesting," I murmured. "So he's more than just a sword at my side."

"Exactly." Cemil paused for a moment, then shifted the conversation. "But what I really want to know is how you managed to convince those Venetian merchants so smoothly. I mean, I understand the logic behind requesting fixed payments instead of reinvestment. But why specifically 20%? Why not push for more—say, 50%? They seemed almost ready to agree."

I smiled faintly, glancing at the path ahead as Topkapi Palace loomed in the distance. "It's about balance, Cemil. Too much pressure, and they would suspect something or even pull out of the deal entirely. A 20% return sounds reasonable—profitable enough for me, yet not so aggressive that it threatens their pride or profit margins."

"But surely they could afford more?" Cemil pressed.

"Perhaps," I admitted, "but this isn't just about squeezing profit. It's psychological. They believe they're getting the better end of the deal because the percentage seems small. Yet, they didn't realize I structured the agreement in my favor—fixed payments. No matter the success of each voyage, I get my share upfront, in gold."

Cemil's brow furrowed. "Still... wouldn't more be better?"

"Greed clouds judgment," I replied. "Had I asked for 50%, they would've felt cornered. They'd start questioning whether I knew more than I let on. They might've tried to renegotiate—or worse, back out altogether. Twenty percent keeps them confident, but cautious. They think they're in control."

"And yet, you're the one holding the reins," Cemil mused.

"Exactly. Plus," I added with a grin, "fixed returns give me the flexibility to invest elsewhere if I choose. I'm not tied to their reinvestment schemes, which I highly doubt would favor me in the long run."

Cemil nodded slowly. "You planned all this from the start, didn't you?"

"Of course. A merchant's promise is only as good as their profit. I prefer my wealth in hand, not in promises."

As we approached the palace gates, Cemil glanced sideways at me. "Remind me never to play shatranj against you, my Shehzade."

I laughed lightly. "Wise choice, Cemil. Very wise indeed."