Chapter 7: Chapter 6: The Bankruptcy Simulator

The prototype for “Landlord” sat on Arthur’s desk. It was beautiful. It was dangerous.

Sarah, his assistant, looked at the board with trepidation. “Young Master, are you sure about the ’Go To Dungeon’ corner? It seems harsh.”

“Life is harsh, Sarah,” Arthur replied, painting a small wooden hotel red. “But in this game, unlike life, you can pay 50 gold to get out. That teaches the players a valuable lesson about the judicial system.”

Arthur blew on the paint. The linkage was complete. He had the sanitation (Chapter 5). Now, he needed to conquer the psychological state of the nobility.

He needed to cure their boredom, and in doing so, empty their pockets.

The Tea Party of Despair

Two days later, Duchess Elena was hosting her monthly “Garden Social.”

It was a torturous affair. Twelve high-ranking noblewomen and a few retired generals sat in the newly insulated conservatory, sipping tea and discussing the weather for the third hour in a row.

General Ironwood, a man who had led cavalry charges against ogres, looked like he wanted to impale himself on a teaspoon.

“The hydrangeas are lovely this year,” Lady Vermillion twittered.

“Indeed,” Ironwood grunted. “Very… leafy.”

The door opened. Arthur walked in.

He was wearing a miniature three-piece suit he had tailored himself. He carried a polished wooden box under his arm.

“Mother,” Arthur bowed. “Distinguished guests. I sense the atmosphere is stagnant. Dopamine levels are critically low.”

The Duchess smiled nervously. “Arthur, dear, we are just… relaxing.”

“Relaxation is inefficient,” Arthur declared, placing the box on the central table. “I have designed a tactical simulation. It tests your strategic foresight, your negotiation skills, and your ability to ruthlessly exploit your neighbors.”

General Ironwood sat up straighter. “Strategy? Is it a war game?”

“Economic war, General,” Arthur opened the box. The board unfolded. It was a map of the Capital City, divided into color-coded districts. There were stacks of colorful paper money and two dice.

“The rules are simple,” Arthur explained, handing Ironwood a pewter token shaped like a cannon. “Roll the dice. Buy the land. Build houses. If anyone lands on your property, they pay you rent. If they run out of money, you win. They lose. They are destitute.”

Lady Vermillion picked up a token shaped like a shoe. “Oh, how delightful! A shopping game!”

Arthur’s eyes flashed. “You will not think so for long.”

Hour 3: The Descent into Madness

The tea had gone cold. The polite conversation had vanished.

The conservatory was now a war room.

“You cannot build a Hotel on Park Avenue!” Lady Vermillion shrieked, clutching a fistful of orange paper money. “I own the Water Works! I will cut off your supply!”

“Read the rules, Vermillion!” General Ironwood roared, slamming his fist on the table. His face was purple. “I own the entire Blue District! If you land here, you owe me 2,000 Gold! Pay up or mortgage your Railroads!”

Duchess Elena, who was usually the picture of grace, was currently counting her money with trembling hands. “I… I just need to pass ’Go’. I just need the salary…”

Arthur sat on a high stool, refereeing the chaos.

[Observation: Friendship Destruction in Progress.] [Social Engineering XP: +500] [Status: General Ironwood has developed a gambling addiction.]

“General,” Arthur said calmly. “You rolled a seven. You have landed on Lady Vermillion’s ’Luxury Boutique’ with a Hotel.”

“No…” The General whispered. “That’s… that’s bankruptcy.”

“I’ll take everything,” Lady Vermillion hissed, sweeping his paper money towards her pile. “The cannon token too.”

The General slumped back in his chair, defeated. “I conquered the Northern Wastes. I defeated the Goblin King. But I could not survive… the Rent.”

He looked at Arthur with wild eyes. “Young Master! Reset the board! I demand a rematch! I will not buy the Utilities this time! They are a trap!”

“Rematches cost 5 silver coins for a fresh set of scorecards,” Arthur said smoothly.

“Done! Here!” The General threw real silver coins onto the table.

The Viral Expansion

The Garden Social didn’t end until midnight. By the time the nobles left, they were exhausted, angry at each other, and desperate to buy a copy of the game.

“My husband needs this,” Lady Vermillion told the Duchess, clutching a pre-order slip. “He thinks he is good with money. I will crush him.”

The next morning, Arthur stood in his makeshift workshop. Sarah was looking at the pile of orders.

“We have requests for 50 sets, Young Master,” Sarah said, stunned. “At 10 Gold a set… that’s 500 Gold.”

“It’s not enough,” Arthur said, frowning at a piece of the paper money. “Sarah, look at this currency. We are hand-painting it. It’s slow. The ink smears. It’s inefficient.”

He picked up a card that said ’Community Chest: You Inherit 100 Gold.’

“To scale this operation,” Arthur muttered, pacing the room, “We cannot have scribes writing out ’Chance’ cards all day. We need mass production. We need uniform text.”

He grabbed a piece of charcoal and sketched a new machine. It involved movable metal type, an ink roller, and a heavy press.

“Young Master?” Sarah asked. “What is that?”

“The Printing Press,” Arthur said. “We are going to revolutionize the game industry. And while we are at it, we will destroy the profession of the Scribe.”

He looked at his “Landlord” game.

“But first,” Arthur added, “We need a dedicated building. The nursery is too small. Sarah, purchase the abandoned barn on the edge of the estate. We are opening the Pendelton Games & Paper Factory.”

[Mission Updated: Industrial Revolution.] [New Objective: Build a Factory.] [Sub-Objective: Avoid being burned as a heretic for making a machine that ’writes’.]

Arthur smiled. “Time to introduce this world to the concept of the 9-to-5 workday.”

End of Chapter 6

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