A Commenda was that of old world history, Terran history. In the Republic of Venice a commenda was the agreement between two individuals, either a unilateral or bilateral agreement for one to invest into a venture as its main means of financing and the other to sail the seas to make good on that investment. It's one of those small things that one would never hear about if they weren't interested in the general subjects of nice finance and trade history. But the Commenda system was a large reason for the Republic's successes in its growth into a power upon the Mediterranean Sea.
It allowed for the social mobility of young blooded merchants into higher society as they worked their end of a Commenda, they'd take smaller profits than the individual who payrolled the venture of course, one fourth of the share, but that was still plenty for those who wanted to start out their careers. There were also Bilateral commendas in where two would invest into a venture, where the financier would invest two thirds of the needed capital and the merchant would upfront the rest, the merchant taking a larger share of the profits afterwards.
Of course all good things had to come to an end, as all great ideas are run into the ground. As a new aristocracy began to entrench itself within the City of Venice in the 13th century, all perhaps benefactors of the Commenda. They realized the social mobility which it brought threatened their bases of power within the Merchant Council of Venice, this group of wealthy and powerful merchants went out of their way to block political and economic competition by undermining the very system that made Venice prosperous.
As power was consolidated in the 14th century, the system of the Commenda became less accessible, and seats within the Council of Merchants became hereditary. The consolidation of wealth and mobility was one of the factors for the downfall of Venice as a seafaring power in the Mediterranean. The conditions that the Hanseatic League existed in were quite too similar for my liking.
From all I have been able to gather, all of the precious slivers of information that would pass my ear on occasion. The Council of Merchants upon the world of Bremen were smart little bastards. The Hanseatic League was masterfully designed to maintain its status quo; it used the nature of information and its slow travels to undermine any attempt to forward the gains of any other group other than the merchant elite.
They played the underclasses like fiddles, the serf class of the Hanseatic League poorly educated and forced to maintain their meager existence, borderline subsistence farmers in this day and age. Serfdom wasn't all that uncommon within the Sphere, but it often wasn't called serfdom, Great Houses would often just repackage the concept and call it something slightly different.
You probably couldn't find much of a difference between somebody that lived in the Federated Sons Outback and somebody who lived on any Hanseatic World. Frankly, the life of an individual in and out of the Sphere ranged from mundane to poor by the standard of the 21st century.
In fact, the Hanseatic League in its isolation can more so exploit all under its dominion. The League has no competitors out here; it is the regional power in this little bit of nowhere. By the reality of the situation, the State is the truth by the fact that it was the only means for information to travel interstellar distances. All rebellion would be played against itself, a strategy of divide and conquer always in play given the nature of travel among the stars.
Do as Caesar did in Gaul or Cortés in Mexico: great conquest on the back of local division. The strategy was the same for a state; those divisions between groups were just artificial instead, propped up by the state's truth and bad actors.
It was quite effective, and I knew it would continue to be effective. I had lived the system, and it was something that, without the context, I knew would have eaten me up like the rest. One couldn't read between the lines if they didn't know the lines existed.
Rebellion did happen, but I only knew that because of information that wasn't available to people who weren't me. The effective suppression of information hampered any large-scale rebellion beyond the scale of a single planet; beyond that, it would be impossible to get any momentum rolling, for any rebellion would lack the jump ships to spread the word to coinciding systems.
Only disturbance at the top could flip the board, the ball was never in play for the serfs. Only an external threat and or a threat within the Merchant class could incentivize any revolution of the proletariat.
If my assumptions and conclusions were correct, I was very impressed by the guy who was able to set all of this up and get everyone to agree to it. All this really was just speculation; I was a child to a company commander of the Hanseatic Security Force. Part of the minimum middle class that existed, and all extrapolation from the minimal education I got.
I had to tear it all down because the system had inconvenienced me. I was selfish, I knew that, and didn't care to change that. I was no great revolutionary of the proletariat; if I was born in the merchant elite, I'd just be fine and well, a cog in the bourgeoisie. But I wasn't a beneficiary of the system; I benefited, sure, but I wasn't the intended benefactor. I just happen to be part of a group that the Merchant elite had to be less callous to or they'd have bigger problems than some illiterate dirt farmers.
I wanted more than being a soldier in the Hanseatic Security Force. I wanted proper power, the ability not to care. I wanted to indulge in the pleasures of the world in a way I wasn't able to do in my life previously. Hedonism was an odd thing to want, but it sounded so enticing. And that want for that was evident fact I wasn't really the same person I was beforehand, and that made sense. Time and different brain chemistry would be able to change anyone, but I was still an apathetic asshole at heart. As much as I changed with the years, in a strange land, I'm still the same and not.
I'd burn it all down. I'd prune the garden, and they'd love me for it, sell them the same idea and they'd praise me for it. Or that's the goal.
I've been staring at the ceiling for an hour or two; I probably should get up. Everyone gets all freaked out and concerned by my thinking and dissociation sessions. People can't let a fella enjoy nothing.