What gives the voyage a point

Every port is a painted harbour view with a working door list: trade house, shipyard, chandler, tavern, town hall, harbour office, inn, and a palace where there is one. Prices, stock and services are all real.

Remaining: more painted backdrops, regional character per crown, and capital-city extras.

You are never refused at sea. You land, you see the town, and the watch at the head of the pier turns you away — or seizes you, if you are wanted. Jail strains your crew's loyalty, and you can pay the fine.

Drinkers at the tables carry the rumours: prices, ports, work. Gambling — three period games, one per port — a chartmaker who sells riddle-clue map pieces, and shanties on request.

Remaining: a few services still finding their final home in the room.

A walkable farm you build up yourself: land granted ten acres at a time by crown deed, crops, workers, a steward, a carriage, a market cart.

Remaining: build timers and estate events, deliberately deferred.

Small paid work from townspeople — letters, price reports — that settles itself when you next dock where it was bound.

Real supply and demand per port, prices that move, and a price book that remembers what you saw and ages it out. NPC traders move actual stock, so the market shifts whether you are watching or not.

Raw goods feed manufactures feed naval stores, in named works ports.

Remaining: some end-of-chain demand waits on combat and shipyard sinks.

Tiered storage in port that funds itself out of a captain's purse, with upkeep taken on a cycle — or seized if you let it lapse.

Special merchant runs for experienced traders, and ranked crown commission tracks out of the palace.

Remaining: the infamy track waits on combat.