The tense meeting created a ripple that spread far beyond Dustfall. News traveled through trade caravans and wandering adventurers. People whispered that a small frontier village forced the kingdom the church and the black market to negotiate under one roof. They spoke Alan’s name with awe and unease. Some said he was a genius. Some said he was dangerous. Some said he was cursed. But no one ignored him anymore.

The next morning the village elders called for an assembly. The entire village gathered in the square. Merchants. Clerks. Adventurers. Families. Even travelers passing through. Alan arrived wondering why the elders looked so solemn.

Old Rae stepped forward leaning on his cane. Dustfall is no longer a village. It is a hub of trade for the frontier. Everyone follows the exchange. Everyone follows its creator. The position of guildmaster has been empty for years. And now there is only one person the village trusts to lead.

He raised his hand toward Alan.

We name you the Guildmaster of Dustfall. The youngest in recorded history.

The crowd erupted with cheers. Some adventurers whistled. Merchants clapped loudly. Children shouted Alan’s name. Alan froze. For a brief moment he felt the world tilt. He had expected responsibility. But not this. Not a title that belonged to seasoned traders and lifelong merchants.

Ressa nudged him. Go. They trust you. And you deserve it.

Alan stepped forward. Old Rae placed a wooden emblem in his hand. The symbol of the Dustfall Guild. The emblem felt heavy like the weight of every life that depended on the exchange.

Alan tried to speak but the crowd quieted for him automatically.

He began slowly. I did not ask for this title. But I accept it. Because the exchange does not belong to me. It belongs to all of you. Dustfall became strong because our people work together. Adventurers risk their lives. Merchants travel across dangerous lands. Clerks track every number. No one is alone.

He raised the emblem high. I promise that as guildmaster I will protect this exchange. I will protect this village. And I will create a system that brings fairness to the entire frontier.

The crowd cheered again.

But the celebration did not last long.

A messenger ran into the square out of breath. Guildmaster Alan he shouted. There is trouble at the east gate. A group of adventurers demand to speak with you.

Alan hurried to the gate with Ressa and several clerks. A group of ten hardened adventurers waited. Their armor dented. Their weapons stained with fresh monster blood. Their leader a large man with a scar across his neck stepped forward.

Are you the boy who controls prices. Alan kept calm. I help stabilize the market. Nothing more.

The man growled. Because of your forecast every adventurer in the region rushed toward the high value hunting zones. Too many. We got ambushed by a monster pack that should never have been disturbed. Half my team died. He stepped closer. You killed them. With your numbers.

The village guards raised their spears. Ressa moved in front of Alan. The leader continued. And now the families of those dead men want answers. If your system kills more hunters than monsters do we will burn your exchange down.

Alan felt a cold weight in his stomach. This was the cost Varrin warned about. Forecasting brought stability. But it also influenced behavior. Too many adventurers acted on the same information at once. That concentration destabilized the ecosystem. An unintended consequence.

Alan stepped forward past Ressa. I am sorry for your loss. I did not intend this outcome. But the forecast did not force anyone to go. It only informed. The leader snarled. Information kills the unprepared.

Alan nodded slowly. Then we must improve the information. Not stop it.

He turned to the adventurers. From today we add a new element to every forecast. Risk ratings. Danger zones. Monster surge warnings. No one will rely only on price again. They will rely on full context.

Some adventurers looked uncertain. The leader hesitated. Alan added. If you want to shape the new system then join it. Help us build a safer model. Be part of the exchange instead of fighting it.

The scarred leader stared at him for a long moment then stepped back. We will watch. If your system kills again we return.

The group left. Dustfall remained standing. But the incident shook everyone.

Ressa turned to Alan. You handled that better than I expected. Alan nodded lightly. Information affects lives. Forecasting is power. And power cuts if used wrong.

He looked at the horizon. The world trusted him now not just with prices but with survival. He could no longer think only in terms of markets. He needed to think in terms of people.

That night Alan sat in the exchange hall surrounded by ledgers maps and lantern light. He updated the forecast system to include risk categories. Danger levels. Seasonal fluctuations. Predator patterns. He was no longer building a market. He was building an entire ecosystem model.

He whispered to himself. Guildmaster. A word that felt too big. But he would grow into it.

The night was quiet. But the world was not.

Far away in the capital the king read the report naming Alan the new guildmaster. He leaned back and said softly. Bring him to the capital. By diplomacy or by pressure.

In the cathedral the High Priest stared into a holy flame. Mana belongs to the gods he murmured. This boy must be guided or removed.

In the shadows below a ruined fort Varrin smiled. The higher he rises the louder he falls.

And in Dustfall Alan Grove prepared for the wars ahead.

He had taken the first step as guildmaster.

But the path would only grow more dangerous.