The morning after Alan was named guildmaster Dustfall felt different. Not because the buildings changed or because travelers increased but because every person now looked at Alan as more than the founder of the exchange. He had become the center of their survival. Their hopes. Their fears. The market no longer defined him. He defined the market.

But with the new title came a new threat.

Shortly after sunrise a royal messenger rode into Dustfall wearing silver armor with the crest of Eldergate. He carried a sealed letter bearing the king’s own sigil. Villagers stepped aside as he approached the guild hall. Ressa moved her hand to her blade while Alan remained calm. He accepted the letter and broke the seal.

He read silently while the crowd waited.

Guildmaster Alan Grove
You are hereby summoned to Eldergate to present your exchange practices before the Royal Mana Council. Your actions affect the stability of the realm. Your attendance is mandatory.
Signed
King Theron III

Ressa scowled. Summoned. Mandatory. Sounds like they want to put chains on you. The messenger cleared his throat. The king wishes to discuss the positive influence of your trade system. But some nobles fear the exchange gives Dustfall too much power. The council believes negotiations are needed.

Alan knew what this was. “Diplomacy or pressure.” Just as Darin warned.

He thanked the messenger and dismissed him. But Ressa followed him inside immediately. You are not going. Alan looked up. I have to. If we ignore the summons it becomes a declaration of rebellion. Dustfall cannot afford that.

Ressa shook her head. This could be a trap. If they detain you the exchange collapses. Dustfall collapses. The frontier loses stability. Alan nodded. Which is why I need a strategy. Not a refusal.

He spread out maps across the table. The capital was weeks away. Dangerous roads. Bandit territory. And more importantly political territory. Alan needed leverage before he went there.

He examined supply routes. Trade flows. Merchant alliances. He saw something interesting. Dustfall now controlled nearly forty percent of mid grade core trade across the frontier. Enough to influence prices even in distant towns. Enough to give him bargaining power.

Ressa noticed the glint in his eyes. You are planning something. Alan nodded. If the kingdom summons me I will arrive with a position strong enough to negotiate.

He spent the day drafting proposals. A partial partnership. A shared knowledge agreement. Limited oversight. Everything designed to give the kingdom some control while keeping Dustfall independent.

But the real plan was deeper.

He sent letters to three frontier towns asking for trade alliances. If they accepted then Dustfall would form a regional network. Strong enough that even a royal council could not easily dismantle the exchange. This was not rebellion. It was protection. Mutual benefit.

The letters left Dustfall at sunset.

The next morning two members of the Royal Mana Bureau arrived. Darin Holt and the crimson cloaked mage known as Master Valen. Darin bowed politely. Alan I advised them not to summon you so soon. But they fear losing control of mana flows. The council is uneasy.

Alan nodded. Then let us talk plainly. I will go to the capital. But I will not be a prisoner. And Dustfall will not be absorbed.

Master Valen’s voice was deep and cold. The king does not wish to absorb. He wishes to understand. But understand this boy. When your system moves the entire frontier the crown must ensure stability.

Alan faced him directly. Stability is exactly why I built the exchange. And why I will protect it.

Valen studied him for several long seconds. You speak like someone far older than your years. Alan answered. Markets age people quickly.

Darin smiled faintly.

Valen continued. The council expects you in two weeks. They will provide an escort. Alan shook his head. I will travel with my own people. Neutral escorts make people nervous. Dustfall must not appear controlled.

Valen frowned but Darin stepped forward. A compromise then. One royal observer will travel with you for legitimacy. No soldiers. No extended guard.

Alan nodded. Acceptable.

The agreement was set.

But the moment the officials left something unexpected happened. The church arrived.

Not Inquisitor Maros. A different figure. A soft spoken priest named Sister Lyria. She carried a silver-bound scroll and a gentle expression. Alan welcomed her cautiously.

The church wishes to offer guidance she said softly. Not force. Not punishment. Guidance. Alan waited. Lyria continued. Maros is strict. But not all of us agree with his approach. The Radiant Faith believes mana is sacred. But you treat it with respect. You classify. You predict. You do not waste. You bring order to chaos.

Alan raised an eyebrow. This is not what I expected from the church. Lyria smiled. Faith has many voices. We want to understand your motives. If your intentions remain pure perhaps the church can soften its stance.

She handed him the scroll. A formal request to send two church scholars to observe the exchange. Not to control. To study.

Ressa murmured. They are offering peace. That is suspicious. Alan replied. Suspicion does not mean rejection. We cannot afford new enemies.

He accepted the scroll.

But before Lyria left she spoke quietly. One more thing Guildmaster. Be cautious in Eldergate. The kingdom smiles in daylight. But their shadows are long.

Alan thanked her. He felt the truth in her words.

That night Alan stood outside looking at the torches that lit the exchange. Dustfall was no longer the only piece on the board. The capital moved. The church shifted. The thieves watched. The frontier depended on him.

Ressa joined him. You look ready. Alan answered. I do not feel ready. But I will go.

She nodded. Then we go with you.

Dustfall prepared for its guildmaster’s journey. And the capital prepared to test him.

The next chapter of his life no longer belonged only to the frontier. It belonged to the entire kingdom.