Two days later the capital finally appeared on the horizon. Eldergate rose from the earth like a fortress of stone and ambition. Its walls were tall enough to cast shadows over entire farmlands. Towers stretched upward like fingers reaching for the clouds. Rows of banners fluttered in the wind each bearing the crown’s emblem in gold and deep blue. The view stopped the entire escort in their tracks.

Torin muttered. Big place. Too big. Ressa crossed her arms. Big places usually mean big trouble.

Alan studied the distant gates carefully. In Dustfall he knew every path every merchant every hunter. But here everything was unfamiliar. The roads leading into Eldergate were alive with movement. Merchant convoys. Scholars. Nobles riding in lacquered carriages. Adventurers carrying trophies. Mages floating above the ground. All moving like rivers flowing toward a single point.

Alan thought quietly. This city is the core of every price pattern I have ever tracked. Every fluctuation. Every shift. Everything begins or ends here.

Master Valen approached him. Welcome to the heart of the kingdom boy. Let us see whether the capital embraces or devours you.

They progressed toward the massive open gate. But before they entered three sets of eyes fell upon the Dustfall group.

First were the royal guards who examined them with disciplined coldness. They checked documents. Acknowledged Alan as the summoned guildmaster. Cleared them through with stiff formality.

Second were the church observers. Two priests wearing silver-threaded robes approached with soft but suspicious gazes. Sister Lyria greeted them warmly but the younger priest glared at Alan as if he were a blasphemer walking into a holy temple.

But the third set of eyes struck Alan hardest.

A group of cloaked men leaning against a stone archway. They watched quietly. Calmly. With the hollow confidence of people familiar with every shadow in the city. They were not the Thieves Guild from the frontier. Their clothing was refined. Their posture polished.

Valen whispered. Those are not thieves. They are capital shadows. Intelligence agents from noble houses.

Alan understood instantly. Eldergate was not a place of chaos. It was a place where chaos wore silk and smiled.

As they passed into the city the noise swallowed them. Bells chimed. Vendors shouted. Caravans rolled on cobblestones. Mana flowed along channels embedded into the streets glowing faintly beneath wagon wheels. Children ran holding glowing orbs of captured mana like toys.

Alan’s eyes widened. This city runs on mana. Every workshop every forge every lamp. If the exchange affected frontier towns this place would feel it ten times stronger.

Torin quietly studied the alleys. Too many routes. Too many blind corners.

Ressa walked closer to Alan. Stay sharp. This city is not Dustfall.

They arrived at the guest courtyard provided by the Royal Mana Bureau. It was a large open area surrounded by stone walls with guards stationed at the corners. As they unpacked a messenger approached with a scroll.

Darin Holt had requested their presence at the Bureau headquarters to prepare for the council hearing.

Alan followed the messenger through the bustling streets. They passed market squares filled with chanting merchants. They passed mage towers shimmering with blue fire. They passed noble estates guarded by statues that stared down at them with stone judgment.

But the most interesting sight came at a crossing near the central plaza. A public price board.

Alan stopped. It displayed mana core prices for the capital. But the numbers were inconsistent. The board lacked classification. It showed only vague categories like “mid quality” or “ritual grade.” Merchants argued loudly. Adventurers complained about being cheated.

Alan whispered. Their system is collapsing under its own size. This is what the kingdom fears. Not me. The truth.

When they reached the Bureau headquarters Darin Holt greeted them with a tired smile. You arrived safely. That surprises me more than it should.

Alan replied. We were ambushed. Darin grimaced. Expected. Not sanctioned. But expected.

Inside the Bureau building Alan saw something astonishing. Shelves of ledgers. Charts. Maps. But every document he glimpsed felt outdated or inconsistent. The capital—center of mana civilization—was drowning in chaotic data. Too many sources. Too many prices. Too many lies.

Darin led him to a private room. The council meets tomorrow. You will present your methods. Your forecasts. Your classification system. They want to know how your exchange works. They want to know if you plan to expand. And they want to know whether they can control you.

Alan nodded. And what do they fear most. Darin looked him in the eyes. That you already control them.

The escort waited outside as Alan spoke further with Darin about the council’s personalities. The conservative nobles. The merchant families who relied on old price manipulation. The mage guild who feared new standards. The priests who feared blasphemy. Each faction had an agenda hidden beneath polite language.

When the meeting ended Darin placed a hand on his shoulder. Alan. Whatever happens do not let them corner you. Speak with data not fear.

Alan stepped outside. The sky had turned violet. Lanterns flickered along every street.

Ressa walked beside him. Tomorrow decides the fate of Dustfall.

Alan nodded. No. Tomorrow decides the fate of the entire frontier.

He looked toward the towering palace silhouette in the distance.

“Let us see what the kingdom truly wants.”