Alan spent the night studying every detail of the capital’s trade behavior. He mapped out how the local prices reacted to festival seasons. How noble houses manipulated demand. How mage guilds hoarded certain classes of cores. How caravans from the east suffered loss due to toll fees. Eldergate was powerful but messy. Loud but disorganized. Wealthy but inefficient.

It became clear that the capital did not fear Dustfall because it disrupted order—they feared Dustfall because it created order. A level of clarity many powerful people benefited from avoiding.

At dawn a servant knocked on Alan’s door. The council session begins in two hours. Please prepare.

Alan gathered his notes. Ressa adjusted the straps of her armor. Torin disappeared to secure the route. Mira prepared basic mana protection charms. Even Valen walked beside Alan more solemnly than usual.

As they neared the council chamber a wave of noise hit them. Dozens of nobles filled the halls. Merchants spoke loudly. Priests stood in clusters whispering. Alan noticed some nobles glaring before he even stepped inside. News of Dustfall’s alliances had already reached them.

The council chamber doors opened. A long circular hall with high vaulted ceilings. Ornate mosaics showing ancient mages. A raised podium for the speaker. Rows of seats packed with influential figures.

Alan took his place at the center. Ressa and the escort stayed near the entrance. Darin stood beside the speaker’s podium ready to manage the proceedings.

The High Minister began. Guildmaster Alan Grove. Founder of the Dustfall Mana Exchange. You are summoned to explain the nature and intent of your system.

Alan spoke clearly. I created the exchange to bring fairness to adventurers and stability to trade. Mana is life to every region. It must be measured with clarity.

Several nobles murmured. A merchant lord raised his hand. And who gives you the right to set prices across the frontier. Alan replied calmly. I do not set prices. The market does. I only record and share them.

Another noble scoffed. A child claiming to understand the market better than men with decades of experience.

Alan responded. Experience without data is guesswork. The frontier suffered because guesswork ruled it.

A ripple passed through the audience.

A robed mage from the Mage Tower stood next. Your classification system. S A B C D. Why impose such structure. Cores are too complex for such simple divisions.

Alan answered. Complexity without consistency breeds chaos. The classes let us compare value across regions. It prevents exploitation.

A low growl came from Priest Maros sitting near the church delegation. And what of the divine. Mana is sacred. Pricing it is profane.

Alan did not flinch. Mana is sacred to your faith. But to adventurers it is survival. To healers it is medicine. To mages it is power. To merchants it is livelihood. Sacred or not it must be understood.

Even some priests whispered at that answer.

The merchant lord who spoke earlier rose again. You have sent reports to the kingdom. But you have also sent data to frontier towns. You are building alliances. Are you attempting to form a second economic power.

Alan met his gaze. I am forming protection. Dustfall is small. But the frontier is large. Stability requires cooperation.

The noble slammed his desk. The frontier does not define the kingdom.

Alan answered quietly. But without the frontier the kingdom starves.

The hall erupted in gasps.

Darin stepped forward to defuse the tension. The exchange has brought measurable benefits. Mana shortages have decreased. Prices have stabilized. Merchant casualties lowered.

But some nobles were unmoved.

A tall duke rose slowly. His robe embroidered with the symbol of House Halrien. The same crest worn by the ambushers in the forest. His voice was deep and dangerous.

Guildmaster Grove. You speak of stability. But your actions destabilize power. You weaken noble influence. You alter supply patterns. You teach adventurers to negotiate. And you bring foreign regions into your fold. Why should we allow such influence to remain unregulated.

Alan felt the weight of every eye in the room.

He answered with calm, unbroken focus.
“Because transparency does not weaken power. It reveals its true form.”

Silence swept across the hall.

Alan continued.
“If prices are fair nobles who trade honestly will gain more. If trade routes are clear fewer caravans die. If adventurers survive longer they pay more taxes. If information flows freely the kingdom grows stronger not weaker.”

He looked directly at the Halrien duke.
“Unless of course power depends on hidden prices.”

Whispers exploded.

The duke’s expression twitched with anger.

Maros slammed his staff. Enough. This child disrespects the council. I demand he—
But before he could finish a new voice cut through the hall.

“Let the boy speak.”

Everyone turned.

A man entered through a side door. Tall. Wearing a simple cloak lined with gold thread. No crown. Yet the weight of his presence commanded the entire chamber.

King Theron III.

Alan bowed. The hall followed.

The king walked to the center calmly.
“You created clarity where others created confusion. You built a system that saves lives yet threatens profits. You are either a visionary or a danger.”

Alan looked straight at him. I am the guildmaster of Dustfall. I seek only stability.

The king smiled faintly.

“Then prove it.”

He raised his hand.

“The council will decide your fate tomorrow. Until then you are a guest of the crown. Not a prisoner. Not yet.”

The hall erupted with noise as the king exited.

Ressa rushed to Alan. You did well. Alan exhaled. No. I said too much. They will twist everything.

Valen stepped forward. No. You spoke truth. Truth is dangerous here. But necessary.

Alan looked up at the towering ceiling.

Tomorrow the kingdom would judge him.
His exchange.
The future of mana trade.

And he would be ready.