The council chamber emptied slowly after the king’s sudden appearance. Nobles whispered in clusters. Priests grumbled. Merchants debated loudly. But every conversation shared one topic. Dustfall. The boy guildmaster. The exchange that rattled the kingdom.

Alan left the chamber with Ressa, Torin, Mira and Valen beside him. The hallways of the Royal Mana Bureau felt colder than earlier. Every carved pillar seemed to watch him. Every tapestry whispering the weight of history.

Ressa leaned in. You held the floor better than half the nobles. But you also made enemies. House Halrien will not let that insult go.

Alan nodded. I know. But the truth needed to be spoken.

Valen gave a rare approving grunt. Nobles fear anyone who speaks without shaking. Today you shook them.

Alan felt no pride. Only pressure. The council would decide his fate tomorrow. Approval meant partnership. Rejection meant suppression. Dustfall’s future hung on words and perceptions.

They returned to the guest courtyard where guards kept careful watch. The evening air smelled of rain. Lanterns lit the pathways with soft glows. But the moment Alan entered his room he stopped moving.

Someone was waiting inside.

A woman dressed in dark blue stood by the window. Not hiding. Not nervous. Calm. Elegant. Dangerous in confidence alone. The moonlight framed her silhouette. She turned slowly and smiled as if greeting an old friend.

“Guildmaster Grove. You speak boldly for someone so new to the capital.”

Ressa burst in with her blade drawn. The woman didn’t flinch. Torin appeared in the corner dagger ready. Mira raised a faint mana shield. Valen stepped into the doorway gripping his staff.

Alan lifted a hand. Stop. She is not here to kill us.

The woman smiled wider. Sharp instinct. Very good.

She bowed lightly.
“I am Lady Serah Arclenn. Representative of House Arclenn. The largest trading house in Eldergate.”

Alan had heard of Arclenn. Wealthy. Influential. Quiet but powerful. Their caravans traveled across the continent. They controlled riverside ports and key trade routes. Unlike House Halrien they were not loud. But their influence ran deep.

Serah continued.
“I watched your council session. Impressive. Very few people tell nobles uncomfortable truths. Even fewer survive doing so.”

Ressa growled. What do you want.

Serah ignored her.
“I offer opportunity. The Halrien family wants you crushed. The church wants you contained. The council wants you weakened. But House Arclenn—” she stepped closer “—wants partnership.”

Alan kept his expression neutral. Why.

Serah’s tone was smooth.
“Because you created something the capital tried and failed to create for decades. A living market. A breathing mechanism. Transparent. Self correcting. Efficient. The capital’s system is old. Cracked. Rotten. We need modern structure. You offer that.”

Ressa stepped between them. You want control. Everyone in this city wants control of him.

Serah smiled gently.
“I want access. That is different from control. House Arclenn wishes to invest in Dustfall. Build trade outposts. Strengthen supply lines. Support a unified frontier market. In return we ask only one thing.”

Alan waited.

“Let us become the official trade partner of the Dustfall Exchange. Exclusive on certain routes. Nothing more.”

It was a trap. A soft one. Wrapped in benefits and convenience. Partnership with Arclenn could give Dustfall protection, wealth, political cover. But exclusivity meant obligation. Influence. Dependencies that could tighten over time.

Alan spoke calmly.
“You ask for exclusivity. That is control in another form.”

Serah’s eyes sparkled.
“You are sharper than the rumors say. Good. But consider this. Without a powerful ally you will face the council alone. Halrien will crush your credibility. The church will declare your system heretical. The thieves will continue to sabotage you. But if you stand with us—” she leaned closer “—no one would dare touch Dustfall.”

Silence filled the room.

Alan felt the weight of the decision. Ressa glared. Torin watched Serah’s hands carefully. Mira frowned in concern. Valen studied her with interest.

Alan finally answered.
“I will not give exclusivity. The exchange must remain open to all regions or it loses meaning.”

Serah’s smile faded slightly.
“You refuse now. But the council will make you desperate tomorrow. And desperation changes answers.”

Alan shook his head.
“No. Stability cannot be built on unequal alliances.”

Serah sighed.
“Then I will give you one last offer. Not for trade. For survival.”

She handed Alan a silver token engraved with her house crest.
“If Halrien attempts anything tomorrow, show them this. No noble will dare strike you if our banner stands behind you.”

Ressa scoffed. So this is about leverage. Serah shrugged. Everything in Eldergate is about leverage.

She moved toward the door.
“Think carefully Guildmaster. The capital does not forgive mistakes.”

She left silently.

Ressa turned to Alan. You are not considering her offer right. Alan stared at the silver token. I am considering what it represents. Influence. Protection. Cost.

Valen stepped forward. House Arclenn plays a long game. They offer shields only to place chains later. But they are less cruel than Halrien.

Torin muttered. Nobles. All snakes. Just different poisons.

Alan placed the token on the table and closed his notebook.
“Tomorrow we face the council. After that we decide alliances. Not before.”

He barely slept that night. His mind ran through strategies. Scenarios. Risks.
The council would test him.
The kingdom would judge him.
The world would watch him.

And he would be ready.