The traders left, but the memory of the silk's acrid smoke lingered. Aethelburg had passed another test, but a new vigilance settled over the city. They had learned that an attack could be as soft and seductive as a whisper, and that their greatest strength—their shared consensus of value—could be their most tempting target.
For a time, there was peace. The unnatural abundance settled into a vibrant, sustainable rhythm. The harvests were spectacular but no longer freakish; the artisans' work was masterful but still bore the mark of the hand. The "Currency of One" was woven into daily life, a quiet undercurrent of affirmation. They traded with a few cautious, independent merchants, exchanging their surplus for useful knowledge and rare materials, always mindful of the balance.
