Chapter 7: Allies and Ashes
The sun rose slowly over Ylmare, casting golden light on cobbled streets and chimney smoke. Merchants opened their stalls, blacksmiths hammered steel, and children chased chickens across the alleys.
But Farhan Rahman didn't stir from sleep with the rest.
He was already awake — sitting in the corner of his room, surrounded by opened boxes.
His fingers danced over his phone's screen, the glow faint beneath his palm.
> [Recent Purchases Delivered:]
>
> * 50x Solar Lanterns
> * 20x Self-Purifying Water Bottles
> * 30x Basic Medical Kits
> * 5x Foldable Wheelbarrows
> * 1x Manual Rice Thresher (Mini Model)
He exhaled with satisfaction.
"These will change lives."
But even as the tools of hope arrived, trouble stirred nearby.
Velistra Rhaine's unexpected visit had shaken him. Her warning was subtle, but the message was clear:
"You're being watched. Tread carefully."
Farhan understood the politics of power. No kingdom — whether run by kings or corporations — welcomed disruption without resistance.
He'd learned that much back home.
Still, he couldn't stop now. Not when he was just getting started.
He grabbed a solar lantern and a medical kit, tucked them into a leather satchel, and left the inn with quiet steps.
Today's goal was simple: make allies.
---
Farhan's first stop was the poorer end of Ylmare — the place called Lower Hearth.
The cobblestones were uneven here. Roofs sagged, and smoke rose from cracked chimneys. Most nobles never walked these streets, but Farhan had always found that people with the least had the sharpest instincts.
At a crooked little herbal shop, he knocked gently.
A girl in her teens opened the door. Her dark hair was tied in a rough braid, and her eyes were wary.
"Yes?"
"I'm looking for your father. Master Denel?"
The girl squinted. "He's not home."
"Then perhaps you can help."
He reached into his satchel and pulled out the solar lantern. With a quick flick, it lit up, shining bright in the dim hallway.
The girl gasped.
"It doesn't use fire," Farhan explained. "No smoke. Just sunlight stored during the day."
She reached forward, hesitating — then touched the warm glow.
"…How?"
"I can explain, if you let me in."
A pause.
Then she opened the door wider.
---
Master Denel, an old apothecary and one of the few non-guild herbalists left in Ylmare, returned while Farhan was still explaining the water filtration system to the girl.
Denel was sharp-eyed, gray-bearded, and suspicious by nature.
"You from the city council?" he barked. "Guild inspector?"
"No," Farhan said calmly. "Just a merchant."
"Then why bring gifts?"
"They're not gifts. They're investments. I want partners."
Denel narrowed his eyes.
"You're not just a merchant. You're something else."
Farhan didn't flinch. "What if I am?"
Denel tapped his cane on the wooden floor. "Then you're either a fool or a flame. Either way, others will want to snuff you out."
"And you?"
"…I want to see the rich tremble. You're strange, boy — but maybe that's what this city needs."
He handed back the lantern.
"Bring ten more. I'll distribute them where the guilds don't care to look. But don't involve me if the mages come knocking."
Farhan smiled.
"Deal."
---
As he left Lower Hearth, Farhan felt lighter.
He had his first ally — not just a customer, but a distributor.
He made five more such visits that day, talking to seamstresses, glassblowers, and even a retired city watchman. Each time, he offered a product they'd never seen — and in return, asked only one thing:
"Help me help more."
Most were hesitant.
But a few agreed.
And those few were enough.
---
Meanwhile, in the capital city of Elvanhurst, Velistra Rhaine stood in a vast, candlelit chamber lined with floating mirrors.
Each mirror shimmered with slow-moving reflections — some showed forests, others battlefield ruins, and one displayed a blurred, shifting vision of Farhan's face.
Before her stood Archmage Lucien Thael, Head of the Arcane Division.
"So it's true," he said, voice heavy. "A man with no mana. Selling tools that rival magic."
Velistra nodded. "He told me his world runs on logic, not ley lines."
"And you believed him?"
"Yes."
Lucien frowned. "That is… concerning."
"Very," Velistra replied. "He's not trying to conquer. But his influence is spreading. If he empowers enough commoners, the guilds will revolt — or worse, align with him."
Lucien turned toward one mirror, now showing the interior of Farhan's stall.
"Keep watching him. If he crosses the line—"
"I'll handle it."
---
Back in Ylmare, Farhan returned to his stall, only to find someone waiting for him.
It was a young man in armor — not fancy, but practical. He had a short sword at his hip and the bearing of someone used to battle.
"You the merchant?" he asked.
"I am."
The man looked him up and down.
"My name's Garron. Used to be a scout for the Duke's army. I hear you're looking for help."
Farhan raised an eyebrow. "I am."
"You've got enemies," Garron said plainly. "The Guild of Craftsmen met this morning. They don't like you. I don't like them. So — you pay me, I watch your back."
Farhan extended a hand.
"You're hired."
And just like that, he had his first bodyguard.
---
That night, Farhan stood on the balcony of his rented room, staring at the moon.
He'd made deals in the lower city, brought in new tools, and picked up a fighter who knew how to navigate both alleys and politics.
But a storm was brewing.
He could feel it in the way people looked at him now — curious, respectful, but also fearful.
Power in this world meant control. And those with control didn't like new players.
Still… Farhan smiled.
He wasn't just a player anymore.
He was becoming something far more dangerous:
A force for change.