Spring sun glinted on the cedar boardwalk leading to Hillcrest Fairgrounds, where the first Pan-Kingdom Exposition opened under fluttering pennants. Pavilions showcased everything from cycle sidecars to lightning-line kiosks. Sharath wandered incognito, hood up, eager to witness unfiltered reactions.
At the textile hall he found Farmer's Wife Lora demonstrating a pedal-powered spinning wheel she'd developed using Institute manuals. Buyers from South Quay queued, offering coin and credit notes. Lora's eyes sparkled; her teenage daughter manned a wood-ink press printing instruction leaflets.
Across the aisle, young inventor Silas displayed belt-drive flour mills scaled for village bakeries. Customers signed contracts using Bank-issued promissory notes; two years ago such deals required noble guarantors.
Sharath overheard a merchant marvel: "Credit lines, courier tracking, clearing house futures—I do business faster than prayer." His companion laughed. "These wheel-folks will trade with moonfolk next."
International stalls included traders from Coastland realm, dazzled by electric street lamps lighting the expo after sunset. They negotiated licensing for turbine patents in exchange for exporting rare spices. Cultural exchange blossomed: musicians from Cloud-Fang performed at evening soirees, their mountain flutes harmonizing with Riverbend lutes.
On closing day, a ledger displayed expo totals: contracts worth twelve thousand gold crowns, two hundred joint-stock companies formed, and five marriage contracts between merchant families cementing new trade alliances. Commerce, once limited by mule speed and coin weight, now danced to the rhythm of instantaneous data and frictionless finance.