The morning sun hit the Artisan Quarter, turning the cobblestones to gold. Anya stood at the edge of the district, watching the day begin.
The Solidarity Network pulsed warm in her mind's eye. Not a map of needs anymore—a map of potential.
[APPRAISAL: COLLECTIVE POTENTIAL - ACTIVE]
Her first stop glowed with a soft, leathery brown light.
<< THE HONEST HIDE >>
Tannin and oil thick in the air. Corbin looked up from his workbench, already frowning.
"Guild organizer? Here to tell me my efficiency rating is low?"
Anya pulled out a small metal clasp—one of Tomas's from the Ironvine smiths. Set it on his bench.
"The smiths need sturdy leather straps for tool belts. You need reliable metal findings for your goods."
Corbin picked it up. Tested the spring. His rough fingers surprisingly delicate.
"Good work." A pause. "What's the catch?"
"No catch. Talk to Tomas. See if your work fits."
She left him holding the clasp, thoughtful look replacing the scowl.
[NEW BOND FORMED: THE HONEST HIDE ↔ IRONVINE COLLECTIVE]
Two streets over, a candlemaker named Elara was near tears over raised wick prices. The Network pulsed, pointing Anya toward a struggling rope-maker's shop she'd never noticed.
The elderly couple there spun beautiful cordage. Elara examined their flaxen thread, and something in her face eased.
"It's perfect. And your price..."
The rope-makers looked like they'd been handed a lifeline.
[NEW BONDS FORMED: 2]
[NETWORK NODES: 6]
The rhythm took hold. A carpenter got connected to an alchemist's superior linseed oil. A weaver found a dyer two lanes over instead of across the city.
Then Anya hit a wall.
The master dyer's arms were stained brilliant indigo. Before she could finish her pitch about mordant suppliers, he cut her off with a raised hand.
"I have suppliers."
"The tanner I'm thinking of is just two lanes—"
"I said no." He turned his back. "I don't need some novice playing matchmaker with my business. My formulas are my own."
Anya retreated. The rejection stung worse than expected.
[CONNECTION FAILED: TRUST BARRIER]
[NOTE: SOME THREADS MUST BE EARNED, NOT GIVEN]
She stood in the street feeling foolish. Gareth's way was faster. Cleaner. No rejections. Just mandates.
But mandates didn't weave nets. They built walls.
By afternoon's end, she'd connected a dozen more workshops. Small successes. A piece of sandpaper finds a luthier. Rare herbs reach a soap-maker.
The web in her vision grew denser with each connection.
As the sun set, she leaned against a stone wall and closed her eyes.
[BONDS FORMED TODAY: 11]
[NETWORK NODES: 14]
[COLLECTIVE STRENGTH: SIGNIFICANTLY RISING]
Fourteen workshops, all stronger together. But a cold thought followed the warmth:
Gareth's system would see this. Would detect these "inefficient" lateral trades. The "lost" brokerage fees.
He wouldn't ignore it.
The quiet revolution she was building wouldn't stay quiet for long.