Lusweti sat at the head of the council table, his gaze sweeping over the gathered elders, traders, and blacksmiths. The torches flickered, casting restless shadows on the wooden walls. The room was thick with tension—tonight, they were discussing something that could change Nuri forever.
"The question of trade and taxes is upon us," Lusweti began, his voice firm. "If we do not regulate our economy, Nuri will collapse under the weight of its own growth."
Jumba, the eldest among them, leaned forward, his expression skeptical. "And how exactly do you suggest we regulate it? We have bartered for generations. A man with grain can trade for a goat, and a woman with cloth can exchange it for milk. Why fix what is not broken?"
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room.
Nanjala, seated beside Lusweti, interjected. "Because bartering has limits. What happens when a man with grain needs a spear, but the blacksmith does not want food? We need a standard value for trade, something that allows fairness in exchange."
Mutiso, a trader from one of the newer villages, crossed his arms. "And what do you propose? We start using stones and call them valuable?"
Lusweti allowed the frustration to settle before answering. "Not stones. Metals—gold, iron, and copper. These materials already hold value. We assign them worth, shape them into small, easy-to-carry pieces, and use them to facilitate trade."
A silence settled over the room. The idea was radical. The elders exchanged uncertain glances.
"We make these coins," Nanjala continued, "in limited numbers, so they do not lose their value. Each will bear Nuri's crest, ensuring authenticity. Gold will hold the most worth, followed by iron, then copper. If successful, this will allow fair trade and prevent disputes."
The murmurs grew louder.
Musa, a blacksmith, scratched his beard. "We can forge them easily enough, but what stops people from making their own?"
Lusweti nodded. "The crest of Nuri will be embedded into every coin. Any attempt to forge them will be a crime against the kingdom and the heaviest punishment will be administered."
Jumba frowned. "And what of taxes? You mentioned them, yet we have never taken from our people before."
Lusweti took a deep breath. "Taxes will not be a burden. They will ensure our survival. A small portion will be collected from traders, and the common people. These taxes will go toward maintaining roads, funding the Watchers, and storing food for hard seasons."
The traders stiffened. Mutiso's voice rose. "You mean we give up our hard-earned wealth to the kingdom?"
"Not for free," Lusweti replied, his tone even. "You gain protection. The Watchers have already reduced theft and disputes. The Border Riders ensure safe passage of goods. Without this structure, trade will fall into chaos."
The tension in the room was thick, but Lusweti remained steady.
"Give it a try," he urged. "If it fails, we will reassess. But if it succeeds, Nuri will never have to suffer poverty and disorder again."
Slowly, the resistance softened. The blacksmiths agreed to begin forging coins, and though the traders remained hesitant, they agreed to test the system.
With economic matters settled, another conflict loomed.
Disputes over faith had begun to rise among the villages. Each group brought their own gods, their own traditions, and as Nuri expanded, these beliefs clashed. Some villagers accused others of disrespecting sacred customs. Some refused to take part in shared ceremonies.
The council called upon the spiritual leaders of each village.
Rehema, a priestess from the eastern settlements, sighed. "This cannot continue. We will tear ourselves apart if we keep arguing over whose gods are superior."
Sangolo, a shaman from the northern clans, nodded. "But how do we solve it? We cannot ask people to abandon their faiths."
Lusweti listened carefully. This was not a problem that could be solved by force.
Nanjala spoke first. "Perhaps instead of fighting over what divides us, we create something that unites us. A new tradition, one that belongs to Nuri alone."
There was silence, then whispers of consideration.
"Not a new god," Rehema mused, "but a way for all faiths to coexist. A festival, perhaps—one that honors all beliefs, where offerings and prayers can be made freely."
Sangolo stroked his chin. "And a sacred site, a place where all can go for guidance and blessing."
The council exchanged glances, nodding.
Lusweti smiled. "Then let it be so. Nuri will not force faith upon its people. Instead, we will create a tradition of unity, something that strengthens our kingdom rather than divides it."
For the first time that night, the council felt a sense of resolution.
A week later Lusweti stood before the gathered crowd in Nuri's main square, his expression calm but commanding. Behind him, blacksmiths displayed the freshly minted coins—small, circular pieces of gold, iron, and copper, each marked with the crest of Nuri. The square was packed, but instead of excitement, uncertainty hung in the air.
The elders sat at the front, their faces etched with skepticism. Among them was Matenje, the most vocal opponent of change. He leaned forward, his gaze sharp.
"Lusweti," Matenje began, his voice slow and measured. "We have survived for generations trading with grain, cattle, and goods. Why must we now rely on these… tiny pieces of metal?" He held up one of the coins between his fingers, turning it as though it were something foreign.
Lusweti expected this resistance. He took a deep breath and faced them with confidence. "Because Nuri is growing. We are no longer just a village, we are a kingdom. As we expand, we must adopt systems that ensure fairness and stability in trade. The Nuru—our new currency—will make this possible."
He held up a gold coin. "This is a Gold Nuru, the most valuable. It is followed by Iron Nuru and Copper Nuru. Each will hold a set value, so that no one is cheated in trade, and no one is forced to bargain unfairly. A farmer should not have to guess if his sack of millet is worth a goat or a chicken."
Matenje scoffed. "And who decides what these coins are worth? You?"
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the elders. Lusweti remained patient. "No, not just me. The Council of Elders and our most experienced traders will determine fair values based on the worth of goods. And as Nuri prospers, so too will the value of our coins."
Another elder, Karanja, frowned. "And what of taxes? You say we must give our hard-earned wealth to the kingdom?"
Lusweti nodded. "A small portion, yes. These taxes will not go into the hands of the greedy, but into Nuri itself. They will build roads, fortify our defenses, and store food for droughts. The Watchers who keep our villages safe will be paid with these coins. Our builders will construct homes, our warriors will guard our borders—all funded through these contributions."
A few elders muttered among themselves. Others were still unconvinced.
Nanjala, standing beside Lusweti, spoke up. "This will not happen overnight. We understand change is difficult. That is why we will take it step by step. We will begin by introducing just a few coins, made by our blacksmiths from copper, iron, and gold. We will not flood the market, as too many coins at once would make them worthless."
Some traders in the crowd exchanged glances, considering the idea.
"But how will the people know how to use them?" an elder asked.
Lusweti gestured to a group of seasoned merchants beside him. "These are the Nuru Advisors. They will travel across Nuri, teaching everyone how to trade fairly, how to set prices, and how to use the new currency. No one will be left behind in this change."
Still, skepticism lingered. Karanja sighed. "And what if this fails? What if the people reject it?"
Lusweti met his gaze steadily. "Then we will listen. We will adapt. But before we dismiss it, we must give it a chance."
A long silence stretched through the square. Finally, one elder gave a slow nod. Then another. The traders, though hesitant, looked intrigued.
"Very well," Jumba finally said. "We will see if your Nuru is as valuable as you claim."
Lusweti smiled. "That is all I ask."
And with that, the first step toward Nuri's new economy had begun.