The Merchants’ Bargain

A Tale of Three Sons

Chapter One: The Bargain

The spice-laden air of Azmar swirled with the scent of cardamom, myrrh, and roasting lamb. The grand bazaar, stretching from the palace gates to the river, was an ocean of gold and trade, where wealth was not measured in what a man owned, but in how many hands reached for his goods.

At the heart of it all, in a vast courtyard shaded by silk canopies, Matthias ibn Harun sat before his three sons—Rafiq, Samir, and Basir. His silver-threaded beard rested against his chest, his eyes sharp despite his age. He had built an empire, and in time, he would pass it on.

“You have each been raised in wealth,” Matthias said, his voice steady as the desert wind. “But you have not yet built wealth of your own.”

The three brothers stood before him, their postures revealing their natures.

Rafiq, the eldest, grinned with easy confidence, his silk robe draped over one shoulder, gold rings adorning his fingers.

Samir, the middle son, stood calm and thoughtful, his fine but modest tunic carefully arranged—practical, yet betraying his comfort in wealth.

Basir, the youngest, was restless but sharp-eyed, his fingers tapping lightly against his side.

Before them, Matthias placed a small chest, its lid open, revealing three equal pouches of gold.

“I give each of you one thousand gold dinars,” he said. “You will leave Azmar and build your own fortunes. In ten years, you will return, and I will judge who, if any among you, has the wisdom required to build wealth.”