£70,000 a year for 250 sim cards

This is a real story. I’ve changed the names of places and the organisations involved.

This is a story about a man that made a killing from a local charity, reselling the most expensive sim cards I’ve ever seen.

In the heart of Oxenford, a city of dreaming spires that pierced the heavens like ancient towers of Elven lore, lay a small and noble charity known as The Little Kindred. It was a place of warmth and succour, a haven for the gentle folk of the city who had fallen on hard times. And it was here that our tale unfolds, with a humble hero named Elara Greenhand.

Elara, though of the race of Men, had the keen eyes of a Hobbit and a spirit as steadfast as the ancient oaks. She was the keeper of the coin and ledger for The Little Kindred, a task she performed with a diligent heart. The charity, in its mission to aid the needy, relied upon a great number of 'Far-seers' – small, enchanted slips of plastic that allowed their couriers to speak with one another across the city's winding lanes. These, they acquired from a merchant of smooth words and a wide, toothy grin, a man known in the markets as Silas "Silver-tongue" Grime.

For many a season, the coffers of The Little Kindred had flowed freely into the pouch of Silas Grime. Yet, Elara, in her quiet corner, began to perceive a shadow in their accounts. The gold paid for the Far-seers seemed a king's ransom, a veritable dragon's hoard that bled their resources dry. A disquiet grew in her heart, a feeling that all was not as it should be.

One eve, as the moon cast a silver gleam upon the spires of Oxenford, Elara delved deep into the dusty scrolls of their agreements with the merchant. Her quill scratched and danced across the parchment, her brow furrowed in concentration. And there, in the faint candlelight, she unearthed a deceit of the most cunning kind.

Not only was Silas Grime charging them a price for each Far-seer that would make an Orc blush, but a greater treachery lay hidden in the fine print of their pact. For years, The Little Kindred had been paying for a multitude of 'Sleeping Stones' – Far-seers that lay dormant, without a flicker of life or a single whispered word uttered through them. They were as silent as the Stones of the Dead, yet they drained the charity's gold as surely as a Smaug upon his treasure.

A fire of righteous anger, the likes of which had not been seen in The Little Kindred for many an age, was kindled in Elara’s breast. She would not stand idly by while this injustice continued. With the first light of dawn, she set forth on a quest, not for a mythical jewel or a lost sword, but for an honest reckoning.

Her journey led her not to a dark fortress, but to a bright and bustling hall where the banner of a new fellowship hung: the 'Starlight Network'. These were folk of a different sort, their faces open and their words true. They were master artisans of the Far-seer craft, and they listened to Elara's tale with growing astonishment and dismay.

The good people of the Starlight Network, their hearts moved by the plight of The Little Kindred, offered a new covenant, a pact of friendship and fair trade. They provided new Far-seers, brighter and more potent than the last, at a cost that was but a fraction of the old. And they vowed to stand with The Little Kindred, to ensure such a shadow of greed would never fall upon them again.

With a heart as light as a feather on the wind, Elara returned, the new Far-seers gleaming in her hand like captured starlight. The contract with the duplicitous Silas Grime was broken, his dark spell over their finances shattered. The Sleeping Stones were cast out, their silent thievery at an end.

The wealth that now flowed back into the coffers of The Little Kindred was a treasure indeed, a river of gold that could be used for its true purpose: to bring aid and comfort to the folk of Oxenford. And so it was that a humble keeper of accounts, with her keen Hobbit-like senses and unwavering spirit, faced down a modern-day dragon of avarice and, in her quiet victory, proved that even in the grandest of tales, it is often the smallest of hands that turn the tide of fortune.

And let the tale of The Little Kindred be a lesson etched in the heart of every noble fellowship. For a charity's goodwill is a treasure more precious than mithril, and its assets must be guarded with a watchful eye. To place one's trust blindly is to invite the shadow of greed into the warmest of halls. Therefore, let every good cause ensure it has its own Elara Greenhand – a guardian of the ledger, a watcher of the coin, whose diligence and hardworking spirit are the strongest shield against the wiles of any Silver-tongue. For in the stewardship of charity, awareness is the brightest lantern, and a vigilant heart is the truest protector of its sacred trust.