Gossip travels faster than steel, and in noble circles, perception is currency.
As cycles became commonplace across Navaleon's eastern half, so did whispers in the court:
"Have you heard? House Darsha has a private forge now—employs over three hundred workers."
"They say the boy doesn't sleep. Always inventing. Always… watching."
"My cousin bought a Darsha courier cycle. Delivered a dowry chest in six hours. Six."
Even distant provinces took note. The High Lord of Varnis sent an envoy bearing questions about supply limits and potential licensing. The famed Scribe Circle of Erev requested audience with "the young architect of progress."
Suddenly, House Darsha was no longer just a noble house.
It was a symbol.
Some nobles felt threatened. Others intrigued. But no one ignored it. Not anymore.
In the quiet of evening, Lord Darshan gazed from his tower balcony as one of Sharath's courier cycles sped past below. He whispered, "They used to say war built empires…"
He paused, watching the wheel disappear down the path.
"…But perhaps the wheel builds something better."