The hum of wheels became the heartbeat of Navaleon.
From the highlands of Velmire to the fertile deltas of Orasha, cycles—once novelties—were now necessity. Merchants delivered goods in half the time. Midwives reached laboring mothers before sundown. Letters arrived days early. The roads were alive.
Sharath's invention had transcended engineering. It had become social alchemy.
In hill towns, new inns were built along trade paths. Children raced each other to school on stripped-down cycles with custom-painted spokes. Farmers lashed baskets of yams to reinforced side panniers and reached markets still fresh.
Bards sang of "the Flame Wheel," a metaphor for motion, progress, and Sharath himself.
But the boy behind the revolution remained quietly analytical. He observed how the social order was shifting. Nobles used cycles to flaunt status, yes—but they could no longer look down on commoners who moved faster.
Mobility had become the great equalizer.
And in this quiet revolution of gears and sweat, House Darsha became more than a name.
It became a movement