They built the walls first.
Not because walls mattered most, but because once you started putting them up, you were admitting the thing was becoming real.
Rellin stood on the wagon's bare frame, hands on his hips, squinting at the stacked planks like they had personally offended him.
"Alright," he said. "Rule one: it has to keep rain out."
Elias nodded" obviously that's the minimum requirement for a roof" he said deadpan
"Rule two," Rellin continued fully disregarding the snarky comment"it must not look expensive."
Elias paused. "Why? Wouldn't it get us prestige and better clients?"
Rellin gave him a sideways look.
"Because expensive wagons get remembered, and remembered wagons are robbed blind coming, and going."
"Ah," Elias said. "Yes. That makes sense. Kinda bad for business huh?" He joked
"Terribly" Rellin said dryly, with a hint of amusement.
They worked in companionable silence for a while, fitting planks into place, testing angles, stepping back to look, stepping forward to adjust. The walls rose slowly — not tall or imposing. Just enough for them to be able to stand in there without much trouble.
Rellin favored clean lines and sturdy joints. Elias favored balance — not symmetry, but the way things felt when you moved around them.
"Too straight," Elias said at one point, tapping a panel.
Rellin frowned. "It's a wall. That's the point."
"Yes, but if it's too perfect, it announces intent," Elias replied. "People notice intent."
Rellin sighed and loosened the joint a fraction.
The wall looked more relaxed, somehow as much as a wall could look like anything at all.
"Infuriating," Rellin muttered. "You know that?"
Elias smiled faintly.
They talked as they worked — not about leaving, not directly. About where weight should go. Where sound traveled. How the roof should slope just enough to shed water without looking engineered.
"Canvas?" Elias suggested.
Rellin shook his head. "Canvas flaps. Flapping attracts attention, and my annoyance"
"Wood then?"
"Wood creaks."
They stood there for a moment.
"…Layered," Elias said eventually. "Thin inner wood. Treated hide over it. Breaks sound. Softens shape. Perhaps shingles on the top layer to keep us warm and dry"
Rellin considered.
Then nodded. "You're learning."
They marked places where Elias would eventually do his work.
Not everywhere.
Just corners.
Under benches.
Behind storage panels.
Along seams where shadows already liked to gather.
And one small cubby on the floor they agreed he may try to make a hidden room, if he fails the whole wagon won't be ruined just a small hole on the floor easily fixed.
"No expansions in the walls themselves," Rellin said firmly. "I don't want to wake up inside a philosophical argument."
"That's fair, although there wouldn't be much of an argument, or waking up for that matter." Elias agreed.
Instead, they planned spaces that could be expanded later — not now. Places that looked unimportant. Storage that could become more. A sleeping nook that could hide them if needed.
A wagon that did not brag about what it could do.
By the afternoon, the wagon had begun to look like something you might see on the road and forget five minutes later. Like old nobles wagon refurbished for merchant's use.
Which was exactly right.
They sat on the edge of it, feet dangling, sharing bread and water.
Rellin wiped sweat from his brow. "You know," he said, "people decorate wagons to tell stories."
Elias glanced at the bare wood. "What story does this tell."
Rellin thought about it.
"…That it's passing through."
Elias nodded once. "Good."
That night, Elias returned to his room.
It looked wrong to him now.
Not hostile or unfamiliar.
Just… unfinished in the wrong direction.
The expanded space still existed — imaginary rooms nested inside shadow, quiet and patient, waiting for him to claim them. A workshop that could have been. A library that never was.
He stood in the center of it and felt it wasn't his space anymore.
That surprised him.
He had expected resistance. Nostalgia. Something dramatic.
Instead, it felt like holding onto a coat after winter had already decided it was done with you.
Elias knelt and pressed his palm into the floor.
Not commanding.
Not reshaping.
Just…letting go.
The shadows did not collapse.
They relaxed.
Walls softened back into walls.
Depth folded inward.
Rooms that never were made, lost their last chance of being made as he undid his expansion.
The space shrank — not violently, not suddenly — but politely, like a guest realizing it was time to leave.
When Elias stood again, the room was the size it had always been.
There was just the small bed and that tiny table he made with Rellin, where the package sit quietly waiting.
Nothing more.
He exhaled, slow and steady.
"…Thank you," he murmured — not to the room, but to the idea of it, his own past self and his dreams.
He did not take the cloak or the mask. They rested in the shadowed side of the room.
Those belonged to the road now, and he didn't wish to bother them yet.
He lay down fully dressed and slept — truly slept — for the first time in a long time.
The next morning, Rellin noticed immediately.
"You're lighter," he said, squinting at Elias.
Elias blinked. "Weird way to say I lost weight"
"No," Rellin replied. "Conceptually. Which is worse."
Elias smiled. "You sound more like Aster everyday with those complicated phrases but if you must know,I closed my room."
Rellin nodded once, slightly disturbed about the comparison but unable to contradict it either. Considering how he was understanding more than Elias had expected.
"Good," he said. "Homes should be chosen. Not defaulted into." He made a face later probably realizing how Aster that sounded like.
They went back to work.
The wagon gained a roof. Then trim and shingles to the roof to finalize it. Then small, practical touches — hooks, storage loops, a narrow shelf that held exactly three cups and no more. Cups that were held in place in case if disturbances happen on the road
cozy.
Comfortable.
Reliable.
By evening, the wagon stood finished enough that neither of them could pretend it wasn't ready.
Rellin rested his hand on the side panel.
"Tomorrow," he said.
Elias nodded
Tomorrow meant roads.
Tomorrow meant not coming back for a long time if ever.
Tomorrow meant finding out whether the world would notice them leaving.
The wagon sat quietly in the fading light, walls steady, roof sound, shadows already learning its shape.
It did not look like a home.
It looked like something that would keep moving.
And that, Elias thought, was the most honest thing he had ever made, or would probably ever make.
————————————————————
"A wagon is not finished when it stands.It is finished when everything you could possibly need, plus one extra are in it. Only fools will trust the road to keep them safe"
Rellin said that while handing Elias a crate of iron fittings, Elias nodded in agreement and wrote it down.
Not because he needed the reminder — but because it felt like the sort of sentence that would matter later, and he could pull it out of his pocket
They began with the obvious.
Spare axles.
Extra wheel spokes. Two whole spare wheels underneath the wagon carriage secured by shelf Rellin had made there, who knows when. They were in parts so they fit there but still it felt excessive to Elias.
Two full sets of iron-shod rims wrapped in oilcloth and tied beneath the frame where road dust could not reach them.
"Always assume something will break," Rellin said, tightening a strap. "And that it will break in the least convenient place."
Elias nodded. "You mean sabotage?"
Rellin snorted. "No. Roads are worse than enemies. They don't mean to hurt you, it happens all the same"
They packed tools next.
Not one set — three.
A primary kit under the bench.
A secondary kit hidden in the left wall compartment.
And a third, smaller set Elias insisted on keeping in a place Rellin could never quite remember, it was inside the shadow of the benches.
"You don't forget where you put things," Rellin said suspiciously.
"Not quite," Elias replied. "I forget that I put them anywhere at all."
They stocked consumables with the same care.
Resin. Pitch. Waxed thread. Leather patches. Treated hide strips.
Grease for axles. Oil for joints. Chalk for marking stress fractures before they became visible.
Elias lingered over the chalk.
"It's temporary," he said.
Rellin shrugged. "So are we." He said oddly philosophically
They moved on to goods.
Not luxury items. Not bulk trade.
Small things.
Useful things.
Rellin chose first.
Spools of high-quality cord.
Replacement buckles.
Folded canvas.
A half-dozen simple knives balanced for work, not combat.
"Things people need when their trusty equipment fails," he said.
Elias added carefully.
Needles of various sizes.
Cloth squares already cut to common dimensions.
Small mirrors wrapped in felt.
Packets of charcoal, resin dust, and lamp-wick fiber.
Rellin raised an eyebrow. "You planning to sell art supplies?"
Elias hesitated. "No. Emergency solutions."
Rellin did not ask further. Nodded and kept packing
Food came last.
Hard bread. Dried fruit. Salted meat. Grain in sealed tins.
Enough to last — but not so much that it slowed them down.
"Weight is a choice, and I think we need to choose to stay on a slow route with low weight" Rellin reminded him.
"Yes," Elias agreed.
They left space.
Deliberately.
A surprising amount of it.
"People hate empty wagons," Rellin said. "They assume you're hiding something but I personally feel full wagons are a invitation for robbery. So we should always endeavor to seem half empty."
Elias considered. "But we are. Both hiding something and half empty"
"Yes, but it's not supposed to look intentional," Rellin replied.
They compromised — filling visible shelves lightly, leaving deeper compartments untouched.
By nightfall, the wagon smelled like iron, leather, oil, and possibility.
They stood back and looked at it.
Rellin crossed his arms. "You know what this is now."
"A business," Elias said.
Rellin shook his head. "A cover of a one, a pretense, very pretty one sure, but still pretense"
Elias smiled. "Those things are not mutually exclusive."
Rellin laughed softly at that, agreeing." We must always have something we can trade or sell. You can never know what could end up saving our hides on the road."
Elias just nodded silently and watched as Rellin climbed up, sat on the bench, and knocked once on the side panel.
Solid, quiet and most importantly their own.
"You ready?" he asked.
Elias glanced back at Mirage — searching, lingering.
acknowledging his time in Mirage is rapidly coming to an end.
"Yes," he said.
They closed the doors.
Not dramatically with a bang or some grand gesture.
Just properly, waiting for the time in near future they would get to start their journey. Waiting for its owners to take it out on the roads unknown.
——————————————————————
Elias packed what little he had. He had specifically made a backpack for his next travels just to feel more like he's actually traveling, more than any need for a backpack.
Tools were sorted by usefulness, not sentiment. A few notebooks. Charcoal. Thread. A knife that had never been used to hurt anyone and hopefully never would.
The room was small, lightless without the small lamp he had there and the packet on the only small table next to his small bed. The wardrobe he had "borrowed" had returned where he found it. Because that alone would've filled the room uncomfortably
Smaller than he remembered it to have been,when he got it after joining and passing the test.
He stood in the center, hands at his sides, and felt nothing like loss.
"This was never meant to be permanent," he murmured, unsure whether he meant the room or himself.
He went to stand at the center to retrieve his cloak and mask from the shadows, but decided to just move them in the shadow of the bag.They wouldn't be physically in the bag, so it made it impossible for anyone but him to get them.
Aster waited until the wagon was alone to inspect it in peace.
It was finished far quicker than it was estimated to but perhaps it would end up being a blessing.
Rellin had gone to finish paperwork. Elias had vanished into the city for reasons that were no longer worth asking about.
She circled the wagon once.
Slowly.
Hands clasped behind her back, posture casual enough that no one would think she was doing anything important.
The exterior was unremarkable by design.
Clean lines.
No sigils.
No ostentation.
Wood treated properly but not polished.
Metal reinforced where stress would occur — not where eyes would linger.
It looked like a merchant's wagon. Perhaps old noblemen sold his old wagon to the merchant who then refurbished it, to his own work.
Aster stepped closer.
Ran her fingers along the frame.
The suspension flexed gently beneath her touch, then settled. No creak. No resistance. The wagon took shocks and pressure much better than anything normal merchants would ride.
"That's new," she murmured.
She ducked inside.
The interior was… sensible.
Too sensible.
Storage placed where weight distribution favored movement rather than capacity. Compartments that did not advertise themselves. Empty space left deliberately unused — not because it couldn't be filled, but because it wasn't intended to be filled.
Aster paused in the center.
Listened.
No wards.
No mana signatures.
No shadow constructs. As far as she could feel. Although with Elias who knew what new tricks he came up with in between lunchtime and evening meal.
And yet—
The space felt… considered.
As if the wagon expected to be lived in by people who made it. Like it wasn't just a convenient way to get from one place to a another.
She opened a panel she knew Rellin had installed personally.
Inside: spare parts, wrapped carefully, each tagged not by inventory code but by problem they solved.
Axle-pin replacements.
Leather strips cut to precise tension tolerances.
Resin already mixed and sealed for emergency repairs.
Redundancy without excess.
She closed it again.
Moved to the far corner.
There, beneath a bench, she found something she had not been looking for.
Not hidden.
Just… placed.
A subtle seam.
A shadow that rested slightly deeper than it should.
Aster crouched, curiously looking at it but did not touch it.
"…You're learning restraint," she said quietly, to no one.
That worried her more than ambition ever had.
She stood, dusted her hands, and took one last look around.
This was not a mobile fortress.
Not a spy wagon.
Not an artifact, of some unknown kind
It was key infrastructure for someone to stay unremarkable yet exceptional at their craft.
The kind that allowed someone to exist anywhere without becoming remarkable.
Aster straightened.
When the Council dreamed of power, this was not what they pictured.
Which meant it was exactly what would last.
She stepped down, closing the wagon door gently.
Outside, the city continued its business — unaware that it had already let go of something it would one day struggle to remember clearly.
Aster adjusted her cloak and walked away.
Behind her, the wagon waited.
Not eagerly.
Not impatiently.
Ready.
"Council needs blueprints of that wagon to produce proper merchant units to our shadow paths initiative, I feel this could work better, than our usual system even, let leave the cloak and dagger solution to the last line not the first"
Aster thought to herself as she disappeared to another no doubt pointless meeting. About how they are going to name their kingdom if they ever got to making a declaration on becoming one