Aster found them in the shed arguing about rope.
The kind of argument that was really just two people testing whether the other would notice something important, or just nod and accept whatever bullshit the other was spewing.
"No," Rellin was saying, tugging at a coil. "That one frays when it's damp. Looks fine until it kills you."
Elias examined it, thoughtful. "It hasn't killed us yet, and it's plenty of damp already"
"That's how ropes lure you,makes you think their fine and good then bam, your dead" Rellin replied darkly and eyed it suspiciously.
Aster cleared her throat.
Both men turned to look at her standing in the shed without her mask.
She looked… tired.
Aster did not get exhausted easily — but worn in a very specific way, like someone who had spent hours explaining obvious things to people who were determined to misunderstand them creatively.
"Oh good," Rellin said cheerfully. "You look like someone just invented a new hierarchy for the local lizard population."
Aster stared at him for a heartbeat.
Then she sighed.
"They named it."
Elias blinked. "Named what."
"The kingdom," Aster said flatly. "We are, apparently, a kingdom now. Or at least we will be once enough people agree to pretend we always were."
Rellin froze. Looked at her searchingly, as if hoping she'd be trying a new career as a jester telling jokes.
Slowly, carefully, he sat down on a crate.
"…You're joking."
"I wish I were," Aster said. "They settled on The Veiled Crown."
There was a long pause.
Then Rellin laughed.
Not a polite chuckle. Not a surprised huff.
He laughed like a man who had just discovered that reality itself had tripped over a rake and deserved every bruise it was about to get.
"The Veiled—" he wheezed, pressing a hand to his chest. "I can't— I'm sorry—"
He dissolved again, shoulders shaking.
"A crown?" he managed. "On Mirage?"
Aster crossed her arms. "Yes."
"A veiled crown?"
"Yes."
Rellin wiped his eyes. "Do they think that makes it subtle or something? sprinkling some mystique to this dump to make it shine?"
"It makes them feel clever," Aster replied coldly, with hollowness in her voice to tell how utterly fed up she was.
Elias watched the exchange with quiet interest. "Is this… dangerous."
"Yes," Aster said. "Which is why they like it."
Rellin leaned back against the wagon, still grinning. "I decided to leave for one trip and you all decide to con the entire world, to believe we aren't becoming a kingdom no no, we have always been a kingdom"
"We are not conning anyone," Aster snapped.
Rellin raised an eyebrow.
"…We are encouraging a widely shared misunderstanding, bordering on delusion and hope it sticks" she amended.
"That's better," he said approvingly.
She glared at him. "This is serious."
"I know," Rellin replied. "That's why it's funny."
Aster pinched the bridge of her nose. "You are impossible."
"And yet," Rellin said lightly, "you came to us."
She ignored that.
"We are formalizing our information infrastructure," Aster continued. "Merchants as public-facing vectors. Shadow-path operatives embedded quietly. A distributed network."
Elias nodded slowly. "The Veiled Network."
Aster shot him a look. "Do not encourage them"
"I think it fits," Elias said mildly.
Rellin stared at him in awe, like he just sold her kidney.. to her and made her pay double cause no surgery was needed"You're siding with them?"
Elias shrugged. "It's pretentious. But intentionally so. That makes it honest."
Aster paused.
"…I hate that you're right," she muttered.
She exhaled and gestured toward the wagon.
"Which brings me to the another reason I'm here."
Rellin brightened immediately. "Ah. The practical stuff, is it paperwork? It is isn't it?"
Aster pulled a rolled bundle of papers from beneath her arm and let them drop onto the workbench.
Blueprints unfurled.
Rellin leaned in instinctively.
Elias did not — he already knew what they would show.
"We're standardizing merchant wagons," Aster said. "Using this design."
Rellin stared.
Then looked up slowly.
"…You're stealing my work? And you came to brag about it?"
"We are replicating it," Aster corrected. "Quietly. At scale."
Rellin straightened. "Absolutely not."
Aster blinked. "Excuse me."
"No," he said firmly. "You do not get to turn my life's worth of frustration, and literal pain in my ass into national policy… not without paying for it."
Elias tilted his head. "Rellin—"
"Flat fee," Rellin continued, warming to the idea. "Per wagon built from my design. No negotiations. No royalties nonsense. Clean sum."
Aster stared at him.
"You are negotiating with the Council."
"Yes," Rellin said pleasantly. "And winning."
"…You're a merchant," she said slowly.
"I know," he replied. "It's my whole thing."
She studied him for a long moment.
Then, reluctantly, nodded.
"…Name."
Rellin blinked. "Sorry?"
"Your last name," Aster said. "I realized I've never asked."
He smiled. "Rellin Harth." He put his hand towards her like to shake hers
She repeated it once, committing it to memory. And took it and gave one firm shake"Very well. Harth wagons it is then."
Rellin beamed. "I like the sound of that."
Elias smiled faintly.
Aster gathered the papers again.
"The designs will be copied," she said. "You'll be compensated. Quietly."
"Good," Rellin said. "I'd hate to be remembered."
She hesitated.
"…You will be loosely tied to us," she added. "Officially, you're merchants. Unofficially—"
"We listen," Elias said.
"And move," Rellin added.
"And don't stay," Aster finished.
Silence settled — not uncomfortable.
Just… final.
"So," Rellin said at last, clapping his hands once. "Where to first."
Elias looked toward the road beyond the sheds.
"Somewhere that doesn't care who we are," he said.
Rellin nodded thoughtfully. "South, then. Or east. Plenty of places where no one asks questions as long as you fix their wheels."
Aster stepped back.
"When you leave," she said, "do not report unless it matters, and find a way to get steady information to our people and through them to us. Just because you sell it to all doesn't mean we aren't interested what's happening, even if it rarely affects us at all.
Rellin saluted lazily. "Wouldn't dream of it."
"And Elias," she added.
He looked at her.
"Do not become important, or definitely"
He inclined his head. "I won't, although the latter might not be in my hands"
That seemed to satisfy her.
" Your licenses and traveling documents are waiting at the gate, hope we don't see each other in a long time.. it was nice meeting you two."
She turned and walked away without ceremony.
Rellin watched her go.
"…Veiled Crown," he said, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."
Elias climbed onto the bench.
"Ready."
Rellin took the reins.
The wagon rolled forward — quiet, smooth, forgettable toward the gate of Mirage.
The assignments came first, paperwork outlining their mission and timeline of decade for getting the network running. At the bottom read with red ink with huge letters to" burn this paper later and do not keep it like some moron so you can get caught like one in the very first inspection .
It wasn't delivered by masked heralds or sealed with wax meant to impress.
They arrived in a neat stack of documents slid across a plain table by a clerk who did not look up.
"Names," the clerk said.
"Rellin Harth," Rellin replied immediately, with the confidence of a man who had learned long ago that hesitation invited spelling errors.
" Elias Marlow" Elias said after a beat. Then added " apprentice merchant"
The clerk paused just long enough to consider whether that mattered.
It did not.
Ink scratched. Pages shifted.
The assignments were mercifully boring.
Merchant licenses. Trade permissions. Route allowances that were technically optional but psychologically reassuring to border guards. Animal registration for two horses whose names were spelled incorrectly and never corrected.
No mention of espionage.
No mention of shadow-path affiliation.
No mention of Veiled anything.
Just work.
Just commerce.
Just legitimacy heavy enough to pass through a gate without comment.
"These are valid for five regions," the clerk said, finally looking up. "Renewal possible. Inspections unlikely."
Rellin smiled. "Music to my ears."
The clerk slid the final page forward.
"And this," they said, "is your letter of transit."
Elias took it gently.
The paper felt thin.
Insufficient.
Which meant it was perfect.
Aster watched from the doorway.
She did not interfere. She wasn't in her regalia, of her office. She was unmasked, and looked like a boring citizen of Mirage who happened to stand there next to a gate and watched.
Once the documents were signed, stamped, and tucked away, the clerk nodded once.
"You are cleared to depart at your convenience."
Rellin stood and stretched.
"Well," he said, "I suppose that's that."
Outside, the wagon waited.
Horses already harnessed. Load balanced. Nothing rattling. Nothing shining. Nothing asking to be remembered.
The gates of Mirage loomed ahead — not imposing, just… present. Stone and habit and routine.
The guards barely glanced at them.
Documents exchanged hands.
Stamps pressed.
No questions asked.
As the gate began to open, Rellin reached into his coat.
Pulled out a pipe.
Elias noticed.
"…Is that new."
Rellin grinned, packing it with exaggerated care.
"I read somewhere," he said solemnly, "that all respectable merchants smoke pipes."
Elias raised an eyebrow. "You read that."
"Yes."
"Where."
Rellin struck a match. Missed. Tried again.
"…A book," he said vaguely.
The pipe finally lit. Smoke curled upward — acrid, uneven, and immediately irritating.
Rellin coughed.
Hard.
"Oh gods," he wheezed. "Why do people do this."
Elias watched, expression neutral. "For the aesthetic."
Rellin took another stubborn puff.
Coughed again.
"But," he added hoarsely, "I do look worldly."
"You look poisoned," Elias said amused since Rellin pallor had a ashen tint
Rellin waved him off. "Suffering is part of the image."
The gates opened fully.
The road stretched out ahead — pale, dusty, indifferent.
Rellin clicked his tongue.
The horses moved.
The wagon rolled forward.
No ceremony.
No last look back.
Mirage did not react.
As they passed beyond the gate, Rellin exhaled a thin stream of smoke and smiled.
"Well," he said, "we're official."
Elias felt the city loosen its grip.
Not violently.
Not reluctantly.
Just… politely.
"Yes," Elias agreed. "For now."
The road accepted them without comment.
Behind them, Mirage remained what it had always been.
Ahead of them, nothing had decided what they were yet.
And between the two, a merchant wagon rolled on — licensed, legitimate, unremarkable — carrying spare parts, quiet intentions, and the first moving pieces of something no one would notice until it was already everywhere.
Rellin tapped the pipe against the side of the bench and grimaced.
"I'm never doing that again."
Elias smiled.
Exactly as planned.
Behind them, Mirage remained a city people passed through.
Ahead of them, the road waited.
And somewhere between the two, without banners or witnesses, the Veiled Network took its first breath — not with secrets, but with wheels turning and men who knew when to laugh at power.