Even as applause still echoed in the grand hall of House Darsha, doubt crackled through the crowd like an incoming storm.
The guild master of Luthwin Copperworks narrowed his eyes. "And what's to stop a competitor from copying your design, mass-producing it, and undercutting your price?"
Another merchant chimed in. "If this cycle becomes common, its value drops. Won't your machines flood the market and kill our margins?"
Sharath didn't flinch.
He stepped forward, palms open, voice calm. "You're right to ask. And here's the answer: anyone can copy a wheel, but not everyone understands balance. Not everyone can maintain efficiency. And not everyone can evolve."
He let the silence stretch.
"House Darsha won't compete by being first. We will compete by being better—through innovation, calibration, quality assurance, and, above all, trust."
He motioned toward the schematics pinned to the walls—dozens of them, each annotated with unique serial codes, testing diagrams, and modular component breakdowns.
"Every unit we produce will carry a mark—a seal embedded with magical trace and forged authenticity. Our devices won't just work. They'll last. That's what sets us apart."
Some frowned. Others murmured agreement.
A master smelter from Norvek raised a calloused hand. "And how will we profit?"
Sharath smiled faintly. "You will own the process. Not just laborers—but partners. Royal contracts will go through our network. You manufacture to Darsha standard. We send demand. You meet it. Profit and prestige, shared."
The tension didn't vanish. But it began to change flavor—from suspicion to curiosity.
Because while others warned of risk, Sharath offered opportunity. A child, yes—but one fluent in power.