Word of the shortage spread into taverns and town squares. Bards sang bitter songs about scholars weeping over empty inkpots. Enterprising merchants hoarded scrolls and sold them at ten times the price.
Some accused House Darsha of sabotage. Others begged Sharath to find a solution.
"Why not talk to the royal scribes?" one advisor asked.
"No," Sharath snapped. "They still use methods from a century ago—rags and bleach pots and sun-drying like peasants. It's slow. Inefficient."
The boy genius knew he needed leverage, capital, and reach—not just ideas.
And for that, there was only one man.
The Duke of Kelrath—his maternal grandfather, and a titan in his own right.