That night, in the Duke's private solar, the terms were finalized. No pomp. No delay.
"50-50," Sharath said plainly. "I'll deliver the machines, production manuals, and workforce training. You handle infrastructure, procurement, and nobles."
The Duke looked at his grandson, a fire flickering between them in the hearth.
"You're not just building paper, boy. You're building dependency."
Sharath smiled faintly. "That's the idea."
The Duke poured aged plum brandy into two crystal glasses—his and a much smaller one for Sharath.
"To SK," he toasted. "Sharath-Kelrath. Brains and brawn."
They drank.
Outside, the Duke's engineers began work that very night. The first production wheel would spin before winter's end.