The morning sun cut through the tall stained-glass windows of Kelrath Manor, scattering amber and green patterns across the long walnut table. Sharath stood at its head, a parchment roll under his arm, and a confidence far greater than his years etched on his brow.
"I call it the Triple Fiber Cycle," he began.
Around him sat engineers, scribes, and a few skeptical Kelrathi ministers, all invited by the Duke. A few chuckled when the child spoke. That stopped when Sharath unfurled a detailed diagram of a multi-stage pulping press powered by paddle wheels.
He pointed with his stylus. "We'll use bast fibers from hemp, mulberry, and flax. Soak and grind them separately. Each fiber gives a distinct paper grade."
A murmur spread through the room. The Duke motioned for silence.
Sharath continued. "Then we layer the pulp through a continuous sheet former, drain, press with heat plates, and roll into spools."
One minister leaned forward. "And how do you dry it? It takes days in our yards—if the sun favors us."
Sharath's eyes glittered. "Steam-pressed iron rollers. Forty minutes. Sunlight becomes optional."
The room fell into stunned silence.
The Duke grinned. "Gentlemen... this boy didn't come for advice. He came to change the game."