Luis gave the people in the room a moment.
He allowed the silence to settle and the ideas to sink in.
Only then did he return to the folder.
He took out a folded sheet—more carefully than he had handled the map—placed it on the table, and slowly opened it.
Lines, sketches, and annotations appeared before them.
Very different from the previous map.
And definitely far more technical.
Luis raised his gaze.
"I believe you are familiar with the armored ships that have been emerging in Europe."
The effect of the question was immediate.
Not on everyone—but on the right people.
Custódio José de Melo went still for a second.
Saldanha da Gama leaned slightly forward.
And Deodoro da Fonseca narrowed his eyes.
The others noticed the shift in the three men.
Even without fully understanding where this was leading.
Luis continued:
"I'm referring to ironclads—ships with reinforced structures, capable of withstanding conventional artillery. Maritime beasts, with high firepower and exceptional durability."
Luis paused briefly.
"They have the capacity to dominate any vessel unprepared to face them. And even the existing countermeasures are limited—and depend on strategies being successfully executed."
Now everyone was paying attention—even those who didn't fully grasp the subject.
Because they understood one simple thing:
This was important. Especially for the Navy.
Luis then said, without hesitation:
"I want to build one."
The silence was immediate.
But this time…
it wasn't calm.
It was tense.
Saldanha da Gama was the first to react.
"This is not something one simply 'wants.' Do you have any idea how many countries possess vessels like this? And among those, how many are capable of producing them?"
His tone wasn't aggressive.
But it was firm.
"This requires industry, prepared shipyards, specialized labor… and above all, technological knowledge."
He paused.
"The time required just to design such a ship would be measured in years. I won't even mention its construction."
Custódio José de Melo added:
"Saldanha is right. A project like this will take time."
His eyes remained fixed on Luis.
"We're not talking about modifying a common vessel."
"We're talking about cutting-edge engineering."
"And even in Europe, this is still under development."
Luis nodded.
"I know."
The two admirals exchanged a glance.
That was not the answer they expected.
Custódio frowned slightly.
"Then you understand this is not simple."
Luis rested his hand on the paper.
"I never said it was."
A pause.
"But it's not impossible either."
Luis continued, without raising his voice:
"What we lack here is not capability—it is technology, and the will to innovate. We are stuck in the past, and soon we will be entering a new century."
His fingers touched certain points on the drawing.
"Reinforced metal structure, proper weight distribution, and propulsion adaptation—these are the main challenges involved in this type of vessel. I am fully confident we can overcome them."
He did not go into excessive detail.
But neither was he superficial.
Enough to show he knew what he was talking about.
And more importantly… enough not to sound like fantasy.
"Don't let my appearance deceive you. My knowledge of machinery is extensive. I've worked with mechanical systems more complex than they appear."
He raised his gaze.
"My father can confirm it. There is currently a machine operating at our estate's sawmill—it was almost entirely conceived and designed by me. It was built essentially from scratch. I even had to design a suitable steam engine for it."
Augusto nodded, and then added:
"Moreover, Luis would not dare lie about something like this. We are negotiating our family."
That carried weight.
More than any technical explanation.
Luis continued:
"Of course… this is not something I would build alone."
A slight gesture of his hand.
"It would require gathering engineers, master builders—people already working in shipyards."
His eyes moved to the admirals.
"And above all… institutional support."
Saldanha da Gama leaned back slightly.
Thinking.
Custódio José de Melo continued to study the paper.
With genuine attention—he was no longer as skeptical as before.
On the other side, Deodoro da Fonseca brought a hand to his face and rubbed his forehead lightly.
This was more than he had expected to find in that room.
Much more.
Because this was not just an idea—it was a possibility. Augusto was right. The boy was far too capable to invent a lie that could be easily exposed. And as Augusto had said, they were wagering their family. This ship was a real possibility…
And possibilities changed scenarios.
And those two old men won't calm down, he thought. No one has brought something like this to the table before—but now that it has been proposed… even if it's rejected today, the Navy will soon begin pushing for armored ships. Even if we can't produce them, we will at least have to buy them.
Colonel Artur Vale no longer seemed tense.
His gaze now carried something close to respect.
He didn't understand all the details.
But he understood impact.
Álvaro Bittencourt, on the other hand, remained silent.
But for a completely different reason.
He didn't master the subject like the admirals—and he didn't need to.
He knew how to read people.
And he knew how to recognize value when he saw it.
And at that moment…
it wasn't the project that impressed him.
It was the reaction.
Two admirals paying close attention.
And a president clearly unsettled by something—yet none of them had dismissed the idea.
That was more than enough.
His mind was already racing, evaluating the consequences.
If this were tied to his name…
If he were the intermediary…
If he were the political figure behind it…
The possibilities were enormous.
Luis observed all of this.
Without hurry.
Without interrupting.
He let each of them reach their own conclusions.
Only then did he speak again:
"I am not offering just a project."
A pause.
"I am offering a direction."
His eyes stopped on Álvaro.
"Something that can be defended."
"Promoted."
"And turned into real political results."
A heavy silence followed.
But not a negative one.
This time… there were too many interests involved.
Luis then stepped back.
Partially closed the folder.
"This is the second."
A faint smile appeared.
"One remains."
And in that moment…
no one in the room doubted it would matter.