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…and so, from the development of the Bates Steam Engine, a myriad of technological disciplines have come to the fore. I, myself, am a Fellow in the School of Engineering. Willoughsby cleared his throat. "Honorary, of course." Perriman sat dumbly, contemplating all he had heard. Technology! The half-heard whispers and rumors about the nature of this thing were correct on some counts, wildly inaccurate on others. These colleges…no, these sciences…took advantage of the forces in the natural world, worked with them to gain a desired result. And magick, its older and manipulative cousin, twisted nature to its will, subverting the solidity of physical law. It was no wonder that magick and technology reacted so violently to one another; they were working toward opposite ends. He was quiet for a while longer, and then turned to the old gnome. "Please forgive my silence, Mr. Willoughsby. Your dissertation was clear and well-received. You must understand…these things are very new to me…" Willoughsby smiled, gently. "Strange. The letter I received from Tulla said I should expect 'an emissary of high degree and broad experience.' Tell me, Mr. Smythe, had you ever spent a day outside Tullan walls before yesterday?" Perriman looked into the gnome's eyes, weighing the sentiment he saw there. Master Simeon had briefed him on contingencies for this very circumstance, emphasizing the need for discernment and discretion. His role here was to be an observer, unbiased. But the responsibilities of being a mage also encompassed intuition, creativity and wisdom. A mage must know when and how to choose his allies. 
"You are quite correct, sir. My 'broad experience' in these matters is comprised only of the hours I spent in Tarant before meeting you at the Station, and the time I have spent as an invalid in your bed." Perriman felt immediately foolish. "But I have recently been raised to full mage, and I'm well-versed in diplomacy and social policy, and you can be assured that…" The gnome laid a hand upon the mage's chest. "Easy, young Perriman. Your skills and credentials are not in question, here. I believe in the wisdom of the Tullan elders…they would not have sent you unless they felt you eminently qualified." Perriman smiled, thankfully. "I value your confidence, Mr. Willoughsby. Perhaps now is the time to speak of our business. You had requested the audience of a Tullan representative, and such a request from an individual of your standing does not go unnoticed. I am here. How can I be of service?" Willoughsby arose from his chair, and walked to the foot of the bed. "I'll be as direct and forthcoming as possible. A man such as myself is privy to all sorts of information, and you don't rise to a position such as mine without being able to sift through it, to decide what is irrelevant and what is important. It is my fervent belief that success in industry is based solely upon the refinement of this ability." Perriman smiled. The physical differences between Master Simeon and Edward Willougshby couldn't be more apparent, but their words seemed cut from the same stone. He wasn't sure, but he assumed there was a direct correlation between one's age and one's ability to make polite conversation sound like a classroom lecture. Willoughsby continued on. 
"…the exact nature of my current
business operations is hard to define, Mr. Smythe. The key to continued financial profitability is
diversity. I have significant investments in multiple business operations, both in Tarant and abroad.
This was not always the case. I cut my teeth, so to speak, as a dealer in arms and ammunition, with
smaller manufacturing facilities for various types of armor."
Willoughsby returned to his seat. "You see, Mr. Smythe, it came to my attention not long ago that a certain unknown party had made a considerable arms purchase. Considerable enough to alarm those both within and outside of the business. The volume of this particular order was of the magnitude usually reserved for small wars, so you can see why there were concerned parties on both sides…"
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Continue the adventure . . . |