Meeting of the Minds

[HYWASaint@aol.com]

Here's a short log, but one humorous and interesting enough, of an impromptu 
meeting between Sessil and Marco to discuss the happenings on Arrakis and the 
will of the Emperor to see the most lucrative contract in CHOAM re-evaluated.
____________________________________________________________________


-Sessil-
Sessil Moralin is remarkably well-preserved for his advanced age. His hair 
remains a dark black, greying only slightly at the sides, his muscles still 
taut and strong, his stature tall and straight, and his skin unmarred with 
wrinkles. An almost ageless quality could be attributed to him were it not 
for two small probems. Firstly, his eyes are not those of normal beings. His 
are Tleilaxu eyes: cold, unfeeling orbs of metal. He also bears the typical 
red stains of sapho juice users. He dresses starkly in robes of dark purple, 
kept bound at the waist by an intricate belt which serves mainly to house his 
spice and other life support systems. Small lights blink and every so often a 
beep may be heard as minute and wondrous gadgets monitor every bodily 
function and system status. The reason for this highly expensive treatment is 
evident upon looking at his right hand. For there, upon his index finger, is 
a ring of gold, incised with the seal of the Spacing Guild.

-Marco-
About average height but the body is built solid, and chiseled like a fine 
Greek statue alluding to the strength and agility of a skilled boxer and 
fencer. The lips are formed into a devilish smile under glowing blue with in 
blue eyes of a heavy melange diet. Close inspection of the Romanesque face 
and nose tell the story of grueling boxing matches but overall the face is 
handsome. A mustache and connected goatee are black as night. Hair of the 
same color is cut short and styled smartly. Each ring finger has a single 
platinum banded ruby ring adorning it. A thick, bulky platinum chain hangs 
around the neck. The collar of the long sleeved, black silk shirt is left 
open to give off a casual mood. Same as the shirt that's tucked into it, 
black silk pants hang loosely with a platinum shield belt around the waist. 
Platinum tipped boots made of some unknown white leather catch the eyes as 
they move in a steady gate. Draped over the shoulders is a black cloak that 
is clasped together by a platinum emblem of House Moritani.

Office of the Legate of Kaitain -- Guild Bank (Kaitain)
      This room is bombarded with glaring golden hues, from the floor to the 
ceiling. Even the desk is gilted to the absolute grotesque, accounting 
nothing for taste in the Guild's legate to Kaitain. The walls are comprised 
from floor to ceiling in little gold-painted drawers, row after row of 
apparent filing cabinets. They are unlableled, but each bears a tiny 
rectangular depression. If pressed by the right fingerprint, the drawer 
mechanically extends, revealing its contents, likely full of records and 
costly accounts to keep the Siridari held by their financial cajones. Nothing 
else in way of adornment, but then there is certainly no need for it. A 
single, high-backed chair resides behind the desk, no comfort offered to 
guests who may trod into this chamber, the Legate by all appearances a rather 
inhospitable individual.
Exits:
 Ornate Golden Doors <O> leads to Reception -- Guild Bank (Kaitain)
From afar, Marco nods.

Marco is ushered in by the secretary. He stands quietly and without his 
normal smile.

Sessil is seated behind his desk, the Legate busily poring over a large bound 
financial report which resides splayed across his desktop, the Guildsman's 
attentions distracted as the notable Moritani enters, the only immediate sign 
of acknowledgement the slightest nod of his head, gaze going back to the 
figures which run in seemingly random pattern down the pages, muttering to 
himself softly as he tabulates astronomically large balances.

Marco continues to stand until called for.

Sessil is apparently in no hurry to entertain his guest, several minutes of 
conspicuous silence passing as the Legate continues with his tabulations, not 
so much as looking up in the direction of the appointed governor of Arrakis.

Marco continues to hold his place and his tounge.

Sessil at length closes the weighty binder, folding his hands atop it as he 
looks up to address his guest. "Ah, good evening, Word Mawki," he states 
officiously, apparently lisping for the moment, conspicuously mispronouncing 
the Duke's name notwithstanding.

Marco just looked at you.

Marco nods, "Good evening, as well Legate. I came as soon as you summoned me."
(
Sessil merely stares blankly at his guest. "Well in that case, Lord 
Moritaninininininini, don't let me keep you waiting, hrmm? I trust you have 
heard of the commission appointed by the Emperor to look into the matter of 
the Arrakis contract, a lucrative holding which you yourself have no small 
stake in."

Marco nods, "Yes I have Legate."

Sessil stretches a faint smile. "Good. Then I would like to hear you defend 
how you, as governor, conscienably allowed the fief of Arrakis to have any 
faltering in its profits, however small, during the interrim between the 
reigns of Count Cesare and the apparent new one of this Lord Ass or whatever 
his name is."

Marco says, "I was not governor of the planet during the interrim between 
Count Cesare and na-Count Agon. I have only very recently became gonvernor of 
the planet."

Sessil shrugs his shoulders in a nonchalant, disregarding manner. "Be that as 
it may, the blame rests squarely upon your shoulders, m'lord, as a member of 
House Moritani. The very least you could do is acknowledge your 
responsibility as one of the premiere lords in your enterprising House Major 
for the failings on Arrakis. It is little wonder the Emperor doubts your 
effectiveness in managing the most costly gem in his imperial crown, when you 
shift blame like a coward."

Marco says, "Legate, we have not had any failings. The reason that His 
Majesty put for the Proclamation was to voice his concern over the change in 
leadership of our house. Now we have a stable leadership and the house is 
sound. If any case last time I talked with the mentat of our house our 
production was increasing by thirty-five percent and this was before I was 
even appointed to this position. But we are troubled that the Guild is 
troubled. We wish to ammend this as soon as possible so that the Guild will 
have faith in our abilities once more."

Sessil shakes his head obstinately, cold unfeeling eyes of Tleilaxu metal 
looking blankly at his guest. "You most certainly /have/ failed, Lord Moomoo. 
That you have even drawn such close scrutiny from the Golden Lion Throne 
shows clear enough that you stand precariously close to losing this contract."

Marco says, "How have we failed?"

Sessil snorts in a most demeaning manner, his nostrils flaring in contempt. 
"By the fact that the Emperor has opened even this small measure of doubt 
upon your capabilities. There was no question before, m'lord. Now, there is 
nothing /but/."

Marco says, "Legate, do you speak for the Emperor?"

Sessil chuckles bitterly, wheezing as though he is hyperventilating, but the 
whistle/hacking sound is apparently his attempt at laughter. "I do no such 
thing, Lord Marky, but I /do/ speak for the Spacing Guild, which is handling 
this little investigation here on the Kaitain end."

Marco says, "Legate, you said the Emperor had doubt. From his Proclomation he 
states that he wants to make sure that we are are up to the task at hand. 
Which we are. In the Proclomation, His Majesty even states that we have 
servened in care and that he noted pleasure with our faithful and industrious 
care of Arrakis.""

Sessil shoots a blithe blance at the self-assured Moritani. "It would seem 
you do not recognize diplomacy for what it is, Lord Marfufu. Typical of your 
kind. Blind to realities through those rose-coloured lenses you use, but no 
matter. You will take a message to your self-proclaimed Count for me. Inform 
him that I will require a meeting with him soon. The Emperor will be hearing 
of the progress on Arrakis, or lack thereof, from my own lips personally. It 
would behoove Lord Aggie to avail himself with all haste."

Marco says, "I shall."

Sessil stands from his desk in signal that this audience draws to a close. 
"Then I have finished with you, m'lord. I fully expect you to inform your 
superiors of what has passed between us, and the very uncompromising tone 
which it has taken ... The Spacing Guild is as adamant as the Emperor that 
above all else, the spice must flow. Let House Moritani fall into ruin. Let 
every man, woman, and child who dwells under its auspices die by fire, sword, 
plague, venerial disease, or whatever assorted nastiness have you. When it 
comes down to it, we frankly don't give a tinker's dam so long as /the/ 
/spice/ /flows/."

Marco nods.

Marco has left.

Sessil sighs as the flamboyant Moritani lordling leads and punches a button 
on his desk, announcing to his secretary. "Get me the latest spice reports 
from Arrakis ... Immediately."
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