Summoning Neragon

10. Memesa/February and Its End

"History is not written by the victors, but by those with money."

—Rodrigo Torres, As quoted in "The Generations of Paqueon Literature" directed Joel Bevan, distributed by the Correo Hidalgo (1989)

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15:31 WT, 14th of February, 1639 (14th of Memesa, 1995)

CEO's Office, Hlûtewell Complex, Venburg District, Oxburg, Notland, Aialand, Neragon

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Angus Blair stared at the e-mail displayed on his computer. The timestamp at the corner of the screen stood at 3:31 PM, reminding him of the march of time which did not care for the slow death of the conglomerate.

When the displacement had occurred, Hlûtewell had been effectively cut off from its assets and revenues from abroad. Of the corporation's 68 subsidiaries (excluding joint ventures), only 24 remained operational, 7 of which were barely keeping afloat.

Angus would not be surprised if he is destined to be remembered as the last CEO to ever grace the helm of the once-mighty tech giant.

He sighed and stood up from his leather desk chair, picking up his mug of stale coffee from the coaster beside his computer.

He peered out of the expansive window that overlooked the sprawling Oxburg cityscape. The afternoon sun submerging the white-and-orange apartment blocks below in a harsh pale.

Angus took a sip of the tepid coffee before realising it was almost empty. He frowned momentarily before deciding he had to refill his mug. He never liked having a personal coffee machine – unlike his predecessor, preferring to get it from the break room a few doors down the hallway outside where he could interact with his employees more casually.

His mind made up, Angus made to leave his office and was just in front of his dark wooden door before a knock interrupted his thoughts. He paused, quashing his irritation at the interruption and stepped back from the door. "Come in," he said with an invisible sigh.

The door creaked open, revealing his assistant, Jennifer peeking her head inside. "Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Blair,'' the blonde woman said quickly. "There's someone from the government here to see you."

Angus straightened up. "Ah? Thank you. Please show him in."

Jennifer nodded and stepped back out of the doorway. Angus walked back to his desk, smoothing out his suit jacket as he waited for his visitor.

A few moments later, Jennifer reappeared, followed by a tall, ageing man built like a crane.

The man's expression brightened when he saw Angus, and he extended his hand in greeting once he arrived in front of Angus's desk. "Chairman Blair, pleasure to meet you. Thomas Harding, Ministry of Commerce." He said in a baritone voice that did not quite match his frame. Angus had expected a more high-pitched voice.

Angus stood up and shook Harding's hand firmly. "Mr. Harding, the pleasure is mine – please have a seat." He gestured to the slender chair across from his desk.

Harding took a seat and did not waste time launching into the purpose of his visit. "Chairman Blair, I'm here to discuss the government's new initiative to expand our technology into the new world."

Angus's interest was piqued, he clasped his hands together, almost leaning forward in excitement. "Go on, Mr. Harding. I'm listening."

Harding nodded. "Well, I'm sure you know what'as been happening recently. Negotiations with Arem and the upcoming one with the Milishials or whatever they're called. We wish to engage in technological transfer with these new worlders and we're talking with the Aremics about this." He paused. "We wish for corporations like Hlûtewell to lead the charge of this – expand into a new market and all that."