Edward Gallium was standing upright, talking to a very small, very old, very rich man who was having some issues figuring out what do with his money when he died. The man had no heirs, no living friends, and a very strong sense of altruism. Naturally, instead of using any of his resources to act out that last quality, he would hire someone else to do it. And just to make sure he wouldn't get swindled, he brought along two fine mercenaries, who were each a head shorter than Ed.
"Now, then, my Lord, I'm sure I could arrange a special Corps of men to promote good deeds and other fine, upstanding acts that would surely be fit of your name."
The man smiled, and Ed smiled. Ed then saw two underlings coming in, hoping they would be competent.
"These Corps would of course be funded by the remains of your estate, and if you wish you yourself could review and appoint staff to oversee them."
The man nodded, but was quick to see the issue of finite funds fueling what should be a perpetual effort, and asked a question that Ed was waiting for. At that moment, the second grunt decided to kick the second one forward, which to Edward dispelled any small hope he had. He made a small and subtle hand gesture that, among other things, signaled them to move into his office and stay quiet.
"Ahh, yes. It is a shame that coffers have limits. Fortunately, since we are a trading company, you can put in the Charter of your Corps - yes we will draw a charter for it - a clause specifying a percentage of your estate to be put into company stock, which will grow and gain profit as our company does. And to remind you, the Company operates wherever trade flows, and it flows strong over the continent."
The geezer had fallen, hook, line and sinker. Ed's hand, however, had not changed its pose since he had finished the previous gesture, having the effect of making the buckets float freely towards his office, independent of the two who followed quickly and without incident. No one else but Ed noticed this, as he had the attention of the client and his guards.
"So, do we have a deal?"
The man replied enthusiastically, wanting to get any documents done right away. Ed was more than happy to oblige, pulling over a small table as the buckets made their way across the room.
"You want the charter done now? Are you sure?"
The man answered in the affirmative, and Ed pulled out an ink pot and a quill. He had some papers out already, began writing out some legal necessities stating surrender and control of assets, and then began playing with the calculator thing on his belt for a few seconds, causing him to click and whir and ding, and gave him some numbers in a little ticker that was in his coat collar. The man was awestruck by the display of efficiency, and signed and sealed the paper. Edward drew up another one, and another, repeating the process several times over.
The very last paper was altogether different, as it was written in an ink (?) from one of the vials on his belt, and it had to be signed in blood. The man thought nothing of it, and Ed maintained professionalism, even though he had effectively stolen the man's fortune, which was now in the trust and control of the Most Honorable Big Trio Trading Company.
Edward wished the man a safe trip back to wherever the hell his (Ed's) residence was, and sent him off with a hydra-skin coat he had for wealthy (stupid) customers.
Having done his business, he went into the office.
Edward greeted the men, told them politely not to disturb him when he was doing business, and caused a large cauldron to rise from behind his desk and place itself in front of him. He took one bucket, and in a display of his often underestimated physical strength, dumped an excessive amount of water into the cauldron, more than the bucket should have held. Edward took a few vials and dumped the contents into the water, running his finger along the edge.
Slowly, the water began to disappear. Not evaporate, not leak. Just disappear. After a few minutes, only a white, dry residue was left at the bottom.
Edward dumped it out, testing it with the contents of yet another vial he had, and determined it to be a potassium salt. Just to be scientific about it, he extracted the potassium salt from the rest of the buckets, leaving no water behind. He hmm'd and paced about the room, looking at his hired hands, who had stood there quietly just in case their boss would decide to kill them (as they had seen him done before).
"Gentlemen, the experiment, while not a complete success, is progress in the right direction."
The statement, however cryptic to them, was deemed necessary by Edward who felt such an occasion should have some grand statement after it.
