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THE PARAGON

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Randall found himself agitated as his carriage rolled along the worn cobbles of Boston, the rhythmic clatter a steady drumbeat to his mounting irritation. Gabrielle sat across from him, oblivious to his frustration as she chatted animatedly about the newly acquired dinosaurs. He tuned her out and tried to focus on the passing scenery, but his brow was etched with worry lines—too stressed with the recent problems arising from every side. At that moment, the streets seemed more a gauntlet than a thoroughfare.

Eventually, the auction house loomed into view, a grandiose neoclassical creation that practically oozed affluence. It stood tall and proud, a monument to its owners' opulence, boasting multiple stories of gleaming marble columns, doors hewn from the finest oak, and stonework so ornate it winked at its guests.

As their carriage glided to a stop, Randall couldn't help but grimace at the sheer audacity of flaunting wealth.

The air hummed with anticipation, a mingling of eagerness and avarice that seeped from the very pores of the well-heeled patrons who bustled around the entrance, their eyes gleaming with the promise of acquisitions yet to come. Businessmen, with pocketbooks poised and aspirations high, surveyed the scene like predators sizing up potential prey. Their every step was practically a monetary calculation in motion.

It was an extravagant display of excess that could only occur in a world where money spoke louder than sense.

Smoothing his waistcoat, he offered his arm and led Gabrielle inside, steeling himself for the conversation to come. Jeremy Shaw would have some explaining to do about this "gift" of dinosaurs, and Randall meant to get to the bottom of whatever game the man was playing at. For now, the both of them observed the proceedings in scrutiny, though his focus remained fixed on the doors, waiting for Shaw to make his entrance.

Out of the corner of his peripherals, he saw Gabrielle fidgeting impatiently beside him. Suppressing a sigh, he turned to her.

"Must we truly sit through this whole affair?" She asked, her normally cheerful tone taking on an edge of annoyance.

"Patience. Shaw will show in due time. He specifically stated he is available for this event. In the meantime, we must keep up appearances. Idle chatter and show of fortune are essential to business as any contract. You'd do well to observe how these things are done and you may yet learn something of value. Now, smile and look pleased, if you can manage it."

Gabrielle sighed but complied, her vibrant energy momentarily reined in by the chains of societal expectation. Randall understood her restlessness—these frivolous displays of wealth held little interest for him as well. He hoped fervently that this encounter would be brief, sparing them both the tedium of prolonged pleasantries. Yet he knew well that in this delicate dance of inquiry, the twin virtues of forbearance and formality would serve them well.

Randall surveyed the array of dinosaurs, his features a mask of discerning scrutiny. Each creature was on display; an exotic menagerie caged and chained. The beasts squawked, roared, and bellowed, adding their own unique timbre to the raucous symphony of the market. Their scales gleamed in the chandelier light, feathers rustled in coarse vexation.

"Their stock appears to be in good shape, although I have my doubts about the breeder's competence. See how that Dilophosaurus favours its right hind leg? Old injury not tended properly, I'd wager. And the young Ankylosaurus bears scars on its flank—suggestive of mistreatment while rearing." He mused aloud to Gabrielle, he turned to gauge her reaction.

While she hid it well, he knew the assessment would bring her little pleasure. Her lips pressed into a disapproving line.

Randall allowed himself a rare smile, hoping to engage her lively intellect, if not her enthusiasm for the proceedings. He added, "A lady's eye may notice details a man overlooks. What do you observe?"

Gabrielle frowned. "Their patterns and colours are certainly well-bred. But to keep such proud creatures in poor condition and sell them for their coat... The gall."

"I am aware that for most breeders, appearance and profit take precedence over welfare. We strive to do better, but business is ultimately business."

"I know your methods must turn a profit, Randall, but couldn't they find some humane middle ground? If they could stuff themselves like pigs and powder their cheeks ghostly, surely they could allow some slim sense to do the same for these creatures."

"Careful. Your passions will invite trouble if voiced so openly here." When she huffed in frustration, he softened his tone. "We must maintain our reputation with a steady hand. Your heart is what gives our work meaning, but I warn you that I expect no interruptions during our discussion with Shaw."

"Why, fear I would berate him?"

"I encourage you to be outspoken, of course. Though, I prefer that you keep your thoughts to yourself for today rather than share them with someone like him."

"I suppose I may pay attention to that. Tanner had told me of how Jeremy had cheated him out of his money."

"Did he?" Randall nearly smiled in amusement, but the mention only served him as a reminder to remain cautious.

From the corner of his eye, Randall saw Gabrielle's expression changed as she gazed past him towards the entry. He swivelled on his heel to catch sight of Jeremy Shaw, striding into the hall with all a peacock's confidence. As Shaw exchanged greetings with acquaintances, Randall couldn't help but wonder if the man's strut was more for his own benefit than anyone else's. There was a dangerous magnetic air surrounding him that even Randall was afraid to step into.

Catching Shaw's eye across the room, Randall tilted his head in greeting, a practised politeness hiding the irritation below. Shaw excused himself from his compatriots and made his way over, all polished smiles.

"Mr. Thompson, delightful as always. And the lovely Miss Hopewell. I trust you've both been enjoying the festivities?" Shaw greeted them warmly, kissing the back of Gabrielle's hand in a flourish before giving a good shake for Randall.

"Quite much." Gabrielle replied with a well-trained feign of smile and tone.

Randall, however, made no effort to hide his distaste. "Let us dispense with this idle chatter, Mr. Shaw. We have matters of business to discuss regarding your recent 'gift'. Shall we find a private word?"

Shaw's smile remained affixed, though his eyes betrayed amusement at Randall's terse manner. "I see you're in a rush. Very well, let us talk."

Shaw led them to a private lounge area, gesturing for them to sit. His inspecting gaze could never stop themselves from scrutinising the details around him. It was a proper gentrified spot, all deep leather armchairs and mahogany tables, where one could plot world domination over a cup of Earl Grey.

Randall settled stiffly on the edge of a chair, unable to help but notice the ostentatiousness of it all—bit much for a simple discussion, he thought. Gabrielle beside him arranging her skirts. Shaw lounged opposite, the picture of ease.

"Now then, to what do I owe the pleasure? I'd hoped my small token would improve your stock."

Randall straightened. "Small tokens bear implications. As our patron, it strikes me that we have not dealt directly before besides passing cheques. I aim to understand your motives."

"Can't a man make a charitable donation amongst colleagues?"

"Colour me wary of such generosity without cause."

Shaw merely smiled wider. "You wound me with such distrust! I've no designs beyond a spot of friendly competition. What say you to a game of cards, then—we'll settle nerves over a friendly wager or two?"

Beside him, Gabrielle shifted impatiently. "You'll have to forgive my partner, Jeremy. Business dealings leave him little taste for frivolities. Perhaps a straightforward answer might set both our minds at ease?"

Randall shot her a sharp look, but held his tongue. Impertinent though her interruption was, he mentally thanked her to cut to the heart of the matter.

If Shaw took offence to her directness, he did not show it. "Straightforward it is then, for the lady. Miss Hopewell, your accomplishments with the Gallis and Styracos are the talk of the trade. I've simply come to appreciate your potential better than most, and wished to expedite your progress with a gift. Consider it an olive branch towards future collaboration."

Randall said, "Collaboration how, precisely?"

"Why, to advance the bounds of domestication, of course. Consider the potential applications of training superior beasts for war efforts. There's fortune to garner and history to be made! Many are already vying for the opportunity to conduct dinosaur experiments. It's time we do the same."

"Excuse me? Gabrielle narrowed.

Randall held a patient hand to pause her. "Superior beasts?"

"Carnivorous theropods, and the like."

"You oversimplify the nature of these creatures. They remain wild predators devoid of the domestic aptitude of more amenable species."

Gabrielle agreed. "The Gallimimus make for steady mounts for the watchmen thanks to their docility and nimble feet. Should you aim for—let's say, raptors—they thrive on their collective cunning, not human cooperation. I don't see how there should be more than what's already safe and effective."

Shaw replied. "With proper conditioning and controls, any beast can be bred and broken to serve man's designs."

Randall's scowl deepened. "It seems we differ in our understanding of what constitutes cruelty to God's creatures. I have no desire to subjugate nature through force when harmony can be cultivated through ethical practices. Our goal is to empower mankind through merit, not shows of dominance."

Shaw's smile tightened slightly at the rebuke. "You paint me as some brutal slavedriver. Where does your morality stand with the hadrosaurs that pull our carriages? The Centrosaurus' ploughing your fields without pay or vacation, helpless before any whip or spur? Even the natives have already made use of Pachies (Pachycephalosaurus) to safeguard their land. A few scars mean little to creatures that dedicate their lives to man's service. These dinosaurs depend utterly on humans for survival. We could shoot them all and make this a man's world when we wanted. Oh, that's right! We did."

"That campaign should never have been launched. It has had a detrimental impact on both our business and land."

"Colonisation efforts, friend. From what I heard, the Americans shot all the bison as well to flush out the indigenous. I don't see why we shouldn't take this for our advantage."

"The nerve of you!" Gabrielle shot up, and Randall had to pull her back before she could shoot him with words.

Randall fell silent as Shaw's words turned over in his mind. Unpleasant though the man's methods were, progress did require pushing ever forward. And it was his duty above all else to provide for Gabrielle and secure their future success, even at some cost.

He turned to her now with a reserved expression. "My dear, would you mind waiting for me in the main hall? I believe Mr. Shaw and I have more to discuss in private."

Gabrielle blinked in surprise. "Randall-"

"Please, Gabrielle."

Her objections would not aid his deliberations. After a moment, her shoulders sagged in resignation, and she rose, shooting Shaw a distrustful look. But it hurt the most when her displeasure was also directed upon Randall.

Once she had gone, Randall turned back to his patron. "You raise controversial arguments, Shaw."

"I am right, aren't I not? It's thanks to their folly that we made more profits than anticipated. The Native Americans will support our endeavours, and in return we provide protection. It's a mutually beneficial arrangement, especially when the Americans decide to wage campaigns—we got to make use of those Styracos instead of 'freeing' them.

"You both are deserving of success in the dinosaur business. Miss Hopewell's brilliance in dinosaurs and your entrepreneurial expertise are a formidable combination. I recall a conversation we had many years ago—that you'd rather choke on greatness than nibble on mediocrity. Yet, here you are, hesitant to swallow."

"Only because there is much to chew. My principles cannot deny the tangible benefits of cooperation, unpalatable though the means. However, there is cooperation, and then there is cruelty. Herbivores, like hadrosaurs, have coevolved alongside humankind for generations. Their placid nature makes them suited for labour. But carnivores? They are dangerous hunters, not beasts of burden."

Shaw shook his head. "Man once thought the same of wolves. With understanding comes mastery, not fear. Imagine the good we might do by applying such instincts strategically, for Britain and her interests abroad. We profited well from providing the means necessary. Thanks to your partner's trained breed of Styracos, indigenous lands were trampled by the very beasts they worship. Her Gallis, speedy cavalry. I wonder if she knows what happens to her produce after you 'free' them."

"There is no need for her to know. Despite her innocence, she is unaware of her military contributions. The only thing preventing us from securing her full support is the truth."

"Now that's the Randall Thompson I know. Whatever it is you've done to keep her in your walls, you've done exceptionally."

"The fact remains that they were trained herbivores. The law is clear: No flesh-eating dinosaur may be kept without strict permits, let alone service aid in war efforts. Your scheme threatens to undermine years of delicate relations between man and beast, as well as nations. The herbivores are enough."

It was then that Jeremy Shaw leaned forward with impatient fists. "Outlaws in the Americas have long employed raptors to their advantage, whether you approve or not. The ancient civilizations knew not to shy from opportunity due to narrow sensibilities. History tells of Romans training mounts to flank their enemies with feathered theropods. Even the dynasties of old China were said to command crested cavalry into battle. Do not pretend this idea lacks all precedent. Those people understood dinosaurs in a way prudish policymakers do not. It will only be a matter of time before bigger enemies do the same.

"Progress stems from rebelling against antiquated rules. Obedience-trained carnivores could serve well as scouts, guards, even loyal steeds in harsh terrain. Their intelligence and ferocity, harnessed for good under careful training.

"I merely propose pushing forward where others have trodden before. Such creatures will be revolutionaries, not slaves. Think of the advantages for our nation—turning the tide in colonial skirmishes."

Randall felt his anger rising but refused to let it best him. He took a measured breath before saying. "Citing ancient times as justification means little, Shaw. Those civilizations made many mistakes we've since learned from. And outlaws acting without conscience are no guideline for ethical conduct. There are better ways to serve our country than reckless gambles with beasts not meant to be battle mounts. Your proposals ignore both man's relationship with dinosaurs and Britain's treaty with the natives. The casualties alone are enough to stress about should this get out of hand."

Jeremy smirked. "Always the paragon, however two-faced. A few signatures, and land could be ours to transform. But I did not summon you to quarrel endlessly. Shall we instead discuss how your investments might fund projects with... Shall we say, broader applications? An invitation to dinner, that is if you'd rather starve."

Randall pursed his lips, eyeing Shaw coolly. As much as he disagreed with the man's methods, he could not deny Jeremy Shaw's contributions to the field of dinosaur business over the years, nor his influence. His hands were bound to him. His hesitancy was evident, weighing his options. As much as he hated to concede ground, there were opportunities here as well for oversight and damage control.

"You tread a fine line, Shaw. My conscience will not abide direct support for militarization schemes. However, if a portion of funding could be steered towards your other, more ethical projects, I may look the other way on private ventures for now. On the condition that civilian and indigenous safety remain the top priority in all future tests. One misstep and our arrangement is void. I trust I have made myself clear?"

"Perfectly, my friend. Ever the diplomat." He extended a hand to shake on the agreement. "You will not regret this, I assure you. Progress demands bold strides as well as small steps, and together I believe we can achieve both."

Randall grasped the proffered hand firmly, though unease still gnawed at him. Shaw's silver tongue had again swayed where perhaps it ought not. Only time would tell if he had just made a grave error in judgement.

"That's the spirit, Thompson. I knew an open mind like yours would see reason." Reaching into his pocket, he produced a slip of paper. "My estate next Saturday. We'll hash out a gentlemens' agreement over dinner. Until then."

Business was business, and here lay opportunity, however tainted the source. Fortunes were made by seizing chances, not declining them. Time would tell if this Mr. Shaw proved more schemer than visionary. Partnering with Shaw carried both promise and peril—the man was clearly ambitious, though his aims remained opaque. Still, there were fortunes to be made by pushing boundaries, as he said.

With Shaw's resources and connections, their enterprise could flourish in new ways. But Randall would have to tread carefully not to become beholden. At the first sign of underhanded dealings, their alliance would end.