Native Wit was an odd duck of a beast. Shimmering as a sea of rubies in moonlight, incandescent radiance wafted off it in waves. Organizing the masses according to their skills and needs, this Native Wit taught the people their skills and trades: you watch in astonishment that the people before you whom you had assumed to be already skilled, were but empty vessels. Like Easter Eggs decorated but without an interior, people in their predetermined roles came to Native Wit, only to be told what was expected of them. In truth, it reminded you of recording on to a blank memory disc.
The king was busy with himself, no doubt. All manner of sort came to the king after they had seen Native Wit. But this conversation was too long gone to stay for very long.