I decided the best approach was to appeal to his pride. As I pondered how best to state my case, I caught ahold of a spiderweb of an idea.
“You asked if I was from the Canterlot Artificer’s Guild,” I said slowly.
He looked up sharply. “So?”
“So you know them. Probably worked with them, lived there, given your accent.” I kept my eyes on him, studying his face for a reaction, but he remained silent. “Then why are you here, in the middle of nowhere? What exactly are you doing? Something they wouldn’t approve--”
“They’re all shortsighted fools,” he barked out. “Standing in the way of progress and common sense both, because they won’t recognize the importance of my work.”
“What if that could be changed?” I mused. He let out a huff of bitter laughter, but I could see the interest in his eyes. “Madame Fog certainly has connections to the Guild, as well as broader academia. What if she were able to arrange to have your work published, somewhere where everypony would see?”
“Hm,” he said. “I’m listening.”