Goblin Treatise Clause

The elderly goblin, Nurnaff quickly made his way down the corridor to the lift. The lift moved far too slowly for his liking, before hurrying out and past the golden gates. The nightguard, Eric Munch is dozing at his post barely noticing Nurnaff hurry towards the floo hearths. Tossing sparkling floo powder into the flames, he shouts, "Summoning of the Emergency Council," before vanishing away.

While Nurnaff travels through whirling green flames, silver goblin forged talismans had been burning brightly summoning goblin elders and clan leaders for the emergency meeting. Before Nurnaff had even arrived, goblin men and women had already abandoned festivities and hurriedly rushed away through the floo fireplace to heed the urgent summons. The goblins appeared in a great stone hall filled with countless stone benches. At the forefront of the circular chamber sit 12 council chairs, six reside on either side of a great, silver goblin forged throne peppered by countless glittering diamond gems.

The goblin elders and clan leaders whisper in hushed voices as they take a seat in the great stone hall. Some whisper that it is another goblin killing, while others wonder what terrible news shall be announced this time around. A few goblins simply study the intricately carved large, stone columns that rise from the floor to connect to the ceiling. While a few turn their attention to the silver goblin-crafted throne that has delicate leaves and trees carved into the silver with tiny gems that seem to sparkle as brightly as the twinkling stars in the heavens.

Quickly the whispering voices fall silent as the twelve goblin council members enter the stone hall. Despite the late hour, all twelve members wear neat, silver embroidered robes as they each take their seat before them. The stone hall is utterly silent before them as the clang of spears can be heard announcing the presence of the goblin king. The goblins bow their heads from their seats as an old goblin with sharp eyes stomps forward.

A few of the older goblins shiver and tug their warm robes around them at the chill. The stone chamber abruptly becomes silent, before every goblin rises and bows before the King of the Goblins, Grok Gringotts. The 12 elderly goblin councilmembers follow directly behind them, before coming to a halt before each of their seats. Grok Gringotts is the first to take a seat and is followed by the rustling sound of clothing as the councilmembers and the rest of those present take their seats.

Grok hides a knowing smile and instead coolly says, "Stand before your King, Nurnaff, intermediary of the goblins and representative amongst wizards. Why have your summoned us on this night of recollections?"

Nurnaff bows deeply before their King with great gravity. "Eminence, I come before you with urgent news," he solemnly said. "The wizards are under attack from giants!"

Shock-filled gasps of alarm fill the large cavern causing Grok to frown. "SILENCE!" The chamber falls into a tense silence as he gestures for the elderly goblin to continue to speak. "Go on, complete your report, intermediary."

"Yes, your excellency," Nurnaff sincerely answered. "Auror Scrimgeour has requested the aid of goblin kind should the giants attack Diagon Alley. He requests a temporary alliance before our enemies as promised within the forgotten clause of the treatise between our people."

Another burst of shocked whispers fills the air, but Grok does nothing to stop those present. He hides a smile, before lazily waving his hand in the air to silence the crowd. Most do not notice the relaxed air about the Goblin King except for a few like the elderly councilmember Wulm.

Wulm carefully studies the much younger goblin before pensively narrowing her dark gleaming eyes. It would seem that the brat had finally learned to hold his cards to his chest. Good, this would prove to be an ample opportunity for them.

Grok and Wulm's eyes meet in understanding before he gestures for the elderly female goblin master crafter to speak. Wulm's pointed ears twitch as if in excitement but managed to contain herself. "I say, Aye, your majesty," she firmly said. "We stand to lose nothing but have everything to gain should the wizards require our aid. It will not only permit us the open use of force but the Ministry of Magic will be forced to give us certain allowances. After all, they will be in our debt and we will undoubtedly collect with interest."

"My thoughts as well, Councilmember Wulm," Grok smoothly said.

Before Grok can continue to speak further a loud shout is heard from the crowd. "This is simply outrageous, your Eminence!" The crowd's heads whirl around to see the figure of Bodrig, spokesmen of the Brotherhood of Goblins on his feet. (A brotherhood of goblins not for violence but rather against it. However, they most certainly approved when a Goblin committed such a feat!)

The indignant Bodrig hid his surprise and shock at hearing that the news. He simply couldn't allow for the relations between goblins and wizardkind to improve. His future plans hinged upon the tensions that existed between the two groups.

"Pardon for my speaking out, my King. Let the wizards take care of their own! We have suffered already enough at their hands and much more at the hand of the goblins. There is no need for the blood of our kind to be spilled on behalf of the wizards,' Bodrig sneered.

"You need not concern yourself, Bodrig," Grok replied with a cold thin smile. "We have already contracted sub-contractors on our behalf to perform the difficult task in association with us."

"Sub-contractors?" Bodrig sputtered in shock. "Surely, you jest your excellency. At this hour, it would be nigh impossible!"

"I would never say such lighthearted words not even in jest, Bodrig," Grok icily stared down his pointed nose at the suave goblin with a neatly pointed beard.

Bodrig lips pressed into a painful thin line, before changing tactics. "Even if his majesty intentions are merciful, it is the goblin nation who will bear the cost and brunt of financing sub-contractors. Why is that the goblin nation must even use our hard-earned galleons to protect our people?!" A chorus of similar sentiment murmur's sweep through the chamber, before fading away at the cool gaze of the Goblin King.

"Ordinarily, I would agree with your words, Bodrig," Grok slowly said causing the younger goblin to stare cautiously at the elderly Goblin King. "However, there is a rather generous donor willing to finance the entire operations. We should be most grateful to them since they did so out of their own free will despite knowing full well that they will not be repaid not even a single galleon back."

"A donor?" Bodrig scoffed in disbelief. "Who could possibly be able to afford to be so generous under such a time constraint, your excellency?"

The crowd expectantly turns to gaze at the Goblin King with eyes full of disbelief. They did not believe their King would lie, but certainly, no goblin would ever freely bestow such funds for such an obscure occasion. It was absolutely preposterous!

Grok's face grows steely and solemn. "Bodrig, I have warned you thrice, and I will not warn you again." His lips curl with a deadly iciness. "The donor wishes to remain anonymous, but I can assure the funds have already been used per the donor's instructions."

"And besides, I would have thought you would be the most excited with the news Bodrig as this will permit us to openly bargain with the Ministry of Magic as we will have the upper hand. It is rather disappointing to see your reactions, Bodrig," Grok lied in false lament. "I expected much more of the spokesmen of the Brotherhood of Goblins."

Bodrig's face begins to burn in humiliation, while a large burlier goblin sitting next to him, Radnok, the pigeon-toed an active member of the Brotherhood of Goblins narrows his beady eyes at the goblin king. With his face burning, Bodrig grits his teeth together and bows. "My apologies, my King, I have overstepped myself," he lied in a clear voice. He stiffly bowed to the goblin king, before silently taking his seat.

Grok nods his head as though in understanding hiding a cold bloodthirsty gleam in his eyes. He would entrap Bodrig in his own trap and watch him die. Now wasn't the time to kill Bodrig, he still needed him.

Turning to face the elders, Grok asks, "What say ye, Council?"

"Aye," Wulm firmly said followed by a course of "Aye's," from the rest of the Council.

"The Council has spoken, so mote be," Grok announced, before turning towards the elderly goblin. "Go quickly, Nurnaff, and promptly deliver our reply."

"I am honored to do so, your majesty," Nurnaff bowed so low that this rather pointed nose nearly touched the floor, before hurrying away to deliver the reply to Auror Scrimgeour.

"You are dismissed," Grok loudly announced as he rises to his feet before the Council begins to follow in turn. Soft whispers echo throughout the chamber but do not grow louder until the Council and the Goblin King have departed from the stone hall with their entourage of goblin spear-wielding warriors.

The conversations echo loudly as Bodrig forces his hands to relax having left deep raw red grooves in the palms of his hands. "Fool," Bodrig spat in rage. He would ensure the downfall of the Goblin King if it was the last thing he did. He would repay this humiliation thrice over!

The larger burlier goblin, Radnok, the pigeon-toed viciously cracks his knuckles. "Is it time?"

"Not yet, but soon, Radnok," Bodrig vehemently promised his friend. "The time is nearly at hand."

"Good," Radnok said with a vicious malicious-filled smile. Their like-minded brothers excitedly share glances feeling as though they are nearly a step away from successfully overthrowing the Goblin King. Soon, they would be the ones in power, and all would bow before them! They would assure in the dawn of the greatest Goblin Empire the magical world had ever seen!