Et tu, Brute? Ⅵ

The two of them floo into the enormous carven that held large intricately carved, stone columns that rise from the floor to connect to the ceiling. Seated on the silver benches all nonchalantly chatting are the goblin Elders, Clan Heads, and Council Members. Ragnok is astonished to see that all of them remain unharmed. "How is this possible?" He gawked.

As if reading his mind, the elderly Wulm rises from one of the benches. "You're late," she spat out impatiently.

"In our defense, we were ambushed," Grok Gringotts grimly responded as bursts of aghast whispers fill the chamber.

"Why am I not surprised," Wulm grumbled. "How many dead?" She asked as the entire council fell silent as every goblin craned their point ear to listen in.

"All except three of my guards and two Aurors," Grok Gringotts solemnly answered.

A low moan escapes from several Elders, who fall onto their knees in shock. Their grandsons had been among those serving as part of the Goblin King's guard. It was a great honor and one that usually was not associated with death. In fact, it was a highly coveted position. And now all their struggles for power had led to the deaths of their grandchildren. Friends quietly step forward to console their grieving acquaintances.

Wulm grimaced, before asking, "The two slain Aurors have they, young children?"

"I do not know, but I have sworn to cover their funerals and provide for their families," Grok Gringotts somberly vowed.

"As it should be," Wulm vehemently murmured. "They were not kin and yet they were more than willing to lay their lives down in our hour of need."

An echoing murmur is heard by many in the crowd. Many of the elder goblins were still secretly uneasy about the goblins offering aid in the war against the giants. However, even they could not say that the Aurors had not protected them to the very death. There was honor in their actions, and for that, even the staunchest of goblins would acknowledge and honor their sacrifice.

A dry cough erupts from Grok Gringotts throat. He stubbornly waves off the concerned expressions and turns his eyes towards the throne. His eyes widen at seeing the destroyed floor and the obliterated council seats. The only still-standing object is the silver goblin-crafted throne with delicate carved leaves and trees decorated with tiny gems that seem to sparkle as brightly as the twinkling stars in the heavens. However, the throne is not as bright covered in rust-colored stains.

Grok Gringotts turns his dark eyes back to the floor only to see large dry puddles of rust, and dried blood. "I presume the Brotherhood of Goblins no longer exists."

"That is correct," answered a VERY elderly Goblin with dropping ears, Kostilb. "Wulm destroyed them all with her creation, the Galleon Cannon."

Grok Gringotts arches his brow at the elderly female goblin. "I thought you gave up on crafting the project as it was literally a money guzzler."

"It is," Wulm pointedly sniffed. "However, it is rather effective," she gestured at the crater-littered floor and dried puddles of blood throughout the chamber.

"Most effective," Kostilb interjected. "Bodrig is dead along with the rest of the traitors."

"The corpses?" Grok Gringotts coldly inquired.

"They have been placed in the room of traitors," Kostilb eerily answered. "Their bodies shall be burned, and their names erased from the stone tablet."

The goblins listening wince at the harsh judgment. It was the harshest of judgments that could befall a goblin. Goblins believed that they could only be protected in death by being buried in the mountains of their forefathers. And far worse if their names were ever erased from the tablet of lineage then they would forever be unable to join their kin in the Beyond. They would be exiles, ostracized even in death.

"As it should be," Grok Gringotts icily approved. "Kostilb return to Gringotts. You have a free hand to manage the captured traitors as you will."

A terrifying grin spread across the elderly goblin with dropping ears face caused goose-pimples to spread across the flesh of the goblins. "It shall be done as thy excellency commands it," Kostilb bowed in sincere gratitude. "Might I make one small request?"

"You may."

"Might I bring my grandson, my King? He has much to learn about the finer arts of interrogation."

"Go," Grok Gringotts dismissed the VERY elderly goblin who with a rather springy step left with his grandson in tow, who was already an elder…. Then again Kostilb was nearly the oldest goblin alive… In fourth place as Kostilb liked to say and rapidly ascending the ranks to first!

Grok Gringotts gravely returned to eye the blood-stained throne. "Oir, Ranlaff, Umall, come," he called out to his three still-living sons. He once had five sons and a single daughter. Yet three of his children had passed before him. It was a tragedy; he would never wish it upon anyone.

His first-born, Oir, an arrogant goblin with a unibrow proudly steps forward followed by his fourth-born son, Umall, a greedy-eyed goblin with an overbite. The last two sons of Grok Gringotts come to a stand before him. Oir feigns confidence, while Umall's eyes dart all around. They had been among the crowd furious at their brother, Ranlaff claiming the throne. But by the end of it, they had been struck with horror at seeing their brother slain before their eyes.

Seeing his second son missing, Grok Gringotts glances at the blood-stained throne and sighs in old pain. "Oh, my foolish, greedy son." His eyes are half-closed for a moment, before growing sharp. "I suppose that the two of you also desire the throne, no?"

Umall greedily eyes the throne, before glancing down at the rust-colored blood stains. He loudly swallows and shakes his head. "I'd rather live to a ripe old age, Father."

Grok Gringotts merely grunts before eyeing his eldest son. "It is typical for the firstborn to inherit the throne," Oir argued for old times' sake.

"It is," Grok Gringotts plainly answered. "However, it is also tradition for the Goblin King to understand finances, a skill which you utterly lack, Oir."

Oir flushes in humiliation and clenches his hands into a fist. "Tradition dictates that a male heir must inherit the throne only Umall and I are left!"

"Yet no male heir has been born to either of you only daughters," Grok Gringotts mercilessly pointed out to the embarrassment of his two sons.

Oir opens and closes his mouth shut in a grimace while Umall shrugs. Having daughters did not bother Umall as much. His daughters were quite excellent at finance and had married well. Unlike Oir, whose daughters who spent galleons like water just as their father did.

"Then might I make a suggestion before the council and all," Wulm carefully said. "If the two remaining male lines of the male heirs are considered unfit, then let us consider the line of the daughter, Frisa mother of Ragnok."

The council is full of mutters as a wispy Clan Head named Korrok thoughtfully strokes his beard. "The Third born and Fifth born perished without any children and the actions of Ranlaff have effectively rendered his descendants ineligible from the throne. In that case, the only male heir remaining is Ragnok son of Frisa daughter of Grok Gringotts, King of the Goblins."

Ragnok looks rather shocked at the suggestion but feels his grandfather squeeze him on the arm. Despite his confusion, Ragnok calms himself. Regardless of what tonight brought he would not lose his composure again before the council and bring shame to his grandfather.