Gringotts Meeting

The day after the Conclave had been held, Reginald Prince stood by the main fireplace as he glanced at the antique clock on the mantel to tell the time. A quarter till eight the clock read, and he had already eaten breakfast. Soft footsteps caused him to glance up to see his sister in a long red robe with a sash and night slippers embroidered with golden thread. Seeing his sister up at this hour he blinked in surprise as Georgine walked over to him and gave him a quick look over.

Stretching forth her long, slim fingers, Georgine fixes his collar just like his wife, Sirsa used to do. "Brother, you can't do this alone," Georgine matter-of-factly murmured.

"As your sister, I cannot replace or intend to fill the role of Sirsa, but I will do my best to fill in the gaps that I can," Georgine firmly patted her brother's shoulder. "And you will accept my aid, brother because the entire world knows the truth now and we can no longer hide under the guise of anonymity. Even before our pride and honor, it must be set aside, the children must always come first."

Georgine pulled back and nodded her head in satisfaction. "Good, now you're ready to go, brother," Georgine said, before sitting down and joining her brother at the table. "Is everything ready?"

"Grok Gringotts agreed to my request," Reginald solemnly admitted.

Georgine snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. "And as Grok Gringotts rightly should. He failed dismissively in protecting a guest and Rowan almost died because of him!"

"He is vastly aware of the lapse in his security," Reginald drily murmured.

"Have you already had breakfast?" Georgine abruptly changed the subject.

"I did."

"Good, you look as thin as a toothpick as it is."

Reginald chokes as Georgine flashes him an innocent smile. Swallowing down his retort, Reginald instead says, "I shall be back by noon, I would think. Would you like anything?"

"No, but be sure to pick up something for the children. They will need it if your plan is to come into effect," Georgine reminded him.

"I will," Reginald purposefully resolved, before glancing up at the time. "Are you going back to bed again?"

Georgine raises an eyebrow that answers it all, "But of course. Was there ever any doubt?"

Seeing his sister's expression, Reginald sniffs and turns away without a word. Grabbing the floo powder from the silver pot, he tosses the sparkling power into the flames. The green flames roar high overhead as he steps forward and says, "Diagon Alley."

Zooming away, Reginald emerged in Diagon Alley and made his way on foot to the grand-snow white building in the distance. The morning air was cool against his skin as the warm sun was rising on the horizon. No doubt, it'll be another sunny day with blue skies.

At the entrance of Gringotts's the uniformed goblin guards bowed to him in recognition as the burnished bronze doors opened. Using some of their own goblin magic, the guards must have sent word. Because Reginald had only crossed the marble floor to find a young goblin politely waiting for him. The pointy-eared young goblin, Ragnok extends his long neatly trimmed fingers in a gesture for Reginald to follow him. "Please this way, Mr. Prince."

Reginald follows the goblin through a door into a hallway that leads up past offices and up the stairs to finally reach the single office in the long corridor that is guarded by a row of goblins. Ragnok stops and gestures to the door. "Grok Gringotts is waiting for you inside, sir. I cannot go any further than this."

"Most gracious manners," Reginald thanked him in Gobbledegook, before striding down the hallway. The rows of lined goblins on either side were impressive in their shining armor and spears seemed to glow with power. The spears were so sharp that they seemed to cut the very air.

Reginald politely knocked, before reaching for the doorknob, but the door swung open. A well-dressed attendant bowed and gestured for him to step inside. Reginald stepped inside and glanced at the office that he had been to several times before. The office was rather simply furnished considering the rank of Grok Gringotts as King of the Goblins.

That did not mean that the pieces that were in the office were not valuable at all. Why even the carpet on the ground would have been considered a national treasure! No, all Reginald referred to is the fact that Grok Gringotts was not ostentatious about his wealth.

Taking a seat, Reginald sat down in the comfortable highchair that no doubt had been specially brought in for him. The other chair at his side was much smaller and is able to accommodate a goblin or a normal-sized witch or wizard. The second goblin attendant that had been standing against the wall rushed forward and asked, "Would you like some coffee or any other sort of beverage, sir?"

"Not right now," Reginald declined the offer as he turned to study the portrait of King Ragnuk, the first, the goblin King that had forged Godric Gryffindor's sword that hung on the wall. He hadn't been studying the portrait for long when the door opened behind him. Turning and rising to his feet he bowed and said, "Greetings Grok Gringotts. May your gold always prosper and shine."

"Please have a seat," gestured the old, sharp-eyed elderly goblin.

Grok Gringotts turned to his attendants and said, "Leave this will be a private meeting with no extra ears or eyes."

The mass of attendants reluctantly leaves the Goblin King alone. "They are most annoying when they act so unnaturally attached," Grok loudly sniffs in annoyance.

Reginald chuckles as the door closes behind him as Grok waves his hand making the room temporarily impregnable from brute force by magic or any other means. The elderly goblin takes a seat as he glances at the clock that reads a quarter to nine. "It looks like we have some time, shall we chat in the meanwhile?"

"That would be fine provided the topic was not too intrusive," Reginald said as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his long legs before him.

"I do not know if you received my letter of condolences, but I would like in person to say that I am sorry for your loss," Grok quietly said.

"Thank you, but I'd rather not dwell on the tragic subject for the moment," Reginald said with a steely glint in his eyes.

"That is perfectly understandable," Grok replied at seeing the glint in the old Prince's eyes. It would be better not to antagonize the older wizard. However, a goblin simply can't stop being crafty out of a sense of danger. How else is one to gain the upper hand?