Chapter 1040: Et tu, Brute? Ⅶ
The stone cavern is full of whispers as the crowd speaks for or against selecting the next heir to the throne through the line of the daughters. Some argued that it was against tradition, while others said it was not against tradition as a direct male heir descendant was selected. The whispers die down as the remaining 11 council members descend from the stands to line up next to Wulm.
The 12 council members form a semi-circle before the gathered goblins. With stone faces, they gaze before them until Wulm steps forth. "King of Goblins Grok Gringotts step forward and present Ragnok before the Council and all those present."
Grok Gringotts slowly steps forward hiding as best his exhaustion. "I, Grok Gringotts," He said in Gobbledegook, "King of the Goblins, a direct descendant of Ragnunk, second son of Ragnuk, the First, I humbly stand before my kinsmen. In ages past, I sired five sons. My eldest son only produced debt. My secondborn, a traitor. My third son, an adventurer long gone. My fourth son with endless greed. And my fifth born long departed as well. Last but not least, my only daughter, Frisa long departed from this world."
Feeling his age, Grok Gringotts pauses for breath. "My firstborn bore no sons. My second-born son traitor's blood, cursed, his seeds will never ascend the throne. My third bore no sons. My fourth born bore no sons and neither did my fifth born. Yet my daughter, Frisa, bore a son, Ragnok. I present Ragnok son of Frisa daughter of Grok Gringotts King of the Goblins! I ask on this night that my remaining seed be found worthy to bear the burden of the throne."
Wulm glances at the council and reaches into her pocket. She holds up a single stone for all to see. "I cast the first stone before all," she said. "Ragnok has expanded the Prince vaults and gathered Gringotts much wealth. He is touched by the Spirit of Wealth and Luck. Gold shall always follow him," and tossed the first stone to land at the feet of the younger goblin.
One by one the council members either cast a stone at the feet of Ragnok or returned the stone back to their pocket in disfavor. The last goblin councilmember to cast his vote is Purtang, a goblin with a pointed hat and a crooked thrice broken nose. "Ragnok has spirit. He hesitated not to call for aid in Gringotts hour of need. He is a worthy protector of the goblin nation," before casting a stone at the feet of Ragnok.
Wulm motions for Ragnok to take a step. "9 stones have been cast, three have not," she solemnly said. "The Council has spoken, Ragnok son of Frisa daughter of Grok Gringotts, King of the Goblins, do you accept the burden of the stone throne upon your shoulders?"
Ragnok suppresses his emotions and kneels before the cast stones. "I, Ragnok son of Frisa daughter of Grok Gringotts, King of the Goblins, willingly accept the burden of the stone throne."
"Rise than Ragnok son of Frisa daughter of Grok Gringotts," Wulm declared with pride. "Rise as the next King of the Stone Throne!"
Ragnok rises to his feet as great cries of joy and celebration fill the air. Grok Gringotts openly embraces his grandson in a rare public gesture of affection. He is unable to stop himself from hugging his grandfather back and lifting him off his feet until his grandfather smacks him on the back of the head. With a foolish lopsided grin, Ragnok carefully sets his grandfather back down.
Not everyone in the crowd was pleased but nothing more could be done. The line descended from the secondborn, Ranlaff would never be able to inherit the throne. Moreover, anyone that actually had the audacity to suggest such a foolish thing would all be signing their own death warrant!
As the celebration drops in volume, Grok Gringotts reverently says, "Send word to the Daily Prophet, Gringotts bank will not open its doors tomorrow. We shall honor the dead."
All traces of joviality vanish as the goblins recall the dead. Gringotts Bank had not closed its doors since its founding days. It simply is an unprecedented event. The goblins much more quietly usher out of the cavern and floo home to recount the unbelievable events that had transpired before their very eyes.
The cavern empties quickly enough as Ragnok steps forward and says, "Grandfather let me help you," he extended his arm.
Grok Gringotts smacks his grandson away. "These old bones of mine can still walk."
Ragnok is about to protest but does not at the dark scowl sent his way. "Very well, grandfather, then I shall depart and commence the funeral preparations."
"Go," Grok Gringotts fondly motioned to his grandson and watched him go.
A loud familiar tsk-tsk from behind causes Grok to grumpily turn around to face Wulm. "Yes, yes, I know," he huffed leading the elderly female goblin to the floor. Muttering something under his breath, he leaps into the emerald flames before emerging directly into his office. He hurriedly steps away as Wulm nimbly leaps out of the fireplace.
Grok almost makes an insipid comment if not for nearly stumbling over his feet in exhaustion. He does not even make it to the other side of his desk and slumps into the nearest guest chair. He lets out a heart-felt aching sigh.
Wulm without any sign of tiredness pours two glasses full of the finest Firewhiskey. "Here," she said shoving one of the half-filled glasses of Firewhiskey at Grok.
Feeling parched, Grok downs most of the Firewhiskey in one gulp. He rubs his gnarled, age-spotted hand over his face. He tiredly leans back seemingly to age in that moment growing more hunched over and ancient. "Do you think me a vile old man?"
"Hardly?" Wulm pointedly sniffed. "I am far older than you and so is Kostilb. Why just yesterday I saw Kostilb skipping coins across the water fountain in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic!"
Grok snorts before his grin fades away looking old again. "It was I who permitted the ambush in order to kill Bodrig and place Ragnok on the throne. And Ranlaff-," his voice broke in old pain.
"A crooked Whomping Tree can't be straightened," Wulm emotionlessly countered. "And besides, it was I who killed Ranlaff if we are being technical about it."
"Maybe, but it was I who sent my own son to be hung at the gallows," Grok bitterly said. "I blinded myself to the lasting repercussions of my plan and now innocents are dead.
"I will not deny that innocents are dead," Wulm admitted taking a sip of her Firewhiskey. "Yet how many more would be dead if Bodrig's mutiny had succeeded.? How many more would die in the war between goblins and wizardkind?!"
"For the Greater Good, Aye," Grok sneered recalling the popular catchphrase of Gellert Grindelwald.
Wulm lifts her glass in response before taking another sip. "We have secured that which we promised, Grok, we can do no more."
Grok's face screams that he does not agree with the statement before emptying his glass. Glancing at his empty glass, he murmurs, "The Daily Prophet's Morning Edition is going to sale out again."
"I am sure the owner of the Daily Prophet will be pleased," Wulm pensively murmured with narrowed eyes. "Although that nosey reporter Rita Skeeter has lately written rather favorably regarding the Ministry of Magic. It is most unlike her. One truly wonders just what the old Prince has on her."
A loud snort escaped from Grok. "Whatever it is, Reginald Prince will ensure that the Daily Prophet favors our interests. He did not aid in the creation of the trap for nothing. This will ensure that both wizardkind and our people view the alliance between the Ministry of Magic and us in good light. Unfortunately, that puts us even further into his debt."
Wulm grimaces and takes another sip of her Firewhiskey. "The Prince's charge an even heftier interest than we. The old Prince will be sure to make us pay double in the end."
"There is that," Grok faintly murmured as his eyes felt extraordinarily heavy. He shut his eyes to rest them for a moment, before falling into an exhausted slumber. Tired snores erupt from him as his chest rises and falls.
An understanding smile appears on Wulm's face before she rises and stokes the fire in the hearth. She had watched over Grok as an adorable little tyke. She had seen him grow up and watched over him then. And she would continue to watch over him until their days together ran out.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
EsliEsma
EsliEsma Ushering a new era! Fitting for the start of a new year.
Weekly Power Status
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Ranking 
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